Fight or Flight

Chapter Three

His boots crunched on the sparsely laid gravel path that led up to the massive, wrought iron gates of Hogwarts. It was a mildly nostalgic feeling, seeing the great castle shrouded with morning mist and partially obscured by the tips of the forbidden forest, through the bars of the massive gate. The castle had, after all, been his home for seven years. The sight of it still resonated heavily in his chest like a pang of sickness that refused to go away, and he suspected that it would always do so. But he had lived there last almost two decades ago, and he was well past the deep longing to return. He had his own life now, and as much as he appreciated the brilliance with which his childhood memories had been lit in the soft, muted glow from the castle and all that it inspired, he had no desire to be a child again, to return to the school and go to classes, or to submit to be ruled by any of the teachers; least of all, Dumbledore.

But he got the feeling, as he reached the gate and touched the heavy metal lock with the tip of his wand to alert whoever happened to be waiting for him to his presence, that he was about to submit himself to Dumbledore anyway, whether he wanted to or not.

It was Dumbledore's way to cajole and coerce men less swayed by thoughts of guilt and romantic notions of bravery into the service of the light. He was a clever, albeit manipulative man, and Sebastian knew full well that by simply showing up at the castle, he was willingly putting his name forth as a contestant in some heady battle playing out in the old man's mind. On the other hand, though, the battle playing in Dumbledore's mind was probably a very good indication of who was going to end up winning. However deplorable the man's methods may be, he was a brilliant minded man, and Sebastian would do well to heed the Headmaster's commands, warnings, or whatever bits of advice the man deemed it appropriate to dole out on whoever was nearest.

After all, the twinkly brightness that often showed up in the light blue eyes of the Headmaster was about as innocent and innocuous as a rampaging hippogriff in the racier section of Madame Puddifoot's tea-house. Dumbledore might exude the facade of grandfatherliness, but he was no innocent man. He was a warrior, and he was a damned good one at that.

Sebastian admired this, but all the same, he would rather escape this little soiree with his freedom, questionable as it might be, intact.

A heavy groan permeated the dusky silence near the gates as the pistons in the hinges popped out of their rest and into action as the gate slowly, achingly swung open to permit him entrance. He stepped through the small gap between the bars to meet his gatekeeper. Groaning, and realizing that he had been holding out on the vain hope that it might be either Severus or Miss Granger coming to meet him, he recognized the surly, ugly and twisted face of a very annoyed and put-upon Filch.

"Hello, Argus," Sebastian said, disgruntled. The caretaker grunted with a sneer sweeping his already bedraggled face into an eerie replica of the backside of a hairless cat. Sebastian tried not to dwell on the resemblance.

"Villeneauve," Filch welcomed mockingly. "Watch yer step. Wouldn't want nothin' bad to happen to ye when yer Professor Dumbledore's personal guest..." He spoke in such a way that Sebastian knew precisely how thrilled the man would be if something horrible did happen to befall him whilst on school property.

Looking sideways at the caretaker, he asked dryly: "So I suppose you won't be attending my bedside should an angry centaur happen to attack me in the middle of the path?"

"I'd sooner drink a bottle o' Firewhisky given to me by a Weasley twin," he growled. "Ye filthy, snot-nosed slimeball Slytherin."

Sebastian laughed and raised his eyebrow, impressed with Filch's deplorable lack of creativity and ridiculous attempt at alliteration, even knowing that it was bound to upset the man even more. While he realized that baiting the man probably wasn't the nicest thing he could possibly be doing with his time, getting over their past antagonistic history was extremely unlikely, and Sebastian wasn't very willing to try, given the effort it would probably involve. While he had normally been a relatively studious, well-mannered student, his lax attitude with regards to Zonko's joke products and the occasional endorsement of well planned pranks by his house during his tenure as Prefect had gotten him into his fair share of hot water with Mr. Filch. And he didn't really regret it. At all.

They walked in silence, the blasted cat belonging to Filch trotting gleefully alongside her master with occasional baleful glares thrown his way for good measure, as if she thought, like her master, that he was up to something. Which, he supposed, he probably was.

Just nothing that involved Filch.

