DARK REDEMPTION
Chapter 1 – A Different Kind of Chess Game
June, 2000, Ministry of Magic Offices, London England
"Could you state your name and profession for the record, please?"
"Yes. My name is Rowan Hawthorne, and I'm the History of Magic Professor at the Salem Witches' Institute in Massachusetts.
"Would you please elaborate for me how you became part of the wizarding community of the United Kingdom?"
"It's…going to require a lot of elaboration, I'm afraid. You see, I am also a practitioner of what most of the American wizarding community calls 'religious witchcraft.'
"Yes, I believe it's the same here," the interviewer said. "Do please continue; if we get too far off track I shall let you know."
"Well, you see, in late October, 1992, after our regular Samhain celebration, one of my friends contacted me and invited me to visit the United Kingdom. This friend of mine, Michele, had married a British wizard, Bryan Smythe, who was friends with Charles Weasley."
The interviewer's eyebrows rose, but he remained silent.
"Through this friendship, he, Bryan, that is, was able to arrange a visit to Hogwarts for me, as I'd always wanted to see it. In early November, I made the visit. That was when I met Professor Severus Snape. After that visit, we continued seeing each other. Er, the Professor and I, I mean. We maintained a long-distance relationship for a couple of years, which was kept very quiet. In 1994, we were handfasted. That's…well, rather like a marriage, if you're familiar with it. It was also kept very quiet."
"I am indeed familiar with such a procedure, but I must admit I am at a bit of a loss here. You've just indicated that you were handfasted with, er, Headmaster Snape…and obviously, we all know that is no longer the case. However, I was under the impression, Madam Hawthorne, that you had a slightly different name," interjected Barrister Percy Weasley.
"I'm sorry. I'll get to that part. I did say my story required a bit of elaboration; but, for the record...my full legal name is Rowan Hawthorne Macnair."
May 1994, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England
Mrs. Avery (Lucinda to her friends) had brought her chess set on the night of the Beltane 1994 Revel at Malfoy Manor, and arranged for Walden Macnair to be her consort for the entire evening, as she had for many years. She waited for him in Room 15, her usual trysting room. When the bell rang for the first hour and she opened the door, he stood there with an odd look on his face. His eyes were flashing and he was smiling a bit.
"Are you all right?" she asked him, as he kissed her hand.
He didn't need to say anything as he took her in his arms and lowered her to the bed.
That night, the chessboard sat unplayed on the bedside table throughout several hourly bell-rings. She had been married to Avery since they'd both left school, and thus she was a veteran of the Revels. She'd watched the evolution of the events into their current, rather over-choreographed form. Thus, certain privileges had been granted to her; one of them was permission to allow Walden to stay in the room with her for as long as she wanted.
When they finally lay back, sated, against the pillows, Lucinda reached over to the drinks cabinet, just for something to do.
"I'm sorry," Walden said, after a few minutes of awkward silence. "I think I may have forced ye...I didna mean to disrespect ye…ye're my friend." He'd pulled the sheet up over himself and looked a bit dismayed.
"If I hadn't wanted it to happen," Lucinda said, "I would have stopped you." She looked very sad. "I'm the one who should apologise; I do believe it was actually my fault. I normally don't drink the potion; I don't know what I was thinking."
"I had three goblets of it," Walden said. "Was going to go to the Main Revel…guess I've missed it," he added, rather unnecessarily, as he stretched a bit. It was 2 AM.
"It appears so," Lucinda said, as she sipped at her wine. "Would you like some whiskey?"
"Aye," he said, sitting up and accepting a glass from her. The sheet slipped down, revealing his muscular chest and the line of thick black hair that reached down past his navel. Lucinda couldn't help staring at him; she'd always thought he was quite good-looking. He smiled at her before taking a drink, then he sat the drink on the table next to him. "Honestly, though…I enjoyed meself…did ye?"
"Yes, very much," she muttered, her head bowed. "You know what things are like at our house. And they've not improved any."
