This chapter has been long, long in the making. Since about midway through Ascendant long. Some of you will be quite appreciative of it, I'm sure.
Chapter 4
Broken Faith
Ash smeared the roads and painted houses black, a morbid reflection of winter's might choking the world half a year early. The only color that stood out was the blue and red of the Patrolmen and Aurors skittering about, erasing the memories of any Muggle fortunate enough both to witness and survive the zombies' rampage. Jen let the curtain flutter down and dropped into a nearby chair. "I'm so ready for this day to be over."
The glares that followed that simple statement were palpable even without total awareness of everything within Grimmauld Place. Lifting her head to look at her friends, all of whom were slumped on the floor, she cocked her head in confusion. What were they so upset about?
Susan was clearly happy to elaborate. "What. Was that all about?"
"I'm not sure what you—"
"There is no way you're that strong. No witch can keep casting like that for almost two hours. All of us had to take a break, every single one of us. Except you. You kept going, and when we fell back, you actually took over where we had been casting." That was true enough. For all that sacrificing her magical core almost ten years ago had ruined her resistance to other people's spells, stamina was something she would never have to worry about. Her friends and family had nearly drained their own cores, which was an interesting process to watch even if it did put that much more work on her own shoulders. Those zombies hadn't been so polite as to kill themselves. Susan's voice broke through her internal praise. "That wasn't natural, Jen. You just don't get like that without going through dark rituals and human sacrifice and stuff like that. Things that ought not to be meddled with."
Her eyes narrowed. "Was that a question or an accusation, Susan?"
"I haven't decided quite yet."
Baron-be-damned Aurors and DMLE directors and their nosy, self-righteous Hufflepuff nieces. Or maybe just Hufflepuffs in general; the only member of the family who was anything like this was an Auror and a Badger both. She smiled faintly at the thought before letting her head drop once more against the back of the chair. "I'm going to pretend you said it was a question, then, if only because that's the far less offensive option. I'm easily the strongest witch of our year, possibly in the whole school. I won't be so arrogant as to say that I'm on You-Know-Who or Dumbledore's level, but I don't know that I'm far off it, either. I've also worked with Flitwick for the last three years and have gotten very good at pacing myself. And no," she added when her redheaded friend opened her mouth to interject, "I have not performed any rituals, dark or otherwise, on myself to increase or somehow change my magic."
That had all been Elsie's doing.
The corners of Tracey's mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. Had she told the Slytherin something approaching the truth about her core? She honestly could not recall at the moment. Sometimes it was hard to remember who knew what about her past.
"And the weird-looking Fiendfyre?"
"That wasn't Fiendfyre," she denied with a smile. "That was just an adjustment I made to the Patronus Charm."
That managed to break through Padma's own funk; while she had not participated in the fight directly, according to Ted she had been running around in a panic while the rest of you were outside, dragged in two directions by her fear and her desire to help. Her turmoil and fatigue were emotional rather than magical. "You tinkered around with the Patronus Charm? Why? When?"
"I couldn't get it to work correctly, so I thought understanding how it worked would make it easier to cast. Once I did, I remade it so it would be dangerous to things besides Dementors. As for when?" This, at least, she had a ready lie for. "Remember last year, when we all came back from the winter hols? Luna wasn't talking to me, and all of you were trying to give us space to work things out on our own?" The other girls nodded. "I needed something to occupy my time besides moping around."
Even the other Ravenclaw in the room was a little doubtful at that claim. "And analyzing and deconstructing a spell no one has ever managed to figure out was your way to kill time?"
"There is a reason the Unspeakables have already offered me a job. And to be totally honest, I don't completely understand it. The part that makes it hurt Dementors and lethifolds and nothing else? Still have no idea how that's supposed to work. But the backbone that makes it solid?" She waved her hand, creating a tiger made of dark smoke rather than bright fire. "That part's figured out."
"And that's the other thing," Susan demanded. "Wandless magic? When did you start doing that? That's something even Aurors have difficulty with, and it's actually a requirement to get into the Corps!"
"I've been working on that for a while," she said pleasantly. "Thought it would make a nice ace in the hole. Mostly I've focused on conjuring fire because that's rarely a bad weapon to have, and it turns out that if you have the talent and power for it in the first place, casting a spell you know inside and out wandlessly isn't that hard."