They rounded the sweeping curve of the path that led just past the lake to the front doors of the castle. The sight of the castle in its entirety really did make him feel nostalgic this time, full on and unabashedly. He kept walking, ignoring the half-mad desire to stand and stare at it for a while, to drink in the sheer majestic beauty of the thing so that he might think back upon it later and recall the intricate details of its surface. Growling, he cursed himself for being a prat. He liked pretty things, sure, but only pretty things he could buy, and nothing that he couldn't have. Hogwarts was nothing he could own for himself, and so he snapped at any further attempts of his annoyingly soft heart to crave it.

As they approached the front steps, he turned to Filch again. "You know, I can find the way to the Headmaster's office myself. You need not accompany me if you have somewhere else to be."

Filch appeared to be quite outraged. "I don' think so! How'm I s'posed to know ye aren't smugglin' contraband!? I gotta check yer pockets." He said this almost gleefully. Sebastian realized this was probably the most excitement involving something other than dirty floors and dungbombs the man saw in a week.

Sighing, he held his arms out. "Check me then."

Filch pulled out a slender looking wand type thing, made of hard black material that wasn't wood, and pointed it gleefully at him, his face a picture of joy. The cat was sitting on the top step looking also very pleased, on behalf of Filch. She began cleaning her dirty, scraggly fur whilst Filch prodded him with unnecessarily hard jabs of the stick in his chest.

After ten minutes of thorough (and Sebastian meant thorough), Filch appeared to be done, and disappointed, after having poked every inch of his body without finding anything. Sebastian rearranged his robes with a huff, his patience quite evaporated. "I'll be going now, if you don't mind. I believe I'm late."

He began to stalk off, doing his very best impression of Severus with his robes billowing out behind him, but stopped suddenly and turned back to Filch, who looked furious but unsure exactly why. "And you needn't bother collecting me after, either. I believe I can show myself out."

Filch let out a hiss of poorly constrained rage but Sebastian was around the corner, and grinning to himself, before the man could say much of anything. He followed the main floor corridor past the Great Hall and up the slight incline to the gargoyle statue that concealed the Headmaster's office. He presented his name to the piece of stone and waited a few moments until the stone moved and admitted him to the staircase. As he moved into the shadows of the alcove he saw a couple of older students unabashedly staring at him. He grinned at them with his best expression, usually reserved for frightening small animals, and they looked away, both blushing. Pleased with himself, he was smug as he reached Dumbledore's inner sanctum.

"Sebastian, my boy," called the cheerful voice of Dumbledore from his desk. Steeling himself and plastering his less-frightening smile on his face, he stepped inside.

"Professor. So good of you to invite me," he said, walking forward. Dumbledore waved aside his thanks with a wrinkled hand.

"Please, call me Albus. You are no student here. We are on equal terms."

"Thank you, Albus," Sebastian said, feeling distinctly like he had just fallen into a trap. Of friendliness.

He took the comfortable seat across from the Headmaster and folded his legs politely in front of him, and accepted the cup of tea. He also noted the promised biscuit on his saucer and grinned when it was every bit as delicious and fresh as he had expected.

The chatted amicably about nothing in particular for a few moments before Dumbledore evidently felt the time for empty chat was over. He put down his saucer but retained the teacup, feeling more comfortable when he had something with which to occupy his hands.

"My dear boy, you know, I expect, that I have not called you here for idle pleasantries." At Sebastian's nod, he continued, the twinkle in his eyes somewhat diminished. "I wished, firstly, to thank you, most sincerely, for coming to the aid of my students at the Ministry. I feel confident when I say that you have quite probably saved at least one of their lives. And also, you were an incredible aid in the capture of no less than six Death Eaters, all of whom were employees of the Ministry."

"Albus, I accept no thanks, because none is required. I acted merely out of instinct and the desire for self-preservation."

"A noble goal, considering one as delicately placed as yourself." Albus nodded.

"And what exactly would you know of my delicate placement?" Sebastian asked, dropping the pretence of polite deference.

"Miss Granger has told me of your connection with her, and of your warning not to, oh let me see... ah, 'not to believe everything you hear'. Am I correct?"

"You are," Sebastian admitted grudgingly. He'd forgotten that he'd given Miss Granger permission to divulge that particular secret, which was stupid of him and uncharacteristic of his usually adept and detail-driven personality.

"Then I believe I am also correct in assuming you mean to say you are not the consummate loyal Death Eater."

