A Cunning Plan
“You know, Harry, I’m starting to think that you have taken complete leave of your senses,” Dawlish chuckled. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that, but if it was anyone else here with a plan like yours, I wouldn’t believe they could do it. You seriously intend on going in there alone?”
Harry nodded.
He’d pondered it for more hours than he cared to count, and directly attacking Malfoy manor in force was simply not an option. It would only result in the death of many of those he wished to keep alive and undoubtedly put the prisoners within in mortal peril.
Tom would kill them without hesitation rather than risk them being liberated.
“It is the safest option for everyone.”
“Not for you if you’re caught.”
“And that is where you and the others come in,” Harry pointed out.
Dawlish nodded as he deflated.
“You’re completely insane, Harry,” he sighed. “I can’t think of anyone who’d have the guts to do what you plan to.”
“I’ll be fine,” Harry assured the man. “Well, so long as everything goes to plan. He won’t be able to ignore it or resist trying to take it back, especially if he thinks one of his own is in control of the protections around Hogwarts. He will not let the castle be taken, but our timing must be impeccable, John.”
“You’re telling me,” the veteran auror snorted. “The question is, do you trust Him?”
“I won’t allow that to be a problem. I won’t give him the chance to be uncooperative. I don’t plan on discussing it with him. He will want to help, and if he doesn’t, I will kill him as a traitor.”
Dawlish nodded as he offered his hand.
“We’re in, Harry. You’ve not let us down yet.”
“And I don’t plan on doing so, John,” Harry said sincerely, accepting the proffered limb.
Although he was as confident as he could be with such a plan, there was no ignoring the risks involved. Of course, he would mitigate them as best he could, but his success was not assured.
Still, he could not sit idly by and do nothing, and it would take a bold series of events to secure victory.
This would indeed be bold, a show of courage from all fighting against Riddle and his regime, and if all went well, would be the biggest blow struck against the Dark Lord.
It could even perhaps bring about the beginning of the end for his foe, though Harry did not expect Riddle would relinquish his grasp on life so readily.
No, if anything, the man had proven to be stubborn, and his fear of Death was a great factor in him clinging onto life as he had.
Horcruxes.
He’d not forgotten about the remaining soul containers, nor his and Dumbledore’s thoughts on what and where they were.
The snake and the cup.
Of course, his priority whilst within Malfoy manor was to release any prisoner he might find, but if the opportunity to kill Nagini arose, he would grasp it with both hands, tighter than Tom held onto the life that Harry intended to see forfeited for all he’d done.
With a shake of his head, he continued to carefully navigate his way around the strong magical presence he could feel, not daring to get any closer than he already was.
The protections here were indeed considerable, and maybe given enough time, he might be able to breach them. Doing so, however, was a risk he would rather avoid.
If Draco had not been allowed to flee, perhaps he would’ve been able to use him to gain entry, but that wasn’t to be. Harry did not have time to be traipsing across the magical world to find his former nemesis, and he had another plan in place already to avoid doing so.
Nonetheless, as he felt the very nature of what encapsulated the stately home, he was once more reminded of the inherent risks involved, and again, he questioned the sanity of his plan.
John Dawlish was right.
It was a rather questionable undertaking, and yet, there was that small shred of belief in himself and his idea that it could just work as he intended.
Not that he would change his mind.
Time and again, he had played over dozens of scenarios, the potential fallout for each, and his chances of success.
The plan he had settled on was the very best of them, and he would not allow himself to be deterred now, not when he’d already settled on proceeding.
Harry just hoped that when all was said and done, it would not prove to be to his, or the detriment of any other he’d enlisted the help of.
He released a deep breath as he consulted the map Arthur Weasley had provided him.
Although he could not see the manor itself, he could envision it; the grounds laid out before him and the enormous house he would need to navigate.
