A/N: ...I may well be setting some kind of record for the longest gaps between updating! Despite the 3 year hiatus, I haven't forgotten any of my stories but that dratted thing called life does get in the way sometimes! Anyway, I hope you enjoy and as always do let me know what you think x

The walls of the dungeon had been constructed using one thousand four hundred and twenty seven flat stones.

Harry had counted each and every one of them ingrained into the dull, grey cement. He had counted the thick metal bars that separated his cell from the corridor beyond, the number of brackets that held torches along the walls. He had counted until he had nothing left to count, not because he particularly liked the architectural make up of things, but because unless his mind was occupied, the sheer physical pain he was trying so desperately hard to ignore, would return with a force that would be too excruciating to bear.

Harry had forgotten just how much the cruciatus curse hurt. The brief memory of it being inflicted upon him following the triwizard tournament had seemed largely inconsequential following the events of Cedric's death and the aftermath of that night. But now having being subject to it with no such reprieves, Harry appreciated just why wizards had deemed its use as a crime that could not be forgiven.

Lord Voldemort had been a welcoming host indeed.

Following their orders, Harry's captors had marched him blindfolded along corridors and up staircases until at last, having lost all sense of direction, he had been thrown unceremoniously into an enormous circular chamber supported by large stone pillars, where his adversary had sat waiting in a high backed chair.

The Dark Lord had been unusually short on words, perhaps aware that his past theatrics had, on more than one occasion, allowed Harry a means to escape, and had instead proceeded to dispatch a series of cruciatus curses, leaving Harry screaming on the floor, barely able to breathe.

Despite his suffering, Harry tried to remain focused, ready to defend himself at any moment against the sickly green light that had, for so long, plagued his nightmares, but to his great surprise it never came. It seemed as though, after years of futile attempts on Harry's life, Lord Voldemort was willing to prolong the Gryffindor's suffering for as long as he could.

With almost casual flicks of his wand, the Dark Lord had continued his ruthless onslaught until at last, when Harry was on the verge of passing out from the pain, he had signaled to Jasper to return the captive back to his cell.

That encounter had been some hours ago now, and as he lay on the floor of his cell, Harry wondered just how long it would be before he found himself in front of his nemesis once more. The Dark Lord obviously had far more to his arsenal than just the cruciatus curse, and as much as he hated to admit it, Harry wasn't sure just how much longer he would be able to last without a wand to defend himself.

With great difficulty, the Gryffindor managed to raise himself up to sit against the stone wall and gazed at the ceiling overhead.

This place, wherever he was, was a fortress. The time it had taken to walk from his cell to meet with Lord Voldemort had been enough to confirm that. But anything more about his current residence was unknown to him. His captors had been particularly careful not to gift him with any knowledge of his whereabouts by covering his sight whenever they moved him through the building.

Lord Voldemort was taking no chances. The place had been fortified with various anti-escape measures, as Harry had earlier the misfortune of experiencing, and though he had not seen any of them, Harry was also certain that a number of Death Eaters had taken up residence in the building. He had heard the muffled sound of conversation and raucous laughter drifting down from the ceiling overhead, and the frequent patter of footsteps moving past the door at the end of his corridor.

Harry knew that any real chance of escape was slim, and the more days that passed having to endure Lord Voldemort's frenzied attacks, the weaker he would become. He clung to the hope that a stroke of good fortune, something that had so often saved him in the past, would present him with an opportunity to escape. But when that would come, and in what form, only time would tell.

Shivering slightly, Harry wrapped his jacket more tightly around his shoulders. The dungeon was well below freezing in temperature, and as the cold began to seep into his bones, the young wizard found himself yearning more than ever to be curled up on a sofa by the roaring fireplace in Gryffindor tower.

Thoughts of Hogwarts inevitably lead to thoughts of his Headmaster. In all that had unfolded in the past few hours, Harry had barely had time to reflect on the conversation with Dumbledore. If he were honest with himself, he had tried very hard not to think about the man at all. But now, laying in the dungeon with nothing but the pain to distract him, Harry couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore had been alerted to his absence yet. Whether or not he would be able to discover where he, Harry, had been taken. Whether he even cared. For as much as the Headmaster had insisted that he did care, he had chosen not to tell Harry about the relationship that they had once shared, and that had hurt Harry more than anything else.