"Dumbledore and You-Know-Who are both known for doing a couple of things wandlessly," Tracey helpfully added. "It was a bit of a surprise when she told me about it, but I try not to gripe about things that wind up saving my life."
Oh, really? That would be a nice change of pace. The last time she saved Tracey's life, she had to murder the other girl's grandfather, and her best friend had most certainly complained about how she went about it then.
Sirius poked his head in before Susan could continue down that road of questioning. "Susan, the Floo's active again. Would your aunt want you to go back home or to a safehouse or where?"
"If it's all right with you, it would be best if I stayed here for now, Lor— Sirius," she quickly corrected when he gave her a disappointed look. Lord Black and Lady Bones were fine when they were in the Wizengamot Chambers, he had told her shortly after she arrived for the party, but so long as Susan was here not as the leader of House Bones but as Jen's friend, those formal titles were too stuffy to be permitted. "Auntie's always told me that if something were to happen where it might not be safe to go home, I was to get myself to safety and wait for her to contact me. I think here is as safe as I'm going to get."
"Any friend of Jen's can always find shelter in the House of Black," he said, his tone heavy with the gravity of his promise.
While she appreciated the gesture, being stuck in a house with Susan emulating her aunt was not something Jen wanted right now. She was too tired for the mind games covering for her previously secret abilities required, and she was too stressed from the two-hour battle against the risen dead. She needed something to do away from here, and a moment's thought gave her the perfect excuse. Rising from her chair, she made her way after Sirius. Susan moved as though to give chase, but then the redhead plopped back down.
She had found it irritating how Pomfrey had treated her like a china doll throughout fourth year, but seeing how exhausted her friends were after almost draining their own cores, she could at least understand the school nurse's misgivings.
"I need to get out of here for a little while," she told her godfather once they were out of earshot of her friends. He shot her an incredulous look. "I'm just…. I'm too keyed-up after that. I need somewhere I can relax for a while, and that's not here. Not while Susan's pestering me about the wandless magic she didn't know I could use."
"…You never told your friends that you don't need a wand?"
"I told Tracey and Luna," she answered calmly in the face of his disapproval. She was no Gryffindor to go off blabbing everything she knew and could do to everyone who would listen. Ravenclaws and Slytherins both were better about keeping their secrets. "They were the only ones who were in a position where they needed to know."
"Jen, you should be able to trust your friends."
"I do. That's why I didn't make a show of pretending to need a wand with all that out there. There just wasn't a need to mention it before now. And that's not what's important at the moment," she continued, cutting him off. She did not need this argument right now, either. "I'm headed to Wales for a bit. It's still too early for there to be any clients, but the kids should all be up. I haven't heard from them since last summer." Which was rather frustrating, actually. She did not get many letters from them normally, but Paula or Drew would still send her particularly amusing anecdotes from time to time. For over a year now, though, there had been absolutely nothing.
Sirius's expression darkened as it always did whenever she mentioned the child brothel where she once worked, but he shoved his fury down again and gave her a stiff nod. "If you don't make it back before we leave, Dumbledore called an Order meeting for tonight. I have no doubt it's going to be about the Ministry's fall. Let's hope the old goat actually has a plan about what to do," he ended in disparaging mutter.
Because of course he would take advantage of the Ministry's fall, she thought with a roll of her eyes. She was sure he would portray this as proof that his anti-Ministry stance was right, and his devoted followers were just going to lap it up. Most of them would be perfectly happy to crown him King Albus the First. "A plan, I'm sure. A good plan? Doubtful."
"Yes, well…. Hope springs eternal, I guess. And it isn't like we have much other choice. Even if Bones is still alive, possession is nine-tenths of the law. Voldemort has control of the Ministry, which means Voldemort has all the resources the Ministry provides, which means," he said with a sigh, "Voldemort now has a lot more military power than he did yesterday. And most wizards won't care. So long as it isn't them he's after, they'll carry on with their lives as best they can, and the majority of the population is Pureblood by the most lenient of definitions. He's going to start slow, go after the Muggleborns and obvious Halfbloods, and only then will they start tightening the rules to something more stringent than just having four magical grandparents."