For now, it was out of reach, but he could almost feel Tom’s presence in the air, and knowing the man was so close yet so far filled him with a sense of anticipation and eagerness to kill the Dark Lord who’d plagued him his entire life.
“Come Death, come,” he murmured as he apparated away.
Soon enough, he would return, and when he did, it would not be to merely skirt the edge of what was unquestionably the most dangerous place he could be found in the country.
No, the next time he was here, it would be to enter it in the hope that the blow he and the others struck would be one that Tom Riddle could not come back from.
(Break)
She had not forgotten the agreement she had come to with her father. He had explicitly said that she would be able to follow the duelling circuit across the continent this coming summer, and Cassiopeia fully intended on holding the man to his promise.
Not that he made a habit of breaking them, but when it came to such a thing, she knew he would not be pleased about her desires.
Perhaps she would one day become one of the duellist she hoped to watch demonstrating their craft. She knew she would be good at it. Already, there was likely very few people in the entire country who could hope to defeat her in single combat.
Even before she’d gotten her very first wand, she had studied her family library extensively, practiced the wand movements for spells, and even ensured she was in peak physical condition when she’d learned what it was.
Being a duellist was not as simple as trading spells and hoping yours would land before your defences gave way. No, it was an art in itself, but it was so much more.
It was a lifestyle, and to be the very best, everything you did needed to be for the benefit of duelling.
That was why Cassiopeia kept herself fit and strong, why she dedicated so much time to her craft, and why she knew that one day, she would be among the very best to do it.
She would accept nothing less, but first, she wanted to witness the spectacle of the world championships for herself, get a measure of what it was she would face firsthand, and spend the summer experiencing her first taste of freedom.
Still, that very freedom depended on her father not rescinding on his promise.
Bracing herself for the impending conversation, she entered the kitchen to find her parents at the table with her mother nursing the newly born Dorea, who as with her other three siblings, was a Black through and through.
Taking her place next to her mother, she spent a moment cooing at the girl, who showed no indication that someone was speaking to her.
Even so, she was quite adorable in her own way, just as Arcturus had been only a few years prior.
Now, the boy struggled not to get marmalade on his chin, and Perseus being only a few years younger than her had entered his awkward teenage years.
It was difficult to get more than a grunt out of him on his best days.
“Father,” she spoke up.
The man placed down his copy of The Daily Prophet, shifting his gaze towards her to show he was listening whilst taking a sip of his coffee.
“What can I do for you, my dear?” he asked fondly.
“I wanted to discuss my plans for the coming summer.”
Her father looked towards her mothers, who’s expression relayed that she would only speak if needed, and he nodded.
“You are still intent on travelling to see the duelling championships,” he acknowledged with a frown.
Cassiopeia nodded and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Yes.”
Her father opened his mouth to speak but closed it again to choose his words carefully. For a moment or so, he said nothing, and when he did, it wasn’t what Cassiopeia wanted to hear.
“Dorea is only a few months old. I cannot be away from your mother for so long.”
“What about Uncle Marius?”
Her father chuckled.
“Your Uncle Marius would not be a suitable escort for you. He has the attention span of a Niffler, and a proclivity towards getting drunk. No, he will not do.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but her father held up a hand, a thoughtful expression crossing his features.
“I may have a suitable escort in mind,” he mused aloud, “but I must discuss it with him first. I think as a favour to me, he would agree, especially if it grants him a favour in return. Yes, he might just do it, and I certainly think he is up to it.”
“Who are you speaking of?” her mother interjected.
“Harry Peverell.”
“Peverell?” her mother scoffed.
Her father hummed, and Cassiopeia frowned.
“Who is Harry Peverell?” she asked, not having heard of them before.
“A young man I made the acquaintance of not so long ago, but one of exceptional character, perhaps even perfect to escort you. Nonetheless, I must discuss the matter with him first before I agree to you going. I know that you are capable of handling yourself, Cassie, but you are still a Black, and your presence would draw much attention. Peverell will certainly take some of that away from you,” he added with a self-satisfied smirk. “Yes, I think he might just do quite nicely if you are so determined. My conditions will be non-negotiable.”