Shifting slightly, he winced as a particularly nasty spasm rippled through his muscles. As much as he despised himself for wanting to see Dumbledore again, Harry had no doubt that the only person who had any real chance of breaching Lord Voldemort's stronghold was the Hogwarts Headmaster himself.

As the day's events finally began to catch up with Harry, he closed his eyes and let his head fall sideways against the rough stone wall. Drifting off to sleep, his last thought was to contemplate how ironic it was that a man he was so angry with, was the one man he would give anything to see again.

Grimmauld Place was an apt title, Dumbledore thought, as he stepped over the threshold into the Black's house of residence. The dark corridors and bare walls cast an ever-present gloom about the place in a way that made even the dungeons at Hogwarts look homely in comparison. Despite its somewhat miserable appearance, there was no doubt that the building was proving to be a most convenient location in which to set up the Order's headquarters. Large enough to accommodate the ever-expanding organisation, and relatively secure, it was a far cry from the earliest days of the Order in which the Headmaster recalled having to conduct meetings from a cramped living room above the Hogs Head.

Those days had been particularly dangerous for the newly formed group. Vastly outnumbered, and lacking the resources available to their enemies, the Order had lost many fine young wizards and witches to their dark foes. Albus carried those deaths around with him like a millstone around his neck, and it had only grown heavier in the intervening years. He knew, of course, that death was an inevitable consequence of being at war, but he felt personally responsible for every member of the Order of the Phoenix. These were the people who had chosen to follow him unconditionally, obeyed his every order and command, and he knew that every time he sent one of them on a mission, he was risking the life of another innocent soul in an effort to tip the scales of war in their favor. It was, and ever would be, a bitter pill to swallow for the ageing Headmaster.

With a withered hand, Dumbledore pushed open the kitchen door, and was surprised to find most of the Order members already sat waiting in a hastily arranged collection of chairs either side of the long wooden dining table. It was the first time they had all met since Rita Skeeter's story had been published, and Dumbledore noticed a certain amount of awkwardness in the greetings he received from many of those who were present.

Settling down in his customary position at the head of the table, the Headmaster wondered just how he was supposed to break the news of what had happened to the group in front of him, especially to those who considered Harry as one of their own.

"My apologies for gathering you all at such short notice," he began, "but I am afraid a matter of great urgency has arisen."

As he spoke, Severus Snape sidled through the side door of the kitchen. There was a slight commotion as the Order members rearranged themselves to allow room for the Potion's Master to seat himself between Kingsley and Mundungus. Dumbledore nodded to his spy indicating that they would speak after the meeting and continued as everyone settled down once more.

"This morning, Harry was kidnapped by a group of Death Eaters from the forest outside Hogwarts grounds-"

The usual silence that encompassed the room when Dumbledore spoke was pierced with noises of shock and disbelief. Kingsley and Tonks turned to each other and started to whisper urgently, whilst Molly Weasley burst into tears at the back of the room. Dumbledore raised his voice slightly to be heard over them.

"At present," he said, raising his hand slightly to quieten them all, "we do not know where he is being held, or in what capacity. But I am certain that, for now at least, he is alive."

The ensuing silence was broken once more. This time by Remus Lupin, who raised his greying head to gaze at the Headmaster in disbelief.

"I'm sorry Albus, but how can you be certain of that? Surely the first thing You-Know-Who would try to do is… you know….." he trailed off, unable to voice the horrible thought.

"Because I know Tom Riddle" replied the Headmaster matter-of-factly, "and it is my belief that he will attempt to use Harry's life as a means to blackmail me, perhaps to gain some degree of control over Hogwarts or even the Ministry. It is therefore essential that all of our efforts are concentrated into ensuring that Harry is returned to us as quickly and as safely as possible."

A slow clap suddenly cut across the silence, and heads swiveled towards the back of the room to see where it was coming from.

