Usually, in the month of May, the bushes of the Forbidden Forest sprouted buds of every shape and colour, and the treetops glowed a vibrant green, a sign that winter was long gone and spring was gradually giving way to summer.
That year, however, perhaps to accompany the cold war raging just beyond those woods, warmth was slow to arrive, and a cold breeze blew in the dark sky, shaking the colourless bushes and dull treetops.
Severus sat under a thick-trunked oak, wrapped in his cloak. After leaving the Shrieking Shack, he had decided that the best and fastest way to reach the castle quickly and unnoticed was to fly.
So, like a large, sinister black shadow, he had flown past Hogsmeade, the Forbidden Forest, the Black Lake and the Whomping Willow.
Around the school, the battle raged cruelly: several lifeless bodies lay in the castle park, some of which Severus recognised as Death Eaters; others, he realised, had been Order fighters.
His goal, however, was to find Harry Potter. He had established that he had been unconscious for a few hours, which meant there was a good chance that the boy was now aware of his fate and was on his way to Voldemort to be killed. The thought made him nauseous.
He had watched from above as dozens of bodies collided, sparks of all colours striking hooded figures, then boys in school uniforms.
He had thought of going down, fighting, helping, but, he told himself, he would probably be killed by the very people he was trying to help, and he could not afford to die. He was the only one who knew.
What if Potter did not return to the castle and look at his memories? What if the boy had lost the vial of silver fluid in his attempt to reach Dumbledore's Pensieve? What if, though he doubted it, in the moment of death, overwhelmed and in agony, he failed to produce memories clear enough?
These thoughts haunted him as he flew high in the sky, keeping his distance to avoid being seen.
He searched every nook and cranny of the fields around the castle, every window from which the inside could be seen, every tower and terrace, but he couldn't find him.
He knew the place Voldemort had chosen to meet the boy, the place that would be the scene of their final duel, the scene where Lord Voldemort would finally succeed in killing the Boy Who Lived. Could it be that he had been unconscious for so long that the massacre had already taken place?
With this thought in his mind, he had turned back and resumed his search of the forest. He had searched far and wide for what seemed like hours, making his way through the brambles and climbing over the roots that protruded from the ground. He had found nothing.
Finally, he had taken to the air again and found a secluded spot not far from where Harry Potter's murder was to take place. He had sat under the oak tree, which seemed to hide him well enough, and summoned his Patronus.
The silver doe had pirouetted around his head for a while before stopping in front of him.
"Find Harry Potter," he had whispered to her, and then he had watched her soar into the dark sky and disappear beyond the treetops.
Now, cold, nervous and with the uncomfortable feeling that there was nothing he could do but wait, he wrapped himself in his cloak as inappropriate questions took over his mind.
Who the hell was that woman? Could there be a member of the Order of the Phoenix he didn't know about? But most of all, the antidote. So complex and yet so simple. Impossible, but he had proof of its efficacy before him; in fact, he was living proof of its efficacy.
A crack interrupted the flow of his thoughts: the sound of a branch being stepped on by a shoe, faint but very clear in the silence of the Dark Forest.
Severus sprang to his feet, wand at the ready. The sound had come from a tree not far from his own. He approached it cautiously, careful not to step on anything himself. Halfway there, he heard a second, faint crack that made him jump slightly. It was followed by a third, a fourth, and then a series of increasingly louder cracks. Someone was approaching.
Severus murmured "Lumos," and the tip of his wand lit up.
"Show yourself," he commanded.
Three hooded figures emerged from the darkness. Severus recognised them without a shadow of a doubt as Death Eaters.
"Identify yourselves," he said, trying to adopt the tone of someone it would be wise to obey.
The three figures lowered their hoods and he immediately recognised all three with horror: the siblings, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, and Bellatrix Lestrange stood before him, each with a distinctly malevolent smile on their faces.