She quirked an eyebrow at him. "That's much more insight into his plans than I expected you to have."
He just shrugged. "Several of the other cadet instructors are retired Aurors. That was their expectation of what would happen if he succeeded in taking the Ministry. Thankfully, they also knew of contingency plans that were in place, so it isn't as if all is lost yet."
"No, but it still becomes infinitely more difficult."
Her godfather had no ready response to that, not that she really expected one. This was high on the list of worse case scenarios. True, there were few she would count on to mount a rebellion as Amelia Bones, particularly with the Aurors who would certainly follow her as the backbone of those forces, but rebellions were almost always fought from a position of weakness.
Voldemort would capitalize on weakness.
That made it even more important that she visit her kids now, while there was still time. Voldemort would be too busy tonight and likely tomorrow to do much else besides consolidate his power over the country, but there was no way to be sure. He could just as easily delegate that responsibility to somebody else and instead focus on how he was going to move against Hogwarts. The longer she delayed her trip, the greater the chances that something else would come up and occupy the whole of her attention.
Giving Sirius a faint smile, she stepped away and twirled on her heel. Grimmauld Place flickered out of existence to be replaced by the familiar hallway leading from Delilah Street to the main room of the Candyland Club. Jen frowned as she took in the silence. As she had said, it was too early to worry about customers, but she still would have expected some sound. Laughter or talking or something.
Lightning crackled around her fingertips for a moment before she stalked silently towards the door. There was no reason for anyone to attack this place; no one besides her family knew of her connection. Nevertheless, she could not help imagining the torn apart bodies of her kids strewn about the floor. Coming closer, she could hear something, but the sounds were too soft for her to make out. Her anger already forged into a curse but leashed for now out of concern that she might accidentally harm someone she cared about, she turned the knob.
Inside, the kids were going about the normal tasks that always needed to be taken care of before the club opened for the night. Tables needed to be cleaned, bottles at the bar needed to be restocked, the stripper poles needed to be checked and maintained. Everything normal and usual, just far more quiet than had ever been the case while she was running the place. One little boy, not an employee she recognized, looked up at the sound of the door opening and stiffened when he noticed her.
…That was not a good sign.
She strode in, her heels clacking on the floor, and that got everybody's attention. There were only a few newbies, all of whom looked a mite frightened at her appearance; the kids who knew her were more excited, but even that was faint, covered up by tension of some kind. What in the world had happened while she was gone?
"Finally decided to show up, huh?" came a nasty voice from the back of the room. A tall, dark-skinned boy, just entering the growth spurts of adolescence, walked around the bar. "Took you long enough. Come to see how your new business plan is working?"
She blinked in surprise and confusion from Drew's tone as much as his words. "What?"
"We trusted you," he continued, heedless of her own question. "Paula and me? We tried to believe that we could trust you, that you wouldn't go back on your promises. But you've changed, Jen. Mama never would have sided with Dick over us—"
"Drew!" Her sharp tone cut through his tirade, and the boy fell silent even as his hands curled into fists at his side. "Good. Now back up and start from the top. What the hell are you talking about?"
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you mean, what am I talking about? This plan you cooked up with Dick to bring in more money. You even gave him the okay to go looking for more kids…." He trailed off at the expression of utter rage that suffused her face. Now was so not the day to deal with this nonsense. When he spoke again, his voice was far less sure of himself. "You didn't know about that?"
"No. I didn't."
"But we've been writing you about everything that's been happening… and you never got them, did you?"
"I haven't gotten anything since last summer, when Paula wrote me about the kid Dick had kidnapped. When I didn't hear anything after that, I foolishly assumed everything was going fine."
"He must have been taking the letters. That's how he knew what to respond to." She gave him a curious glance, and he explained, "Whenever he got a letter from 'you', he'd read out the important parts to us. It even sounded like stuff you would say, just… not what we thought you would say about the things we told you about. Not unless you were treating this place like he does."
"Clever. Very clever, Richard." She gave Drew a sharp smile, her hot rage transformed to cold ruthlessness, and it was that expression that finally put him at ease. Oh, no. She was still very much Mama Jen. And Mama was pissed. "Do you know where he is now?"
"Your office."
