Harry Potter and the Founders

By: LuvFantasy

A/N:

All characters belong to J.K.Rowling, however the plot belongs to me and my editor. Dedicated to Harmony and Red Moon. This is how I imagine Year Seven to be and how I think the last book will turn out. Please leave lots of reviews!

Chapter One: Of the Oily Nosed Git and His Apprentice

It was a cloudy and overcast morning in mid July when two lone, cloaked figures apparated into view. One stood tall, his face hidden from view by a heavy black hood; revealing naught but a hooked, eagle like nose which protruded from his face sharply. Beside him stood a slightly shorter, lithe figure of a slender boy adorned in rumpled black robes with a single crest upon his breast; a silver serpent emblazoned upon an emerald background. His pale blond hair hung limply over his head in the stifling humidity of the heavy July air, and his pale skin was rubbed red and raw from rough journeying.

"Come!" Snapped his companion angrily, dragging the boy by his arm into a run-down shack which had slowly faded into view. The boy wrenched his arm from the man's grasp, his face contorted in fury.

"If my father knew you were-!"

"If your father knew you were here at all, Draconis, you would be dead already!" The man hissed between barely parted lips, "Now, come here!" He had pulled out his wand and was pointing it threateningly at Draco, his pointed teeth parted in a sneer,

"Or maybe I shall just have to force you to with a little…curse," His voice though faint dripped with suppressed fury and disgust.

Draco favored him a horrific glare and strode over to the man, "I could have done the job myself," He said angrily, "I didn't need you to do it for me!"

"Fool," The man hissed, "You are a fool to speak of this in plain sight! Perhaps you have forgotten the people who are pursuing us!" He gave an irritable rap upon the old wooden door with his wand, silver and black sparks flying from the tip as he rapped upon each of the four corners in turn. "Severus Snape," He murmured quietly. The creaking hinges of the ancient door swung open and the two were greeted by a long, dank hall scented heavily with the dust and rot accumulated over a century.

Without a word, Snape stepped into the hall, dragging Draco after him. The door swung shut with an eerie creak, the rusty hinges protesting even this small task they were set too. Snape raised his wand high into the air as they were engulfed in a smothering inky darkness.

"Lumos!" He muttered. A silvery orb of light appeared at the tip of his wand, illuminating his still covered pale face and Draco's flushed one.

"We will have to search the house," He announced loudly, "To make sure that there is no one untrustworthy hiding here."

Draco grunted but otherwise made no reply. He sank into an ancient, threadbare couch with the stuffing falling out of it and sneezed as a particularly large dust cloud erupted into the air.

"Well, make yourself useful!" Snape snapped, "Check upstairs for boggarts or ghouls!"

Draco's face paled and he remained seated, "Don't you have a…house elf for that?"

Snape's lip curled up and his pale face flushed slightly.

"Oh yes," Draco said in mock forgetfulness, "You're a halfblood haven't got a house-elf do you?"

Snape rounded on him forcefully, "You forget your place, Draco," His voice was surprisingly cool despite the rage he was in, "If it wasn't for me you would be dead right now, and I'd be better off for it. After all," Snape hissed softly, "I succeeded where neither you nor He – Who – Must – Not – Be – Named did. The old fool is dead."

Draco sullenly made for the ancient stairway leading to the second floor of the run-down house. The floorboards creaking behind him loudly in the wake of his footsteps. Snape watched him go, distaste etched onto his every line of his haggard and pale face. Pushing the hood from his head and allowing his unkempt, oily hair to slide down his neck, he walked across to the other end of the dirty hall where there stood an old, cracked archway of rotting wood chewed through in several places by insects. The cracking gray plaster crumbled onto his raven hair as he walked underneath the arch, leaving small specks of dust and plaster in his hair. Lighting one of the ancient dust and cob-web encrusted torches with a flick of his wand, he moved to shut the windows that let in small patches of golden sunlight as it peeked in through the heavy clouds. The room was completely dark save for the light of the flickering torch now.

