The telling took less time than Andrei had expected—Snape listened without interrupting, which earned him considerable gratitude. Because Andrei had just remembered something else, something critically important, and was afraid he'd already left it too late. Though surely even the Death Eaters needed time to realise their Lord was no longer with them? Still, he couldn't afford to wait.
"I don't suppose there's any point asking you for the Longbottoms' address?" he said, a thread of hope still in his voice.
"Why wouldn't there be?" Snape looked surprised. "I've been there. Came for potion ingredients. They have magical greenhouses."
"Right then. Can you Apparate me there and come straight back? Have you got the strength?"
"After unicorn milk?" Snape said, with a flash of something almost boyish. "Is that a serious question?"
Oh—he's actually recovered. Fast, Andrei thought. Good. What would I have done with a weeping wreck? Like this he almost looks like someone who can hold his own. Wait. What am I charging into? I save the Longbottoms, and then what—someone sees me, someone talks, and where do I hide from the Headmaster? I have no idea whether the Great Wizard has any hold over half-giants, and I'm not keen to find out. So. Think.
"Something wrong?" Snape asked.
Andrei didn't deliberate long, and shared the problem.
"I have a base for Polyjuice at home."
"Brilliant," Hagrid exhaled with genuine delight. "Will you give me one of your hairs?"
"One of mine? But then I'd be—" Snape choked on air and coughed.
"It's logical, though. You went to avenge your childhood friend and… dealt with the situation." Even as he said it, however, Andrei was reconsidering. Playing Snape was technically an option—but not a great one. It would mean hiding the real Snape thoroughly afterward, possibly getting him out of the country entirely. He had no ideas on that front yet.
"Can you check whether anyone's at your place? Discreetly?"
"What for? There's never anyone there—"
"Dumbledore."
"You think?"
Hagrid gave a short nod.
"All right," Snape crouched in front of the fireplace, peering in, then stood quickly. "Is there any paper?"
A small piece of ordinary paper was eventually found. Snape folded it into a child's paper aeroplane, cast something on it, took a pinch of Floo Powder, and stepped to the fireplace.
"Spinner's End," he said, throwing the powder—and the aeroplane vanished into the green flame. A few seconds later it came back.
"No one there. I'll go," and he stepped into the fireplace.
"How did you know?"
"Put a return charm on it and checked whether anything had touched it."
"What if Dumbledore looked without touching?"
"I doubt he'd have passed up the chance to see what was written on it."
"You didn't write anything."
"Does he know that?"
"Fair point. Wait—your fireplace is destroyed!"
"There's enough room for me. Worst case, I fall." Snape almost smiled. "I'll try not to land on my head."
"Be careful," Andrei said, and gave his shoulder a brief, careful squeeze.
"Five minutes—no more. Time me," Snape replied, and disappeared into the flame.
***
Those five minutes stretched out strangely. And when Snape stepped back through, Andrei let out a quiet breath.
"Here." Snape held out two small vials—something clinked in his pockets as he moved. "One hour each."
"I owe you," Andrei said, seriously, already thinking that he needed to find money from somewhere. He'd located Hagrid's savings, but a dozen and a half Galleons was not encouraging.
"The unicorn milk covers it." Snape was already holding out one of his own hairs. "Better to mix it after Apparating."
"As you say, sir," Andrei said—and smiled at Snape's briefly baffled expression. "What? You're the Potions Master. I ought to listen to you. Speaking of which—you're already a Master, officially? Or not yet?"
"A Master," Snape said, sounding slightly stunned. "But no one knew except the Dark Lord and… a few others."
"What have I been telling you for half the night?"
"You saw that too?"
"No—I heard it. Now come on, let's go."
***
The old forest cat had seen a great many things in his long and eventful life, but not this. He bolted immediately, on pure instinct—then stopped, because curiosity is simply the nature of cats, and watched from a safe distance.
A shimmering vortex appeared near a small, severe-looking manor house. Two entirely dissimilar figures emerged from it. Then the larger one transformed into a copy of the smaller one—and then one of them vanished back into an equally strange swirl of displaced air that made every hair on the cat's neck stand on end.
The remaining figure strode quickly up the drive toward the front door, and broke into a run near the end.
"How dare you—"
"Confundus!" Andrei greeted Augusta Longbottom with the spell before anything else—he didn't like her expression at all. "Where's Frank?"
She hissed something, frowning. Was she resisting?
"Frank is in his home," she finally managed.
"Confundus!" he repeated, and this time her eyes went properly blank.
"Quickly!" he barked. "Frank's in danger—we have to go to him now!" He took firm hold of her sharp elbow.
They made it in time—though Hagrid, even under Polyjuice, apparently retained all of a half-giant's Apparition characteristics, and Augusta went limp the moment they materialised inside the Longbottom house.
The screaming was still audible. He'd have to apologise to the grandmother later. Andrei ran toward the sound.
"S-s-snape," Bellatrix breathed, looking up in genuine surprise—and promptly received a Stupefy squarely to the forehead.
The spells from Crouch and the Lestranges bounced off him with enough force to bewilder them entirely, and each collected their own rebounded curse in return. Andrei decided to keep it simple this time—just Duro—but there was no time to admire the sculptures, because Bellatrix was already twitching.