She stalked the halls, the tigress once more home in her old den, and the waves of magic pouring off her slammed the door open in front of her. "Oh, Richard. We have things to talk about."
"Jen," he said in a strained, squeaky voice, his smile more a rictus of fear. "It's nice to see you again. How, how are you?"
"I was doing just fine. Enjoying my birthday, hanging out with friends, killing enough people to populate a small hamlet. You know, the usual." His visage froze at that casual admission. Zombies did not actually count as people, not in her mind, but there was no reason he needed to know that. "Then I come by to check on how things are going here since I haven't gotten any letters for the last year. Imagine my surprise to hear that you're up to something incredibly stupid again."
"Now, Jen, I know it wasn't how we did things in the old days," he replied, holding up one hand as though to ward her off, "but just because it's different doesn't mean it's bad. I've been keeping a closer eye on the books, and this is honestly better for everyone." He reached towards the drawers with the other hand. "Look, let me show you—"
She was expecting him to try something, so as soon as she caught the flash of steel, she waved her hand. The man screamed and something cracked when the pistol spun around his finger and flew into her grasp. "Yes," she purred, "I can certainly see how this benefits the business."
Bereft of weapon, Richard swallowed. "Okay, okay, let's not do anything hasty. We can talk this out. Right?"
The doors to the stage were flung open by Richard's bleeding body, and he flew a few more feet before falling heavily onto the ground. Jen followed him at an almost sedate pace. She glanced around, not terribly surprised to find all the kids now gathered expectantly. Several had angry or vicious expressions on their faces, and Paula's especially was positively savage. "Do you remember the last time we had to have a chat about this?" she asked, watching him try to push himself to his feet. A snap of her fingers jerked his arms out from under him. "Do you remember what I told you? I said if your stupidity ever became a threat to my kids, I would kill you. Guess what? You're clearly a threat to my kids."
Apparently facing certain death gave the monstrous man a sense of bravado he previously lacked, or maybe he was just still in denial. "You won't kill me. We both know it. I'm the one keeping this place going." He managed to get to his knees. "Who's going to take care of everything once I'm gone? You?" Richard laughed. "You're too busy with your nice new life to run this place again. Paula and Drew? They're still kids. Good luck getting anybody outside to take them seriously. You need me."
"I'm sure I can find someone." She ran her mind through her options. Cissy immediately sprang to mind; if anyone would want a child brothel to stay open, it was a pedophile who was also a client. The only problem there, and it was a big problem, was that for all her aunt's political acumen, she did not know how well Cissy would be able to navigate the waters of the Muggle business world. Any slip up would be disastrous considering the venue's immensely illegal nature. When she first threatened him, she had considered ensnaring some ordinary Muggle with the Katokikio Metatropi curse, the same one she used to turn Rita Skeeter into her servant, but that was before she learned of its inevitably lethal side effects. Entrusting Candyland to someone who was guaranteed to go insane within the year was not an option. She would just have to look for someone of an immoral bent, then, someone who would not be turned away by the kind of club they were in charge of. That… might be more difficult.
Richard laughed again. "Oh, you can probably find someone. But anybody who's willing to run this place is going to be just like me. You won't convince some bleeding heart to pimp out a bunch of kids! They're going to be in it for the money, and they're going to go after it the same way I am."
Her train of thought screeched to a halt. That was actually a very valid point, one she had not considered until just now. Her support for Candyland had never been about running a successful business. She did not even care if it broke even, not now that she had the Black fortune behind her. No, her interest was in keeping this a place of safety and security. Most people would consider child prostitution to be the exact opposite of safe, she knew that, but that was what it was for some children. Children like her, crippled and cast out to die in the streets. Like Paula, abandoned by the foster system because she had grown up around sex for as long as she could remember. Like Drew and Sarah and Lara, none of whom had anywhere else to go.
For Richard, this was just a business. But for them? For them, this was home.
He sneered at her. "You really thought you could, didn't you? You know why? Because for all you pretend that you're this amazing, one-of-a-kind super-freak, you're still just a stupid little girl who never outgrew her bedtime stor—"
The rest of his insult was trapped behind a thick gag, and then his hands and shins sank as if the wooden floor beneath was so much quicksand. "Hush. I'm thinking."