Of all the Death Eaters he might have the misfortune to meet, Bellatrix was probably one of the few who might be aware of Voldemort's plan to kill him. After Severus himself, the Dark Lord had trusted her more than anyone else, his most loyal servant, his most faithful.
"Well, well, well," she said, circling him, "Snape. What a surprise."
He studied her face carefully, trying to read her expression. What surprised her, seeing him alive or seeing him there, in the middle of the forest instead of on the battlefield?
"Why are you pointing your wand at us, Severus?" Amycus asked.
He thought quickly. They were three against one and he was still weak. He might be able to win a duel, but he would rather avoid it.
He carefully lowered his wand and turned to Bellatrix, who was still moving slowly around him.
"Did he do it?" he asked, forcing himself to sound hopeful. "Did the Dark Lord kill the boy?"
Bellatrix did not answer. Instead, her sharp, maniacal laugh echoed through the trees.
"You'd know if you were there, wouldn't you?" she said.
It didn't sound like an accusation, more like a statement.
Severus stood up straight and spoke in a solemn, impassive tone.
"The Dark Lord gave me a mission and I had to accomplish it. He knows why I wasn't there."
She laughed again. "Of course he knows. He knows everything."
She stopped in front of him and put a finger to her chin in a forced, pensive expression.
"Funny, though. You know, when he went to face the boy, the Dark Lord told us an interesting story about his wand."
"Really?" he asked.
Bellatrix nodded. "Really. It seems that this particular wand, the one he took from Dumbledore's grave with his own hands, has to be won in order to be used to its full potential."
Severus did not reply, but tightened his grip on his wand.
"'Really, my Lord?' I told him, 'But you didn't win it from Dumbledore, did you, my Lord?'" she chanted, in a sickening imitation of herself. "'No,' he told me. 'Snape won it from Dumbledore.'"
By then, Severus was gripping his wand so tightly that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to let go.
"'But then, my Lord… does that mean you have to kill Snape?' I asked him."
Bellatrix's face twisted into an insane grin, her eyes almost popping out of their sockets as they locked onto him.
"Can you guess his answer?" she asked in a whisper so full of malice it made his skin crawl.
Once again, Severus made no response. He remained frozen, his gaze fixed on her.
Bellatrix approached him and he forced himself not to step back. She leaned forward and brought her lips to his ear. She murmured, in the tone of someone whispering to a lover.
"'I already have.'"
It all happened in a second.
Severus stepped back and raised his wand as the other three raised theirs almost in unison, hurling three different curses at him. He managed to block all three and sent one back at them. Bellatrix blocked it; then, with the maddest look Severus had ever seen her wear, began to cast spells at him in rapid succession. Unable to block them all, he took to the air and landed just behind them. He cast a Sectumsempra on Amycus, who fell to the ground, bleeding.
Alecto screamed and collapsed at her brother's side, while Bellatrix continued hurling curses at him. He blocked most of them until a fleeting green spark struck him square in the chest.
He felt immense, uncontrollable, unbearable pain and his screams echoed through the silent forest.
He heard the woman cast another spell on him; his wand flew from his hand and he found himself with his hands and feet bound in tight knots. He tried to fly, but the spell prevented him.
Bellatrix approached him, pleased, her shrill laughter drowning out the sobs of the Death Eater behind her.
"Stop it!" she hissed, turning sharply.
Alecto stopped crying immediately. She stood up and walked briskly towards Severus, her face contorted with rage.
"YOU!" she cried, throwing herself at him.
Bellatrix stopped her and pulled her back with a violent tug.
"Idiot!" she shouted. "The Dark Lord has to be the one to kill him. He has to win the wand, remember? If you kill him now, He will kill you later."
Alecto seemed to consider her options for a moment.
Severus looked around for a way out, but the wand was too far away and the ropes around his wrists and ankles were too tight.
Then he felt something slide past him. For a horrible moment, he thought it was Nagini. He believed that Voldemort had returned and that he was about to meet the same fate he had narrowly escaped only a few hours earlier.
