Harry Potter and assorted characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. All situations outside of cannon are of my own design, although no disrespect is intended if any is perceived.

Shattered Core Syndrome

The Price Part II

Snape dropped his glass of firewhiskey and the bottle of the self same fluid; the glass tumbler landing flat on its base, sloshing the liquid some but somehow keeping most of the spirit in the glass, while the bottle landed on the thick carpet with a dull thud on its side, spilling precious whiskey until the liquid was level with the lip. Quick as a flash, he rose, his wand out, silently casting detections charms and revealing spells, but came up with nothing.

"Who goes there?"

Silence was the answer. His heart rate elevated as his senses heightened almost painfully. Eyes darting the room nervously, he made his way as carefully as he could to the door, not knowing how many, if any, assailants were present. When he reached the door, he was shocked beyond belief. As soon as he touched the handle, the door disappeared, in it's place was a wall of stone. As it was the only exit of any kind in the room, it having no windows, escape was now out of the question.

Although it was not visible on his well schooled features, fear was coursing through the whole of his body. At the moment he had no idea as to what was going on, and was completely out of his depth. He returned to the center of the room and began to slowly spin in place trying to find something out of place, the tell-tale glimmer of a disillusion charm... Anything.

Put your wand away professor. It won't be necessary for the near future.

The voice was flat, emotionless, and one he didn't recognize. It didn't seem to come from any one direction at all. Were he muggleborn, or had any knowledge of muggle electronics, he would have thought it similar to listening to music in a room equipped with surround sound. He licked his dry lips and cleared his throat.

"Where are you, and who are you? Show yourself!"

Put the wand away. If I was going to kill or harm you, I would have done so; many times by now. You can't even feel me, let alone see me.

Severus frowned slightly. As the person talked he strained his hearing trying to discern what direction it came from, but it was all but impossible. It was like the air manipulated itself to generate the sound. "You'll forgive me for not trusting in your benevolence, as I neither know who you are, nor your intentions."

On the contrary Professor, you've known me, or of me, my whole life... and hated me since the day I was born.

His eyes widened in sudden realization, as there was only one person who could honestly claim such a thing, before they narrowed in barely kept rage.

"Potter! I should have known, your arrogance is truly something to behold. Show yourself boy!", he roared, all the while trying to sense where he could be. In an attempt to goad Potter into making a mistake, he tried taunting him. "Or are you too much of a coward to confront me, face to face, like men? I know you're in here boy. Cease this childishness immediately and return to your dorm. I will be deducting 100 House Points for this disgusting display of disrespect."

I've been in plain sight since you sat down Professor. Do not blame me for your failure to pay attention to detail. Tell me sir, where is the last direction someone generally thinks to look?

Snape froze in fear, the room silent, save for the thundering of his heart and the rapid shallowing of his breath. It can't be, he thought, abject terror flooding his veins with adrenaline, it simply cannot be! He craned his neck slowly upward, hoping that he was wrong, but knowing that he wasn't, and looked at the ceiling. There, directly above him, as ink black as a shadow, was the silhouette of what could be believed to be a young man, somehow clinging to the ceiling upside down, his head, looking right at him, no more than five feet away from his own. His jaw dropped as, his lips trembling, his vocal chords produced useless syllables of noise in an attempt to make a coherent sentence.

Hello Professor.

o0oOo0o

When Hermione woke, she realized that she wasn't on her bed, or in her dorm for that matter. Although she'd been interred here only once before, now twice, she'd visit the place often enough. Usually for Harry. Looking around the Hospital Wing, she realized it looked like it smelled: antiseptic and uninviting. The medical area of Hogwarts didn't look comfortable for obvious reasons, most of them had something to do with wanting to get the student out of there just that much faster and back to learning. Also probably because of Harry.

"You gave us a right scare there Ms. Granger", Madam Pomfrey said in a voice slightly above a whisper, softly drawing the girl from her musings. "Are you okay? Mr. Weasley came to us screaming that you had died in the boys dormitories. I am thankful that he was simply exaggerating. Now that you are awake, would you be so kind as to tell me what happened?"

Hermione looked apprehensive. How does one go about telling somebody that you fainted due to stress acquired from not being able to locate your friend, and the subsequent separation anxiety afterward? With a miserable sigh, she opened her mouth to reply, when she was interrupted.

"I too would also like to know the answer to that myself, Ms. Granger." Hermione startled greatly, almost jumping off the bed. She turned to the opposite side of the bed that the skilled mediwitch was on, and looked up to the tired face of the headmaster. The old wizard appeared haggard, his beard unkempt, robes stained with some reddish brown substance around the hem, his face showing obvious signs of fatigue. Dumbledore looked as if he hadn't slept in days.

