Chapter Four: Conspiracies, Chess Masters, and the Relative Worth of a Soul.
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"Sweet, I got Agrippa!", Harry clutched the chocolate frog card in triumph. "Ron said he'd sell his soul for this card."
Tiny feet pattered down the hall way heading towards the dungeons, towards Snape's office.
"Professor Snipe! I need your help!"
Snape had spent years perfecting as aura of unhelpfulness, so as not to be bothered with the standard trivialities that dunderheaded 11 year olds could come up with. So when Potter of all people burst into his private study demanding help he was sure it was an emergency. He immediately vanished the potion he was working on and picked up his bag of emergency potions.
"How many dead and how many dieing?", he'd mourn Poppy later, if they were desperate enough to come to him for healing potions, Poppy must have been one of the first casualties.
"I... uh... what? Is this a riddle? My answer is 'everyone'. Everyone is dead and dieing sooner or later. Did I guess it right?"
"..."
"Anyway, I need your help. Ron's willing to sell his soul for an Agrippa card but I don't know how to steal souls yet. My Father usually has contracts for that kind of thing, but I don't have any with me and don't know how to make one."
"..."
"So, will you help me make a contract to take Weasley's soul?"
Harry was not sure what happened next, but he quickly found himself standing outside Professor Snape's office, the door locked and barred.
"He coulda just said no... Maybe Professor Quarrell will help me."
Tiny feet pattered down the hallway in search of Professor's Quirrell's office.
"Professor Quarrell! I need your help!"
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Professor Quirrell stared down at the guileless face of the eager Hufflepuff standing before him. Both him and his master were stunned at the nature of the request asked of him.
"You want me to help YOU create a contract granting you ownership of Ron Weasley's immortal soul?"
"And if you have time, maybe help me make some blank ones for later."
"Mr Potter, I am the DEFENSE Against the Dark Arts professor. Of all the Professor's here why did you choose to come to ME about this?"
"Who else would I come to?" responded Harry.
A chill ran down Quirrell's spine. He knows. He's coming to me because he knows, and now he knows that I know that he knows. No, he informed me that he knows that I know that he knows. And now he knows that I know that he knows that I know that he knows that I know. Voldemort quickly halted that line of thought before it drove him mad.
So, he knows that I won't possibly go to Dumbledore, else he will simply expose me. I'm being blackmailed. Blackmailed by a Hufflepuff. By THIS Hufflepuff of all people!
The enormity of it dawned on him slowly. Each conclusion leading inevitably to the next, like pebbles falling down the mountain just before the avalanche.
Hufflepuff. Everyone trusts Hufflepuffs. No-one suspects Hufflepuffs. Heck, Pomona Sprout could slit Dumbledore's throat in front of the whole school and no one would say a thing BECAUSE she is a Hufflepuff. People would make excuses FOR her, probably even claim that Dumbledore was secretly evil. The aurors wouldn't even investigate, they'd just hand her an Order of Merlin and tell her to keep up the good work...
Amelia Bones is a Hufflepuff! Merlin's Flaming Goat. The Head of the DMLE. Of course they'd hand her an Order of Merlin. They have agents everywhere. Always trusted, always underestimated, always loyal to each other. Bones might even order Dumbledore's execution herself if he stepped out of line. The obvious and inevitable conclusion, the Hufflepuffian Shadow Council, pulling everyone's strings from behind the scenes, slowly and inevitably unfolded before him. It was so clear in hindsight, the obvious pieces, Malfoy, Dumbledore, even himself, were just pawns dancing for the amusement of the council.
And this Potter brat... This Potter brat figured it out before even stepping foot in Hogwarts. Figured it out in time to blackmail the hat somehow. It took me, the greatest mage to ever walk these halls, it took me almost half a century to see it. A ready made spy network, ready made minions, a Shadow government already in place. Voldemorts' eyes opened even further as realization dawned.
He did not figure it out. This little firsty revealed it to him! Was this a threat? It had to be. Maybe an offer? No, he was now at his weakest. The Council had nothing to gain from revealing itself. He had nothing to offer them. He didn't even have a means of separating Shadow Council Members from Council pawns, let alone who to make contact with! The council choose to reveal itself to him! It had to be a threat.