Gathering all his courage, he turned to look; it was definitely a snake, but it couldn't be Nagini. It was too small, too dark, and had some sort of scaly crest on its triangular head. It hissed softly and moved towards Severus' hands, which he instinctively drew back.
It was only when the snake had passed that he realised his wand was there, just inches from his fingers. Astonished, he grabbed it, trying not to be seen, but Bellatrix noticed something and frowned.
"What is it?" she asked sharply. "What's there?"
The snake began to hiss loudly and slithered in front of him towards the two women, making sinuous lines with its tail.
Bellatrix, surprised, bent down to take a closer look.
"Where did you come from?" she asked, in the tone of a child talking to a puppy.
The snake hissed something in reply that neither of the humans could understand.
"Did He send you?"
The snake lifted its head slightly from the ground and nodded up and down.
Bellatrix smiled. "Excellent! Lead the way."
The snake shook its head vigorously.
She looked at it, confused, and crouched down in front of it again.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
The snake moved its head up and down again, this time signalling for her to come closer.
She complied. She leaned closer to it as though expecting it to speak her language.
But the snake did not speak. Instead, it opened its wide mouth and lunged hungrily for Bellatrix's neck, sinking its teeth into her flesh.
Severus, who had been waiting for an opportunity, freed his wrists with a spell and aimed his wand at his ankles to do the same.
Meanwhile, Bellatrix was screaming and flailing furiously.
"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF ME!" she shouted at Alecto.
Alecto pointed her wand at the snake, but Bellatrix was moving too much and she couldn't risk killing the Dark Lord's favourite Death Eater.
So she shouted "Sectumsempra!" hoping at most to graze her. She managed to hit the snake, which fell to the ground with a choking hiss. Bellatrix fell next to it as if paralysed, her eyes wide open in terror, and Alecto threw herself on top of her.
"Bella!" she cried.
The other did not answer.
"Are you—"
But she never finished the sentence. Severus, now free, had cast another Sectumsempra at her. Alecto lay bleeding on the floor beside her brother.
Severus turned to look for the snake, but it was no longer there. In its place lay a pale woman with long black curls and violet eyes, naked on the damp earth, her hands clutching a bleeding side.
He approached her, quickly unbuttoning his cloak and draping it over her body. She flinched, looked at him and wrapped herself in it.
Severus couldn't say anything. He let his eyes travel from her face to her blood-covered hands and swallowed.
"We must go," she said quietly. "My venom paralyses, but doesn't kill. She'll be as good as new in less than an hour. Better to be far away by then."
Severus nodded. He stood up and helped the woman to do the same.
"A few trees ahead is my bag. I'll need it," she added, nodding towards the path.
"Can you walk?" he asked faintly.
"Of course."
Omegas freed herself from his grip and began to walk unsteadily towards the nearby path.
Severus, still dazed by the events, turned to look at the three inert Death Eaters. For a moment, wand in hand, hatred boiling in his gut, he thought of killing Bellatrix. It would give him an advantage: perhaps Voldemort would not know he was alive, at least not yet.
He approached her and watched her, motionless, helpless—a large, clumsy wax statue with bulging eyes. From the look on her face, she seemed to be in great pain.
He pointed his wand at her, but couldn't do anything. Not because he didn't want to get rid of her. Because killing a defenceless woman felt like an ignoble act, something a Death Eater would do. He was tired of being a Death Eater. He lowered his wand, turned to the woman a few paces away and followed her.
They walked in silence for a while. From time to time his eyes darted to her hands, still pressed against the wound on her side.
They reached a broken log with a hollow in the middle; she approached it, put her hand into the hole and pulled out her bag. She fumbled with the black velvet for a few seconds, then her hand emerged holding the wand tightly. She pointed it at the bag, twirled it and some crumpled clothes came out.
She turned to him and moved her finger in a circle, inviting him to turn around. He complied without saying a word.
"How did you find me?" he asked.
"I heard you scream," she replied.
Severus frowned. "You were quick."