"Professor", she inquired, alarmed at how tired he looked, "Are you ok? Has something happened?" Her eyes opened in surprised alarm. Harry! "Harry! Where is he? Is he ok? Have you seen him! Please! ...please tell me..."

She looked as though she were about to break down and weep. The loss of her best friend was tearing her apart inside, and with no explanation as to where he is or why he left, it was pushing her mind to the brink of madness. All she wanted was to know that Harry was alright, that he was safe. She wanted to see his face again. It was killing her not knowing.

"Shh", the aging headmaster soothed, patting her hand in a comforting manner before continuing. "I regret to inform you that the location of Mr. Potter is, at the moment, unknown. Right now, I'm afraid to say, that is not exactly a priority. Right now", he said licking his dry lips, "right now we have more pressing concerns."

The young witch wore a look of disbelief that quickly evolved to enragement. "Wha- how can you say that! What could poss-"

"A student was murdered, Ms. Granger, here in Hogwarts", he said, interrupting her tirade before it could gain any real steam.

Her lips opened and closed like a fish trying to breath on land. Her astonishment at that statement was plain for all to see. As she tried to wrap her mind around what he had just said, the aged professor continued.

"Mr. Nott, of Slytherin house, was killed four hours ago in a dead-end corridor near the entrance to their common room in the dungeons. His remains, as well as the unconscious forms of Mssr.'s Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were also found, brutally beaten near the victim. Mr. Nott's body was..." Dumbledore searched for the right words to describe the carnage of what happened to the poor boy's body without being too descriptive, but could find none. "Let us just say, what was done to him was most unpleasant, and leave it at that. I can not go into greater detail at the moment, for obvious reasons, nor would I want to."

Hermione managed to get her bearing and said, "Why? Do you know why someone would do such a thing?" She thought for a moment before continuing. "I mean, I didn't know him personally, but he didn't seem too bad to me. He never said anything to me in any fashion, either good or bad..."

"At the moment, we have no suspects, nor motive. The aurors have already searched through the area of the crime, and have nothing. There was no ambient magic in the air, no spell signatures, or potions that could be readily identified in the vicinity. There weren't any magical residues anywhere on the body of the victim either. Outside of the victim's... remains, the area of the incident was clean. We have nothing."

Hermione paled, the fear on her face was broadcasting how terrified she was. And she was. To be able to kill someone without leaving any real trace is unheard of. There is always at least some prescence of magic in the air. Always. Her hands were numb and at the same time shaking, while tears were welling in her eyes. "Is there a possibility that another would be targeted?", she asked in squeaky whisper.

The old wizard took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. "We do not know. For all we know it may be solitary incident... or the harbinger of something worse to come. We simply do not have enough information to make a proper conclusion, no matter how plausible many of them may have seemed."

Her mind raced with the facts and details he'd given her. A boy, one that she barely knew, had just been killed. From what the headmaster had said, or rather how he said it, it had not been a pleasant scene for one to bear witness to. He hadn't said anything about actual witnesses to the crime, so it was a safe assumption that there were none. Well, no, that wasn't true. He had said that Goyle, Crabbe and Malfoy were found unconscious near Nott's body, and they were "brutally beaten" as the headmaster had said. Although it might lessen the possibility that they were suspects, it did not remove them from the list completely.

"Is it possible that Draco and the other two might have, you know..."

"Killed Mr Nott?", he asked with a fatigued whisper. Dumbledore pulled his wand out and conjured a chair for himself and sat down upon it heavily, slumped forward slightly, chin almost touching his chest. After a few moments of staring at his hands, and without looking up, he replied. "It is a possibility, but not likely. The wands of the three boys showed off some rather dangerous spells, but none of them matched with the damage seen upon the victims body, while Mr. Nott's own wand was.

"According to the readings from the Priori Incantato spell, the spells were recent, as in the last hour at the time, but upon inspecting the owners, it was proven that they were not the one to cast those spells. It was also observed that they were suffering great magical exhaustion, almost to the point of being squibs. The spells on their wands, both the type and quantity, could not have exhausted them so."

"What are you saying professor? That they didn't have a hand in his murder?"

"I believe the boys were framed. But that is not all."

"What? What else is there? What else could there possibly be?"

Looking up for the first time in the last few minutes, and staring her in the eyes, he said, "They were all but empty, Ms. Granger. No magical person, no matter what the situation, could empty themselves of their magical core in such a fashion, as they would have been knocked out before it could get anywhere close to that level. I believe they were drained. They were drained of their magic, left with only enough to survive, and nothing more."

