Hidden Things
Epilogue - Quiet Before The Storm

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There had been no trace of Dumbledore in those terrible woods after that night. A search party of dedicated, fully armed members of the Order of the Phoenix had been headed by Mad-Eye Moody and taken to where the weary but recovering Remus Lupin had directed. Nothing had been found. No unaccounted for footprints, no fallen wand or scrap of clothing. No body. That word, he had heard Mad-Eye use it and it had hit him like a blow that anyone could possibly use that word to describe Albus Dumbledore. No, he wouldn't even think that word. There had been increased incidents with Death Eaters in the past few days and true, Dumbledore had not shown himself to anyone in response, not even to plan the next step, but Harry had a few supporting facts to a little theory he had worked on overnight that went something like, 'Albus Dumbledore couldn't possibly be dead because it's impossible he could die, ever, for as long as Harry Potter needed him'. Well, he knew that's what the others would think, anyway.

But it didn't make sense. Someone like Snape, yeah he could believe the betrayal—he had always been waiting for it, but kill one of the greatest wizards of all time? Snape had not gloated when he had intruded upon Harry with the wolf, something he surely would have done had he pulled off such an impossible feat. There had been no pleasure in his eyes, no smug superiority that went with his deplorable triumphs, nothing. Harry could see it in his mind's eye, had gone over each detail of the encounter before and after Dumbledore had disappeared. What was more, if a Death Eater had been lucky enough to catch Dumbledore unaware long enough to kill him or had incapacitated and delivered him up for Voldemort, then there surely would have been some word from the Dark Lord. There would be darkness abound, a play to take over the Ministry of Magic, all those things he had wanted for fifty years and been denied because of the simple fact that Dumbledore was alive. The terror he could inspire in the magical community if such an event had occurred would weaken their society as a whole, make them ripe for Voldemort's rule.

If he had the card it was not being played, and that just didn't make sense to Harry. He had said as much to Remus one night after the visitors had gone, leaving the two patients to their thoughts. The werewolf had agree it seemed likely they would have heard something by now, but there had been that look in those blue eyes that Harry had not wanted to see, that look that wanted to warn the younger, less experienced boy not to get his hopes up. Harry had changed the subject before he could say it.

He stood alone at the window there in the hospital wing, still confined due to his use of the Blood Trance, which of course now everyone knew about. They all thought, of course, that he was trying to spy on Voldemort and that was just fine by him. Let them think that and have no inkling of the terrible truth. Madam Pomfrey had given him quite the earful about the draught, and then McGonagall had stepped in to repeat everything the healer had said. Surprisingly, Lupin was about the only one that hadn't chided him about it. They both knew the importance of that memory. Harry hadn't had a choice.

Some few beds back Lupin was asleep. Harry ventured a glance at his friend, frowning at the inflamed red line running from his hairline down the side of his face. He had been in pretty bad shape, or so Harry had been told. That night he had not been awake to learn anything, help or even worry about the missing Headmaster. Now a few days later both he and Lupin were regaining their strength, both expected to be allowed to leave the confines of Madam Pomfrey's hen's nest soon. When they could finally talk Remus had said very little about what had taken place in the Death Eater's headquarters. He said Lucius Malfoy was responsible for the greater part of his injuries. When asked about what Snape had done the werewolf had been decidedly hazy. He didn't come right out and say he knew about Snape's possible relationship to Harry, but Harry suspected he did and that was why he was sugar coating the events.

He did not act differently towards Harry, if he did know. There were no looks of loathing or eyes that studied the young Gryffindor's features as if measuring them against the Slytherin that was now absent from the castle. He wasn't entirely sure he ever wanted to broach the subject, either.

The door at the end of the room opened and a form slipped in on silent feet. Harry looked over his shoulder, then returned his view to the grounds of Hogwarts as if somehow his vigilance would reward him with Dumbledore's return. At his side Ginny joined his hopeful watching for only a moment before saying, "Ron and Hermione'll be up. You still look pale."

He still felt pale, if one could feel such a thing. His lungs were still sore whenever he wore himself out with long voyages to faraway lands such as the loo. Not enough to stop him, of course. He would be out there searching if he thought they would let him get away with it, even if it did mean falling over in a dead faint once in a while. He shrugged back his lack of concern. "What else is new?" He traced a smudge of dried rain on the outside of the window with his finger. "Least I won't be slaving away for the Dursley's. Believe me, pride or no, I'll be milking that for all it's worth. I'd just assume not see them at all, actually."

Ginny turned her back, leaning it against the window so she could see his face. "Me and Ron'll knock some heads in, if you like. Take numbers, kick asses."

He laughed despite himself. "That Quidditch Pitch has gone straight from your head to your mouth, I see."

"It really helps the mindset, those words. Gets the blood to flowing." She crossed her arms in silence a moment and he was aware this was probably one of the first private conversations they had had this year. Or even since the Chamber of Secrets. A lot had changed since then. It had been terrifying, facing that basilisk, facing Ginny's possible death at the hands of Voldemort's memory. Yet it had been so simple then. He had seen what needed to be done and did it. Now he had to think, to plan. He wasn't sure he was up for it. Ginny bumped him in the side. "What are we gonna do?"

