Lily's Charm- Severitus fanfiction

Help

1996

“Crucio,” Harry said in a bored voice.The tall Death Eater clutched at his middle and fell to his knees in the dirt, one hand struggling to hold him up. A low, agonized moan escaped the Death Eater’s lips as his body began to convulse. His mask slipped off with the force of his tremors, and a sweep of black hair brushed against the ground.

Snape!

Harry jolted himself awake, his face bathed in sweat as he tried to steady his ragged breathing. He wiped a clammy hand across his eyes and pushed himself up, trying without much success to disentangle his legs from his damp sheets. Harry took another shallow breath and grimaced. It was just a dream, he tried to convince himself, but it had been too much like the visions he had taken from Voldemort’s mind last year. Just like in those, Harry had been Voldemort tonight, calmly torturing Snape.

Harry scrabbled in the darkness for his glasses, panic beginning to settle over him. Was Snape being tortured right now? Or was this another trick by Voldemort? But, if it was a trick, then Voldemort had to know that Snape was his father, didn’t he? Harry’s stomach turned to ice.

He had to warn somebody. If Voldemort was reaching out to him again, he and Snape were both in danger.

Without taking any more time to think through his decision, Harry slid quietly out of his bed and tiptoed over to his trunk. Wincing at the slight squeak as he opened the lid, Harry quickly lit the end of his wand and waved it over the contents of the trunk. Finding his cloak easily, as well as the Marauder’s Map, he brought the large cloak over his head and hurried out of Gryffindor Tower.

Nobody, except a few ghosts, was about the castle at such an unlikely hour, and Harry made his way without any interruptions to Remus’ quarters. Though Harry had never been down there, Remus had given him detailed directions on how to get to his quarters after Harry had asked yesterday if he would mind an occasional visit. As Harry reached the portrait guarding the door, he wondered briefly if Remus had intended for him to come barging in at all hours of the night.

He didn’t spare much thought for Remus’ possible reaction, though, as he quickly whispered, “Harry Potter. Turbatio.” The large silver wolf blinked at Harry once before tilting its muzzle toward the tiny moon painted on the canvas sky and howled softly. The wolf stopped abruptly and tilted its head as though listening to something, then the portrait swung forward. Harry stepped through quickly to find Remus clutching a blue dressing gown around his waist, looking very anxious.

Harry whipped the cloak off, and Remus drew in a sharp breath. “Harry?” And then, in a voice that sounded a sight more vexed, Remus demanded, “What are you doing wandering around the castle at this time of night?”

“I think Voldemort is trying to reach through my mind again,” Harry blurted, “and he’s torturing Snape!”

“What’s this about You Know Who and Snape?” a woman’s voice asked. Harry’s mouth fell open; unable to stop himself from staring at the bluish-haired woman.

“Tonks?”

She was coming out of Remus’ bedroom, adjusting her own dressing gown, which Harry noticed was the same azure color as her short hair—and Remus’ dressing gown. The heat rose in his cheeks as he realized what he had obviously interrupted, and he began stammering an apology to Remus; Remus waved it away impatiently, and taking Harry firmly by the arm, the older man steered him toward a chair.