“So, I can only go if this Peverell agrees to go with me?”
“Among other conditions,” her father said firmly, “but that is the first hurdle to overcome. He might not even agree.”
“He would refuse you? You’re the Lord Black!”
Her father chuckled amusedly.
“Which means absolutely nothing to him. Maybe that is why I like him. He will not bend over backwards to kiss my arse, and he certainly won’t be manipulated by you, young lady,” he added with a smile.
Cassiopeia scowled at her father but nodded her agreement.
“Fine,” she conceded. “If that is what it will take for me to go. Thank you, Father.”
She left the kitchen with a deep frown marring her features.
She’d never heard of this Peverell, but she would not let her going to the continent fall entirely on her father’s shoulders. No, she would write to this Harry Peverell herself so that he understood just how important this was to her.
(Break)
He did not relish the thought of locking his son in a cage, even if it was for his, Ron’s, and Harry’s own good. Remus had wanted to be here with them, but had rightly pointed out that if Ron was indeed a werewolf, the two of them might not appreciate the presence of the other, even under the influence of the wolfsbane.
“It is the right thing to do,” Harry said encouragingly.
It did not appear as though the young man had gotten much sleep in recent days.
The bags under his eyes were thick, and Arthur could only imagine what he’d been up to since he’d explained his plan to him.
“I know, but I can’t say I like it.”
Harry nodded his agreement, and when the pale Ron entered the shed which Arthur had spent several days reinforcing for the occasion, he eyed the smoking goblet awaiting him.
“What if…?”
He voice was hoarse, and Arthur knew that his own son had not slept for the better part of the last few days. His eyes were bloodshot, and fearful, that very fear of what might be keeping him awake at all hours.
“It won’t have any effect on you if you’re not,” Harry answered the unfinished question.
Ron nodded stiffly, taking a few deep breaths before downing the potion in just a few gulps, grimacing at the unpleasant taste.
“That is nasty,” he grumbled.
“Well, you didn’t add the sugar,” Harry pointed out.
“Honestly, I don’t think it would’ve made any difference,” Ron snorted, his gaze shifting towards the door as Hermione entered.
She too was deeply concerned for what may happen in the coming moments, and seeing that the sun had almost set, Ron mustered something resembling an attempt at a smile that was not as convincing as he’d like.
“Here goes nothing,” he sighed resignedly.
When he was within the cage, it was Harry who set about securing it. When his work was done, nothing else was said as they looked on in trepidation for the full moon to appear.
“Come Death, come,” Harry murmured.
Before Arthur could question the meaning of the words he’d spoken, a bright light began to spill into the shed through the window, and those within took a collective breath, waiting to see what would happen.
Ron’s face was illuminated by it, frozen in place, his alabaster skin blending almost perfectly with the shine of the moon, and yet, nothing happened.
Even so, Arthur dared not release the breath he was holding just in case there was a delayed reaction during the first transformation.
A minute passed, and then another, and another, and Ron remained as he was; frozen in place waiting to be wracked with the agony of becoming a werewolf.
“Well, I suppose there’s no need for this,” Harry huffed disappointedly, breaking the silence, and holding up a pink collar and matching lead.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him and swatted his shoulder, but Arthur only had eyes for his son, who collapsed forward and began to sob in relief.
Without preamble, he unlocked the cage and pulled the young man into his arms, holding him tightly to his chest, unsure of whether he should laugh or cry from the relief he felt.
“I thought I was…”
“I know,” Arthur comforted, “but you’re not. You got lucky, Ron, so very lucky.”
He had.
Even though it had been a scratch from the werewolf that had wounded him, the chances of him contracting lycanthropy had still been high, but somehow, what seemed like the first time in as long as Arthur could remember, life had been kind to his family by granting them this mercy, and for that, he could not find the words to show his gratitude.
