Chapter 14

Severus' back was rigid as he followed the auror in front of him, only led by the sound of the man's footsteps. At least one more auror was walking behind him, pushing him through the corridor. The blindfold was itching, scraping uncomfortably over his eyelids. Severus strained both his hearing and his magic, trying to discern where he was. There were at least two more aurors on each of his sides.They were still within the magic-dampening spells and wards of askaban and there were at least six aurors with him, maybe even more. Severus frowned. He had no chance of escape. Someone seemed to want him very badly, if they went to such lengths to keep him.

A shiver ran through him as the air around them became even cooler. He did not know if the man in front of him was the one with the missing eye, but he hoped it. That would be just one more reason for taking his revenge on the man as soon as he could.

After the dementor attack there had always been at least two aurors with him, sometimes even three or four. Of course one-eye had been the one who had insisted that at least one auror accompanied Severus to the bathroom every time he wished to relieve himself. It had taken all his willpower not to strangle the man there and then, regardless of the consequences.

Severus' lips twitched angrily. Of course the other aurors had perceived this to be a wonderful joke. Maybe even the best joke ever. Damn them all. Just some days ago he wouldn't have wished the Morrigan on anyone, but he was more than sorely tempted now. They deserved it, he was sure of it. They deserved every bit of evil coming their way. Unfortunately that wasn't too much. Suddenly they stopped.

"Hold out your hands and take this," a voice he had never heard before ordered almost at once. Severus froze instantly. He could feel that they were outside now, probably even standing in fron of the prison gates. Were they going to kill him after all? The air was even colder than inside, but at least it felt alive. And he could hear some birds and small animals nearby.

"Take it!" The voice repeated impatiently, thrusting something long and twisted into his hands. Severus instinctively closed his hands around the rough rope and immediately felt the familiar tug of a portkey in his stomach.

The portkey had not even been fully activated before the screams of the aurors rose around him.

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The wind was whispering around him, dancing merrily through boughs and trees. The sun shone warm but without malice on the lush leaves and full, green grass. Everything seemed more vibrant and alive than it usually was. He grinned, suddenly overcome with the urge to laugh out loud. Neville's laughter was warm and rich as he opened his arms, threw back his head and blinked up into the clear, blue sky he could see through the glittering, emerald roof above him. He knew he was dreaming, but none of his dreams had ever been like this and he felt than nothing bad could touch him here, that he had finally found a place where he was at peace and safe from everything that bothered him in his everyday llife. Like the Slytherins, for example.

He stopped, the laughter frozen on his lips, as the trees around him parted to reveal an enchanting clearing. He gingerly stepped arond the many flowers that peeked out between the moss and the blades of grass, silently naming them as he went. Neville stopped, frowning as his gaze settled on a particularly delicate white flower. Five petals surrounded an almost whispy stem, each of them almost perfectly heart-shaped. He had never seen such a flower before. His fingers stopped just a few inches above the flower. Should he pick it up? He longed to take it with him, but somehow he didn't want to end its life. It was too beautiful where it was, growing peacefully on its bed of moss and green.

He looked up again, once more freezing in half-motion. He blinked a few times, staring unbelievingly at the item he had just discovered. Nevilel frowned, shaking his head. A cauldron. What was a cauldron doing in his dream? He stepped forward, gingerly running his hands over the heavily-ornamented surface.

The coppery metal was strangely warm under his fingertips. It was covered with pictures and symbols. In one of the symbols an immense cludgeon was striking at a group of armed people, throwing them to the ground, crushing their bones into the dampened soil. Neville shuddered, following the moving pictures with trembling fingers. Who could be powerful enough to craft such a masterpiece?

A sound to his left suddenly drew him out of his admiration of the cauldron. Shaken he stared at the stag. It was enormous. Trembling wildly he slowly backed up, till he felt the rough bark of an elm in his back. The stag followed him with slow, deliberate steps, but without getting any closer than it had originally been. The animal inclined its head, immediately drawing Neville's gaze to the items tangled in its antlers. A golden necklace and a goat-headed serpent.

Neville gulped, squeezing his eyes shut. Why couldn't he wake up? This was turning into a noghtmare. His brown eyes flew open again as something brushed his mind. Shivering he sensed a strange kind of acceptance. The stag and the cauldron vanished as suddenly as they had appeared.