Hermione thought to herself for a moment, trying to put the facts of what the Headmaster had just told her into some sort of order. "So... lets think about this logically. Nott was killed in a fashion too gruesome for you to elaborate on, correct?" At his nod she continued. "Near him were the unconscious forms of Goyle, Crabbe, and Malfoy, brutally beaten. Their wands show spells that were incongruous with the damage to Nott. Also, their magical cores were depleted to almost nothing, something that performing those particular spells should not have been able to do..."

She stopped talking to think it over for a bit. After a few seconds of deep pondering, she felt a headache coming on. None of it connected together or made any sort of sense at all, and she said so.

Dumbledore smiled sadly and heaved a sigh. "Welcome to my world Ms. Granger."

"If those three didn't do it, then who did sir?"

He looked up at her and she could see how this was making him appear as though he were ageing a year a minute. He looked so old then. "That, my dear, is the million galleon question." He mustered up some control and brought his features into a semblance of serenity. A soft, grandfatherly smile spread across his lips. "Enough about questions that are better left for a rested mind. Please, enlighten me as to why you are under the care of Madam Pomfrey's skilled hands, and on the first day no less. Not even Mr. Potter has been able to claim that one yet."

With a blush she began to tell him what had happened; from Kings Cross, to the incident on the Express, the Main Hall, and finally what she didn't find in the boys dorm. All the while, the both of them were thinking about a certain student, whose wareabouts were unknown.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at Hermione as her story came to a close. Although he was curious as to how much affection she had for Harry, he felt it was none of his business, and let the matter fall away. As he was about to chide her for her lack of concern for her own wellbeing, he felt one of the many devices in his office trip off an alarm in the form of a ringing of his ears, that was slowly increasing in volume... It was the one pertaining to the wards that surround No. 4 Privet Dr. It was further proven when Fawkes flamed into being at the foot of Hermione's bed and began screeching in alarm.

"A truly interesting tale Ms. Granger", he began as he rose to his feet and moved behind his familiar, "one that we will have to speak about again concerning your own health and wellbeing. I must ask that you forgive me for being rude, but a matter of some of great importance has just been brought to my attention, and I find that it requires immediate action on my part. It seems that Harry's summer home is not nearly as secure as I would have previously thought."

"Is everything alright?"

"I do not yet know. I would sincerely advise that you not worry yourself needlessly. I have said already that Harry is here in Hogwarts, It's only a matter of where in this castle he is. The matter of his former residence is not, at the moment, a truly pressing concern, but I find that I must investigate it in order to be on the safer side of things. Good night, Ms. Granger, and do take better care of yourself; if not for your own peace of mind, then for Harry's. Forgive me again for my abruptness, but I must take my leave."

And with that, he grasped the Phoenix's tail feathers, and disappeared in a flash of fire.

o0oOo0o

Reacting solely on instinct, Professor Snape leapt backwards a few feet, wand drawn, curses all too ready to leave it's tip at a few spoken words. The charm, rune chain, or other magical device that was keeping the boy suspended released him. The dark-clad form that was Harry Potter spun vertically, landing noiselessly on the ground, still facing his potions professor.

As soon as both of Harry's feet were on the ground, Snape reacted on instinct and let loose a cutting curse at him, catching the boy mid sternum down to his left hip, cutting a vent into the jacket, allowing one to see what was inside for the first time by anothers eyes. Two things immediately shocked him into inaction, the first being that if the cutter had inflicted any damage or pain to his body he hid it well. Not only did he not flinch, the all too common spray of blood was absent as well.

The second was considerably more grim. the hole in the jacket showed what seemed to be black skin, with tiny glimmers of bright blue light, a light that was somehow not showing through the garment. He stood there, too shocked to move. The spell had been unintentional; having been caught off guard and by surprise, it was the only instinctual action he thought to perform.

Lower your wand, Professor. There is no need for violence. I have come to talk, not be a recipient of abuse.

Snape's arm remained raised with his wand tip pointed towards Harry's chest; the adrenaline spiking his blood adding an unwanted quiver to his normally steady aim. After a few moments, he recovered himself enough to lower his arm, and place his wand into a holster mounted on his wrist. Never turning his back to the entity that claimed to be Harry Potter, he cautiously stepped backwards to his couch and sat heavily. Looking down and noticing his still surprisingly mostly full whiskey glass, he picked it up and took a sip, his eyes once again returning to the black lenses of the other man's face. He stared at him with not a little bit of fear in his eyes.