Snape moved towards a rusting faucet of a sink, giving it a slight tap with his wand it sprang to life, the bowl of the sink opening up to reveal a large, stone bowl filled with a swirling, silvery substance. Snape's pensieve. Raising the tip of his wand to his head, he with drew a shining, silvery thought and dropped it into the pensieve. It appeared in the basin as clearly as if it was just then replaying itself in front of Snape's dark, beady eyes.

"Severus," Dumbledore was saying a calm, but serious tone, "I am telling you this because it is vital you know of it. Harry and I have been hunting down Voldenmort's horcruxes; as you well know."

Snape winced at the name but nodded slowly, "Yes, I know of this."

"And I have already destroyed one; this ring," Dumbledore gestured towards the man's ring upon the table littered with his spindly instruments. Snape looked from Dumbledore to the ring without interest.

"He would know of this lost horcrux of course, the moment you destroyed it."

"I am not so sure," Dumbledore sighed and sank into his chair, watching Snape closely out of his blue eyes, "I believe it is possible Voldemort would not realize his loss until he decided to check upon the horcrux. He is, after all, quite busy at the moment as you have informed me."

Snape stood silently, not putting forth another word. Fawkes stirred slightly on his perch.

"I believe, Severus, that I have found another horcrux of Voldemort's."

"Yes?"

"The locket of Salazaar Slytherin's line," Dumbledore replied calmly, "It would be the token of Slytherin that he would use."

"I thoug t that would be the diary of Tom Riddle."

"Ah, but the diary never belonged to Slytherin," Dumbledore said calmly, "That was just another item Voldemort saw fit to use as he had hidden away his sixteen-year old self in there by writing in it, so it would be useful to possess it again."

"So you are saying you have already destroyed two," Snape began quietly, "And have discovered the third."

"Yes, Severus," Dumbledore replied calmly, watching him closely.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I think you know very well why I am," Dumbledore said evenly.

A sound behind Snape made him tap the faucet hastily. The pensieve sunk from view and was replaced by the rusting basin of the sink. Draco sauntered over to him,

"There's nothing upstairs."

"Good," Snape said softly, "I suppose then that I had best set you to work."

Draco's pale face curled up into a heavy sneer, "So I'm to be your own private slave, is it?"

"Until the time comes, yes," Snape hissed back softly, "After all, both sides are after your blood now."

"And yours," Draco replied snidely.

Snape's eyes sharpened and he took in a quick breath, "Actually, Draco, if I were to turn in a certain someone our Master would be very pleased with me indeed. You see, I am giving up far too much for your sorry hide…" Snape lowered his face so that it was mere inches from Draco's, "…for that mother of yours!" He hissed, "And I wouldn't push it if I were you. Or else," He allowed a small smile to flit across his face, "I could always do you in myself."

Draco's pale face had gone even paler and he blanched slightly, "What does this have to do with my mother?" He asked, not able to hide the slight tremor in his voice.

"Oh, you have a weakness do you?" Snape demanded, the hideous smile on his face growing more apparent, "Well that's fascinating."

Draco was shaking slightly now, "Leave my mother out of this!"

"Draco," Snape hissed again, "I sense some disrespect emanating from your abnormally large ego!" His pale lips twisted into a slight smile, "Perhaps I might have to punish you…" He allowed Draco to infer the conclusion to that sentence himself.

"Now, go upstairs. I do not want to see or hear of you until dinner time when you are to report down here. Go!" Draco turned angrily, his hands clenched in fists and exited the grimy kitchen, his head nearly quivering with suppressed rage.

Snape watched his retreat, his face once more mirroring the emotions churning within him. Pure hatred poured from every part of him, hatred and loathing. Draco Malfoy was responsible for everything that happened that night, Snape thought viciously, him and his mother.

A/N:

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