12. The Best Laid Plans
Solomon had the chance to tell his tale, as much as he could remember, as he was recuperating in the Healer Hall in Avalon. It was a light airy building, all on one floor with large windows looking out onto the meadows and hills beyond. Harry, Hermione, and to Solomon's embarrassment, Lady Niniane were in attendance.
He described how not long after Harry and Hermione had entered the 'ball room' half a dozen or more wizards had come boiling round the corner of the corridor firing stunners as they came. He thought there must have been a hidden alarm, because those attacking him were certainly ready for a fight. Solomon had held his own against the ministry wizards, stunning each of them, some more than once, but with so many in the group they kept re-enervating each other. He was having a hard job of it keeping up with them. Then whether it was by design or pure accident a reductor charm hit the ceiling above Solomon's head.
With all the rubble falling about him, Solomon forgot one of the basic rules; don't try to stop large bricks with a small shield. As it had been with Ginny, the result was a broken arm, and being somewhat distracted by the pain Solomon had let his shield slip and was hit by several stunners. By the time they had worn off he was incarcerated in the small room with Umbridge, and she had dosed him with the potions Hermione had found. The rest they knew.
He listened with eagerness to the tale Harry and Hermione had to tell. The origin of the lights intrigued him, fractured souls, no wonder the Ministry had sat on their existence, they wouldn't have had any idea as to what they were. The news that Sirius was involved didn't surprise him as much as Harry thought it would.
"I met him once, a long time ago," Solomon said, "he was a man with very great tenacity, it doesn't surprise me that given the choice he would stick with you."
Harry was burning to ask Solomon if he had ever met any other of Sirius' contemporaries, but he was always unsure as to how much he wanted to find out about the past, so he felt he would keep that one for another time.
Solomon was very impressed with the way Harry and Hermione had handled his rescue and ruled that the justice handed out to Delores Umbridge was probably better than she deserved.
"We will have to see if there is any fallout from her predicament," said Solomon, "but given her record, and the fact she tried an unforgivable curse on you Harry, I don't think we will hear any more about it."
"How will anyone know what she was up to?" Harry was despondent; he knew only too well his record with things Ministry.
"The answers all in the wand Harry, remember Prior Incantato," Solomon reminded him, "the Ministry may not like the answers but they will find out what happened. I will make sure of it."
Fortunately Solomon healed quickly, with his arm repaired and the potions cleared from his body, the day after the New Year started, saw him in company with Harry and Hermione demisting back to Hogwarts.
Once back at school Harry and Hermione headed directly for the Gryffindor Common Room, and found Ron and the others sitting round the fire trying to keep warm. They all decamped into the Heads Common Room and Harry and Hermione brought them up to date with all their news.
"We're getting close to having all the pieces of this plan together," said Harry to the others, "we just have to decide when."
"But Harry," said Ginny, "all this still depends on Voldemort taking the, err… bait," she gave him an apologetic look, "I mean following you, and he won't do that until he is ready. We need to be able to let him know you're coming, to give him time, and I can't see how we are going to do that."
Harry agreed, their easy route to Voldemort was Draco, and it seemed unlikely that he would be back to school. There was always the possibility of using Professor Snape, but there were dangers in that for him as well.
As they walked into the Great Hall for breakfast the following morning, all their problems were solved, for to their surprise, sitting at the Slytherin table was Draco Malfoy, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be there. Harry had to fight the impulse to have a go at the young Death Eater, but Solomon had caught Harry's eye. Harry had seen the Professor looking from himself to Draco and shaking his head ever so slightly. Harry took that to mean leave well alone. He ushered the others to the Gryffindor table and away from any potential trouble.
"Of all the nerve," said Ron, "coming back here and him a …"
"Remember Ron, nobody but us knows what he is," said Hermione, trying to placate her friend, "at least it means we have our point of contact back, so it's not all bad."
"Umm…" Harry was deep in thought, staring hard at a piece of toast on his plate. "All we have to do is work out how to use him, we mustn't lose this opportunity."
Hermione laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Give it some time Harry, we'll work something out, you'll see."
As the first weeks of term passed quietly, Hermione had a good opportunity to study Draco. She had the beginnings of an idea and she knew for it to work she would need Draco's cooperation. She used the speculator to watch him, sometimes not even having a break for meals, and she found that at least in the Great Hall he was watching them as much as she was watching him, and then she knew what to do. She spoke to Harry that evening.
"I think I have a way of tricking Voldemort," she said, "you need to visit your inheritance Harry, and you need Draco to know that is what you are going to do."
Harry questioned her with a look, "Run that by me again."