"Potter?", he whispered harshly, the harshness of the whiskey leaving him slightly breathless. The name of his most irritating rival no longer holding the depthless hatred it once did.

Yes?

His mind still trying to comprehend what was going on, he asked the only question that could rise through the fog of his mind.

"How are you talking like that, as if your voice was everywhere?"

That is irrelevent. We have other matters to discuss. You must take heed of what I am about to tell you, it is of the utmost importance.

"Oh?" he replied, his mask of indifference once more in place but his body still on edge, "and I suppose you've got some mindless drivel to impart upon me, such as how miserably you intend to fail my class this year? Or perhaps how sad and lonely your summer has been? Maybe if you weren't such an insufferable little-"

I'm dying, Professor, and I don't have a lot of time.

The elder wizard froze in shock. This was definitely not what he had expected. Although he had, at times, wished the demise of his most hated enemy's spawn, he had never done so with any real vehemence and sincerity. Honestly, he just wished to be rid of the boy's presence. Now that "the dream" seemed to become a reality, he found his level of self loathing rising exponentially at what was a most hollow victory indeed.

"How much time do you have precisely?", he asked. He could think of nothing else to ask; to be truthful how does one respond to such a statement? Other questions did come to mind, but this one seemed to take precedence over all the others.

I do not know. My current affliction isn't well documented. I could die in the next few days, or weeks. The amount of time varied between the seventy-one others that suffered before me, and I have no reason to doubt that it will hold true for myself as well. From what I can divulge from my predecessors, our time isn't set by any known means. It appears to be random.

"Well, what exactly do you know, Mr. Potter?", he inquired. Snape was beginning to think this to be some elaborate prank at his expense. The boy's response made him want to just tell him to bugger off; he had enough on his plate with Nott's all too gruesome demise to deal with some childish joke.

"At the moment you aren't making a lot of sense. Please start from the beginning of your mindless tale, then we could retire. This night has been long enough without your meaningless prattle making it longer. Perhaps you could enlighten me as to why your attire is all encompassing?"

Harry gave a nod and brought his hands up to his head and removed the watchcap from his head. Beneath it was his short unruly mop, signifying the obvious fact that he was a Potter. Already this is turning out badly, Snape thought to himself as a frown cut across his lips. Any reminder of his fallen nemesis was a bad one. Harry followed with his black glasses, which he gave to his former potions professor, who marveled at how anyone could see through them; not even Moody's magical eye could penetrate it he'd bet. When he looked up, he noticed that Harry's eyes were closed as the boy brought his left hand to the zipper of the jacket.

"Mr. Potter", he stated disdainfully as Harry pulled the tab down across himself, "is there a reason why your eyes are...are...Oh...My!"

The older man's lips were moving but no words were coming out; the physical condition of the boy in front of him simply struck him speechless. His shock was well merited; as Harry shrugged the garment off his shoulders, Snape was subjected to the crime against nature that lay beneath the jacket. It was something so horrifying, so mind-numbingly terrible, something so wrong, that it took his breath away, and shut his mind down.

For you see, under that single layer of cloth, was coal black skin, pulled tightly over an emaciated torso, that was as dull and lifeless as a shadow. From the bridge of his nose to his uncovered waist, it was like looking into an unlit cave at night, his skin seemed to absorb the light for it did not appear to reflect it. His stomach, or rather where his stomach would have been, was non-existent; Snape could literally see his spine from the front. Harry's skin was pulled so tight against his bones, showing off every ridge, angle, and edge that his bones made, that it displayed the obvious absence of any internal organs, whatsoever.

This though, was not the most terrifying part. the darkness that was his flesh was only broken with what appeared to be glowing blue shards of glass dispersed all over his torso, that pulsed rhythmically, the greatest concentration being where his heart should have been. As the boy pulled off his gloves, he saw that his hands were as skeletal as the rest of him, and also covered with the glowing blue glass-like protrusions that were all over his chest, arms, and back.

As you can see, Professor, Harry said as he spread his arms wide and parallel to the ground, My appearance leaves much to be desired.

And then, when Snape thought that it could get no worse, he was sadly proven wrong. Harry opened his eyes, staring into the Potion Professor's own. And then Snape did the only thing his terror filled mind could think to do.

He screamed.

o0oOo0o

It's been awhile. I've been holding onto this for quite a while, and although it doesn't feel finished to me, it's been too damn long anyways. No excuses. No guarantees when I'll get the next one up, but it should be sometime in the coming months.