"Don't you already know as much from Severus? I thought he worked for you." Sebastian was mollified to see Dumbledore's eyes widen a fraction.

"He told you?"

"No, I noticed on my own."

"How?" Dumbledore asked, sounding faintly surprised, which, considering his predilection for remaining calm in even the most trying of times, was evidence enough of his astonishment. Sebastian grinned somewhat more maliciously than he probably should have.

"You should inform your spy that if he wishes to remain alive to see another twenty years, he would do well to hide his unfortunate habit of clenching his left fist when he is stressed."

"Does Volde-"

"No, he doesn't know. As far as I know, I am the only one who has noticed. But I would not count on it remaining that way. Were I, as you said, the 'consummate Death Eater', there might be trouble. As it is, I merely have a talent for discovering weaknesses."

"A 'tell'." Dumbledore's eyes narrowed faintly and Sebastian could practically see the wheels churning in that brilliant mind, attempting to figure out how exactly Sebastian's talent might be of use to the side of the Light. Admittedly, Sebastian knew that his ability to figure out when a person was hiding something would probably be an extremely useful tool for the Order of the Phoenix; after all, the same talent was the main reason he was still alive after so many years of subterfuge. But all the same, Sebastian hated the idea of being used, and was not very receptive to manipulation.

"I don't want to join the Order, Albus. I can guess that you're attempting to get me to join, but I won't do it. I know Severus, and I know that he has his reasons for serving you, and I have no doubt that the Order is important. But I've also seen what all the cloak-and-dagger double-crossing has done to him, and I don't want it. Be assured that I am not against you, but neither consider me entirely with you."

"I see you have considered this a great deal," Dumbledore said, sounding a little bit disapproving.

"I have. It is not for my distrust of the Order. It is for my unwillingness to submit to more authority than is completely necessary. You will remember me from my days as a schoolboy, I'm sure. I've never taken orders well."

"No, you haven't." He sounded almost wistful. Probably because Sebastian wouldn't be his second pawn, after Potter. Such a jewel as he would be a crown in Dumbeldore's collection, to be sure.

"Do not hinder me, and we will essentially be working towards the same end. In fact, I am even willing to work with you."

"Are you?" Dumbeldore asked, a little bit hopeful.

"I am. Just not under you."

Dumbledore considered him with a piercing, steely gaze for what seemed like an eternity before the damned twinkle finally made its way back into his face. Finally, he cracked a wizened old smile.

"Well, I am old enough to recognize that I may not have everything. I will accept this. Now, tell me, what have you figured out about the Prophecy?"

Sebastian relaxed and grinned, knowing he had won. "You haven't heard it?"

"I have, but I must confess I would like to discuss it with someone other than my Pensieve. And I have no wish for Harry to open it for me without knowing more about its contents."

"You should tell him," Sebastian said seriously. "He's already been fooled once. He is unlikely to be fooled again if he is adequately prepared." Dumbledore seemed to consider this but shook his head.

"I will decide that once I have heard your personal thoughts on the Prophecy."

Sebastian shrugged. "Fine. Where's the orb?"

Dumbledore pulled out the small package from a locked drawer in his desk and set on the table. Sebastian pulled his chair closer, and after depositing his teacup on the surface, touched his wand to the surface of the glass and commanded it to open. The same eerie, hoarsely whispered words rang from the orb like a bell and swamped both men with intense feelings of something neither could precisely define. Perhaps it was the feeling of being shrouded, literally, in destiny.

Once it was over, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "You have given thought to what this means, then?"

"I have."

"And?"

"Potter will do the actual vanquishing of the Dark Lord, but I will be bringing down the ranks of the Death Eater's from within. It's important that I accomplish this. The Death Eaters will likely live on in an attempt to fulfil their master's wishes even after he is gone. They must be brought down before the end will actually be the end."

"That is true." Dumbledore nodded. "That is much the same conclusion as I reached myself, I must confess. I still feel unwilling to place this burden upon Harry. He is too young to fully grasp what will come."

"I disagree," Sebastian said firmly. "It isn't wise to leave him in the dark. I don't believe the Dark Lord will hear of this, not unless I give him the Prophecy, but if he ever does, he mustn't know anything that Potter does not. It would give him the advantage, and I fear once he has an inch, it will cost many lives gaining it back."

