Harry Potter and the Silent Guardian

Harry arrived at Black Castle in a whirlwind of urgency, slipping through the grand doors and hurrying straight to Arcturus Black's private study. Arcturus had been pacing by a window, his quiet agitation evident in every measured step. At the sight of Harry, he turned sharply, his eyes narrowing with concern.

Harry wasted no time. He launched into a rapid account of the recent events: the defeat of the Dark Lords, Dumbledore's tragic death, Grindelwald's desperate final stand, Voldemort's sudden surge in power, and the near-catastrophic destruction at the Ministry.

As Harry detailed the chaos, Arcturus listened in silence. Although his expression remained impassive, Harry could detect the tightening of his jaw and the glint of steely resolve in his grey eyes as the gravity of the situation sank in.

"Voldemort has escaped," Harry concluded, his voice laced with frustration. "He's stronger now, somehow imbued with Grindelwald's power. I need to find him, Grandfather—before he has time to consolidate his strength."

Arcturus steepled his fingers, his gaze thoughtful. "Locating Voldemort has always been… problematic. If he is intelligent, he will not return to any of the hideouts we know. I can have people look, but I doubt they will find anything. Other than that, I'm afraid I can't help you locate him, Harry. If you plan to chase him down, I unfortunately have no leads to offer."

Harry sank into a chair, his mind racing at full throttle. "I can't just let him roam free," he said, his voice tight with urgency. "He's more dangerous than ever, and if he gets a chance to rest or plan, who knows what he'll do next? I have to finish him—today."

For a moment, the only sounds were the crackling of a nearby torch and the faint hum of magic running through Black Castle's wards. Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, Harry shot upright, his eyes shining with a new idea. "Snape," he muttered. "He's the only one who hasn't been seen at the Ministry tonight. As a double spy, he might know Voldemort's habits and hideouts."

Arcturus straightened, his tone measured as he considered the suggestion. "Severus Snape? That man's loyalties have always been a mystery."

Harry nodded, his determination unwavering. "But he might have an inkling of where Voldemort likes to hide. And right now, that's our best chance."

After a moment of tense silence, Arcturus pressed his lips together and gave a reluctant nod. "Go. Time is of the essence."

Without further hesitation, Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map. He hoped that Snape was still where he expected him to be—and that he hadn't fled upon hearing the news of Dumbledore's death. With a quick flick of his wand and a murmured incantation, the intricate lines of Hogwarts castle bloomed into existence on the parchment. Harry's eyes scanned the map, passing over the familiar labels of classrooms and corridors until he found it: Severus Snape – Potions Classroom.

"Perfect. He's at Hogwarts," Harry confirmed, relief mingling with renewed determination. "I need to go."

Arcturus nodded gravely. "Be cautious, Harry. Snape is… unpredictable."

"I will be careful, Grandfather," Harry assured him with a curt nod. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

---

Harry Apparated just outside Hogwarts' grounds and swiftly made his way through the ancient castle halls, the Marauder's Map tucked securely under his arm. The castle was eerily silent and devoid of students. Harry moved swiftly through the deserted corridors, his footsteps echoing in the stillness as he headed directly for the dungeons and the potions lab.

He reached the heavy oak door, hesitating only a moment before pushing it open and stepping inside. The potions lab was dimly lit; cauldrons bubbled and steamed on braziers, while shelves lined with jars of strange ingredients cast long, eerie shadows across the room. And there, amid the fumes and shifting shadows, stood Severus Snape. His back was turned as he meticulously stirred a cauldron, his black robes blending seamlessly with the gloom.

Snape turned as Harry entered, his sallow face tightening into a familiar scowl. "Potter," he drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. "What is the meaning of this…?"

"Dumbledore's dead," Harry cut him off bluntly. "Grindelwald too—the old Dark Lord transferred his power to Voldemort before dying. And I need your help finding your master before he becomes too powerful to stop."

The news hit Snape like a series of blows. His face, already pale, turned almost ghostly. "Dumbledore... dead?"

"The curse finally took him—with some help from Grindelwald." Harry's eyes fixed on Snape, unyielding. "You know where Voldemort might have gone. Help me find him."

Snape's lip curled in disdain. "And why should I help you? With Dumbledore gone, my safest option is to return to the Dark Lord's side."

"Is it?" Harry's voice carried a dangerous edge. "He fled from me tonight, even with Grindelwald's power. He'll lose the next battle too, but I want to make it quick. Do you really want to bet your future on the losing side, Professor?"

Snape's sneer deepened. "And what, precisely, is my alternative, Potter? Without Dumbledore's… protection, my fate is sealed. Azkaban awaits, regardless of which side 'wins' or 'loses'."

"I can speak for you," Harry offered. "No guarantees, but it's better odds than you'll have with Voldemort. He left his followers behind without a second thought tonight. Is that truly who you want to trust your future to?"

After a long, resigned sigh that visibly drained the tension from his shoulders, Snape finally relented. "Very well, Potter," he said grudgingly, his voice laced with weary resignation. "Let us not waste any more time then. There are several locations he favors. We should check them all."

For the next hour, the two of them Apparated from one dark hideout to another—a deserted manor in Yorkshire, a labyrinthine cave complex in Wales, and a forgotten castle in Scotland. Each location proved empty. Voldemort was nowhere to be found, having vanished without a trace.

Frustration gnawed at Harry as he realized he was running out of both time and leads. Just as he was about to decide to postpone the hunt until another day, his eyes fell on Snape's left arm. The Dark Mark, stark against his pale skin, suddenly sparked an idea.

"Snape," Harry said, his voice sharp and decisive, "the Dark Mark. Voldemort uses it to call his Death Eaters... there must be a connection—a magical link that we can trace back to him."

Snape's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He looked down at the Dark Mark on his arm, a grimace twisting his lips. "It... might be possible. But it is a very advanced Dark spell. You want to tamper with it?"

"You've come this far, and it's our only real shot right now," Harry pointed out firmly. "Will you let me try?"

Snape looked uneasy, his voice turning acerbic. "Well, the curse seared into my skin isn't exactly warm and fuzzy to begin with. If this is what must be done, so be it. Just don't botch the spell."

Despite the underlying tension, Harry offered a determined smile. "I'll do my best. No promises on the pain part, though."

Harry examined the Dark Mark carefully, his heightened senses discerning the intricate layers of dark magic woven into his skin. Raising his wand, he began to cast a spell. "I'll try to hook into the magic link and track him," he declared, his voice resolute. "Brace yourself."

Placing the tip of his wand lightly over the Mark, Harry began chanting a spell that pulsed with a faint white energy. The Dark Mark shuddered, and a tremor coursed through Snape's entire body. A rasping groan escaped Snape's lips as the magic took hold.

Harry pressed on, undeterred. If this worked, he would finally have Voldemort's location—and if it failed, he might lose the last chance to end the Dark Lord before he grew even stronger.