"OK… we decide when we want to set everything in motion. You tell us in the Great Hall that on such and such date you are going to visit Black House, because it's yours now and you want to see it."
"OK so far," said Harry, "but where's this going Hermione?"
"Well the rest of us pretend that we don't know anything about it, so to explain you show us the painting of the House we found. Draco's bound to see you doing that, he's watching us very carefully, so even if he doesn't know what Voldemort's lair is really called, he is bound to recognise it."
"So I will have a legitimate reason to go to Black House, apparently not knowing I am walking into a trap, and we can set the date we want."
"Yes!"
"Brilliant," said Harry, "but he would expect you and maybe some of the others to come with me." He creased his brow in thought, Hermione waited patiently for his plan to form. "No he won't, because we will make him think I am going on my broom, and that I'm not asking permission. If we all went we'd be missed, so you're going to cover for me and I will go on my own."
She looked at him with admiration, "See how much better it is when you have plans, you can see exactly where you are going, and how to get there."
Harry didn't entirely agree. "Problem is that now I can see where it could all go wrong. When I did everything on impulse I didn't know that, so I never worried about it, until afterwards."
Hermione laughed, "OK so when."
Harry's mood changed, he knew he could be picking the day on which he could die. He put that out of his mind; that was not the way to think. He was picking the day on which he would defeat Voldemort.
He didn't look up as he said, "The last Saturday in March, the twenty fifth." He glanced up into a pair of calm brown eyes, full of confidence in him. Harry smiled, "Thanks, it means a lot." he said, responding to the unspoken encouragement, "now, I must talk to Dumbledore and Solomon, I need to clear it with them first."
The meeting with the Headmaster was uncomfortable for Harry. Each time he had seen him he had looked worse, now he had to strain his ears to hear the old man's words.
"End of March it is then Harry," Dumbledore wheezed, "Severus can keep me going that long, then I can take that." His bony finger pointed to a small bottle on his desk, the liquid in it was a sullen dark red colour, it looked like the last potion a dying man should take.
The old man regarded the boy he loved more than life itself. "Don't worry Harry, all will be well, in the end everything will be wonderful, you'll see."
Harry wasn't sure why he did it, but he stood and walked to stand in front of his Headmaster. He knelt down and bowed his head to him. Dumbledore stretched out a wavering hand and placed it on his head. There was a moments silence as Harry received the old man's blessing. Then Harry heard the words he had heard so many times before. "Now off you go."
Harry left the study, turning as he opened the door to look back at Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, momentarily lit by a shaft of sunlight. Fawkes still resplendent in his red and gold plumage was perched on the back of Dumbledore's chair. Harry captured that image and locked it away; for at that moment he knew he would never see the old man alive again.
His sadness didn't leave him as he walked the quiet corridors of the school. Harry thought back over the years he had spent within these walls, how the centre of the power of this school resided in the presence of the old man he had just left. He was certain that things would never be the same as they had been when he first came up.
Then he bumped into a group of first years on their way to a lesson talking amongst themselves as only first years could. As he passed, their voices dropped and they stood aside to allow him through, then his restraining influence dissipated as he turned the corner, and the chatter rose again. Harry smiled to himself, he remembered Dumbledore telling him not to be afraid of change. No, it would be the same, just different.
Solomon listened to the plan; he made a few suggestions, but basically felt it sound. He asked Harry to leave the defence of Hogwarts to Ron.
"He's a good tactician Harry, and he will have limited forces to play with. Let him have a free rein, you won't regret it."
Harry agreed with a nod of his head "And will you be able to coordinate the two doorways, in Avalon," asked Harry.
"Yes, but I will have to make sure there are no leaks or close them down, before I can come and help you here," Solomon told him. "When you set your doorway to Avalon have it finish on the top of the Tor. I will set mine from there to Hogwarts. That way if anyone does get out, they will have a long walk to the village before they can cause any trouble."
…………………………………
Three weeks before the intended date Harry set the plan in motion. Ensuring that Draco was in earshot Harry declared his intention to visit Black House, and produced the painting neatly rolled, for Ron and the others to look at. Hermione watching the performance in the speculator could see Draco's reaction as he recognised the Mansion and she smiled with satisfaction as the trap was sprung.
The younger Malfoy certainly wasted no time, that very evening he left the school grounds and apparated to his usual spot in the woods, as close as he could get to the House. His meeting with Voldemort was brief but in the speculator Harry and Hermione could see the effect of the information. An exultant expression filled Voldemort's features, and although they could not hear his words it did not take an expert to lip read him as he said 'I have you now Potter!' Draco withdrew from Voldemort's presence and Harry and Hermione still within the speculator left with him. It would have been better if they had stayed with Voldemort.
