Chapter One: Traitors and Talk of Traitors
Five years after 'A Shattered Prophecy'
Life had become a slow a tedious proposition, one that continually forced him to leave one town, village, or city for another. The process never stopped, even if there had been no fool that had the notion that he would be able to kill him. Most of the time it was just the paranoia that seemed to envelop him like a second skin. It was a sensation that he had not been used to, but over the years and all the close calls had become fined tune in his life and actions just like second nature. So he traveled throughout Europe, at least on the continent since a visit to Britain would be foolhardy. He had never become suicidal, since by some sick string he still clung to his dismal existence.
Leaning back into the booth that he occupied, he raised the shot glass to his lips, allowing the amber substance to flow down his throat burning on the way down. In the back corner of the tavern, he had a good view of everything that was happening within. Occasionally, when he looked at the other patrons, he would subscribe a life story for them. It was one of his only forms of entertainment.
In the background, he heard the fireplace suddenly rustle to life, serving as a sign that someone was Flooing in. He remained calm, as it was not out of the ordinary for someone to Floo into a Wizarding pub, and 'The Wand' was a poplar international pub, drawing all sorts of visitors. The nagging voice in his head reminded him why he avoided Wizarding communities. However at this point, he was more curious about to the events that were occurring within it… events that he had been out of touch with for far too long.
Footsteps fell as the person, who had Flooed in, moved into the main room. The footsteps stopped briefly before they continue into his direction. He ignored the fact that the man paused right at his booth. If it was like the other times when someone got lucky and found him, there would just be another body that he would leave in some ditch. Only this time, hopefully the fool would allow for the duel to take place somewhere less crowded.
"Harry Potter," a smooth voice stated faintly.
He recognized the voice and immediately grasped his wand.
"You have a lot of nerve seeking me out… even more for calling me by that name," Harry stated in a low hiss. "You have less self-preservation than I originally gave you credit for… Snape." He pronounced the name with venom. He was somewhat disappoint when the other man didn't even flinch.
Severous Snape ignored the cold gaze that Harry was leveling at him. No, he had more important matters, and he wasn't going to allow Potter to ruin them.
"So what are you calling yourself nowadays, Potter?" Snape asked, now fully seated in the booth across from Harry. "I, highly, doubt you would be witless enough to attach Marvolo to your self.
Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. If looks could kill, his would have. "Harry… just Harry."
"Hmm," Snape murmured.
"My policies on traitors are the same as my father's." He raised his glass and took another gulp of the amber-colored liquid.
Snape smirked. "That's good to hear."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "You want to die, Snape?"
"I'm not a traitor," Snape stated. "I, simply, took my leave of all sides. I could not stand either. They were both content in destroying the other… rather foolishly, too."
"A traitor is a traitor no matter what they may call themselves."
The man across from him snorted. "So single-minded… hardly a becoming trait, especially to turn down help that you are badly in need of before even hearing it out."
"You seemed to be confused," Harry began. "I am not in need of any help that you could provide me, unless you will save me the trouble and kill yourself. Somehow, I doubt that you would be so kind."
"Hardly," Snape responded snidely, turning slightly to check if anyone was listening in on their conversation. "I did not seek you out in order to meet my own death."
"What do you want?" His voice was dulled. "How were you even able to find me?"
Snape leaned forward, making Harry flinch as soon as he smelt the potion master's breath. "You are a hard person to track down. So you needn't worry about too many being able to do so. However, to answer your question, you left a trail of corpses behind you. Along with that trail, I used guesswork.'
'As for the first part of your question," Snape paused, irritating Harry. "I can give you names."
Harry went ridged and stared at the old professor with a glint that had been vacant in his eyes for years.
"Who," he hissed.
Snape leaned back his face one of complete calm. He took a few minutes examined Harry for what seemed like hours. "Such a discloser of information requires you to put forth something in return."
Harry leaned over the table, tightly grabbing the robes that Snape wore. "I will give you your pathetic life."
Snape stared at the hands, watching as the knuckles whitened. The man across from showed no sign of releasing his hold.
"Perhaps, we should go elsewhere," Snape said under his breath after seeing that the other customers were now watching.
"The names now!" Harry said as lowly as possible.
It was apparent that Harry was going to make this difficult.
