No Turning Back

No Turning Back Chapter II

"Unfortunately, he'll be fine," said Severus snidely, trying to keep a lid on his rising anger. He just wanted to use the fucking telephone, and he couldn't see one anywhere in this bloody kitchen. Dumbledore said most muggles keep a telephone in the kitchen. So where the hell was it?? Was he going to have to keep hitting them with spells while he searched the house? From what Lily had said at school, he knew they'd be rude, but he never thought they would be this blindly stubborn. He may as well have broken into any random muggle house instead of coming here. Threatening muggles, hitting them with curses-the Ministry was going to have to modify their memories after his little visit, and then they would have some pointed questions for him. Never mind the quality of information he had been giving them. They had a growing bureaucracy to feed. And he hadn't exactly endeared himself to the aurors.

He willed himself to be calm. As the flame of his anger went out, fatigue overwhelmed him. Now he regarded the couple on the floor with the detached, almost clinical interest of someone suffering from profound sleep deprivation. Petunia could keep on screaming her head off, and he could lie down on the ugly floor and be asleep in seconds.

Not daring to risk weakening his occlumentic shield with a Sleeping Draught, he hadn't been able to sleep since he got the information. And it wasn't fair. He didn't go looking for the Dark Lord's most dearly-held secret; he stumbled across it by accident while looking for something more innocuous to pass to Dumbledore. Were his Occlumency skills good enough to hide something this big? Not knowing this kept him awake, as did thinking of what would be done to him if he were caught.

There was an oblong white box tall as he was standing upright on the floor, and he leaned back against it wearily, forcing himself to think. The box emitted a loud rattling hum, momentarily startling him. Whenever he ventured into the muggle world, he found it a cacophony of whirring, clanking, humming machinery run by people in uncomfortable-looking clothes.

He settled back against the box, feeling light-headed. He hadn't eaten for practically as long as he hadn't slept. If he passed out from hunger, he would fail in his mission, and Lily might die. And he was in a kitchen ... what was in this box, anyway? There was a handle on it, and he grasped it and cautiously tugged. It swung heavily open like an overlarge cabinet door, revealing a variety of meats, cheeses, milk, bread, and jars of condiments, all brightly-lit somehow. He hadn't seen such wonderful food since graduating from school.

He checked the couple on the floor. They weren't going anywhere. "Cold as a dungeon in this thing," he commented. "Do you mind?" He quickly assembled a sandwich from meat and cheese on unadorned bread, leaving black fingermarks on the cheese. No spreads; he was too hungry. He gobbled the sandwich quickly, licking the crumbs off his fingers. Somewhat fortified by the food, he cast a bleary gaze about the kitchen.

Maybe Petunia would help him find the phone. What with a sister as a witch, and some knowledge of the magical world, maybe she wasn't as hopelessly stupid as her husband.

He never thought he'd live to regret skivving off Muggle Studies.

Probably, though, Petunia wouldn't be of any help. Lily had told him all about Petunia, of course. From what she had said, he surmised that Lily was the smart and pretty one of the two sisters, though she didn't say so directly. She was too absurdly noble to admit that she might be better than a muggle sister! Slytherins were never this confused. So when Lily, on top of all her other attributes, turned out to be a witch, Petunia went mad with jealousy, denying the existence of the magical world, and denouncing her sister as a freak. It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud when Vernon called him one.

The thought of something happening to Lily made him so angry he couldn't breathe.

So here he stood, nearly staggering with exhaustion in this muggle kitchen, trying to remember what a telephone looked like so he could plunge himself into mortal peril and save, among others, the life of a man who despised him.

Petunia was definitely not going to be of any help. She continued to clutch Vernon to herself, sobbing inconsolably. How many times had he told her the spell was harmless? He couldn't remember. But obviously, she wasn't any more reasonable than her stupid, pointlessly aggressive husband, who would rather see people die than stand the presence of a wizard in his house for a few minutes.

Wiping his hands on his already greasy robes, he regarded Vernon. "That spell is lasting a long time," he mused. "Maybe it lasts longer on especially stupid muggles." Or maybe I did kill him, he thought. Maybe his heart gave out. That would be inconvenient, just as he was trying to prove he was reforming.