Walden got up and headed off to the loo. "I'll be right back," he said. When he returned, she hadn't moved. And he hadn't bothered to put his robe back on. She looked up at him. He climbed into bed next to her and took her in his arms. "The potion's still workin' on me. And I've been very lonely for a long time, and I know how ye feel. I care for ye, lass. Let me help ye forget things for a while, give ye some more pleasure," he said, as he began to kiss her.
Lucinda wasn't sure what to think or expect as she arrived for the June Revel. She and Walden were not, of course, seated at the same table for dinner. Nevertheless, she drank the potion and made the regular arrangements, wondering if the same thing that had happened eight weeks previous would happen again. She did set up the chessboard, though, just in case.
Once again, no chess was played. Walden was positively ravenous that night. They stopped a few times for food and drink but the rest of the evening was spent in such vigorous trysting that Lucinda had to ring the house-elves for two more goblets of potion, and she feared that she'd need to go see a Healer after the weekend was over.
At 3 AM, after they'd taken a long bath and had yet another round of food and drinks, they sat together in Walden's guest room and talked.
"I almost wasna even going tae come tonight," Walden said. "I doona know if ye heard what happened…" and he let his voice drift off as he reached for his glass of whiskey.
"Avery told me something," Lucinda said. "There was supposed to be an execution at the school?"
"Aye, the night Sirius Black escaped," Walden said. "The hippogriff escaped, too, and Lucius is verra mad at me, but he hasna said much. Now I owe him…I just doona know what he'll ask me tae do, or when. I feel like I'm the one with me head on the block now," he added.
"Yes, you know Avery has been in that same situation many a time," Lucinda said. "I'm sorry you are, though, Walden. Perhaps it won't be anything too horrible?"
"I'm hopin' not," Walden replied, as he picked up his wand and levitated the whiskey bottle toward him. "But ye know how he is. He offered me tickets to the World Cup tonight…figure it'll be then, and he may even ask tae be paid back." He frowned. "Isobel spent all those Galleons he gave me to kill the beast, ye know. I gave 'em to her tae take to Gringotts, but she went to Gladrags instead. Heather told me she came home with a trunk full o'new things."
Lucinda smiled. "I hope this doesn't offend, but I honestly don't know why she bothers."
"Nor do I," Walden said, chuckling a bit….
Lucinda did not try to contact Walden before the next Revel at the beginning of August, but she did take a bit of extra care with her appearance, to the point where her husband, unfortunately, noticed. He didn't say anything to her, though, preferring to take out his frustrations at the Main Revel. That night, she and Walden didn't play chess, either. The next morning, Walden took a very decorous leave from her after breakfast, and told her he'd see her at the World Cup.
May 1994, Provincetown, Massachusetts
"Inanna, please pass the drawn butter," I asked. We were at the Lobster Pot in Provincetown, Massachusetts, my favorite Muggle restaurant. Beer bottles, lobster shells, and plates full of cocktail sauce littered the table. By we, I mean the entire staff (all 13 of us) of the Salem Witches' Institute, and various significant others and friends. Inanna didn't appear to have heard me. "Inanna?" I tried again to get her attention, but she was in the midst of a very loud conversation with Rhiannon, our Headmistress (and my High Priestess).
"Damn it! Accio butter," I murmured this last, waving my wand furtively under the table, hoping no Muggles had seen me. The butter flew over and landed neatly next to my plate. Inanna certainly hadn't noticed—she was attempting to catch the eye of our waitress, and I had the feeling that she wasn't doing so to order any food, if you know what I mean. I dipped my lobster into the cholesterol-laden concoction and let a small, contented sigh escape my lips as I devoured the tasty morsel. I just couldn't bring myself to be a vegan, or even a vegetarian; hence, my farewell party was being held at a seafood restaurant.