(Break)
It was a nervous Albus who waited for Gellert’s return, and whilst he did so, he looked over the work that had been completed by one of his students, shaking his head disappointedly at how little effort had been made.
Teaching children from privileged families was not what he’d expected when he’d placed his advert in The New York Ghost. Those he found himself tutoring lacked any ambition for the subject of Transfiguration, and merely attended the sessions to appease their parents.
It wasn’t as though they were incapable, which only added to his frustration, but most were simply lazy, spoiled, and couldn’t care less about succeeding.
Their lives were already planned out, after all.
All came from families with almost unlimited resources, which would certainly see even the least productive catered to for the rest of their lives. What Albus could not abide was that he would be the one blamed for their failure, and truthfully, it was incredibly demotivating.
Still, it paid well enough and would keep his pockets lined with gold until he could secure a permanent placement in a school.
“How did it go?” he asked the moment the door opened and Gellert entered.
“Well enough, Albie,” the man assured him with a smile. “Abernathy believes in our vision, but he needs reassurances that we are not simply blowing hot air. He wants to see our ambition in practice, so, we have quite the task ahead of us. We need capable men and women behind us who are equally ambitious and not lacking in talent.”
Albus nodded.
It was something the two of them had discussed already.
Even so, in his line of work, it wasn’t as though he was inundated with such individuals, but the families were certainly influential.
“I do have a few thoughts,” Gellert spoke once more, a frown creasing his brow. “I think a trip to Europe for the duelling championships would be an excellent place to start. We will find some of the most capable witches and wizards there, don’t you think?”
“We would,” Albus agreed.
“Besides, it would be a nice holiday for the two of us. Mixing business with pleasure will certainly do us no harm, and I can certainly take the time off. Does that sound good to you?”
It did.
Albus had always been fascinated with duelling and had found during his years at Hogwarts, he had quite the knack for it, though it had not been something he’d focused on as much as Gellert had at Durmstrang. Nonetheless, he wasn’t going to deny himself the opportunity to travel to new destinations with Gellert for a month or so.”
“Won’t that be expensive?” he asked worriedly.
Gellert waved him off dismissively and placed a heavy bag on the table with a dull thud.
“Our first contribution,” he said proudly. “Twenty-thousand galleons from Mr Abernathy himself.”
Albus was certain his eyes were bulging in their sockets, and Gellert laughed merrily at his expression. He’d never seen so much gold before, nor had he considered how he would spend such a sum.
Knowing himself as he did, Albus would likely purchase a personal library of sorts, but this money was to be used for the future of mankind and would certainly be quite the foundation to build their shared vision upon.
“So, are we going to Europe, Albie?”
He nodded in response, and Gellert beamed.
For the first time, it seemed as though their hard work was finally paying off, and though this trip would not specifically be to simply enjoy the fruits of their labour, it was still undeniably something they could share and experience together outside of the constant labouring they’d been doing these past many months.
(Break)
“I think you’re completely out of your mind, but I’m not going to start doubting you now, Harry,” Nymphadora snorted. “Are you sure this will work?”
“With you here helping me, yes. I will secure the common rooms so no students can be caught up in whatever is happening, and the elves have been instructed to transport them away from the castle. There will even be emergency portkeys.”
“To where? There aren’t many places that are safe.”
“To the church in Godric’s Hollow. They will be safe in the village. I’ve seen to that.”
His words were ominous, but she’d meant what she said. She wasn’t going to doubt him now, not after everything he’d done to put an end to the war.
“But Malfoy Manor…”
“I know it is a risk, but it is a necessary one. If I ever want to bring the Wizengamot on side, they need to know that the members of their families that have been taken are safe. Maybe then they will be more willing to do something.”
Nymphadora nodded her understanding.
It was a most dangerous undertaking, but she knew her role and what everyone else would be doing. The risks could not be denied, and yet, the plan was as good as any.