"Duro," he said, turning her to stone as well, and turned to Frank and Alice, still groaning on the floor. "Finite. Finite incan—no, let me clear the lot at once… Finite Maxima!"
The groaning stopped. Two pairs of eyes looked up at him in stunned silence.
"Are you all right?" Andrei asked, bracing himself for the answer he feared most.
"Snape," Alice whispered—and lost consciousness.
"I… owe…" Frank tried to say, and Andrei quickly put a hand over his mouth.
"You already do," he said quietly. "Don't make it worse."
"I won't," Frank whispered, and passed out as well.
Andrei stood, went to Alice, checked her pulse, turned her onto her side, and then carefully cast a cleaning charm—thinking, not for the first time, that very few fanfic writers had ever described some of the unpleasant but entirely predictable physiological responses to the Cruciatus. Perhaps that was just as well. He moved her to the sofa, then did the same for Frank and settled him beside her.
He was standing there, considerably relieved and feeling something close to satisfaction, contemplating the sculptural arrangement of Death Eaters, when he heard footsteps in the hallway. Augusta had apparently recovered.
Tough old woman, he thought. And then a rather entertaining idea occurred to him. The second Polyjuice would have to be used, which was a problem—nowhere to brew more, and nothing to brew it with. He had an hour or two to think, but who knew whether the Headmaster might decide to call on his cottage in the night and find two rather conspicuous houseguests. No. Better to act.
He took Augusta's elbow again—she was still unsteady—and guided her toward the sofa near her son.
"What did you do to them?" she demanded, raising her wand instead of sitting.
"Which ones?" Andrei asked, mildly, glancing at the installation.
Augusta finally registered the exhibition of petrified Death Eaters. Instead of attacking, her mouth fell open. She was a grandmother, after all. Which was when she received:
"Somnus Maxima."
Now he needed Snape, urgently.
"Apparate!" he told himself—and a few seconds later he was back in his own, almost-familiar cottage, where said specialist was pacing with visible tension.
"Can you do Legilimency?" Andrei confirmed, received a nod—and moments later they were both standing over the sleeping Augusta.
"What for?" Snape asked, and Andrei outlined the plan.
Snape nodded. Quite right—they couldn't afford to be identified. But they needed to be quick.
When Augusta opened her eyes to find two Snapes bent over her with identical expressions, she couldn't find her wand at all. One of them placed it directly in her fingers, which disoriented her so thoroughly that she couldn't help looking up at the closer face—and found herself staring into utterly unreadable black eyes.
"Done," Snape reported, continuing to gratify Andrei with his economy of words.
"Somnus Maxima," Andrei replied, tracing something in the air above the elder Mrs Longbottom. "My apologies, ma'am."
He extracted a hair from her neat little bun, and a short while later was adjusting a certain aspect of his new appearance that had been causing him some practical inconvenience from the outset.
Snape made a sound that might have been a laugh and headed toward the nearest statue, which turned out to be Crouch.
Hagrid wrapped the stone body in self-tightening cords, said "Finite," and handed him over to his partner. And so they settled into a rhythm. Andrei reversed the petrification, Snape extracted a small and specific fragment of memory, put two of the Death Eaters to sleep himself, and then left that part to Hagrid. The magical porridge was magical, but Legilimency always demanded significant resources.
In the end, the room contained the exhausted but sleeping and thoroughly intact Longbottoms, and a tightly bound bundle of Death Eaters.
"Time to wake the heroic grandmother," Andrei sighed. He found the scene extremely satisfying. "You'll have to do it, Severus," he added, adjusting his silhouette again.
Snape either snorted or laughed—it was hard to tell—and as the gamekeeper-disguised-as-the-lady slipped out of the room, he turned to Augusta Longbottom.
"Finite. Madam Longbottom—are you all right?"
The woman opened her eyes with effort.
"What… what happened to me? Where am I?"
"You are a remarkable woman, Lady Longbottom," Snape declared, with some gravity. "I will never forget your assistance. Your children are safe—but in return… swear to me that you will never speak of me to anyone, unless I ask it of you myself."
"Who are you, young man?"
"Allow me not to say. You owe a debt for the lives of those you love, Madam. I am waiting. Check on them—they're sleeping. When you and I Apparated here, those people were torturing them. You cannot have forgotten."
"I swear never to mention you," Augusta said, drawing herself up—she had been bending over her son. "But how did you know?"
Instead of answering, Snape pushed back his sleeve and showed her the Mark.
"I have a great deal more to repay."
"You may count on me, young man," Augusta said, with a nod. Something of her legendary composure was returning. "I bid you good evening"—
And Snape Apparated directly out of the room.
"Rude," Augusta said to the empty air, bending over her daughter-in-law and satisfying herself that the young woman was alive and reasonably well. "But on the whole, correct. Now who on earth was that boy?" She straightened. "Oh, Merlin—thank goodness Neville is at mine tonight."
And to think I scolded Alice for weaning him early, she reflected. Turns out everything happens for a reason. Right. Once they wake up, I'll call the Healer. Though—why wait?
And she went to the fireplace. The staff at St Mungo's worked through the night—she knew that perfectly well. And the Aurors, of course… she glanced at the prisoners. She wanted those creatures out of her son's house!