"Remember, Harry," Snape continued matching Harry's own low tone, enough so that the other patrons would not be able to make out what he was saying. "There are three kinds of wizards in the world. The first believes that you are dead, while the second doesn't know and doesn't care. Finally, there is the third type, which knows that you are still alive and firmly believes it." He used his head and motioned discreetly to their audience with a slight nod of his head. "Which type do you think they are? Do you really want to find out?"
Harry's eyes spoke of defiance, but his grip slowly loosened. "Follow me… I know a place where we can go."
Snape followed silently as he followed the being he should probably fear the most… one of the last remnants of a Dark Lord. The customers continued to stare as they left. Snape noticed that Harry's back had stiffened as he strode toward the tavern's single door after laying a few folded Euros on the bar counter. He could almost guess what was going through the other's mind… out of that group there would at least be one who knew about Voldemort's assassin, though if lucky they wouldn't know what he had looked like.
Outside the pub, Harry stretched casually, glancing out of the corner of his eye at his companion who was blinking against the sunlight. Harry, personally, enjoyed the warm heat that was normal for this late July in Amsterdam. It sure beat Russia which had the longest winters. Despite that time, Harry had cherished in time in Moscow and other Russian cities. It had been the perfect place to hide. He smirked, recalling that the potions master had usually frequented a dank dungeon.
"Where are we going?" Snape asked, falling into step with Harry.
"Vondelpark," Harry answered. "It's a good place for us to talk. It always reminds me of England. It's landscaping is done in the same style as what we were using in the 19th century."
"I'm surprised that you haven't tried to return to England."
"There are more people looking for me there than here," Harry stated. "Though, thanks to you,I will have to move again."
Snape's lips twitched. "Anywhere in particular?"
Harry snorted. "You expect me to divulge that? I haven't even decided yet, if I'm going to kill you or not."
The potion master shrugged. His face was rather smug, unnerving Harry slightly.
The two remained quiet as they followed the sidewalk. The Muggles of the city stared openly at Snape's clothing, who was clad in his customary robes. Harry could not help but think in the back of his head 'more attention'. He was going to have to leave Amsterdam, and just like all the times before he had no plans on where to go next. It really didn't matter. He would only leave that place in time.
The stone entryway that read in gold letters 'Vondelpark' loomed ahead. As was normal for this time of day, there were many people milling around the park. Snape looked incredulously at Harry, who shrugged in response.
"Sometimes it is better to hide in the midst of a crowd." Harry led the way toward a shade tree which was vacant. "Though in your case, it does little good… you stick out like a sore thumb. Do you every wear Muggle clothes."
Snape glared daggers. "Never."
Sitting down on the grass, Harry looked over at the lake where a variety of people were sunbathing. Glancing at his companion, he assumed it was something he never did.
"Names, Snape," Harry prodded, bring them back to task.
"Are you certain there is not a place… more private?"
Harry did not like potion master's tone but chose to ignore it at the moment.
"Sometimes the more quiet places pose more of a threat… especially with me as a companion." Harry, continually, scanned the people, who were milling around. "Adaptation is the best means to survive. If you don't adapt, you die."
"In my own experience, I have found going underground to be the best solution… so far that even a certain Dark Lord and meddlesome Headmaster could not find me."
"Enough about technique," Harry stated bluntly.
"Names… yes, that is what you want." Snape began. "I suppose I should reveal them. But first, Mr. Potter," Snape ignored Harry's slight cringe at the name. "Tell me what you know of the Wizarding World in Britain."
Harry shrugged. "They have rebuilt London, at least to my knowledge. Along with that project, they have successful mind-wiped thousands of Muggles into believing that the destruction was carried out by a Muggle terrorist group known as Al-Qaeda. Many Death Eaters have been sentenced to life terms at Azkaban, which is currently free of Dementors as they are now viewed as irredeemable. I hear that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is having a hell of a time dealing with them. Werewolves are now tagged, because the aid that they gave to my father, even if they weren't involved in the conflict. But that is nothing compared to what they have done to the Giants."
"All of that is mundane," Snape stated his forehead creasing. "You know nothing that is significantly important. Your ignorance sickens me."
"I can't exactly get a Daily Prophet delivered to me," Harry answered, picking blades of grass from the park's sod. "You're grasping for time, Snape."
"Not all Death Eaters went to Azkaban," Snape stated calmly, glaring at a couple that seemed to be attached at the hip and were laughing loudly. "Some managed to slide out of the radar or used other means to escape a life sentence."
"Like you?"