"Yo! Where's my butter?" said Inanna (who was also not a vegetarian), as I began my second round of dipping. She whistled, with two fingers, at the waitress. "Hey Sweetcheeks! Bring more drawn butter and I'll make it worth your while…" she said, waving a folded up $10 bill of Muggle money at our (admittedly cute) waitress. The waitress winked at her. I rolled my eyes. Inanna was irrepressible, I loved her, and I'd miss her terribly.
"Harrumph! Seems to me that our guest of honor has been a little silent this evening," said Inanna, in a voice loud enough for most of the seaside town to hear. Unfortunately, she looked at me just as I was in the process of inserting a newly-peeled shrimp into my mouth, with a look of ecstasy on my face. "Guess we know what's on YOUR mind, eh, Rowan?"
Oh Gods. I regretted ever telling her exactly why I was relocating—true, she was my best friend, but she had such a mouth on her that by the end of this evening, everyone on the Eastern Seaboard was going to know my private business.
"I'd like to propose a toast," began Inanna, as she stood up. I blushed. The entire restaurant—patrons, staff, and probably even the doomed lobsters in the tanks—now had its eyes on Inanna. I stood up slowly and attempted to escape.
"Not so fast, chica!" Everyone at our table was standing up, and the two women on either side of me had grabbed my arms so that I couldn't leave. As both of them were Zen Buddhists, it was a testament to Inanna's considerable force of will. "I said, I'd like to propose a toast, to the best damned History Professor our school has ever seen. If I'm half as good as her, I will truly Blessed Be!"
Nice pun, I thought, staring at my shoes. I wasn't that good a History of Magic instructor, really, I thought gloomily. To my credit, though, for the past two years or so, I'd gotten a lot of extra-credit tutoring in the rise and fall of British Dark Wizardry…and I expected that I'd probably be getting even more. Inanna was continuing, "And furthermore, if I'm half as good as selling chochkes as she is, we'll be franchising our store before the year's out!" Everyone applauded, then raised their beers, sparkling waters, and pumpkin juice (mine; I had enchanted my glass), and we clinked glasses, and then they concluded by singing, "For She's a Jolly Good Fellow." Regardless of the gender confusion, some of the wait staff and patrons had even joined in singing. I waved at a couple of familiar folks—I had spent many Friday nights here over the last couple of years.
As the song finished, and more applause rang out, I walked down to Inanna's end of the table with a manila folder in hand and opened it. Inside were the ownership papers and the keys to my store, the Flying Witch. Even we had to follow some Muggle legalities—we did live in "Taxachusetts," after all. I handed a pen to Inanna to sign, and thus, the store became hers. Rhiannon dabbed a large purple handkerchief to her eyes. Maria, the Institute's visiting Professor of Afro-Cuban Diaspora Magical Traditions, held up her enchanted camera and attempted to herd us cats into a picture. Inanna slipped me an envelope containing a sizable wad of Gringott's Express Traveler's Cheques; I hugged her. Inanna, Rhiannon and I stood together and mugged, and Maria focused her camera. "OK, guys, smile and say…ABRACADABRA!" I didn't hear her correctly and instinctively started to grab for my wand, until I noticed Rhiannon and Inanna looking at me with quizzical expressions. Suddenly I felt very foolish and very much as if I no longer belonged in Massachusetts.
"You don't need to stay with me tonight, Inanna. I've been making this same trip alone nearly every weekend for a long time now." We were walking down the main street toward the beach. Everyone who hadn't been using brooms tonight had piled in Rhiannon's old Muggle car (a Volvo, natch) and headed back to Salem, after the monstrous bill had been settled.
"Do you tell them you're on a whale-watching hike every weekend?" Inanna asked.
"I don't always stay at the same place; I don't want to make any of the Muggles suspicious," I responded.
Inanna's hair was blue that week, and she played with a vertical strand of it. "Then let's at least stay at one of the gay guesthouses."
"Look, I've been trying to tell you I'm straight since I met you. And all my stuff is at the hotel already—I'm not moving it, dammit," I chuckled.