In that cold dark room Voldemort had summoned his most trusted Death Eaters. He would use them and the Dementors which Bellatrix had finally managed to convince into helping him before she had been killed. The Death Eaters filed in, this hard core of followers had never been very large in number but they still made a formidable foe. Both Lucius and Narcissus Malfoy were joined by Macnair, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Dolohov, Jugson, Avery, Rookwood, Mulciber, the Carrows and the two remaining Lestranges. All bowed low to their Dark Lord who sat as still as a statue on his throne, a wild fire in his red eyes.
"The time has come, Potter and Avalon are within my grasp. Once they have fallen, then the rest will follow. Dumbledore will not stand, Snape had prepared the way and the old fool does not realise it. Lucius, you and Narcissa will go and force the entrance into Avalon that starts in the muggle town." He fixed his gaze on Lucius. "You will take fifty of the Dementors with you. If you should happen on any muggles then let them feed, confusion in the town may well help us. The rest of you will come with me. We will take the new inductees and the remaining Dementors and will enter Avalon by the doorway which will be so conveniently supplied by Harry Potter." Voldemort stood, his thin frame seemed to swell as he absorbed all the pleasure he was expecting in defeating his enemies.
"My Lord what of the others who follow you?" asked Lucius, "the wizards waiting in the cavern below us, should we leave them here?"
Voldemort's displeasure at having his revere interrupted was plain to see, "Those who have not been inducted are unimportant, they have little value to me," then he considered the point, "however they may add weight to the attack. Take them with you Lucius, use them as you see fit. The date is set; we have three weeks, go and make your arrangements."
…………………………………..
Ron spent those three weeks planning his defence of Hogwarts. He would make a plan, look at it, discard it then start again. He could not talk openly about what he wished to do; Draco was back and for him to learn the truth would spell disaster for them all. So Ron had to guess how many of the school would come to their aid and how many would oppose them. He also had another nagging problem.
"It's Hermione," he confided to Harry late one night, "I don't like the idea of leaving her unprotected. Even with that necklace of hers, I feel she is still vulnerable."
Harry regarded his best friend. "Your forces are small enough without splitting them further. Don't worry Hermione is a big girl; I promise you she will look after herself. You concentrate on keeping whatever Voldemort brings through that doorway with him from the school and the other students."
"If you're sure Harry," Ron said uncertainly.
Harry voice was firm, "I'm sure."
Draco Malfoy having delivered his news to the Dark Lord, now had to approach the task his father had placed on him. The death of the Dibble boy had to be accomplished and soon; it must be done before Potter died at the hands of his master. To that end Draco went to see Professor Snape for what, unbeknown to him, was to be the last time.
Draco's association with Voldemort had made him confident, perhaps overconfident, which may be why he entered Snape's office without knocking. The Professor was not in evidence, although potions were steaming in cauldrons, which meant he would not be far away. Draco glanced down at the book lying on the working top, he recognised the writing, it was Snape's. The notes in it were concerned with the formulation of a potion Draco had never seen before. As he read he realised that this was a powerful restorative. As usual with the Potions master the notes were very meticulous, they even had the name of the intended recipient. It was all here the patient's condition, the potions tried up to now, the prognosis. Draco didn't understand it all, but it was clear that far from hindering Dumbledore, Snape was helping him.
"What are you doing here Draco?" Snape's voice jolted Draco out of his state of disbelief.
He turned to stare at the double, no, triple agent who had emerged from a doorway Draco had not seen before.
"I think that is a question I should be asking you." said Draco, his voice rising in anger.
"You forget your place boy!" said Snape coldly, but his expression of distain faltered ever so slightly as he saw the book Draco had been reading.
"This book proves you are working against the Dark Lord, you are helping Dumbledore. These potions… you're keeping him alive!" Draco didn't shout, but his eyes were wild.
Snape could see his danger and tried to diffuse the situation. "Don't be a fool! I am hardly likely to leave a book on my desk telling anyone who walks in that I am poisoning the Headmaster," he spoke as if explaining to a child, "Draco, the book is full of double meanings, it doesn't mean what you think it means."
Draco stared at the head of Slytherin his mind now full of doubt. "It is you who are full of double meanings. I can't trust you any more," he said, then as if he was voicing his thoughts out loud, he muttered, "I will have to kill the boy myself."
Snape heard the words and they worried him. He took advantage of Draco's uncertainty to ask, "Which boy are we talking about Draco? It wouldn't be Potter would it?"