No, it went even deeper. The brats' parents must have realized it first. That's how the boy survived. The Potters must have made a deal with the Hufflepuffian Shadow Conspiracy in order to preserve their line. Or maybe the Council acted independently to preserve the last Scion of Gryffindor using arcane Hufflepuffian magics. The boys' placement in Hufflepuff, was that part of the bargain made, his price for survival?
Voldemort's blood ran cold. Terror, sheer terror clenched his heart. He had spent almost a decade as less than the meanest ghost, and had suffered far more misery than he had imagined possible. He was so close to regaining a body. Hope and the knowledge that the council could easily deny him a new body flowed through him in equal measure. That was part of the message.
He should have recognized the warning. The boy was sent here, to make sure that he understood the message. The council thought him too stupid to recognize a message when it was inflicted on him. A decade of torment. That was the wrath of the Hufflepuff Council, the message was now clear "Mess with us once, and you spend 10 years in torment. Mess with us again, see what happens, we dare you".
He had crossed the line somewhere. Done something to anger the... The cup. The damned cup of Hufflepuff! He should never have defiled the cup. Oh sweet Morgana, how did the council even find OUT about that. He and Nagini were the only two who even knew about that. Nagini! He certainly didn't remember informing anyone about it, and he was ALMOST positive his familiar was loyal to him.
No, they'd need a parselmouth to speak to Nagini, and he was the only parselmouth in Britain. He was certain of that. A parslemouth from another country subverting his familiars' loyalty? A world wide Hufflepuff conspiracy? Was Nagini even his familiar? Did he find Nagani or was he MADE to find Nagini?
When he'd first found, no let's be honest, when They had let him find the cup he had rejoiced. But now he saw it for what it truly must have been. A test! A test of his worth, and he had failed.
"~~~ sshhss Slytherin's Slithering Snakes ssshhhssss. How am I going to fix this... ~~~ ", Voldemort quietly cursed to himself.
"Fix it? You haven't even started writing anything yet."
Quirrell's eyes glazed over. "You can speak to snakes? That's not possible."
"Of course it is, I am my Father's son after all."
He had checked the Slytherin family tree and was positive that he was the last. Quirrell dumbly started writing out a standard magically binding contract, while he pondered this new information. From the father's line an unrelated to Slytherin... maybe from one of the Asian or Egyptian lines? A war bride taken in combat and forced to breed into the main line? How far back and how long has it been kept secret. Obviously not much of a secret to the Hufflepuffs.
Contract complete, with blanks in the appropriate places, Quirrell waved his wand creating a stack of 20 copies and handed them over to Harry while lost deep in thought.
"They have to be signed in blood, you do know that right?"
"What else would you sign something with? Thanks professor! You're a lot nicer than I'd expected! See you later!"
"What else indeed." Blood? Was that what the council wanted? Hadn't he bled enough? Hadn't he suffered enough?
As Harry darted out the door, Voldemort went over the new information he had just been handed. Hufflepuffs were collecting souls. The newly revealed Hufflepuffian conspiracy, so secure in their power they did not fear him, and the fact that the Potters had bred the ability to speak to snakes into the line.
One thing was certain, he had many plans to rethink and now had to decide how best to avoid the wrath of Hufflepuff in the future.
First, he needed to take steps to ensure Nagini's loyalty. No! Best not reveal his suspicions. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Now to set things right with the Council.
He cursed himself one last time. Such a novice mistake. When seeking to overthrow the government, make certain there's not already a Shadow Government in place.
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"Hey Ron! I got Agrippa! It's all yours if you just sign this!"
A master chess player, Ron would never let an opening like this pass him by. An Agrippa card in exchange for an autograph? Best decision he'd ever made.
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Daily Prophet
Second Theft from Gringots! This Time the Vault of Lestrange. Who will be next?
Economic advisers predict a run on the bank and possible collapse of the Wizarding economy.
See page 3 for more details.
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