Chapter 68- Now you see me, New you don't.

July 26, 1995

Harry closed his eyes in relief and let his head droop back to the floor. A horrible bone-numbing exhaustion washed over him but he didn't care.

He'd made it.

He didn't know why, he wasn't sure how, but he'd done it.

He'd found Professor Dumbledore.

Am I at Hogwarts? he wondered, frowning when he became aware of worried voices babbling above him.

"What on Earth-?"

"Albus, what are you doing down there?"

"Good Lord, has something happened?"

"Gently now, don't overwhelm him," Dumbledore cautioned, effectively silencing the others. "Harry? Harry lad? Are you with us?"

"Sort of," Harry mumbled, wondering belatedly what on Earth he'd done to himself. A shock ran through him as he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows and noticed his forearms seemed to be in a state of flux. One second they were translucent-more so even than the ghosts at Hogwarts-the next they were so transparent he could hardly see them at all.

Worse yet was a new and unwelcome sensation of something pulling on him-dragging him back. With an eerie sense of deja vu, Harry forcibly recalled the end of the Second Task-kicking desperately toward the surface of Hogwarts Lake while fighting to overcome Ron and Gabrielle's combined deadweight-but this time there was no water to push against, no clear goal in sight, and he had no idea how or even if he could overcome it.

Before he could panic, Dumbledore spoke, his voice gently commanding. "Concentrate, Harry. Push forward. Visualize yourself here with me," the old wizard instructed, somehow seeming to know what Harry was experiencing.

Ready to try about anything at this point, Harry ground his teeth together and did as he was told. The end result was pretty pathetic looking, and he still felt like he was barely hanging on by his fingernails, but at least he wasn't phasing in and out anymore. When he finally felt stable enough to raise his head, he found himself nose to beak with Fawkes the Phoenix. Professor Dumbledore was kneeling just beyond the firebird, keeping several witches and wizards back with a sternly upraised hand.

Mindful of his errand and frankly unsure how long he could hold out, Harry met Dumbledore's worried gaze. "Professor...go t'the Burrow! Go now!" he warned, trying to convey as much urgency as possible. He waited expectantly for Dumbledore to spring into action, but the old wizard just frowned and shook his head, a puzzled look crossing his lined face.

"Borrow? You need to borrow something?" he guessed, before abruptly switching gears. "No! Wait, Harry! Push forward!" he called, an unaccustomed note of urgency in his voice.

Nonplused, Harry watched as Dumbledore braced himself on the floor with one hand, and reached out with the other, as though trying to make a grab for him. Instinctively he reached out to touch the older wizard's hand, breaking off with a gasp as his concentration slipped and he lost a little ground to the pulling. Reapplying himself he focused on staying where he was and managed to re-stabilize himself-or so he thought. He could still see Dumbledore, who was looking uncharacteristically bleak, but for some reason his headmaster no longer seemed able to see or hear him.

Confused, Harry waved a hand in front of Dumbledore's face. "I'm here, Professor! I'm right here!" he called, willing himself closer. For a second, it seemed to work. Dumbledore's face lit up with a relieved twinkle and smile. Seeing this, Harry tried again to warn him before his strength gave out entirely.

"The Burrow!" he urged as his vision began to blur, and the pulling sensation became almost impossible to resist. He glanced up hoping that he'd managed to convey his message, and nearly howled in frustration when Dumbledore shook his head and lifted his hands in a pose of helpless confusion. He wasn't going to be able to do this much longer. The effort required was simply more than he was capable of at the moment.

"I can't understand-Fawkes!" Dumbledore blurted, snapping his fingers as though remembering something and turning to the phoenix beside him. "Fawkes! Help him!"

The firebird favored Dumbledore with an indignant look before leveling his penetrating stare on Harry. I sense division in you, fledgling, he observed, tilting his head to one side. You may return to your body without speaking to my human if you do not wish to do so.

Growing giddy from exertion, Harry shook his head and reached out a desperate hand. "No! Please Fawkes," he managed between pants, "I have to warn him!"

Fawkes seemed to consider this for a very long time before nodding gravely. Very well, fledgling. Harry managed to hang on long enough to see the scarlet and gold bird start toward him, then his vision grayed completely and he felt himself begin to fall.

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The dim image of four men moving through tall grass and weeds scintillated in the depths of the mirror. A wave and murmured Auditis and the voices of the men drifted from the crystal surface, tinny and rather high-pitched.

"Blimey, what a wreck! Looks like the whole thing could go any second."

"And yeh were expectin' what, lad? A fine summer cottage by the sea?"

"Wouldn't be the first time, old man."

"A cheery blaze will improve it, wot?"

"Settle down, you lot, and mind those torches. His Nibs says it's time to go in."

"About bloody time! What took so long?"

"Meh. Addin' more bloody bottles to the supply box."

"Those? But they're empty!"

"'Pears so, don't it? We're to place them around the house and chuck a couple up the stairs."

"What? The old boy's barking!"