“I’ll do whatever you need me to,” she promised.
It had been almost two weeks since they’d shared that conversation, and it was a nervous Nymphadora who spent her days waiting for the signal to arrive that the plan was to be put into action.
Her own part, in the grand scheme of things, was small, but Harry had assured her it was as important as anything he would be doing.
It would be up to her to ensure the castle was as secure as it could be from the inside, to keep the students out of whatever was happening, and prevent anyone else here from intervening on Voldemort’s behalf.
Between her and Jones, they would manage it, though if the Dark Lord did indeed arrive as Harry expected, she wasn’t certain how long they’d be able to keep him out.
Harry was under the impression that he would realise that his efforts were folly, and that when he learned what was happening elsewhere, he would abandon his efforts, or so he hoped.
Voldemort would not like the thought of conceding that he’d lost Hogwarts, even if it had never been in his hands in the first place.
It was a concern, one that troubled her deeply, but Nymphadora knew that if they were to strike another considerable blow against him, it would take something bold, unexpected, and decisive to see it done.
As much as Harry hoped his assumptions about the Dark Lord were right, Nymphadora equally hoped that something did not go so tragically wrong that the fight against Voldemort would become unsalvageable.
That was a very real possibility, and the more she pondered it, the more she realised just how much depended on the success of one risky throw of the dice.
She jumped slightly as a familiar, thestral patronus appeared in front of her.
“Tonight. We will do it tonight.”
(Break)
The day after the full moon seemed to be as good a time as any to implement his plan. With the werewolves dealing with the aftermath of the transformation, Tom would not be able to rely on them for much, if any support.
They would be fatigued, sluggish, and at their weakest, and having thinned the numbers of those posing as members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Riddle was at his most vulnerable with fewer people he called call upon.
Yes, tonight was the best night for Harry to free those imprisoned within Malfoy Manor.
He had brought only a few into his full confidence of what was to transpire. Dawlish, of course, needed to know the details of what to expect, and he’d told Hermione and Arthur Weasley, who Harry had granted his permission to tell the twins.
That was all.
He would be relying on Dawlish and the aurors to play their part, and then everything else would be up to him.
He hoped he would be able to keep Hogwarts completely secure, but knowing Tom, he could not deny that there was a distinct possibility the man would find a way into the castle. However, so long as Harry was alive, he could not hope to take control of it.
Even so, it remained a concern, and yet, not his biggest one.
He was relying on Voldemort mustering all of the followers he could gather away from Malfoy Manor, granting him the needed opportunity to do what he needed there before repelling whatever it was Riddle would be able to throw at maintaining his perceived control of the school.
After all, as far as he knew, Snape was the headmaster of Hogwarts, so, he would not necessarily be expecting the resistance he would face.
That alone would buy Hary some time, and as he sealed the door to the Slytherin common room, ensuring none could get in or out, he made his way towards the Hufflepuff one next to ensure the very same thing.
Checking his watch, he nodded to himself.
He had around twenty minutes before the very first of the festivities would begin; enough that he could do what he needed to here before taking his leave of the castle to infiltrate Malfoy Manor.
(Break)
He had come to despise his position.
With the influx of so many students, Severus found himself inundated with letters each day from concerned parents, who were unable to contact their children directly.
If it wasn’t the parents griping, it was the members of staff, who claimed to be exhausted by their incredibly busy schedules.
For Severus, he would give anything to be simply back in the classroom and dealing with only one house within the school. Alas, that wasn’t to be, and as he looked towards the portrait of his predecessor, he would swear that Albus was smirking at him.
No, it had been bad enough living the double life he was whilst acting as the head of Slytherin house and teaching a mostly incompetent cohort of students, but being the headmaster was so much worse.
Were it not for his promise to Lily, he did not doubt that he would’ve thrown the towel in already and taken his chances in hiding.