"Who or what are you?" whispered the frightened Gryffindor as he sank to the floor, wrapping his arms around his trembling knees. Something was nagging at the back of his mind. He had heard something about that stag. But where? And who had told him about it? He frowned, the beauty of the forest forgotten, as he tried to find the memory. Had it been Trelawney?

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Severus groaned, rubbing his aching temples as he blinked up into the strange, muted light surrounding him. Merlin help, he seemed to be making a habit out of waking up in strange places. Where were the aurors? And where had they ported him to?

Slowly he pushed himself up, noting that his robes looked definitely worse for wear. Grimacing he pushed his headache to the back of his mind. At least he was not back in Askaban. Nor any other prison, he decided after a quick glance around. The forest around him was eerily quiet, even tough he could still hear the shuffling of animal feet and the wind rustling through the leaves. His fingers encountered only emtpy air.

"Dammit..." he whispered, grimacing again. His wand was still gone. The rustling had picked up strength, was too loud now to actually be nothing but the wind. Gulping he reached out, smiling as he felt the woods around him. He had been right. The forbidden forest had always accepted, who he was, even after he had decided to join Voldemort. Severus smiled grimly. At least he was not defenceless.

"So you are awake again." He jumped at the sound of the unexpected voice he knew only too well. "I feared that the journey had injured you more."

Severus' nostrils flared briefly as he stared at the green-eyed woman, who had suddenly appeared between the trees. "You?" he whispered. "But... how? I had never expected to see you again."

"I know," Raven smiled sadly. "And I had never expected you to still know me." Tears glittered in her eyes as she looked Severus over, making him squirm uncomfortably. "You have changed much."

"And you haven't changed at all," Severus quickly forced his features into his usual blank expression. "Why are you here now?"

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The Gryffindor common room was deserted, just like every thursday evening. Almost every one was at the Quidditch pitch, watching the last practice before the next matches would be announced. The fire was throwing a soft, golden glow onto the room, enhancing the Gryffindor colours even further. Neville shuddered involuntarily as he stepped into the almost gloomy room.

"Hermione?" he smiled at the sole occupant of the room. She had curled up on the chair nearest to the fireplace and seemed totally engrossed in her books and homework. "Hermione?" he asked louder, as she didn't respond.

"Neville." Hermione frowned. "I thought you wanted to watch the practice."

"I changed my mind." Neville tugged self-consciously at the hems of his robes, offering Hermione a shy smile. "I need your help."

"Sure." Hermione beamed immediately. "It's homework, isn't it? Potions again?"

"Dumbledore said he'd tell us as soon as he knows when Snape will be back," Neville didn't even wince as he said the name. "I wont write the essay before that."

"Hm." Hermione frowned. "Wich subject is it then?"

"No subject," Neville blushed as she raised an eyebrow at him. "I had a very strange dream yesterday and I thought maybe you could help."

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Hermione's fingers were still drumming on the chair after Neville had left. She had told him not to worry too much about his dreams, but he hadn't seemed too assured.

"If only I could ask Harry and Ron..." she groaned. There was no chance of having an intelligent conversation with them after Quidditch. Especially not now, that Ron had been accepted onto the reserve team as a beater.

Neville was completely clueless, that was certain. He didn't know any of the symbols he had dreamt of. It was too late to go to the library. Maybe nearly-headless Nick could help? She needed to ask someone who knew the old religon, someone who had been brought up as a pure blood, someone who could tell her whose symbols Neville had seen.

She only knew that the cauldron and the stag with the necklace and the serpent were the symbols of two Celtic gods. But which gods?

She glared at the Almanach she had been reading, not even noticing that she was caressing the worn leather cover again. Harry needed Raven, the last priestess of Avalon to fulfill the prophecy and now Neville was dreaming of Celtic gods. There had to be a connection. But where to find it?

She sighed deeply, levitating another log into the fireplace. There was one person she could ask. Draco. She transferred her glare to the grandfather clock on the mantlepiece. Draco had been nothing but nice to her ever since that strange potions detention. The only question was did she dare ask him?

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"Well done, Harry," Remus smiled broadly, nodding at the teen. "You're already better than your father was."

"Thanks, Professor." Harry grinned in return, wiping some sweat from his brow. "Did you watch the whole training?"

"No," Remus sighed, shaking his head. "I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a moment?"

"Sure," Harry shrugged, banishing his dirty Quidditch robes. "What about?"

"Not here," Remus supressed a growl, glaring at the third-year girls who were giggling at them. "Perhaps some tea in my office?"