There was no need to ask what she meant. "I dunno. Without Dumbledore…"

"We still need to act," she finished, though that wasn't exactly what he had been aiming to say. "If there's one thing I've learned this year is some people's lives are about classes, dances, clubs and Quidditch. And some people's lives are going to have to be about preserving those lives. You scared me with that Blood Trance, and after yelling at Ron for an hour I realized I should have been there to stop you."

Harry's eyebrow quirked. "Stop me? Really?"

"Yes, really." Her gaze was serious. "I'm a lot tougher than you are, and way better at casting Reducto. No more dangerous spells or potions, okay? No more spying on the Dark Lord through wide open doors, inviting him in for tea."

"I wasn't spying on him," he told her, not really sure why the words had tumbled from his lips. He could feel more of the poison wanting to come out, could feel himself going tense as he thought of the damage the Blood Trance had wrought. If he had not risked it she would have had no reason to be afraid for him, he could be out there looking for Dumbledore, and he could have gone merrily along hating Snape for no reason other than that he was a greasy git that liked to torment his students. And now the illusions were shattered. "I was looking for my dad."

Her eyes softened as she tried to draw his gaze, but failed at his refusal to meet her eyes. "They told me you don't think James Potter is your dad." He momentarily frowned and she hastily went on, "They only told me because they think it's ridiculous. I think so too. You're no expert at potions, in cause the past six years have failed to get that through your head, even if you are the great Harry Potter." Her voice was teasing, trying to lighten the mood, and he could appreciate the reason why she would try.

But it wasn't working. "Maybe I'm not the great Harry Potter," he breathed, feeling his lungs start to sting. Compulsion to test the revulsion of the friend before him pushed the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I saw Snape in the Trance. He's my dad."

There was a momentary twitch of surprise at her eyes, but her expression of resolve and support did not fade. "Let's pretend you aren't wrong," she began, choosing her words carefully, gaze never leaving the walls of defense he was building around him behind his own eyes. She shook her head. "It doesn't change who you are, doesn't change what Voldemort did to your mother and the man you thought was your dad. Last I checked your robes still have the Gryffindor emblem on them. Unless, you want…"

"No!" He hadn't meant to hiss it, but he absolutely wanted nothing to do with being like his father.

Ginny shrugged, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. He was staggered, a thousand reasons why she should be shocked, stunned and disgusted running through his mind. She wasn't going to have it, either. "Then stop sulking and let's figure out what we're going to do about the Dark Lord. Hermione said you said Dumbledore told you some things. Let's start there."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, closed it, opened it once more then knit his brow. "You don't even care what I just said? I could be Harry Snape, son of a betrayer and Death Eater. Right hand man to the very man who has sworn to find and kill me. Doesn't that bother you?"

Her enigmatic smile made him clench his teeth. "Not at all. And neither will Ron and Hermione."

"Do not tell anyone you know this!"

"I won't."

Her promise was genuine, he could tell. Yes, she was trying to make light of everything he had just said, but it wasn't because she callously disregarded Harry's pain. He could see it in her eyes. She knew who he was, cared for that person, and perception of genetics was going to change that. And all along he realized he knew it would be the same for Ron and Hermione, and anyone that mattered. Harry pressed his forehead to the glass, staring down at a bird soaring around a tree, looking for a safe place to land. "Remus wouldn't say much about whatever Snape did to him, but he did warn me of one thing. Snape's sworn to either bring me to Voldemort or kill me himself if need be. He's got a year to do it."

Ginny put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry. But we'll be with you every step of the way."

He put his hand on hers without even thinking. "I'm sorry too. Sorry that whatever we do, it's gonna have to involve killing my father." Harry avoided her gaze again, not sure he wanted to see what emotion would be written there. As the door across the room opened again he gave her hand a squeeze. "Don't tell them. Not yet. I will…when I'm ready."

There was no reply but he knew she would keep his secret or as long as he needed her to. She pulled away when Ron neared and gave him a punch on the shoulder, winning a bewildered, "Ow! Crazy bint." He rubbed the pain as Harry turned to regard his friends. "We're here to bust you out, mate. Thought maybe we'd…"

"…go directly to the dorms," Hermione interrupted in an insistent voice, as if Ron had been poised to suggest something else, something less restful. Her brown eyes shimmered in curiosity. "I thought maybe we could talk, and it's empty right around now."

For once Harry thought Hermione had the better idea. Ginny had been right. Now was not the time to sulk, but to plan their next move.

xxxFinite Incantatum!xxx

Author: Ruse angelruseATgmailDOTcom

Disclaimer: Harry and company belong to the wonderful JK Rowling, whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.

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Super!A/N: Not getting a lot of reviews on this, I'm guessing because of the direction I took Snape in. To that I can only say I love Severus Snape as a character, I love that Alan Rickman plays him because he brings out that quality in Snape that makes us want to see him do well, and anything I do or would have done with Snape will be with those things in mind. If I've gotten rusty in writing, I apologize and humbly drag my vision of Sevvy back into the depths of my sick little mind. ;-)

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A/N: Yes, this reeks of unresolve. Just know that in a perfect perfect Seventh Year Snape would destroy Voldemort, declare me his wicked queen and we'd work on Harry's sis (course that wouldn't make for good public writing, now would it?)

;-) Thank you to everyone that reviewed 800 years ago, and anyone kind enough to be inclined to review now. :-D May Snape visit you in your dreams bearing Chocolate Frogs and snarky remarks.