Oh, the Dark Lord would inevitably find him if he somehow survived Potter, but Severus found he cared little for such an outcome.
Death would be preferable to his current existence, and already, he could feel it lurking in the shadows.
If the Dark Lord did not kill him, it was almost inevitable that Potter would if he discovered the truth of why the man had targeted him in the first place. Still, here Severus remained, but as he felt a disturbance at the front gates of the school, and saw flashes of spellfire through the window, he knew immediately that something was afoot.
He frowned at the thought.
The Dark Lord had not informed him of such, and nor had Potter, which raised the question of just what was happening?
He frowned as he tried to identify any of the individuals attempting to attack the castle before waving his wand, ensuring the protections were in place and getting a message to the Dark Lord, before making his way towards the door, pausing as he caught a glimpse of something, only for the darkness to take him as he cast the first spell to defend himself.
(Break)
It was rather evident that he had angered Greyback by not allowing his pack to feed again.
The werewolf had visited days prior to inquire as to where they would be placed for the full moon, and had left in a towering rage when the Dark Lord had informed him that he must wait for a while before being allowed to run rampant across the country.
Breaking a few doors on his way out of the manor, there had been no opportunity to explain the delicate nature of the situation. Not that Fenrir cared for the subtlety of politics and public opinion.
For the time being, it was widely believed that Potter had made allies of the werewolves, and the Dark Lord wished for it to remain that way. Greyback, however, was little more than a feral beast at the best of times, and an outright liability for the most part.
Perhaps it would be best to be rid of him.
Over the years, he’d become more wolf than man, and it was becoming more difficult to ensure he listened to any instructions given to him to the point he could no longer be trusted.
It was frustrating to say the least, but the Dark Lord put those thoughts aside as a familiar patronus arrived.
“My Lord, a considerable force has arrived and is attacking the school! They’re attempting to breach the gates!”
He stood immediately, taken aback by such bluntness but not surprised by Potter’s boldness. If nothing else, the young man did not lack courage, though once more, he proved his inexperience and foolishness.
Attacking Hogwarts in such a manner was a foolish undertaking, after all, and yet, it was not something he could ignore.
Hogwarts belonged to him, was the first place he considered home, and he would not have it usurped by Harry Potter.
“Potter!” he whispered dangerously, summoning his followers to gather on the lawn outside.
He would put an end to such foolishness, and with it, any further notions of resistance in the foolish minds who had sided with his foe.
His wand was already in hand as he stalked towards the front doors of the Malfoy home, and in only a matter of moments, the swishing of cloaks could be heard as his followers answered the call.
“What is happening, my lord?” Bellatrix asked excitedly.
“Hogwarts is under attack.”
Her mouth fell agape before her eyes narrowed in anger.
“How dare…”
“I know,” the Dark Lord assuaged. “We will soon put an end to it.”
By now, around seven hundred or so had arrived before him, and he nodded to himself. It was not his full force, but it would be sufficient to repel the foolish efforts Potter was making to get through the defences of the castle.
Yes, it would be a decisive victory.
“Hogwarts has come under attack,” he announced. “According to Severus, quite the force has gathered at the front gates, but we know that Potter does not have a force like ours.”
The gathered men and women began to jeer.
“Well, what are you waiting?” the Dark Lord snapped. “We will arrive in Hogsmeade and show them the error of their ways. WITH ME!”
He vanished, allowing his anger to surface so that when he arrived in the sleepy village with hundreds in tow, his magic crackle across the sky like a deep rumble of thunder.
Those who’d been drawn to the streets by what was happening in the distance quickly made themselves scarce, but the Dark Lord’s focus was solely on what was unfolding ahead of him.
He could see and hear the spellfire, and he led the charge, stalking towards the castle only a short distance away to put an end to what was undoubtedly a desperate attempt by Potter to snatch a base of power for himself.
His efforts would be nothing, and every last man who foolishly followed him would perish here tonight.