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"Well met, human." A raspy voice interrupted Severus' thoughts. "May I sit with you?"

Severus smiled, drawing his knees onto the chilly stone. "Of course." He relaxed back against the tree trunk, gesturing to his side. "You should know that you are always welcome with me."

"And yet I shall always be so courteous as to ask before I interrupt." The dryad inclines his head, settling beside Severus. The trees immediately drew closer, sheltering the two from the wind. "You seem tired."

"I am." Severus nodded, relieved that he did not have to hide his thoughts and feelings from his friend, "I am tired of this war, of my position within it, of all the lies I had to tell just to stay alive." The twilight crept up around them, multiplying the long, twisted shadows of whispering trees. Bird song filtered through the leaves and somewhere the whinny of a unicorn sounded through the forest.

"And still you are back with us. Your home is close. Why do you not retunr?"

"My home has been lost," Severus glared into the general direction of the castle. "As have I. And yet it seems that I have still not lost enough. Hogwarts became my home after I was torn from the only place I knew and loved, and now I cannot return to the safety of my dungeons anymore."

"Why?" Riveroak's features were just as calm as walways, but Severus sensed that the dryad was puzzled. "The headmaster has always protected you. He would surely welcome you back."

Severus snorted, brushing a few leaves from his trousers. "He would welcome me back, but he has already proven that he cannot protect me anymore. I would not be safe at Hogwarts."

"Where will you go then?" Severus could feel the dryad probing his mind, calming the ends of his nerves with a soothing brush. "Will you stay with us?"

"What else can I do?" His bitter laugh was a harsh and cruel sound in the forest quiet. "I have been raised in this war, it has become a part of me. How could I leave the people I have come to know to fight it on their own?"

"How do you think you can help your friends when most of them are going to kill or arrest you on sight?"

"They're not my friends," Severus sneered, drumming absentmindedly on the stone. "I have to find a way to help them without being discovered."

"You have not answered my question," Riveroak's hand was charred and strangely warm on his shoulder. "How do you think you can help them?"

"I know magic they have long forgotten," he briefly rested his hand on the dryad's, returning the support he felt. "My acquaintance with you is more than proof of that."

They fell silent for a while, both of the lost in their own thoughts. Severus inhaled deeply, cursing the sweet scent of honeysuckle. There were times when he hated the forest. It was almost dark as he finally spoke again. "Would you pass on a message for me?"

"Of course," Riveroak nodded, getting up and giving him a small bow. "Please excuse me now, I promised another old friend to visit him."

Severus stared silently ahead as the dryad vanished into the twilight, wondering what he had ever done to deserve the other's friendship. No matter what he knew and how much he had learned, he was still tainted. Was still bound to the mark on his arm.

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"What do you mean?" Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose. "All I asked you to do was to find Sybil. Where is she?"

"We don't know, Sir," Shacklebolt grimaced. "It's as though she vanished. Perhaps she has left the country or-"

"No." Dumbledore slammed a parchment onto his desk, quickly forcing himself to calm down. "She sent me an owl a few days back. She cannot have left the country. The letter," he picked the small roll of parchment up again, waving it at the auror. "Said that she had to leave suddenly due to some family crisis and that she'll be back soon. I know that her family is from Britain."

"Be that as it may, Sir," Shacklebolt forced himself not to sigh exasperatedly. Albus Dumbledore could be more than tiring. Especially for one's nerves.

"She is definitely not with her mother or any other listed family members and we haven't been able to detect her magical signature. If she is still in Britain, then she is hiding behind very heavy wards."

"But why?" Dumbledore had stopped his pacing and was now staring out of the window, his back rigid. "She has no reason to leave the school, has never indicated or hinted that she might be unhappy here." He turned, fixing his stare on Kingsley once more. "And she would never just leave me without any chance of searching for a replacement teacher beforehand. Something must have happened to her." He frowned, glaring at Fawkes' empty porch.

"I want you to continue her search for her." He announced. "By all means necessary."

"Of course Sir," Shacklebolt nodded, hiding his sigh behind a yawn. I'll call you as soon as we know something new."

Dumbledore did not even hear him leave, he was too busy staring into thin air, brows furrowed in concentration.

Fawkes was gone, Severus had been arrested, Sybil had vanished as well and he had been sensing a strange magical signature close to the castle in the last few days. There were just too many things going on for mere coincidences. Strange things were afoot and he hated the thought of being caught unawares. What in Merlin's name was happening?