"Oh, come on. Heathcliff won't mind you having one last fling, will he?" She looked at me quizzically, and stuck her tongue out, revealing the shiny barbell there.
"Inanna, his name is Severus Snape, as you know, and as I have told you at least a million times or more, possibly, so will you stop messing around about that!" By this time, we had reached the beach, and I stopped to remove my Birkenstocks (black, of course) and carry them.
"Well, he looks like a tortured Gothic hero to me. In that picture you gave me, he's always dressed in black, he's standing on a moor, and he's either got his back to me or he's gone. I've even gotten up in the middle of the night to try and catch him!"
I could just picture it. "Inanna, he always wears black—as if you have any room to talk about that! And that picture WAS taken on a moor! He doesn't like pictures, and he is very reclusive. What's the big deal?"
Inanna continued without acknowledging what I had said—she was rather persistent, "And the one time I DID manage to actually see his face, he scowled at me and ran off. Are you sure about this guy?"
"Inanna, I'm not discussing this with you anymore. Haven't you brought your share of U-Hauls along with you on second dates, and I've never been anything other than supportive of you, even that time with the wrestler?" I jammed my baseball cap a bit further down on my head, as the wind began to pick up.
"She was retired from the WWF! She was a mechanic!" Inanna protested.
"Yeah, she certainly managed to screw YOU over, didn't she?" I smirked.
"I eventually got all my credit cards back…" her voice drifted off as she looked out over the breaking waves and adjusted one of her myriad earrings. She was the only one at the Institute with more visible piercings than I.
"That's not the point, Inanna, and you know it."
"Well, I didn't completely change my life for her. OR move to another country, Miss Expatriate!"
"Look, Inanna, you know that I've been bored with the Institute and with Massachusetts for years."
"Maybe…but you have CHANGED. You act like you've got some…I dunno…some big secret, that you're embarrassed to tell. And we've never had secrets from each other, and I'm wondering what the fuck is up with that?" Inanna paused in the middle of these sentences to draw a huge question mark in the sand with the toe of her Doc Marten.
"I don't have any secrets from you, Inanna." Like hell I don't, I thought, as I erased the question mark with my bare foot. It was a good thing Inanna didn't practice Legilemency. Further, I hoped she wasn't planning to read any of my History of Magic books too closely right away, especially the recent parts about Death Eaters. Thank the Goddess Severus was wearing long sleeves in that picture. I sighed aloud. "You now know more about my livelihood and life than anyone, now that you own the store."
"I'm not talking about money, or the building, or taxes, or any of that Muggle shit. Hell, the accountant knows that. I think there's something really weird about this guy, something you're not telling me. You've changed and I think he…did something to you." Maybe she was psychic.
"Inanna, isn't it obvious what Severus does to me? And what he continues to do…" my voice drifted off as I stared up at the stars, and then at the blackness of the Atlantic, over which I would soon be crossing (by magickal means, of course). I'd finally decided, rather than spending all my money on Portkeys, to go ahead and just move to England. Severus had helped me to arrange a short-term lease on an apartment (the proprietor called it a flat, but whatever) over the Apothecary on Diagon Alley, where I'd also be working, too.
Why I needed to do that when he owned a manor house in the country, though, seemed rather odd to me. We'd only stayed there for several weeks last summer, though. Maybe he rented it out during the rest of the year. It had seemed as if we'd only occupied a few rooms. I hadn't asked him for any details, as he was an extremely secretive man. On our first weekend together, he had revealed that he'd been one of Voldemort's henchmen in the past. I hadn't immediately run away in horror from this revelation, as I'd been associated (briefly) with a Dark wizard in New Orleans. Nevertheless, after he gave me some rather sketchy details, and warned me away from certain personages, we'd mostly stuck to neutral topics of discussion.
Most of the time, I provided a sounding board for him to rant about his job, which he did an awful lot. I'd considered suggesting that he retire, especially after the humiliation he'd suffered at the end of this year, but apparently, he owed something to Dumbledore.