She couldn't run the club. Cissy probably couldn't run the club. Enslaved Muggles couldn't run the club. Wicked Muggles would run the club just like Richard had, and Richard wasn't even in consideration. Who did that leave? Who could she trust with her kids?
Her eyes drifted over the children. When she left, even when she last came back, they had all been happy. But now? Their faces were lined with tension and worry. Drew and Paula looked the worst, and she knew why. They had tried to emulate her and protect the kids from Richard's apathy and cruelty, but they did not have magic like she did. She had underestimated how much leverage that had given her when she butted heads with Candyland's owner. Without that leverage, they were doomed to fail. They could not keep this place safe for its children.
And if it was no longer safe, what function did it serve?
"Paula. Drew." The pair of preteens shared a look and walked over. Lowering her voice, Jen asked, "I need an honest answer. How bad have things gotten since I've been gone?"
"We could mostly handle it." At Jen's quirked eyebrow, the younger girl amended, "Mostly. Sometimes. It was okay before this year. Once Dicky got it into his head that he could do whatever he wanted, that was when everything went downhill."
"Is it bad enough that keeping this place open is dangerous?"
Her successors had another silent conference before Drew answered. "It…. Maybe."
Maybe. That was not the answer she wanted to hear. "Maybe you don't know, or maybe you don't want to admit it?"
"Maybe… it is that bad. We tried, we really did, but…."
Well, that made her decision simple, didn't it? Reaching out, she pulled them into a loose hug. "I know you did. You did all you could. But all things have to end eventually." She stepped back, ignoring the concerned looks they gave her as she turned to the rest of the kids. "Okay, everyone. Go to your rooms and grab your stuff. Only what you can carry, and focus on what you can't replace. Anything with special memories, that sort of thing. I want everyone back down here in five minutes."
"Mama, what are you doing?"
"What I have to, Paula." She smiled sadly. "What I have to."
Everyone was back well within her time limit, and she had to shake her head at how little they carried. Had she forgotten how little everyone had? Had she just been so preoccupied with her life as a Black that she just had not cared? She did not know.
Either way, she was handling it now.
She tapped the last bottle she had taken from the bar. "Okay. Everyone outside on the other side of the street. None of you needs to see this."
"Mama?" asked Paula in a worried voice. "Are… Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Like really, really sure?"
Jen shook her head. She was not sure in the slightest, but considering the alternative? "I don't think we have much else in the way of options at this point, sweetie."
Drew caught the younger girl's hand and pulled her away, which was enough to snap her out of her daze. Between the two of them, they soon had the entire ex-staff of Candyland shepherded to safety. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey, Jen made her way back to the office and hurled it against the far wall. The glass shattered, filling the room with gallons of liquid. This did not smell like booze, though. It stank of petrol.
Richard yelled at her through the gag, but she ignored his muffled protests and tossed the rest of the bottles at the walls. When only two remained, she picked up one and carried it over to her former employer. "Hard as it may be for you to believe," she said, unscrewing the top and pouring the fuel over his head and back, "I really don't want to do this. I have so many fond memories of this place, of my years working here. But you made me choose, Richard. You made me choose between this place and keeping my kids safe." The last drop fell, and she tossed the bottle aside. "That was only ever going to end one way."
She walked back to the table and lifted the metal ashtray, watching it fold and furl into a cigar. The end lit with a spark, and an all too familiar aroma filled the air. Opening the last bottle, she tipped it over above the nearest edge of the petrol puddle and walked towards the entrance. She did not quite make it to the outer door, but it was close enough.
Throwing the bottle away, she stared at the tables still visible deeper inside. "The Baron knows I have no room to judge other people for anything," she whispered, "and yet in this it falls to me regardless. Goodbye, Richard. I find you… guilty."
She dropped the cigar and watched the resulting wave of fire race into the club.
Her kids waited for her out on the street. Some, those old enough to understand what she had done, were crying. The younger ones were distressed just from the emotions of those around them. And Paula and Drew stood as sentinels, offering what support they could even as they engraved the image of their home into their minds.
"What are we going to do now?" he finally asked.
"We're going to do what we have to do." She reached for little Lara's hand and led them down the street. She did not want to watch Candyland be consumed by flames any more than they did. "I can't take care of all of you, much as I wish I could. And even if I could, I don't know that it would be what's best for you. You need better support than I can give you."
