Chapter 3
"Say 'sessssthosss' to the snake, Draco, it means 'hello'," Narcissa overheard Orion tell his brother shortly after their fourth birthdays.
She almost fell over her feet to see what was happening in their den by the stream. The boys were lying on their stomachs as a grass snake hissed at them. And Orion was hissing back. Draco tried,
"Sesssthosss" and the snake shook as though it was laughing.
"Why can't I do it easily like you?" asked Draco, petulantly.
"I don't know," said Orion. "Oh, here's mummy. Mummy, why can I speak to snakes and Draco can't?"
The grass snake fled a big human. Little humans who talked were one thing but big humans were something else.
"I … Dear me, Orion, I think it's time mummy told you boys something. Now come and give me a cuddle." Narcissa summoned a blanket to put on a log; she was not enamoured of the great outdoors but it was important for the children to play and grow. She sat down and positioned a blond small boy on each knee. Orion's hair was unruly, and Draco's was sleek. She smoothed a hand through both.
"When you were a baby, Orion, a bad man tried to kill you. He … he killed other relatives who were trying to protect you. We think he knows that you are going to be a wizard who is strong enough to kill him one day. But he sort of missed. He left that scar of yours, and it looks a bit like a snake, doesn't it? But he spoke to snakes. I expect he accidentally lost some of his power and it stuck in you with the scar."
Orion rubbed his scar.
"It doesn't go away," he said.
"No, he was a very bad man, and it's cursed," said Narcissa. "Uncle Severus has been helping me look for a way to get rid of it. But we thought it needs a Parselmouth, someone who can speak with snakes."
"I don't know enough!" said Orion, frowning in frustration.
"No, but if Draco is very clever and can learn a bit how to talk to snakes, it means you might be able to teach mummy and Uncle Severus as well," said Narcissa. "I know there's a book in the library with the notation – with the alphabet – of a man who could talk to snakes, and he wrote some down. Uncle Severus can let you boys look at it if you like, when you do lessons with him."
Draco nodded.
"I want to talk to snakes too, it's cool," he said. "And Dora can't either, I bet."
Narcissa laughed. It had taken some negotiations with Andromeda to gain her sister's trust, and at that, Narcissa had not shared with Andromeda who Orion really was. He wore his hair brushed over the scar when Andi and her daughter Nymphadora visited.
"I don't think you should tell Dora, she might want to learn too, and then you boys won't have anything special," she said. Dora, as a metamorphagus, already had both boys jealous of her skills. They would keep it quiet.
Now she would have to tell Severus that they had their Parselmouth. And work around the scheduled release of her cousin Sirius from Azkaban. Life suddenly got much more interesting.
The Daily Prophet had a rival publication in The Wizarding Times, produced by sundry members of the Order of the Phoenix, and containing enough salacious gossip and good spells and potions for everyday use to rival that Ministry-controlled publication in readership. And in the Times was a much more subtle campaign against Fudge than the sloppy reporters working for the Prophet managed.
The Times demanded monthly to know where The Boy Who Lived was. It had cost the Minister her post, and the new minister, Cornelius Fudge, was quite as puzzled as his predecessor.
As Fudge had no idea himself, he had not, at first, realised that the Times was a Dumbledore-loyal publication, and ran similar articles in the Prophet, pointing a less than subtle finger at Dumbledore over hiding him.
It came to a head when Dumbledore faced out Fudge, and outright accused him of taking the boy away from his only protection for his own political ends.
"I haven't touched the boy," said Fudge. "Besides, what is this nonsense about protection? You-Know-Who is dead."
"You know he was not killed, only disembodied," said Dumbledore. "Are you planning to use Harry as bait, and fondly and erroneously suppose that you can kill Voldemort?"
"Disembodied is dead in my book," snapped Fudge. "I have no idea where you are hiding him, or why you are accusing me of doing so."
"The obliviation of his Aunt and Uncle was too precise and subtle for most Death Eaters to manage," said Dumbledore. "I want him back. And so will Sirius Black when he is released."
"I agreed to a trial," said Fudge. "And only because I can't afford to irritate old and respected families."
Narcissa had brought all the weight of old and respected to bear. Dumbledore could not see why; if he was innocent, it was hardly in her interests, and if he was guilty, then he would be returned to Azkaban. However, he had supported Narcissa, to her surprise, because it was in his own interests to embarrass the current administration over sending people to prison without trial. Dumbledore was ruthlessly manipulative but he did mean well, and had no idea how many paving slabs he was inclined to make on the way to hell.
"It will be interesting to hear Black's testimony," said Dumbledore. "Something that should have been heard three years ago."
Fudge shrugged.
"Crouch said the evidence was overwhelming. We got all the Death Eaters and put them in gaol, so what is there to gain?"
"Maybe why a supposed staunch friend should turn against someone he had been friendly with for ten years?" said Dumbledore, mildly. "Knowing by what means Voldemort recruited so close a friend might just enable us to avoid it happening again when he returns."
"He isn't going to return," said Fudge.
"If you really believe that, you are going to be very, very shocked when he does," said Dumbledore. "It doesn't tell us where Harry is."