"Very good Headmaster, an excellent plan! But here's an idea…next time why don't you try to not lose him in the first place!"

Sirius' haggard features came into view as he stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the room. Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly, barely suppressing the soft sigh threatening to escape his lips. Of all the people affected by Rita Skeeter's article, Sirius had taken the revelation of Harry's adoption particularly hard. He no longer held the coveted position of guardian to his Godson, and the sudden abolishment of his responsibilities had resulted in a deep harboured resentment and hostility towards the older man.

"After all, it not like there's a depraved lunatic and a horde of his psychopathic followers on the lookout for him-"

"That's enough Sirius!"

It was Molly who spoke this time. She stepped forward, eyes still slightly puffy, and crossed her arms somewhat defensively as his sullen gaze turned towards her.

"You heard Albus, we need to focus on finding Harry. Any personal issues you might have can wait until then. Do you understand?"

Sirius did not respond, but with one last withering look at the Headmaster, he retreated wordlessly back into his corner.

All heads turned to the front of the room as Dumbledore addressed them once more.

"We will need all who are available to help. Tom will not make it easy to find Harry, and even less so to rescue him. We therefore must utilise every advantage at our disposal. I intend to start with our first. Severus," he said, turning towards the Potions Master who had already begun to rise, "may I speak with you for a moment please?"

The room broke out into a swell of conversation as the two men made their way out of the kitchen towards the small and relatively unused living room at the front of the house.

Like every other room within the Black family household, the furniture was coated in a thick layer of dirt and grime, and the once elaborately embroidered sofas emitted two large clouds of dust as both wizards sat down.

"Albus," the Potion's Master began, "had I known what was to happen today, I might have been able to find a means to prevent Potter's capture. As it is, it appears as though the Dark Lord has benefitted from a most unexpected stroke of fortune. That group of Death Eaters must have been on a patrol close to Hogwarts when they ran into Potter."

"It was not fortunate Severus, it was planned."

Snape bristled at the comment. "If it had been planned Headmaster, you would have been informed of it immediately."

"I did not mean that Severus," said Dumbledore in an effort to placate his Potions Master, "You have always had my trust, as you very well know. What you did not know, could not have known, is that Tom began to prepare his attack the moment Peter Trowoski chose to betray me. And it seems as though your master chose not to involve you in this particular assignment" the Headmaster finished somewhat apologetically.

"He suspects me" the younger wizard mused, voicing what Dumbledore had left unsaid.

"I imagine that there are a great many people Tom suspects, even amongst his own followers, such is his nature. But yes Severus, for some reason or another he has omitted you from what he would deem to be a very important task, and that worries me. You must tread carefully my boy, for the time being at least."

A silence lapsed between the two men, each lost in their own troubling thoughts.

"Trowoski?" Snape said finally, "I'm assuming this is the same Trowoski the Dark Lord spoke to a few days ago. The ministry worker?"

Dumbledore nodded absently, still caught in contemplation, and Snape waited patiently for the elder wizard to pull himself back to the present.

"Peter is the head of the wizarding adoption services at the ministry, and also happens to be the son of Thomas Trowoski, one of my oldest and trusted friends. After the death of Lily and James, when I decided to take Harry in, it fell to Peter to make the necessary arrangements. He alone knew that I had adopted Harry-"

"-But you didn't," Snape couldn't restrain himself from interrupting, "I never once saw Potter as a child at Hogwarts."

"Oh he was there Severus, perhaps not in the image you recognise, but he was certainly there."

Dumbledore smiled softly at his Potions Master's continued confusion. "Don't you remember Arian McGonagall?"

A jolt of realisation hit the ex-Death Eater as the image of a bright eyed toddler surfaced from his memory.

"Minerva's nephew?" he said disbelievingly.

"Or so we had you believe. The two are, after all, very similar in age."

The families of those teaching at Hogwarts were afforded the privilege of taking up residence at the school if they so desired. Most professors preferred the privacy of their own homes to visit their loved ones, however it was not unusual for family members to be seen around the castle. Minerva, who had a number of young nieces and nephews, often had visitors staying with her and no one had raised an eyebrow when young Arian McGonagall had been brought to the castle.