"I had the Order to support my story… McGonagall was particularly useful, especially after her appointment as Headmistress was officially announced by the School Board." Snape paused. "But this is largely unimportant. What matters is how one particular Death Eater escaped his sentence… even though he was as guilty as hell.'
'Lucius Malfoy has done quite well for being a former Death Eater… reinstated to his former position as a Governor on Hogwarts' School Board along with numerous other stations, including serving as an Inquisitor along with a certain Dolores Umbridge. Connect the dots, Potter."
"That's not my name," Harry stated roughly before returning to the information Snape had given while running through that nights events. A sudden glimpse of a scene flashed into Harry's mind. He was uncertain where it came from. "Father knew that it was Lucius. However, he chose not to attack upon that knowledge."
Snape looked out of the corner of his eye at the man, who was taking this information far more calmly than Snape had imaged he would. It was almost as if he had always known.
"There is more that you aren't telling me." Harry stared hard at the former Death Eater.
"It is clear what I am saying, Potter." Snape begin to rise to his feet. "The reason for his conclusion of innocence and later promotion is listed in the Ministry's record as 'for providing invaluable services during wartime at own personal risk'. Those risks are quite clear."
"No," Harry said lowly, while rising to his feet. "I understand Lucius's motive. It is like Cree stated… his employer was always posed to be on the wining side. It's yours, Snape, that are unclear. What do you have to gain from what I am going to do to Malfoy's life?"
"Perhaps," Snape began, taking a step forward. "We should move on."
Harry nodded his head, and they walked through the lush environment of the park.
"One would think that you would want to do something selfless… especially since the current lack of a balance in powers is your fault." Snape ignored the narrowing of the younger man's eyes. "You went around Britain killing its most powerful Wizards and Witches, leaving the morons of our world alive. What would you expect from such actions? But then again, you were just a puppet with no thoughts of your own. You could never guess the implications of what you had done to the infrastructure of the Wizarding World. You left a vacuum that needs to be filled by someone competent, instead we have Malfoy, who is trying to fill it by becoming Minister of Magic.'
'The magical world is in shambles, Mr. Potter." Snape's face creased. "Those who do not study history are doom to repeat. From such times as these, Potter, dictators are born. By giving this information to you, I am in return redeeming my own actions and saving Britain from the idiocy that will follow, if by some coincidence Malfoy wins the office."
"How very touching, Snape." Harry stopped in mid-step. "But I don't buy it."
Snape seemed to inspect him thoroughly before nodding a small smile on his face. "Malfoy knows a little too much about my actions, and he has taken advantage of that knowledge to make me a pawn in his little game. I despise being treated as a pawn."
Harry smirked. "So you are using me as a means to an end-."
"No," Snape stated, cutting Harry abruptly off. "I suggest a partnership. You will need my influence to get you close to Lucius, since as Inquisitor of the first reconstruction of Hogwarts, he will be at the school for most of the year. This position is very important to him as it paves his why to the office he really wants. I place you in the most opportune position to take your revenge."
A sinking feeling was beginning to upset Harry's stomach. "What are you suggesting, Snape?" He knew before the answer was given that he did not like where this conversation was going.
"We get you into Hogwarts as a Professor." Snape answered not bothering to gage Harry's reaction, which consisted of widening eyes.
"That is impossible," Harry muttered. "I won't do it… I refuse to reenter that pit of hell!"
Snape snorted derisively, so much so that spit was evident in the air. "Nothing is impossible, I still possess strong connection with the Headmistress and Lucius… they will take my recommendations. Beyond that, paperwork is easy to come by."
"I don't know the first thing about teaching. The charade would be over right after my first class."
"All you need to know about teaching is to strike fear into your students' hearts and after that they will be putty in your hands." Snape shifted on his feet briefly. "Taking such a position will give you the clearest path to ruin Lucius's life just before taking it. I suggest you take this chance."
Harry turned his eyes away. It would bring him joy to take everything away from the Senior Malfoy just as he had done to him, and that was all he needed to make his decision. "I will take your offer, but if you betray me, remember Hell has no fury compared with my own."
"Trust me, P-."
"Harry… just Harry. No other name applies to me."
"Harry is too familiar for my tastes," Snape replied. "Tell me, Harry, how is your Italian."
"Passable," Harry answered.
"Good," Snape replied. "Italy's Wizarding School will be the easiest school to get your N.E.W.T.s from. Their records are not well kept, and their professors are apt to roam, leaving fewer people to answer questions regarding your existence, Mister Gianni Adamo."