(Break)
“You got them?” she asked breathlessly.
Jones nodded.
He’d been rather surprised that she had been here the entire time he had but had not questioned it when Nymphadora had simply given him a list of names of those who needed to be subdued quickly and quietly.
“All five are tied up in my office. They’re not going anywhere.”
“I’ve got three in mine, all of them Death Eaters.”
Jones shook his head.
“Letting them be among children is unforgiveable,” he murmured. “What now?”
Nymphadora could only shrug.
“All I was told to do was stop them getting any help from inside the castle.”
“What about Snape?”
That was the very question she’d been asking herself. Either Harry trusted the man or had seen to it himself that Severus could not interfere with his plan.
Regardless, her focus was to be on the students, and ensuring they were safe from whatever else would happen this evening.
“I don’t know, Jones,” she answered honestly. “Let’s just do what we can for the students. The Slytherins are to be left in their common room. The others are going to be transported out by the elves and portkeys. Harry has made the arrangements.”
“He really is something, isn’t he? A mad bastard through and through.”
Nymphadora nodded her agreement.
“Just imagine where we would be without him.”
Jones shook his head at the thought.
“Where is he anyway?”
“Somewhere he bloody well shouldn’t be,” she huffed in response. “Come on, let’s see what we can do to help.”
(Break)
He felt the many magical disturbances from somewhere nearby, mostly concealed by the protections around the manor that he couldn’t see, but Harry’s keen sense of detecting even the slightest traces was paying dividends.
Tom was gathering his followers to respond to what was happening at Hogwarts, exactly as he’d expected.
Even so, he would not celebrate until he was taking his leave of this place with the prisoners secured.
No, just because Riddle wasn’t here, this was still a most risky undertaking, and he needed to be prepared for anything that might come his way.
His gaze flitted to the unconscious Snape, and as he felt the disturbances fill the air once more, he woke the man with a flick of his wand.
“P-Potter?” Snape gasped. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You’re going to help me.”
“Help you? And you couldn’t just ask?”
“Plausible deniability. Besides, I needed you to alert him to what was happening at Hogwarts before telling what I need from you.”
Snape looked around confusedly, his eyes widening in realisation.
“You’re a fool! You cannot…”
“Can you get me in or not?” Harry snapped irritably.
Snape shook his head in disbelief but nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then what’re you waiting for? We don’t have as long as I would like.”
Snape pushed himself to his feet.
“Potter, this is one of the most protected properties in the entire country…”
“I know,” Harry cut in, “but he has important prisoners here that I intend to set free. All you need to do is get me in. I will handle everything else.”
What that may be, Harry didn’t know, but he was certain that the cloak would once more prove to be a most invaluable asset when he was within the protections themselves.
“He will kill me, Potter. He will know I helped you.”
Harry nodded as he removed a bag of gold from within his jacket pocket and placed it in Snape’s hand.
“There is more gold in there than you will ever need,” he explained. “Once I am inside, you can leave if that is what you want. You’ve mostly been a complete bastard to me but Dumbledore saw something good in you. I don’t always agree with him, and I’m not sure I do now…”
He broke off, not knowing what else to say, and Snape eyed the bag before pocketing it, and nodding.
“Stand back, Potter,” he whispered, pulling up his left sleeve, exposing the mark that marred his pale flesh.
Although Harry could not see much, he felt the magic here lessen considerably, and he covered himself in his cloak before stepping forward a few paces, breathing a sigh of relief mixed with trepidation as the sprawling grounds of Malfoy Manor and the enormous house shimmered into view.
“Good luck, Snape,” he offered. “I don’t plan on him being alive for much longer.”
“And to you too, Potter,” the man replied with a pained expression.
With only a nod, Harry began making his way towards the house, his grip tightening around the wand he held, uncertain of what awaited him inside, though very much aware that this wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last, that he would surrender himself to the unknown.