Severus frowned slightly as he tried to remember what had happened to him. A few years after arriving, the youngster, who had become a familiar sight around the castle, had been sent back to his relatives, never to be seen or heard from again.

"I don't understand Headmaster," he said turning his gaze back to Dumbledore once more, "you said this man was a friend of yours, or his father was at any rate. Why would he choose to betray you now, and after all these years?"

Snape watched as a look of regret passed over the Headmaster's deeply lined face.

"Whilst I was officially Harry's guardian, I bound Peter under an oath so that he was not able to reveal our relationship to another soul. However, for all my accolades Severus, I am not as infallible as many seem to think. In order for the blood protection to be effective at Privet Drive, Petunia Dursley not only had to take Harry in, she would also have to become Harry's new guardian, in the magical sense. My guardianship over Harry was transferred to her the moment she took him in, and therefore, the oath binding Peter to secrecy was voided. He was a good man Severus, and I truly believe that had Voldemort not returned to power, he would have kept true to his oath. But even good men can be blinded by greed, he knew he had information that might see him elevated to a status within Lord Voldemort's ranks like no other, and in the end, the lure proved too much. He chose his side in this war Severus, and it has come at a terrible cost."

Silence fell around them once more, broken only by the gentle swish of robes as the Headmaster got up and began to pace the living room. Beyond the door, Snape could hear the muffled sound of conversation drifting through from the kitchen. He scowled as the distinctive tones of Sirius Black filtered through, and forced himself to focus on the conversation at hand.

"So the Dark Lord was tipped off by a ministry worker that Potter was your adopted son. But you can't tell me that he planned to abduct the boy in the forest. How on earth would he have known that Potter would be there?"

Dumbledore paused in his pacing for a moment, leaning beside the fireplace as he gazed down at the younger wizard, fixing him with his distinctive light blue gaze.

"Oh, I don't think Tom planned to capture Harry in the forest at all. In fact, the publication of Rita Skeeter's article forced his hand. He didn't expect her to discover, much less publicize that information so quickly, perhaps planning to do so himself. Nevertheless, it proved to be a stroke of good fortune for Tom. He was ready for implications of the article and I was not. He guessed what Harry's reaction would be. That such a revelation might drive Harry away from the protections of the castle, from me. So he placed his men within the forest as close to the castle as he could in the hope that may be able to discover where Harry would go and then devise a means to capture him. I don't think even Tom dreamed that Harry would run straight into their unsuspecting arms," the Headmaster gazed across the room sadly, "If only I had stopped him."

A rare flicker of emotion stirred within the Potions Master's eyes as he watched the dejected expression cloud the usually jovial Headmaster's face. He stood and extended a hand to grasp Dumbledore's arm sympathetically.

"You couldn't have known this would happen Albus. None of us did," he said quietly, "besides, all hope is not yet lost. I may have lost favor with the Dark Lord for the time being, but he will need my skills soon enough and when the time comes, I will find out where Potter is being held. I will help you find him Albus" he vowed solemnly.

The Headmaster gazed at the fierce determination in those obsidian eyes, and not for the first time in his life, wished the wizarding world would one day see the true nature of the man standing before him. There were very few people who appreciated the danger Severus was in every time he took his place before the Dark Lord. That, at any moment, with one false move, his life could be taken. It saddened the Headmaster to know that whilst his Potions Master was undoubtedly brave, he took these risks because deep down he would never forgive himself for the choices he made as a young man. That his past deeds somehow deemed him unworthy of the happiness and peace that so many others took for granted.

"I know you will Severus," he said gently as the hand grasping his own relinquished its grip, "and now I must ask a small favor of you my boy. I wonder if you would be able to procure me some Polyjuice Potion?"

The unusual request caught his spy off guard, and the younger wizard frowned slightly despite nodding the affirmative.

"Polyjuice Potion?" he said making no attempt to mask his curiosity, "Why on earth would you need that?"

For the first time since Harry had been taken, the famous sparkle returned to the Headmaster's eyes.

"I have a plan" he said simply.