"Speaking of which," Dumbledore said, "You were meant to bring the Prophecy to Voldemort, were you not? Severus spoke of a task that Voldemort had set for you."

"Yes, that is true. But obviously I cannot give it to him."

"No, not this one," Dumbledore said, looking at the orb thoughtfully. Sebastian raised an eyebrow. The Headmaster's tone was far too jovial.

"Are you suggesting..."

"A false Prophecy." Dumbledore was smiling now. "He only knows the very beginnings of the Prophecy – what Severus heard as a young man regarding the part about the child born to those who have thrice defied him and marking him as his equal. Severus never heard the end. The extent of your involvement is unknown to him, although obviously with your name on it you are suspect. It would be easy enough to, ah, tweak the specifics of your task."

"It would be very difficult to forge," Sebastian said, feeling the faint glimmer of hope in his chest. It wasn't a bad idea. In fact, it was a damned brilliant idea. Why hadn't he thought of it?

"But not impossible."

"No, not impossible." Sebastian looked at the orb too. "But what would it say?"

"I find that Voldemort is a firm believer in his own infallibility," Dumbeldore said mildly.

"We could lead him directly into a trap."

"It does seem to be the most advantageous solution."

Sebastian grinned. Oh, this was going to be fantastic. He had always loved a good prank.

Their business for the day concluded, Dumbledore led Sebastian to the door of his office, in good humor and thoroughly pleased with their accomplishments for the day. So pleased was the Headmaster that he conjured a shiny Visitor badge out of thin air and fixed it cheerfully to the folds of Sebastian's robes directly over his heart.

"I wouldn't begrudge a man a visit with a few old friends," he said, blue eyes twinkling merrily. Once again, Sebastian was reminded of the old muggle Santa Clause. "I believe Severus is teaching fifth year Potions for the next, oh..." --he glanced at a clock in the corner-- "Ten minutes or so. I believe you can catch him before he leaves for lunch."

Still grinning, the old man ushered Sebastian from the office like an old matchmaker. Half amused, half exasperated, Sebastian decided a visit with Severus would be quite a nice way to spend the remainder of the morning and headed off to the dungeons.

The heavy wooden door to the Potions Lab was open a crack, and Sebastian pushed it open just enough that he could slip through without any noise. He should have counted on Severus' keen awareness of everything around him though, because his friend spotted him the instant he wrapped his fingers around the edge of the door. Severus stopped whatever he was saying and stared, obviously surprised. A few of the students noticed their teacher's sudden pause and twisted in their seats to see him. He heard, rather than saw, Miss Granger gasp in surprise, whilst the young Mr. Malfoy attracted his attention over to his side of the room.

"Mr. Villeneauve! What are you doing here?" Malfoy exclaimed, utilizing the silence of his classmates both to imprint on their minds that he was infinitely more well connected than the rest of them, in knowing one of the richest men in the whole continent, and also drawing Sebastian's attention to himself. He also seemed to have gained an unattractive new ruthless glint in his eyes, and was silently challenging the other students to say anything to dispute his good name. Belatedly, he realized that with Lucius in Azkaban, Draco probably had been on the recieving end of doubt and derision and was now utilizing whatever means necessary to rebuild his reputation and regain his status.

Sebastian felt like rolling his eyes, but he acknowledged the boy instead, his smile just a trifle friendlier than he would have otherwise. "Hello, Draco," he said, nodding. He glanced at Hermione, who appeared to be very annoyed at the exchange and surreptitiously winked at her. Snape interrupted before she could open her mouth.

"Class is over. Dismissed." His silky voice slid neatly through the room and children began instantly to pack their things. Neatly sidestepping Draco Malfoy, he made his way up the aisle to the teaching platform, nodding very tiny acknowedgements to the children who had been at the Ministry. Potter was watching him with respect, and a boy sitting beside Miss Granger was staring at him with reverence bordering on awe. Miss Granger seemed to be calculating something in her head and watched him carefully. Sebastian wasn't too worried. She was smart enough not to broadcast his Ministry escapades in front of a classroom full of junior Death Eaters.

In fact, she waited until the rest of the class had left and he was chatting with Severus to bustle back in, stopping once inside the door. Severus turned a disdainful and mildly dismissive glare towards her.