"You really want us to trust the police? The foster system?"
"I thought we weren't supposed to trust the police," Tommy offered, his concern easily understandable considering his history of shoplifting.
"It isn't a choice I like, either," she admitted, "and if we had another option, I'd take it. But right now, we don't. There have been rumors about Candyland for years, but I made sure they were never able to prove anything. If you all go in and tell them that it's burned down, they might not believe you immediately, but they'll have to listen." She hoped, anyway. Her opinion about the competency of law enforcement had gradually risen, likely from having Dora as a cousin and Susan as a friend, but it was hard to shake off long-held prejudices. And this time, she hadn't even done anything wrong!
Which reminded her. "One more thing. Don't tell the police anything about me. Not about my magic or even that I was around. When they ask, pretend that I never existed. You don't know why the building caught fire, but you all grabbed your things and ran, okay?"
The police station came into view, and she pulled the horde to a stop. Time enough for one more warning. "Don't let them split you up. Eventually they'll have to, but until they're actually putting you in foster homes, stay together, do what Drew and Paula tell you. When they do put you in homes, make sure you know how to get ahold of each other. Addresses, phone numbers. Refuse to go until you can keep in touch." She turned around and knelt on the ground, waving everyone to gather around her. "Candyland's gone now, but we're still here. I will find you all again," she promised. It would not even be hard, not with her scrying mirror. She was going to do better than she had done. "I don't know when, but once you're all settled, I'll come by. I'll watch and see how you're doing. If things don't go right, I'll be there, and we'll figure out what to do next. But right now, let's give this a try. If it works, this will give you the best futures you can get. I won't stand in the way of that. Not anymore."
She watched in silence as her kids vanished into the station. She stayed there, just watching, pretending she wasn't worried she had made the wrong decision. But finally she stood, and with one last long glance, she vanished.
Severus walked through the arch leading into the Ministry's atrium, cloak and mask on and surrounded by the rest of the Death Eaters. How had he not heard that the Dark Lord would be striking to seize the Ministry?! He could understand why he had not been told; the Dark Lord had valid concerns that he was truly a spy for Dumbledore and hence could not be trusted. But he still should have heard whispers of something!
The leader of the rebellion, now the ruler of the country as he so desired, stood in the middle of the room, his wand waving over the gaudy golden fountain the former Ministry was so proud of. Or what remained of it, honestly: an immense glob of gold, the statues that once lied about the nation's unity molten down like scrap and flowing into a new shape, one more in line with the Death Eaters' agenda. A single wizard, wand raised in triumph, one leg raised and resting on a small hillock. The mound immediate sprouted a hundred small bodies with babyish faces, their mouths opened as they squalled, and the gold developed a layer of dark patina until they were almost black.
The Dark Lord hummed thoughtfully and gave the grotesque sight a nod. He then turned and faced them, a wide smile sitting unnaturally on his face. "Come, come! Why do you not laugh? Why do you not cheer? Look around you!" He waved his hand at the walls. "The Ministry is ours!"
That pulled a lusty shout from their throats, and Severus quickly joined in. Now was not the time to draw attention to himself.
"But our battle is far from complete," he said once the Death Eaters were quiet again. "Bones managed to escape in the chaos of the battle, fleeing her post like the mouse she is. She is a mouse with delusions of grandeur, though. She will return again and again, giving us the chance to finish what we started. Hogwarts, too, still stands, and no doubt that old fool Dumbledore will surely return to his fiefdom and attempt to hold us off." Some of the less courageous terrorists shuffled at the name of their greatest foe, but the Dark Lord merely laughed. "In truth, I welcome it. I can hardly wait for him to see what I have planned for him.