"It has a ring to it," Harry stated with little emotion in his voice. "Which positions are open?"
"Three," Snape muttered. "Charms, Divination, and Potions."
"Potions?" Harry stared at Snape. "Isn't that your job?
"No, I never reclaimed my position." Snape showed no sorrow at this statement. "Hogwarts remained closed for two years after the war since the necessities were repaired first… and many of the students wished to aid in the recovery. By the time Hogwarts reopened, I had been cleared. However, Lucius saw fit to bar me from becoming the potions professor or another professor for that matter, again."
"Sounds like the bottom of the list."
"Beggars cannot be choosers, Mr. Adamo or should I say Signore Adamo."
A thin smile crossed Harry's face, perhaps the first in a long time. "You just can't say my first name, can you?"
"It is bad enough that I am forced to collaborate with you," Snape snipped. "But I refuse to get even the slightest familiarity with you, besides that of business partners."
"Don't worry, Snape." Harry began to walk again, forcing the potions master to catch up. "I have no desire to become familiar with you as well. You are a means to an end. You will get me to Malfoy and after I have finished the task… I will simply disappear and never see you again."
"Yes, I can see my life improving when that day comes… to never see you again will definitely be a pleasant turn," Snape muttered the last bit of the sentence, but Harry was still able to decipher it. "Now, you will travel to Britain in two days. It is unwise that you should travel with me." Snape removed a small torn piece of paper. "You are to come to this address when you reach Britain. By that time, I will have your appointment set up. You will first speak with the Headmistress, regarding the positions before meeting with the Inquisitors. Lucius might prove difficult… he is one of those wizards that is certain that you survived. He won't rest until he sees a corpse. He still might have a certain assassin under his payroll-."
"Cree Reynard?"
Snape shrugged. "I have never been introduced to such a person… I have only heard rumors that the Senior Malfoy is so paranoid of ghosts that he sends out his own mercenary to hunt down a wizard who has been 'dead' for five years. Of course, these are only rumors. Even so, I would watch my back, if I were you."
"Cree will meet an abrupt end the second he makes his reappearance."
"So it would seem," Snape replied snidely, causing Harry to fight the urge strangle his slimy neck. Snape took no notice of his reddening face as he returned to information, regarding the appointments Harry would have to pass. "Dolores Umbridge will be the hardest of the three to get past… you will have to put up one hell of a performance for her."
"Anything… so long as I can run Lucius's life into the ground."
Snape turned, taking a few steps down the street, which led back to 'The Wand'. "There is nothing more to discuss at his point, at least until your arrival back to Britain. Don't forget a glamour charm." Snape stated the last sentence like a side note as he strode away from Harry.
Harry made no response, and simply watched his new ally's retreating form. This is going to prove interesting, Harry thought quietly to himself as he took the long and most indirect route back to the small apartment, which consisted of two rooms, that he lived in at the moment. The brick exterior of the apartment building was simple just the interior rooms, which had been left as white.
Entering the building, he looked over his shoulder and checked for any unwanted company. He did not trust Snape with his life, but he did feel that Snape's reasons were genuine. However, what happened after Harry fulfilled their pact… that was when he would have to worry about Snape. Even then, Harry was not concerned. He had gotten out of tight spots before.
He climbed the stairs, clearing his thoughts, instead choosing to focus on any signs of disturbances. When he reached the third floor, Harry turned into a narrow hallway, which he traveled down until he reached the fifth door on the right. He, slowly, pushed open the door and scanned the room. After a few moments, he was content that there was not an unexpected visitor like he had found when he had been staying in Le Creusot. It had been an interesting experience, ending in the death of an ex-Auror's life. The man just could not let go of the war and had assumed a position of self-appointed righteousness, which gave him the right to deal out justice. Harry had seen it too many times before. Those, who sought and actually found him, seemed to always suffer from this disease.
Harry moaned softly and began to rub his lightening shaped scar.
"Why are you acting up," Harry muttered, continually rubbing the tender skin. "Shit-."
The searing pain was blinding him, causing his knees to buckle. His entire frame shook. Harry lost track of time, and it seemed like hours before the scar finally stopped, leaving Harry dazed and confused. His scar, which his father had given him to mark him as his equal, had never behaved like this in the past. The only time it had ever affected him in such a way was when his father gave into powerful fits of rage.
"He's dead," Harry repeated quietly to himself.
But why, Harry wondered. And where did these images come from.