Faery Heroes

Chapter 27: Requiescat in Dolore

Disclaimer: Did we ever discover the requirements for gaining Voldemort's Mark? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.
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Eyes sharper than any human's watched a most tempting piece of prey. Stringy black hair covered the man's head as he patrolled the castle corridors, grumbling with every step. The predator paid no heed to his complaints; after six years of being forced to listen to his unending vitriol, it had little desire to do so of its own volition. Instead, spreading narrow wings, the falcon dropped from its perch high on a neighboring staircase and glided after its quarry.

The bird soared past Snape, unseen and unheard, before settling softly on the ground ten feet from him. In an instant, the avian form had returned to a human guise, the magic rendering it invisible solidifying into a cloak with the same effect. Harry stood and waited for the Death Eater to walk past him, then aimed his acacia wand. "Stupefy," he whispered, the jet of scarlet leaping from the tip of the wood to slam into the dark-robed back before his target knew he was there.

That should do it, he thought, using a trainer-clad foot to roll the man onto his back. Now, Snivellus, let's see what light you can shed on my little mystery. Casting an area charm to repel house-elves from one of the few hallways devoid of portraits or suits of armor before pulling the hood of the Cloak off his head, he forced pallid eyelids open and stared into cold, black eyes as he rested his wand against Snape's temple. A smirk appearing as he realized the irony of their current situation, he solemnly intoned, "Legilimens."

He immediately encountered Snape's Occlumency barriers, not that those could stop him. No matter how much experience the professor — and Harry used the term loosely — had in protecting his secrets, maintaining mental defenses while unconscious was an order of magnitude more difficult than doing so when awake and aware. Harry, for instance, still had trouble keeping his own shields up when he was asleep, and he had been practicing the discipline for going on six years now.

Of course, he had a reason for weak shields, and though it made keeping his secrets more difficult, particularly when said secrets involved a certain blonde's Christmas presents, he was more than happy with what he received in return. His natural talent for mind magics, including Legilimency, left him well-armed for tonight's plan.

The probes of many Legilimens, of which Snape's was a typical example, were magical battering rams, breaking down doors to access people's thoughts and memories. His own, however, was more like a lockpick; subtle, focused, and leaving far less evidence of his intrusion. Not that it will matter, he admitted to himself as he ignored the faint twisting sensation he normally felt when bypassing strong shields. He won't remember when I'm through with him, after all.

His goal was simple; he wanted, needed, to know if the theory he had developed earlier that day in Hogsmeade was correct. After all, it is possible that I'm being exceedingly paranoid and assigning blame to Dumbledore that he doesn't actually deserve this time. It partly depends on if my luck was the same while I was in Mum's womb as it is now. There existed the chance, however small it was, that the fates had simply and truly conspired against him and brought Snape, Dumbledore, and Trelawney into close proximity before unleashing the prophecy. It wouldn't explain why the old goat was meeting the two of them in a public place for job interviews, but I'll focus on figuring that out should I be proven wrong.

He dived into the dungeon bat's memories.

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Severus crept up to the door, sneer in place as he heard a woman's airy-fairy tones seeping from the room inside. "And next, the hanged man. Sacrifice for a greater purpose..." His expression became more severe if such a thing was possible. Everyone with even a modicum of intelligence knew that Divination was a crock.