"I was nearby."
"Why?" he pressed, in a tone that sounded more like an accusation than a proper question.
He heard her let out a muffled groan as she pulled on her dress.
"I was looking for the boy," she said, a little breathless. "As were you, I suspect."
Severus felt the urge to turn and give her a probing look, but stopped halfway.
"Why were you looking for him?"
"I wanted to help him."
From that answer, Severus deduced that Omegas did not know that Harry Potter's destiny was to die at Voldemort's hands, and that there was nothing and no one to help him. Whoever she was, Dumbledore had not placed the same trust in her as he had in him.
"How did you know he would be there?"
"I followed the Death Eaters who seemed the most unpleasant," she replied with a chuckle.
She approached him, passing him and standing in front of him. The right side of her dress was heavily stained with blood. She handed him his cloak, and he took it with hesitant hands.
"Do you happen to have any Dittany? I've run out," she asked, in the tone of someone borrowing a quill from a classmate.
Severus blinked and shook his head.
"Never mind," she sighed. "I'll manage." She looked up, gave him a tentative smile and added, "Well, goodbye, then."
She turned and started walking in the opposite direction.
Severus followed her in disbelief. "Where do you think you're going?"
She stopped, turned again and looked him up and down.
"Away," she replied simply.
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze dropping to the stain on her dress.
"You can't," he said categorically. "Not in that condition."
She waved a lazy hand in the air. "It's nothing, I'll be fine."
She gave him another long, awkward glance, then turned and continued walking.
Severus stood still for a few seconds, watching her go with his eyes narrowed in puzzlement. She was strolling around with a horrendous curse wound on her right side—a wound inflicted when, for the second time that night, she had saved his life.
His lips curled in a grimace of genuine disgust. He hated that kind of debt. He hated the idea of owing his life to anyone, and the idea of owing it to her doubly made him feel an almost uncontrollable sense of unease.
He waved his wand: a faint blue light shot out and struck her. She froze and was suspended in mid-air, hovering like an eerie, motionless ghost.
"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, sounding halfway between irritation and amusement.
Severus turned and began walking in the opposite direction, as she hovered helplessly over his head.
"I'm taking you to the castle. You need help."
"What— are you mad?" she asked, losing all trace of humour. "You can't!"
He smirked. The idea of annoying her and getting his own back gave him great satisfaction. Saying not a word, he set off on the path he knew would take them straight to Hogwarts, deaf to the protests coming from above his head.
No more than twenty minutes later, the two reached the edge of the forest. Omegas had begun to address him with decidedly unfriendly epithets. Severus turned sharply, his voice lowering to a menacing growl.
"Listen carefully," he said, pointing a finger at her. "We are about to enter the castle grounds—the very heart of the battle."
He drew his wand and waved it first at himself, then at her.
"Perhaps a Disillusionment Charm will be enough to get us to the entrance without being seen, but we must be discreet, which means…"
He pointed the wand at her like a sword.
"You must be quiet."
Omegas remained silent for a while, her eyes darting over his sour face. She huffed and forced herself to adopt a quiet tone.
"Seriously, you don't understand. I can't, I mustn't—"
He pressed the tip of the wand into her cheek.
"If you don't shut your mouth, I'll shut it for you," he declared. He shot her a look that made it clear he was just waiting for a good reason to be true to his word.
She sighed again and muttered something though clenched teeth that sounded a lot like, "What a bloody…"
He walked briskly as they made their way through the Hogwarts grounds. He took the long way round, keeping their distance from the battle raging in the centre of the park. When they were almost at the entrance to the castle, a stray curse almost hit them and Severus deflected it with a quick Shield Charm. It bounced off and almost collided with a young man walking through the gardens.
He froze and took a step back to examine the spot from which the curse had come. Severus and Omegas held their breath, praying silently that the Disillusionment Charm would be strong enough.