Of course, most of our activities didn't require long discussion or much negotiation, other than the occasional safeword.
Inanna waved her hands in front of my face, bringing me abruptly back to the present. "Yada, yada, yada. You and Lord Byron have a lot of great sex. No gory details, PLEASE; you know I've been single for the last six months. Look, Rowan. All I'm trying to say is—men come and go, but girlfriends are forever. If there's something wrong, you can tell me."
"Inanna, normally, given a situation like this, I'd agree with you that something was fishy. But you don't know Severus. There is something really different about him.."
"AHA!" she cried, jumping up and down. "See! Spill it! I knew it!"
"I can't even begin to describe what it's like, being with him…" I began. And I couldn't, really. When we were together, he'd hand me a glass of his special absinthe derivative, and off we'd go.
"SHIT! Stop right there, girl. You sound like a fucking Harlequin romance novel or something. You can't describe your feelings, but you're chucking your life away for this clown!" She reached in the pocket of her leather jacket and extricated a photograph, the one she had mentioned earlier. A line of rocks and a patch of grass were depicted in it. It appeared devoid of any human life. I knew the place well—it was somewhere in Ireland. Severus and I had been there on many occasions over the last few months, and while there on one of those occasions, I had used a borrowed wizarding camera to take his picture (at my request; he was not happy about it).
"Damn it! The asshole's still gone! Where the hell does he go?" Inanna waved the picture in my face, as if to shake Severus out of its corners. "Come on, Goth-boy, come out and stand up for yourself, you…you….friend-stealer!"
"Inanna, what the hell are you doing? Exactly how long did you say you'd been a witch?" I asked, leaning over and looking closely at the picture. A large black snake appeared to be sunning itself on the rocks. As I stared at it, its tongue flicked at me and it slithered away. I stifled a grin. "Look. If we don't get back to the hotel, not even a nuclear device is going to get you up at 3 a.m., and I'm NOT waiting for the next Portkey."
"Oh, eat me, bitch! Let's get another brew or something and THEN call it a night. I'm certainly not going to stand in the way of true love, or impure lust, or whatever you crazy kids call it these days." She stowed the picture back in her pocket, but not before she looked at it oddly. "Funny. I never noticed that snake before," she murmured.
BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP!
CRASH!
"Whaaa….fuck?" I mumbled, sleepily.
BLEEP! BLEEP!
CRASH!
It was clearly 3 a.m.
"Hey!" I shouted weakly. Apparently the crashes had come from both of Inanna's Doc Martens, which she had flung through the air in an attempt to silence the alarm clock. I reached over and turned off the offending object. "I'm not paying for it if you break it…" I croaked, trying to sound threatening. Another brew had turned into several brews, and it had been 12:30 or so before I had finally convinced Inanna to head for the hotel. She was muttering something about "Dark wizards and black snakes…" as I put her to bed. I had decided not to ask.
"Come on," I said, tugging at Inanna's blankets, which were immovable. "You can come back here and sleep until noon after you've walked me out to the Portkey. You said you wanted to see me off…" I was pulling on random clothes. I figured that I'd worry about showers and the like when I got to England.
"Arrrrrrrrrghhhhhhh…." mumbled Inanna. "Start the revolution without me. D'we have any coffee?"
I started to wave my wand at an empty plastic mug on the counter and then reconsidered. "Screw coffee," I said, reaching into my backpack and handing her a small purple bottle. I withdrew a second one for myself. "Drink this." I took a small sip out of my bottle.
"What is it?" she said from under the two pillows that covered her head.
"Just come out and have some, dammit!"
She sipped at the bottle with a skeptical look. Her eyes opened widely and she jumped out of bed, completely awake. "Where the HELL did you get that shit?"
"Where the hell do you think I got it?" I smirked.
"THIS is the kind of psychocandy that Professor Willy Wonka makes? No wonder he's so rich," she said, retrieving her left Doc Marten from where it was wedged behind the bedside table.