"Those are talks for tomorrow. Tonight is about celebration and pride! After so long, we have succeeded in the most difficult of our goals! We have a new face to welcome into our ranks, too." He pointed at the front row. "Yes, Mr. Shunpike, come. I am sure that you have all already heard of young Stan's plight," he said, clapping his hand on the young wizard's shoulder. Shunpike, wisely Severus thought, did not look comfortable being so close to the Dark Lord. "He thought to gain our attention by striking out against the Muggle plague that invests this country. But he was found out, thrown into a prison cell for attempting to do what was in the best interest of his world. Everyone here knows that I reward devotion, and what more devotion could I ask for than this? Barty led a covert operation to steal him away from the Auror's holding cells, and rather than killing some hapless Muggles, young Stan instead became the herald of my impending success." He turned to face the terrified wizard. "You wished to join our ranks? You have it. You now stand as one of my trusted Death Eaters."
Shunpike scurried back to the safety of the anonymous ranks, and Severus shook his head in astonishment. They had been so sure that Shunpike's arrest and trial was an overreach by Bones's administration, something to assuage the public that the Ministry was indeed doing something. And now here he stood, a full Death Eater? Had the Ministry's actions turned him towards the Dark, or had he been that way even before his arrest? Severus had no way to know.
"There is someone else who needs to be honored here tonight," the Dark Lord continued. "Severus, where are you?"
He slowly made his way to the front, his mind racing. What had he done? He had fed his dark master titbits of information on Dumbledore's orders, but nothing that should have given him any advantage, particularly not against the Ministry. Dumbledore himself had enough issues trying to forecast what the Ministry was going to do from one day to the next, so there was no way it was anything he had passed along that should have contributed to today's tragedy. But what else could he be 'rewarded' for?
"My sneak, my spy. My eyes and ears in Dumbledore's camp. You above all have been placed in the most unenviable position of listening to the Light's drivel and aiding our enemies. I should be able to trust you above all others." The Dark Lord's smile fell. "And yet, I cannot. Spies by their very nature are untrustworthy. Even worse than a spy, you are a double agent. I believe you are my spy; Dumbledore believes you are his. How can I trust you in light of this?"
He swallowed his fear and answered in as normal a voice as he could muster. "You know that my true loyalty is and has ever been to you." He reached for his left sleeve to reveal his Dark Mark before he stopped in sudden panic. That was right, his Mark was gone. He had Black remove it the previous year with her own mastery of the Dark Arts. If the Dark Lord demanded to see it, he was a dead man.
"I wish I could believe that, Severus, I truly do. How devoted to our cause are you?" The albino wizard fingered his wand. "Would you do anything I asked of you? Would you die for me?"
"You know that I would, my Lord," he lied.
The pale wand rose to point at him. "I no longer have need of a spy in Dumbledore's precious Order. They are irrevocably broken. I wish I did not have to do this, but I have no other choice. In reward for your service, I will make your death quick and painless. Future generations will know you as a martyr who nobly sacrificed his life in service to our cause. Goodbye, my dear Sev—"
"Peaceful prosper!" he shouted. The portkey he always wore responded to its command phrase, and the familiar discomfort of a hook embedded in his belly plucked him from the midst of the Death Eaters. The world spun around and around before resolving into wooden walls and a long table.
He slammed onto the top of the Longbottom's table and just breathed in relief for a long moment.
Chairs scraped all around him as the various members of the Order shot to their feet, understandably on edge with a wizard in full Death Eater regalia appearing before them without warning. He groaned, as much from the rough landing as to let them know who he was before somebody cursed him, and pulled off his silver mask.
"I expected Voldemort to gloat for longer."
Lifting his eyes to glare at Albus's too-light tone, he retorted, "He decided that with the Ministry in his grasp, he no longer needed to harbor a spy. He—"
His chest flared with sudden, hot pain, nearly enough to make him scream, and he tore at the black robes. What was this?! The bronze medallion hanging from his neck glowed with wicked light, the metal bubbling at the edges of the skull and snake on its face. Ripping it off, he hurled it at the wall and watched with morbid fascination as the medallion melted, smoke curling up from where it scorched the floor. Had he still borne the Mark, that would have been him, a tortuous death if there ever was one.
He could never tell Black that her actions had saved his life like this. She would be insufferable for weeks.
"Finally outlived your usefulness, Snape?" Potter echoed nastily. "You're no good to us either, then, are you?"
