Walk the Shadows

side of the bed, and tried to get up. His left arm was so much dead weight, and for some reason, his legs did not want to cooperate. Well, he'd dealt with that before. Willpower, force, and the imperative motive of not being eaten made them work for him. He shuffled toward the door.

Lupin followed, at a distance of not nearly far enough.

'In front of me,' Severus growled. 'Get in front of me.'

The Werewolf obeyed with alacrity, and Severus staggered after him.

'Wand,' he demanded, as they made their way down the hall. Lupin turned and pressed his new wand into his hand. The Were's hands were clenched into fists, and the strain of not changing was evident in the cast of his face, in the muscles of his neck. 'How close?'

'Close enough,' Lupin growled. 'The full moon isn't really until early morning, about five hours from now. But it's . . . it's close.'

Severus touched his wand to the door to his lab, muttered the password under his breath, and went inside. It was the work of only a minute to secure the potion for Lupin, and Severus reflected that it was a good thing he had made this batch earlier in the month.

He brought the bottle out to Lupin and put it down on the dining table, making Lupin take it up from there instead of letting him come close enough to take it from his hand. He wasn't paranoid, though, not of Werewolves. Not at all. 'So the date . . .'

Lupin swallowed down the potion. 'It's the 27th, but just before midnight of the 28th.'

'I was out for . . .'

'A bit more than twenty-four hours.'

Right. What the hell had happened to him? No, that was a question for another time. 'Now,' Severus said, leaning against the wall, but not because he was still too weak to stand on his own, not at all. 'Tell me where Harry is.'

'Didn't Dumbledore tell you?'

Severus snarled, 'If he had, I'm sure I would not be asking you now. Answer the damn question!'

The shaking had increased in Lupin's hands, and his eyes had turned gold. The change was upon him, and Severus was just standing there! What if the potion was ineffective this close to the change? He forced himself to remain calm, even as he started to edge along the wall, wand held up in case Lupin should try to charge him. He was just being cautious. He wasn't actually frightened, of course not.

But the words that came out of Lupin's mouth next were actually frightening, and the cold he had battled all the way to consciousness threatened to overcome him. 'He said he had to take Harry to the Ministry of Magic. Because of the Unforgivable Harry cast.'

'Almost cast,' Severus whispered, barely even noticing as Lupin completed the change before his eyes, face elongating, teeth growing sharp and deadly, legs and arms twisting into that animal shape Severus so detested. The Wolf could have attacked him right then and he wouldn't have defended himself, but Lupin merely paced back and forth for a moment before settling on the rug in front of the fire like nothing more than a big, mangy dog.

Dumbledore had taken Harry.

After the discussion they had had, twenty-four hours ago, apparently, when it was decided that Harry would never present himself to the Wizengamot, the old man had taken Harry anyway. A sudden realization hit Severus like a bludger to the stomach. Dumbledore had done something to his arm. Dumbledore, not the Dark Lord.

Was the Dark Mark even affected? Or had that all been in his mind? He remembered tea, suddenly, and the cup falling to roll under the table . . .

Hand trembling, Severus grasped at the edge of bandage on his left arm, and unwrapped the first couple layers. Sweat broke out on his brow, and not just because he was afraid of what damage he might find. No, worst would be if . . . the bandage came off, revealing skin that was whole, intact, and otherwise not harmed by fire or acid. The Dark Mark shone black on his pale skin, and he felt faint with relief . . . and then enraged, fury so sudden that he could hear his heart thudding in his chest and blood raging in his ears.

Dumbledore had taken Harry.

The bandage fell from his fingers as he raced to the Floo. It was Warded, as Lupin had claimed. But it was his Floo, and in moments, he had the Ward disabled, and had come out in the Headmasters Office. Dumbledore had taken Harry to the Ministry. But where? The place was huge, with catacombs and multiple levels, and he could search for hours without finding the boy. Perhaps he should start on the levels where trials were held, where his own had been held, years and years ago. Where Harry's had been, a year ago.

But then, he thought, was there even really a trial?

Or was that another lie?

Waving his wand in several specific arcs in front of Dumbledore's Floo, Severus learned the last destination to which someone had Floo'd. Had it been Harry? Had he even been under his own power when he left? Had he already been turned over to those maniacs? Or worse, turned over to the Dark Lord? Bile rose in his throat at his failure. He had promised Harry he would take care of him, keep him safe, and then this . . . betrayal.

Taking a deep breath, Severus shook his head and forced all thoughts like that from his mind. They would not help now. He stepped back into the Floo, with a handful of powder and his wand both held tight in his right hand. Even if his left arm was not damaged, it still would not move for him.

'Ministry Inquisitor's Office!' he called out and threw the powder down.

---

He was so cold, shivering on the . . . floor? And his whole body ached like he'd been hit by a hundred bludgers. Multiple times of coming to consciousness in situations which were less than optimal had taught him not