"Have to agree with yeh there."

"Look, I just repeat the orders. I don't explain them."

"That's one cold fish, that one. Don't trust him a'tall."

"Don't have to, wot?"

"Aye. Stop yer whinin'. Yeh have to do a job, not be his best mate."

"But-"

"Pipe down! He wants empty bottles scattered about that's what he'll get. Now spread out and check the doors and windows. Sooner it's over, sooner we can go back to the pub for a pint."

The thugs did as they were told, although with varying degrees of enthusiasm. When they separated, the scene in the mirror split in two to follow them.

"Oi! This window's open!"

"Now you're talkin'! Still, don't suppose anyone would bother lockin' up a place like this.

"GAH! What's that?"

"It's a bird, you bloody pillock!"

"Hah! Fancy bein' scared of that tiny thing!"

"I'll show you who's scared!"

"Ease off, it's gone now."

"All right you lot, once we spread the Petrol, the fumes'll be thick. Work from the inside back toward this window or the door, understand? Hey now! No yawning!"

"Sorry boss. Still groggy from the ride over, I reckon. Blue's for the walls?"

"Blue's for the walls, yellow's for the fl-floor...blimey...now you got me doing it. Here now. Take some bottles and get to work."

The watcher nodded, a little sneer twisting his lips. The Dark Lord's plan was genius, but his own modification would add a bit of personal insurance-especially since he was saddled with Muggles and untried dunderheads. He continued tracking the Muggles' progress, frowning in annoyance when the ghostly image of a cloaked figure overlaid the scene in the mirror. Irritated, he spared a quick glance at the trainee who was bending down to speak into the window of his classic Mercedes-Benz.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius reacted instantly, glaring thorough his Deatheater mask and jamming the tip of his wand against the intruder's throat.

"Quiet, idiot! No names! Forget again and I'll leave your corpse here as a warning to the others!"

"S-sorry, sir," the trainee squeaked. "The Muggles are inside," he offered, clearly trying to placate his superior.

"Yes, I am aware. We shouldn't have to wait much longer," Lucius said, with an air of dismissal. When the other wizard didn't move, he glared up at him again. "Was there something else?"

"Begging your pardon, sir, but a few of us were wondering, why are we going to all this trouble?"

"Trouble?" Malfoy's silken voice held a subtle threat.

The unlucky spokeswizard must have heard, because he swallowed audibly and looked less sure of himself before inquiring, "Well...yes sir. The Ministry isn't watching over this house like Potter's, are they? We shouldn't be in danger of tripping any alarms."

"Ah, I see. No, the Ministry isn't monitoring this property, but Weasley, along with being a Muggle-lover, is known to be associated with Albus Dumbledore. The Dark Lord chose to proceed with caution based on that fact."

"Oh. V-very wise of him, s-sir. Very wise indeed."

"Hmm. There may be hope for you after all, provided you survive your training period. The Dark Lord has little patience for those who question his orders. Be grateful I am more forgiving."

"Th-thank you, sir. S-shall we watch for the Muggles coming back out, then?"

"What makes you think they're coming back out?"

The junior Deatheater hesitated for a long moment. "Erm, nothing, sir. N-nothing at all."

"Very good. Tell the others to get into position. As soon as the Muggles finish spreading the potions, it will be time to make our move," Malfoy ordered, allowing himself a cruel smile when the trainee fled.

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"What is this? What do they think they're doing? "

Severus Snape, grateful now for the full body bind the Dark Lord had cast on him, dedicated all his concentration to keeping his mind perfectly blank while his master stalked over to the scrying mirror and tapped it with his wand.

Malfoy appeared in a small section in the lower left quadrant, just barely in Severus' line of vision. "I specifically told you to use the paralyzing gas at the next target," Voldemort growled in his best "This Better Be Good" voice, gesturing irritably at the wall.

Unable to make out Malfoy's reply, Snape frowned inwardly, trying to discern his "colleague's" intentions. He was privy to the "public" part of the Dark Lord's plan, but he didn't know all of the particulars. Not that it mattered. Lucius had obviously deviated a bit, but to what purpose? Only a fool invited the Dark Lord's wrath, and Lucius Malfoy, whatever else he might be, was no fool.

Turning his full attention back to the mirror, Snape watched the Muggles. The empty-looking bottles they were tossing about weren't the ones he had filled with paralyzing gas. Those would have immobilized them on the spot. Judging from the Muggles' progressively slower movements and the frequency of their yawns, it seemed to be a gradual sleep agent.

Snape considered that, raising a mental eyebrow. The Dark Lord clearly wasn't expecting trouble on this mission, but he supposed Lucius could be taking a few extra precautions if he thought he could get away with it. The group Malfoy was leading had little to no experience, but their trainee status would only go so far in deflecting the Dark Lord's displeasure if something went wrong.