When he was a hair's breadth from Severus' nose, he recognised him as Stan Shunpike, a boy barely of age who he knew was under the Imperius Curse. He waved his wand under his cloak and murmured, "Imperio."
Stan stopped looking around and stood still, his eyes blank and his hands hanging limply at his sides. He turned and shuffled to the other side of the park. Severus and Omegas let out a sigh of relief.
The two reached the entrance and crossed the threshold; the large stone doors were wide open, and on the ground beneath them lay the remains of what Severus guessed were the statues that had been placed there to guard the castle. There was a great bustle of people, some fleeing, some chasing, some running in and out of the entrance with wands drawn.
A boy Severus recognised as Dean Thomas, a seventh year Gryffindor, crossed the entrance carrying a younger boy with mousy grey hair and a large bloody wound on his abdomen.
"It's all right, Colin. All right," he whispered, pressing his hands to the boy's stomach. "I'm taking you to the hospital wing, mate. You'll be fine."
But the boy, Severus thought, didn't look like he had much chance of making it. He was pale, his mouth was half open and his eyelids were beginning to droop.
He watched as the two crossed the entrance. Instead of going up the stairs to the hospital wing, to his surprise, they headed to the dungeons. He followed them, keeping a safe distance, careful not to make any noise. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was greeted by an impressive sight.
The main hall of the dungeons had been transformed into a sort of giant makeshift hospital. Dozens and dozens of beds were crammed together, separated by white curtains, and on most of them lay a wounded, unconscious or dead man or woman. Meanwhile, half a dozen people were frantically running back and forth, holding bottles, bandages and towels, while Madam Pomfrey briskly shouted instructions.
Severus saw Dean Thomas enter the hall, still carrying Colin Creevey, and lay him gently on one of the empty beds.
"We need help here!" he cried, and immediately a woman with full cheeks and red hair ran towards him.
"What happened?" asked Molly Weasley, her voice breaking with a choked sob.
"I don't know," Dean replied, "he was like this when I found him."
She touched his forehead gently and whispered something Severus couldn't hear.
He could do nothing but watch the scene in stunned silence for a moment, before a voice above his head brought him back to reality.
"Are you planning to let me down?"
He looked up at her. Omegas, still hovering above him, had lost her irritated frown and was now wearing a look of grim resignation.
He waved his wand and she descended gently until her feet touched the ground. She adjusted her cloak over her shoulders, brushed a stray curl from her forehead and resumed pressing her hands to her side, which had begun to bleed again after the Static Spell had been broken.
Severus approached her and spoke in the most authoritative tone he could muster—one that had never failed him before.
"Once we enter, I will have to break the Disillusionment Charm. When that happens, the people inside will probably try to kill me, or at least incapacitate me."
"Why?" she asked. She didn't seem worried, curious if anything.
He didn't answer. He gave her a single, eloquent glare, and she fell silent again.
"I'll do the talking," he said gruffly.
He waved his wand again and the two became visible.
They walked through the doors of the room. Almost immediately they found themselves scrutinised by an indefinable number of eyes; some surprised, others concerned, and still others notably resented.
"You!" called a voice not far away.
Minerva McGonagall was sitting on the edge of a bed, her robes torn and her hat resting on her lap, while Madam Pomfrey tended to a large cut on the left side of her head. She leapt to her feet, unceremoniously shoving the Healer aside, and walked briskly towards Severus, nostrils flaring and wand drawn.
"Did you really have the nerve to show up here?"
Severus opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by a second familiar voice coming from a bed to their left.
"NO!" it shouted. "DON'T TOUCH THAT MAN!"
A white curtain was pulled away with such force that it fell to the floor. Harry Potter—pale, dirty, and with a deep gash on his head—rose and strode towards them.
"Potter!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed.
"He's with us," he said firmly.
Professor McGonagall's eyes flicked from Severus to the boy at least half a dozen times. Every eye present watched the scene in stunned amazement.
Harry stood in front of him, smiled and held out his hand.
"Welcome back, Professor."