"Damn it, Inanna," I spluttered (although I had thought the same on many occasions) "Willy Wonka? Where the hell do you come up with this stuff?"
"Well," she said innocently with a slight trace of a Southern drawl (her family was from Georgia) "I can never remember his name," as she reached for her other shoe, which was on top of the clock radio. "Caligula, was it?"
"Oh, give me a break, beeee-yotch!" I grabbed the shoe before she did and ran for the bathroom, locking the door behind me. She began pounding on it. "HEY! Don't we have to go soon?"
"Shit!"
Within minutes, we had dragged my two trunks out the door. They contained only my most treasured items. Everything else had been sold, or was in storage at the Institute ("In case you should ever need to come back, bubbeleh," Rhiannon had said, while giving me a huge hug). After we had dragged the trunks across the street, I withdrew my wand. "Do you see anyone?" I whispered to Inanna.
"No, Agent X-13, the coast is Muggle-clear," she answered.
"Oh, cram it, Clownie," I replied, pointing my wand at the trunk and muttering. The trunks rose into the air and levitated in front of us.
"Ya know," said Inanna, as we walked along, "…seeing as how I failed Latin in Catholic school, does that mean I can't learn to do any of that fancy- shmancy magick that, er, Trentus Reznorus taught you? OUCH!" I had stopped one of the trunks so that she ran into it.
"Woops. Sorry about that!" I said. "And if you EVER want to come and visit me, you'd better stop that crap right now, Cornholio!"
"Woooo-ooooo! Awfully sensitive on the subject, aren't you," replied Inanna, as she scanned the ground for the Portkey. "Hell, what with getting to know the store AND your class materials, I won't have a goddamned vacation for two years. And who knows if I'll even be able to save any money for it…."
"I'll pay for your vacation, Inanna," I said.
"Thanks. Maybe I'll meet some dark, mysterious, Gothic British witch and we can double-date, or something," she said, with a wistful smile on her face. "Although maybe not, Michele says that she's heard that Herr Professor is an asshole."
"WHAT!" My trunks dropped to the ground and I nearly tripped over them.
Inanna held up the Portkey (the usual—a battered flip-flop). "You heard me. She sent me an owl last week. And you know her, she didn't say asshole, exactly, but she might as well have."
I looked at my watch frantically. Ten minutes to go. This was a fine time to find out that yet another of my friends didn't approve of my life choices. Inanna handed me the Portkey and began stacking my trunks on top of each other and bungee-cording them together. I was still stunned. "Damn. They've only met him that one time! And they all seemed to get along. She spent money on a Relay Service owl to tell you about some stupid rumor?"
"Well, she said one of Bryan's friends knows him, some guy named Charlie. Apparently your buddy was one of Charlie's teachers. And the owl wasn't just about that…well, not exactly."
"How not exactly?" I climbed on top of the trunks, clutching the Portkey. Inanna attached some more bungee cords to the trunk and fastened them over me, not replying. "Charlie Weasley, if I recall correctly, was the one who arranged my visit to the school in the first place. Michele has always been one to exaggerate. She's just annoyed because she and Bryan have yet to get their coven organized after a year of being there, and she knows I'm going to hassle her about it." I continued.
Inanna reached up and gave me a hug. "Ah, what the hell does she know, anyway," she said. "She's been pissed about your love life ever since you didn't date that damned animal rights goofball that she fixed you up with that time. Now, I agree with you; he was a dork." BEEP! BEEP! Inanna's watch beeped. "Two minutes to go, kiddo," she said. "I'm withholding judgment on him until Rhiannon and I finish our research, anyway."
"Wait! WHAT research?" We hugged again.
"Ah, never mind about that. Be careful! Send lots of owls! Send me a cute British witch, C.O.D.! Byeeeeeeeeee….." and her voice faded as I was jerked into a whirlpool of sound and color and light that grew increasingly brighter.