Severus opened his mouth to shoot a scathing comment back, but then he stopped. If he were not a spy, that removed his major need to return to the Order, didn't it? The attitudes of most of the members grated on him, so focused on their moral superiority that they ignored how useless they were in the grand scheme of this conflict. Oh, he had no illusions that he was a good person, not after the kinds of things he had done, but at least he made actual contributions to the war effort. Now that his primary role was finished, he had no reason to return for these pointless meetings. He could have someone relay whatever important decisions or announcements were made to him afterwards. Albus or Narcissa or, incredibly, maybe even Sirius Black. If they needed him for his potion skills, those he could provide without leaving his lab.
For all that his heart was still pounding a little from nearly being killed, this turn of events might actually be to his benefit.
And speaking of potion skills, the Dark— Voldemort no longer had a master of that craft, did he? He had been the only one among the Death Eaters. "He will be after Slughorn now more than ever," he warned Albus, sliding off the table. "There are too many advantages potions can provide for him to ignore that branch of magic. Poisons, panaceas, elixirs. Without me, he has no one, but so long as Slughorn is in the wind, he is in greater danger now than ever before."
"I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news," Albus said sadly, "but I fear that has already come to pass. Horace refused to meet with me," he explained to Severus's confounded expression. "That does not mean that I did not have ways of keeping an eye on him. I have watched him for the last several months, but a few days ago, I lost track of him. I could not be certain of what happened, but from Voldemort's actions, it is clear that he now lays in the Death Eaters' clutches."
Severus stared, and it took a few moments for his tongue to remember how to work. "You knew? For the last few days, you knew? And you neglected to tell me this?"
"I did not want to concern you with his fate until I had some proof that he had not simply slipped away—"
"How about my fate?!" he roared. "You knew that his inability to find Slughorn was the only reason he did not kill me! I told you! He didn't trust me, but he needed me. I told you that once he had Slughorn, he would see me as a liability to be removed! You didn't think even the possibility that Slughorn was in his hands was something I needed to know?"
"I was only acting in your best interests, my boy."
"Spare me your idea of what's in my best interests. You were going to let me die." He shook his head. He knew Albus was a manipulator. It had been little surprise to him when the old wizard was revealed to have used mind magic on the students. In hindsight, it explained a number of situations that had arisen when he was a student, let alone all the disasters that had cropped up after Potter's brat started his schooling. He had just expected not to be treated as something expendable by both sides. Well, that was something he could amend.
It was one thing to put his life on the line. It was quite another to have them throw it away.
Albus was saying something, maybe trying to keep him around and maybe not, but regardless, he kept walking. He was done.
The door slammed shut behind him, and a few seconds later the door opened again. Turning around, he was surprised to find it was Narcissa of all people who had followed him out. "I wouldn't have thought you would try to keep me here."
"Keep you here? Hardly. The only reason I am here is so I have a good view to watch Dumbledore burn." She stepped closer and lowered her voice. "No, I just want to make sure you have somewhere to go that the Death Eaters do not know about. We all need to keep ourselves safe right now."
"My quarters at Hogwarts should be safe enough. Even if not, only a few people know where my home is. You. Lily. Albus," he added with a scowl. He had forgotten about that. "I can make do there until it is safe to flee the country, anyway."
The woman nodded sadly. Between the Dark Lord and Albus, he was not sure who should succeed. It as a choice between two bad choices. Then again, was it only two choices? He looked at Narcissa again, and she took note of it if her raised eyebrow was any indication. "Is there something I can help you with, Severus?"
"I would appreciate it if you could pass on a message for me." She nodded. "Tell your niece that whenever she gets ready to make her move, I want her to let me know."
"Why do you think Jen is going to get involved in this at all?"
He smirked knowingly. "Someone with her degree of skill and ambition? She isn't going to sit back and let other people take care of things. If she defeats the Dark Lord, she will have the same opportunities Albus did after defeating Grindelwald. Our world would be her oyster, and there is no way she'll let that pass her by. She's too much a Slytherin at heart. She might even be able to pull it off, too."
The girl might be farther down the road of a budding Dark Lady than he would like, but at this point, he would take what he could get. He had no idea what she would make of their world if she won, but considering the alternatives were the Dark Lord or Albus? She couldn't make much more of a mess than they would.
And at least she seemed to have an interest in keeping him alive. That was a definite plus.
For all that I despise Snape in canon, I've come to really enjoy him in this tale.
Silently Watches out.