Severus met his gaze, then glanced at his hand. He hesitated, but finally took it.
McGonagall, now staring at their hands clasped with the air of someone watching a Hungarian Horntail having tea, turned back to the boy.
"Potter, what—"
"I'll explain everything, Professor."
She looked at him sternly and raised an eyebrow. "You'd better."
Severus and Harry stopped shaking hands. The boy's eyes fell on the woman beside him for the first time.
"Hello," he said, giving her a curious look.
She swallowed hard. "Hello."
He turned back to Severus. "Who is she?" he asked in a whisper.
Severus opened his mouth to speak, but found he didn't have an answer to the question.
"I'm Omegas," she replied. "I'd shake your hand, but…" She gestured to her bloodied hands.
"This woman is injured," Severus interjected. "She needs to be treated."
"I don't need to be treated," she countered with a grimace, "just a bit of Dittany."
He shot her another glare. "You need help."
"Oh, please, it's just a scratch," she huffed.
Severus frowned, his eyes travelling from her face to her side, to her face again. There wasn't a hint of pain to be found in her violet eyes. Astonished, he opened his mouth to argue, only to be interrupted yet again by a cry from behind him.
"Harry!"
A girl with bushy brown hair ran up to the boy and threw her arms around his neck. Behind her, a red-haired boy with a freckled face limped slightly in their direction.
"Mate, you scared us to death! Where the hell—"
But the words died in his mouth. He had seen Severus and now, wide-eyed and horrified, he was pointing a trembling finger at him.
"Harry, he… he is… is…"
"Yes, he is. But he's with us," Harry said briskly. "It's a long story."
Ron's eyes didn't seem inclined to leave Severus' face. When they finally managed, the sight of the woman with the bloodstain now covering half of her dress did nothing to ease his anxiety.
"Is she all right?" he mumbled.
"I'm perfectly fine," she deadpanned.
"She's not 'fine'," Severus retorted. "She's injured and too arrogant to seek help."
She shot him a venomous glare, which he returned with one that was at least three times more threatening. Finally, she turned away wrinkling her nose.
"Fine," she muttered. "But make it quick."
Professor McGonagall nodded to Madam Pomfrey, who swiftly reached Omegas and led her to the nearest empty bed, drawing the curtains.
Harry turned and looked back at the Professor. Severus did his best to meet it blankly, though the memory of the last time he had seen them didn't make it as easy as it might have been in any other circumstance. Eventually, he was forced to look away.
"Update me, Potter," he said curtly.
The boy looked around cautiously. He nodded towards a secluded corner and walked briskly in that direction. Severus followed, as did Professor McGonagall, Ron and Hermione.
When they stopped, they all looked at each other for a moment, each waiting for someone to start explaining.
"Well?" urged McGonagall, "Who starts?"
As she spoke, she shot a stern look at Severus, who felt the same way he had done when she had looked at him during his first Transfiguration class many years before. He forced himself to ignore her and fixed his impassive gaze on Harry instead.
"Why aren't you dead?"
The boy smiled. "I did die," he replied, "but then I came back."
Severus frowned. "But you saw…" he hesitated. "You saw…"
Harry nodded vigorously. "I saw, sir."
Severus had never seen such reverence in the boy's eyes in all those years.
"It's gone," he added. "The thing in my head is gone. It's not there anymore."
Severus sighed in relief. It was over. His task was complete. His mission was successfully accomplished.
The overwhelming curiosity he had tried to suppress until that moment took over again. This time, he finally allowed himself to indulge it.
"How is it possible that you're alive?" he asked, his eyes narrowing to slits.
Harry shook his head. "I don't know, sir."
Severus had the distinct feeling the boy was hiding something.
"Would anyone care to explain?" interjected Professor McGonagall.
Both Severus and Harry turned to find three pairs of eager eyes staring at them.
So it was that Harry began to tell them, in broad strokes, everything they didn't know about Severus' role in the war. He didn't interrupt the story; he certainly had no desire to explain. But he listened intently.