"Maybe your precious muggles killed him and buried him quietly," said Fudge.
Dumbledore paled, and finished his business as soon as he could to dash back to Hogwarts to look for the name 'Harry Potter' in the book of students due to start in 1991.
It was not there.
Dumbledore, for perhaps the first time in his life, passed out.
When he came too, with a concerned Minerva McGonagall beside him, he said,
"Then we have lost."
"Whit are ye bletherin' aboot, headmaster?" asked Minerva.
"Look in the book for Harry Potter," said Dumbledore, dully, sitting on the floor.
Minerva did so, and gasped.
"He is dead?" she cried. "Then … then putting him with those unpleasant people was for nothing? Did they kill him?"
"No; they were obliviated," said Dumbledore, regaining some semblance of logical thought. "Someone else got to him and killed him."
"But no Death Eater could go through that ward; even Severus," said Minerva, shocked.
"But a social worker could, if they were under Imperious Curse," said Dumbledore. "It would take a Death Eater who knows how to play the muggle system."
"I doubt there are any," said Minerva. "Lucius has financial interests in the muggle world but he has no more idea of how muggles live than a canary does."
"Probably less," said Dumbledore. "I'm hearing reports that Lucius is losing it, anyway; he seems to have become a euphoria elixir addict. Probably the relief at avoiding Azkaban, but it does at least make him less dangerous. But it wasn't him, the obliviation was more subtle even than Rookwood manages."
"Albus … wouldn't a Fidelius Charm also hide his name from the book?" asked Minerva.
"It might. But who …?"
"If Sirius Black is innocent, then it might easily be Remus or Andromeda," suggested Minerva. "Even if were not innocent, they might care about James and Lily's boy."
"But why would they go behind my back?" demanded Dumbledore.
"Albus, I've said it before and I'll say it again. You can be overbearing when you have decided that something is the 'right' course, and if Andi or Remus decided to visit, and saw that Petunia was not perhaps the best person to care for Harry, either one is likely to have spirited him away."
Dumbledore sighed.
"I have trusted them," he grumbled.
"And perhaps they will trust you to be told one day where he is," said Minerva. "I cannot believe that he is dead. Every feeling revolts against it. He is not, I am sure. Because if he had been, that old fool Trelawney would have surely mooed about it to you."
Dumbledore brightened. He had no great opinion of Sybil Trelawney's capabilities in the general way, but she was a true seer over things that counted, even if her usual divinational capabilities were as close as predicting that a blue sun would rise in the west.
"You have a good point," he said. "I am not sure how to break it to Severus though."
"I'd stay off the subject until you have more facts," said Minerva, dryly.
Neither of them particularly noticed that Orion Malfoy was next to Draco Malfoy in the book, which altered to the name by which most people closest to the child concerned knew him or her.
Harry Potter had simply, in his own mind, ceased to exist.
Orion and Draco Malfoy were far too busy and happy learning about snakes, and learning Herpo the Foul's parselmouth notation, and adding to it, and teaching Uncle Severus words to make a parselmouth dictionary as Draco learned by sheer stubborn willpower to know as much as his twin.
The trial of Sirius Black was something of a sensation, and Quik Quotes™ pens were much in evidence from both Prophet and Times reporters. The filthy figure of Sirius Black was manacled with magic-sapping manacles and he was administered veritaserum.
"Were you the secret keeper of Lily and James Potter?" Amelia Bones asked first.
"No."
This was a sensation.
"Will the court remain silent or I will have it cleared," said Madam Bones. "If you were not the secret keeper, who was?"
"Peter Pettigrew."
"Did you kill him?"
"No."
"Did you kill the other muggles?"
"No. Peter did, I think. I don't know what happened to him. He betrayed James, Lily and Harry," said Sirius. He hesitated. "He's a rat animagus," he added.
More sensation.
"Very well. It appears that we do have a miscarriage of justice here," said Amelia Bones. "And you owe your cousin Narcissa thanks for raising the issue and campaigning to get you a fair trial. She will take you back to her home to recouperate."
"Narcissa?" Sirius could not believe it. "I am not going to Malfoy Manor."
"Don't worry, Lucius won't make a nuisance of himself," said Narcissa, coming over. "He's become an addict. It's much more restful that way; you know it was an arranged marriage."
"I thought you were happy with it."
"I was, before Lucius started going insane and associating with people I would not want near my little boys," said Narcissa, primly. "I will talk to you more when you are in a better state to cope with it under a number of restoring potions. I have straitly forbidden Severus from giving you any amusing side effects in the potions he is brewing for you."
"Wait a minute, why would Snivellus brew anything for me?"
"As a favour to me, dear cousin."
Sirius suddenly wondered whether his old enemy was poisoning Lucius in order to have Narcissa for himself, and was coming to the conclusion that even Snivellus would be a better cousin in law than Lucius.
He sighed and let Narcissa take him away by Portkey. He was too tired and battered to resist.
The interesting outcome was when Barty Crouch was arrested for crimes against justice and common humanity, and he refused to take veritaserum as it would loose his hold on the imperius curse he had on his son, believed dead.
Both Crouches were soon in Azkaban on multiple charges.