Just then, Vernon turned over and tried to sit up. "So you're not dead," Severus said, shooting him a hostile glare to hide his relief. "Better luck next time." As he raised his gaze, he spotted it. He had been looking for a large, ugly black box-looking thing, like in a telephone box, but this was small and white, blending into the white wall behind. He stepped towards it, and Vernon, not able to stand yet, cringed away from him, scrabbling across the linoleum like a deformed spider. Petunia was now sobbing with relief. Dudley's yells started afresh from upstairs, echoing all down the staircase.

"What a madhouse," Severus muttered, stopping in front of the phone. "What would I have had to do to you lot if I'd asked to use the toilet, hmm?" He grasped the telephone's handle. "Stay where you are," he commanded over his shoulder. "I won't be a moment."

The telephone on the street corner told him to insert money, but this one was just humming voicelessly. And he couldn't afford another time-wasting mistake. "Is it supposed to make that noise?" he said to no-one in particular, and found his mouth had gone suddenly dry. "I don't suppose somebody could make me some tea?" he whispered. "Or at least stop me from doing this?"

With shaking hands he examined his bit of parchment. Dumbledore had shown up at the apothecary shop a couple of weeks ago. After waving a friendly greeting, he slipped his right hand into a pocket, and gave Severus a brief, penetrating glance. Severus reached into the nearest right-hand pocket in his robes and found this parchment. He sneered at it, but he did not throw it away.

In Dumbledore's handwriting, it said, "To use a telephone, push the buttons corresponding with the numbers below in the exact order they are written." I'm not a complete idiot, thought Severus, pushing the buttons. He held the handle at a safe distance from his head.

"Hello?" came Dumbledore's voice faintly, sounding amused. The sound quality was terrible with these things. Or maybe the device wasn't working properly. Had he'd come all this way, setting himself up for muggle-baiting charges, only to fail because the telephone was out of order? Muggles must feel so helpless sometimes.

"CAN YOU HEAR ME??" he shouted.

Dumbledore chuckled. "The ducks on the pond heard you. Bring the receiver next to your head."

"THE ...? Right. Sorry."

He tried to swallow, and failed. Maybe after I say it, I won't have to think about it anymore, he thought. Like putting it into a Pensieve and leaving it there.

"He knows ... about the prophecy. And the two boys."

There was a faint noise, and a click. The phone went silent in his hand.

"Are you there? Headmaster??"

He regarded the phone in his hand silently for a moment, frozen in the realization of what he had just done.

The muggles!

Dropping the phone, he turned around.

Vernon and Petunia were now standing. "...tried to kill me," muttered Vernon. Petunia was shaking so badly Vernon seemed to be holding her up. Vernon was white with fury.

Severus tried to smile sardonically at them, but could only manage a sick grin. "Muggle," he said hoarsely, "If I'd tried to kill you, you'd be dead." His shoulders slumped, and he stumbled a few steps, leaning briefly on the kitchen table before he sat, almost falling, into a chair. Resting his elbows on the table, he covered his face with his hands.

There was a faint pop. "Mr Dumbledore!" gasped Petunia. "Do you know this madman? He attacked my husband! And what's this about Lily?"

The older man smiled a greeting. "Your sister and her family are now safe, Petunia." He turned to look at Severus sitting slumped at the table. "Thanks to this young man."

"That psychopath, you mean," snorted Vernon a little shakily.

Severus looked up and slowly stood. "Perhaps we could reassure the muggles that I will soon be killed. Slowly and painfully," he said tonelessly, rubbing his eyes.

The older man swiftly crossed the room and enveloped the younger man in an embrace. "Nonsense. Both families have been moved into protection. And now it's your turn." He hugged the younger man momentarily, then stepped away from him to address the Dursleys, taking out his wand. "One more thing, before we go. Petunia, I suspect it would be prudent if you retained your memories of today's events. But as for you, Vernon, I see no reason why Ministry policy should be contravened." He pointed his wand at Vernon. "Obliviate!" he said, and Vernon's eyes went blank.

Vernon watched in puzzlement as two men dressed in elaborate bathrobes held hands and disappeared from his kitchen. The next day, he described this weird vision to Petunia, saying it must have been a bad dream.

Petunia agreed. Pointing out the amount of cheese and luncheon meat missing from the fridge, she told him he shouldn't have had such a heavy a snack before bed.