The boy spoke of Dumbledore's plan to have himself killed; he spoke of Severus, of how he had been a spy for the Order for nearly seventeen years, of how he had managed to deceive Voldemort, of how the Dark Lord had entrusted him with the most delicate and important missions for the success of his plans—plans that Severus had skilfully managed to jeopardise without ever betraying himself. He also spoke of how Severus had always tried to protect him, in one way or another, and always succeeded.
But he never explained the real reason why he had done so. Severus had feared the moment when the boy would inevitably bring up Lily, yet showing a tact and discretion the Professor had not expected, he made no mention of her. Severus was grateful, but careful not to let him know. Throughout the story he remained motionless, calm, as if they were talking about someone else.
When the boy finished, four pairs of eyes were fixed on Severus.
Harry green eyes were still full of the new respect he had shown since setting foot in the school.
Ron's eyes seemed incredulous, a little sceptical, as if trying to find a good reason not to believe what he had just heard.
Hermione smiled, mostly with her eyes as her mouth was open in a small 'o' and didn't seem inclined to move.
Finally, he looked at McGonagall. He found her nose slightly red and her eyes moist. She immediately lowered her gaze and fixed it stubbornly on the floor,
"I… I knew it," she murmured. "I knew you couldn't…" but couldn't finish the sentence.
Instead, she raised her head, regained her stern aura, looked Severus in the eye and said firmly, "Very well. Welcome back."
She turned her back and walked past him, leaving him alone with the three boys.
Severus, a little dazed by her reaction, turned to watch her walk down the corridor.
"Why aren't you dead, sir?" Harry asked after a moment.
Severus' eyes darted from the boy to the white curtains behind which Omegas had disappeared a few minutes earlier.
She was now sitting on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs. She looked around curiously, an unreadable smile on her face.
Harry followed the Professor's gaze to the woman and frowned.
"Who is that woman?"
"I don't know," he replied, lingering on her for another moment.
He quickly turned back to Harry.
"So, Potter."
He snapped back to attention. "Sir?"
"Why aren't you out there looking for Voldemort?"
It was the first time he had said his name. Harry seemed pleasantly surprised.
"I can't yet."
"Why not?"
"I have to kill the snake."
Severus looked at him in confusion. "Nagini?"
The boy nodded. "As long as the snake is alive, Voldemort cannot be killed."
Severus shot him a questioning look; then a flash of understanding crossed his black eyes.
"He… did to the snake what he did to you, didn't he?"
Harry nodded again. As he did so, Ron and Hermione's eyes widened in horror.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, "Did he—"
"Later," he hurried to cut her off.
Severus looked at the three of them, once again, with the annoying feeling that they were hiding something important from him.
"Do you know how to find the snake, Professor?" Harry asked.
He thought about it. The idea of looking for Nagini after what had happened in the Shrieking Shack made him feel nauseous; still, he thought, if it had to be done, he wouldn't back down.
"Does he know you're looking for it?" he asked.
"Voldemort?"
"Obviously," he replied sourly.
"I think so," the boy nodded.
He pondered for a few more seconds.
"He's going to keep it close to him," he said firmly.
"That's what we thought," Ron interjected..
Severus ignored him. "If he knows Nagini is the only thing keeping him alive, he's probably hiding. They are both probably hiding."
"How do we find them?" Harry asked, a newfound determination in his eyes.
Severus paced slowly in front of them, hands clasped, black robes billowing.
"If he has something in mind, he will have told the Faithful," he muttered to himself.
"The Faithful, sir?"
He turned to the boy and approached him gravely.
"I think it's time to catch a Death Eater," he announced.
The three looked at him, stunned.
"How?" Hermione asked as soon as she found her voice.
Severus raised an eyebrow, looked at the girl from head to toe and turned without a word. He walked briskly between the many white curtains that occupied the dungeons.
"He hasn't changed much, has he?" Ron said gloomily.
The trio followed him.