Draco looked up sharply. "Potter, no not Potter," he spat out, "I came here to tell you the Dark Lord wants Dibble dead, you were to do it," he felt his anger grow again, "but you cannot be trusted, now I will have to do it!"
Snape froze, then as quickly regained his composure. He had never found out the truth of Dibbles parentage other than that Esme had been his mother. Even if the boy was not his, deep in his soul Severus Snape still cherished those two brief months with the boy's mother, and it was for a love long gone that he acted now.
"I am afraid that is the one thing I cannot let you do Draco," he said reaching for his wand, but Draco saw the movement and he was faster.
Both spells missed their marks. Snape's 'STUPIFY' passed over Draco's head by half an inch, and smashed into the wall. Draco's 'REDUCTO' wasn't really aimed at Snape or anywhere for that matter; he flung it out in self preservation. It passed by Snape and flew through the doorway behind him. There was the crash of breaking glass, a loud hiss, then an almighty explosion which reduced the hidden room to rubble and blew Snape over his desk to crash to the floor.
Draco picked himself up, he was covered in dust but the work desk had protected him from the worst of the blast. He looked around, then down at the crumpled form on the floor. Snape's back was covered with jagged pieces of glass thrown out by the explosion which had pierced his robes. As Draco stared the wetness of blood began to seep through the material, to form little pools in the creases of the robes, which overflowed forming little rivers, which then trickled down onto the floor.
Draco turned to flee, he remembered his father's words 'Don't get caught' he didn't care if Snape was dead; he was a traitor, he deserved whatever he got, so Draco ran. As he cleared the first corridor he heard the sound of running feet as people headed toward the sound of the explosion. Draco slipped into a side passage as a group of teachers and students passed toward the dungeons. He reached the main doors and through them he ran out into the grounds.
He needed somewhere to hide, and then he saw the old barns next to the greenhouses. They were only used in the depths of the winter for the Care of Magical Creatures classes, they would be empty now. He staggered over to one of the side doors, surprised that it seemed to be difficult for him to place one foot in front of the other. It was harder by far to lift the latch and open the door than it should have been and when he gripped the handle he cried out in pain.
He looked to the palm of his hand, there was blood there, his own blood and imbedded in the centre of his palm, coated in a dark green potion, was a sliver of glass. He pulled it out, gasping with the hurt of it, now the blood flowed freely. He used his handkerchief to wrap his wound and stumbled into the dark of the barn. He sat heavily on the straw bales they used as chairs when listening to Hagrid giving his lessons. He could see light filtering between the wooden planks which formed the walls, the light blurred and wavered. Draco shook his head to try and clear his vision, but his movement merely made him lose his tenuous hold on his balance, he slipped off the bale and collapsed unconscious onto the straw littered floor.
Severus Snape opened his eyes; he was lying on his back. The high ceiling and dim lighting proclaimed this to be the hospital wing, then the pain hit him. It was not in his back, though the cuts he could feel tingled as they healed, this pain was deep in his very being, his insides were on fire. He gasped and instantly a face was looking down into his own.
Poppy Pomfrey showed the same care to all her patients be they adult or child, and her immediate problem was Snape, and she was very worried. The shards of glass imbedded in his back by the explosion had been easy enough to remove and the cuts were healing, but the glass had carried with it some of the potions it had been enclosing. She did not know the individual potions, but that didn't matter any more, the combined effect that they were having on Severus' body could only have one outcome, and she was powerless to stop it.
"Here Severus," he heard her say, and she lifted his head so he could drink, "take this, it will help with the pain, but I am afraid I cannot take it away completely."
The potion cleared his head and removed the pain remarkably quickly, he regarded the school nurse.
"You can spare me the bedside manner Poppy; tell me what is happening to me."
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips "Very well Severus, it appears that your nerves are being slowly destroyed by the combination of potions in your body. There will be little in the way of effects to start with, apart from the pain, but eventually you will become paralysed and lose the ability to talk or see. I cannot see any way to halt the process." She turned away, hating herself for telling him this way.
Snape gritted his teeth against a stab of pain, "How long?"
The simple question increased her unease. Poppy sighed, "I really don't know, you may be able to help yourself as you have the Headmaster, he has lived much longer than I would have expected, but like with Albus, your time is running out. I am sorry Severus.
"Thank-you for being honest with me, Poppy," Severus looked around as if surveying his surroundings, then his face contorted with a wry smile, "I always knew this place would get on my nerves eventually, he fell silent for a moment, "well it seems I need to send a letter of resignation to the Headmaster." Severus gave a dry laugh which ended in a gasp as another wave of pain passed through him.