Still, Severus was having trouble believing Malfoy was afraid. True, Weasley's brats were clever enough when they bothered to apply themselves, and Molly could probably take out a trainee or two with the power of her voice alone, but the whole family was asleep. Further, they weren't expecting trouble. Taken unawares they should pose no real threat, so why the sleeping agent? Snape grappled with the maddening feeling he was overlooking something as Voldemort walked back to his seat and Malfoy faded out of sight. He couldn't help noticing that the Dark Lord was looking very pleased about something.

"Will Malfoy be punished, Master?" Pettigrew wondered hopefully, making Snape want to groan and roll his eyes. It was amazing how the man's so called "Gryffindor Courage" manifested itself in an appalling inability to keep his mouth shut. With Voldemort, it was far better to gain knowledge by observation-a lesson the smaller wizard seemed incapable of learning.

As though to prove Snape's point, Voldemort turned on Wormtail, making the little man cringe and throw up his hands in an unconscious gesture of defense. "Punished? I think not. Lucius has engineered an opportunity for our new trainees that I admit I did not see."

"H-he did, Master?" Pettigrew squeaked, glancing involuntarily at the mirror where the Muggles had begun smashing bottles of ward weakener against one living room wall, and pouring the highly flammable firebomb fluid on the floors.

Voldemort nodded, smiling a vicious smile. "Indeed. Tonight we shall discover if they are worthy of the name Death Eater."

Snape felt his stomach drop. He had been away too long. He had forgotten what it was like to serve under Voldemort and win his favor. Obviously Lucius had not.

Killing was not as easy as some people seemed to think. Many a new recruit had frozen at a critical moment. By the time Severus had been initiated, it had become something of a tradition to test a new Death Eater's taste for blood by ordering them to kill a helpless target. Lucius was actually killing two birds with one stone.

No wonder the Dark Lord looks so pleased! Snape had assumed, foolishly perhaps, that the Weasleys would be awakened when the attack began. There might be some casualties, but it was equally likely that they might get out, or have sense enough to run for help. Molly could apparate, and if he wasn't mistaken, the twins could as well.

If the entire family was in a drugged sleep...well, that put a whole new slant on things. Realistically, their chance of survival was practically zero.

Malfoy was taking out insurance all right, but it was for himself, not the mission. Now, no matter what happened at the Burrow, he would be essentially blameless. He had simply set things up. How well the trainees performed was on them.

Sighing inwardly, Snape groped desperately for a flaw, but found nothing obvious. It was a well laid plan, he conceded, his frustration tinged with a certain grudging admiration. Unfortunately, it practically ensured Arthur Weasley would lose his home and most of his family tonight. Bound and observed as he was now, there was absolutely nothing Severus could do about it. Indeed, at the moment, his own survival was far from assured. If this plan went off without a hitch and the Dark Lord condemned him as a traitor...

Stop! Snape growled inwardly, cutting that line of thinking off before it could go anywhere. This situation is not hopeless, he reminded himself. As long as the Dark Lord harbored some doubts he had a chance. Throwing up a mental wall, he worked on keeping one side carefully blank while thinking furiously behind it. Pettigrew had taken his wand, but he still had his little vial of poison. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he had an out if he needed it. The Dark Lord would have to release him from the body bind if he expected him to answer any questions-or wanted to hear him scream and beg. That was all the opportunity he would require.

Contingency plan firmly in place, Severus started working on less... permanent ...alternatives. There had to be another way, but try as he might, he couldn't think of it. This information needed to be acted upon now and at present, he was silenced. Even if the Dark Lord released him, by the time he could reasonably manage to get back and report it would be far, far, too late. Snape had always disparaged partners as an unnecessary liability, but he had to admit some backup would have been useful tonight.

Ironically, now that the Dark Lord had shifted his focus away from Potter himself, he might have hit upon the best way to hurt the boy. Snape considered this, watching clinically as the Muggles began to succumb to the fumes in the house. Weasley was obviously target one, and he was prepared to bet Granger was target two. If Diggory's death was anything to go by, this could be a crippling loss for Potter. Voldemort might as well choke off two of the boy's major arteries. In fact, it might be kinder if he did-

Wait! Potter!

Growling inwardly, Snape quickly masked the sudden wild hope that bloomed in his chest. Perhaps the situation wasn't lost after all. He didn't pretend to understand the mechanics behind it, but Potter had managed to gather some information from the Dark Lord this summer. He'd seen it himself in the boy's letters to Albus. It was a long shot, but then the little brat had also survived a Basilisk bite... If Potter could warn Dumbledore in time...

Snape winced inwardly, once again cutting off his line of thought with savage swiftness. He would have sneered in profound disgust at the absurd direction his musings had taken if he'd been able to move his mouth. Further, if someone had told him this morning that he'd be actively pulling for Potter to save the day yet again through sheer dumb luck he would have personally admitted them into St. Mungo's for rest and observation.

On the other hand, at this point it was Potter or nothing. As much as it rankled, all Snape could do was mentally cross his fingers and hope for the best.I hope you're watching now, boy, he thought, as he stared blankly at the scrying mirror, for Weasley's sake as well as your own.

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