"Miss Granger, this had better be important." Sebastian realized that he had never told anyone of Miss Granger's hand in his coninued good health. Sighing, he supposed he should rectify the situation.

"She's fine, Snape. She's come for me." He swung his glance back to her. "Right?"

She nodded, blushing. Snape made a strange noise of surprise beside him. "You? How does she know you?"

Sebastian invited Miss Granger to sit down near the front of the class and settled himself in a chair. "It's a long story, but I believe you'll find it intriguing."

He recounted Miss Granger's accident and the consequences of it, mainly his declining the invitation to join the Death Eaters the first time around and his subsequent mission to train himself to the peak of lethality.

By the end of it, Miss Granger was blushing furiously but seemed also intensely curious at his life after she had run into him the first time.

When he was finished, Sebastian turned a lazy grin on Miss Granger and drawled: "You do realize, Miss Granger, that you are the only person in existence who has experienced life in both realities?"

She nodded quickly. "It was very strange. When I left you had been dead for years, and I only knew of you because your name was in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts because you were one of the youngest casualties on the side of the Death Eaters. But when I got back, twenty minutes later, your name was all over the library and there was even a book detailing your supposed disappearance and the reasons behind your turning your back on your family seat! Of course I knew why, but no one else did, and I couldn't even tell anyone!" She seemed to realize she had spoken more than she'd intended and clamped her mouth shut.

Severus was staring at her as if she were insane, and Sebastian wondered how, if at all, their relationship would change in light of this revelation. After all, after Lucius Malfoy, he was probably one of Severus' only true friends. Knowing that his 'know-it-all' student, as he called her when discussing work with Sebastian, was responsible for his being alive at all would probably make Severus both indescribably irritated and yet grudgingly respectful towards her.

Sebastian grinned again. "Funny how life works out, isn't it?" He crossed his ankles and reclined gracefully.

Miss Granger stood up. "I should go. I just came because I wanted to know if – if I could write to you. If you wouldn't oppose, or -"

"That would be fine, Miss Granger. No problem at all. I believe we have some catching up to do."

She smiled at him, her bushy hair emphasizing the curve and color of her mouth. "Thank you, Sebastian. And call me Hermione." She slung her bag over her shoulder. "Don't , I knew you when you were fifteen." She grinned impishly at him and walked out, leaving him staring after her until the door clicked closed. Shaking his head, he started to laugh.

"That girl is truly rather remarkable."

"Yes, so I hear." Severus curled his lip. "Every staff meeting seems to feature a good portion of time spent fawning over her brilliance." He narrowed his eyes. "If you start fawning as well, you may consider our acquaintance to be severed."

"Perish the thought," Sebastian smirked.

"Consider yourself warned." Severus glanced at him sideways. "I know you did not give the Dark Lord the orb; but how, precisely, are you going to get away with not being killed next time he calls you? Having six of his best Death Eater's captured is not going to make him an easily man to placate."

Sebastian allowed his lips to curve into a slow, knowing smile. "Oh, don't you worry on my account, Severus. I have a plan. Or rather, Dumbledore and I have a plan."

"Merlin," Severus breathed. "I hope to be far, far away when this is carried out."

Sebastian clapped him on the back. "Don't be such a pussy. What's the worst that could happen?"

Sebastian had wanted, for a brief time, to insert a dirty joke into the Prophecy, or a taunt of some sort, said in a silly voice, just for the entertainment value. Dumbledore, while amused at the thought, had wisely negated this course of action and had, with Sebastian's help, written an intelligently vague but hopeful sounding few lines that would be depressing enough to sound realistic, but hopeful enough for the Dark Lord's defeat of Potter that he would be so bouyed at his own foretold longevity that he would ignore or not notice the innocuousness of the rest of the Prophecy.

Sebatian delivered it the day after it was finished, eerie voice and all.

"Ah, Villeneauve, one of so few who have not yet disappointed me," the Snake Lord hissed in welcome. Sebastian suppressed a shudder at the Dark Lord's use of the word 'yet'. "Have you come with the Prophecy?"

"I have, my Lord." He pulled a small, grubby brown package from his pocket and presented it with outstretched arms.

Delighted, the Dark Lord reached out and quickly divested the orb of its wrappings, and commanded it to open.

The same, wavering but ethereal sounding voice erupted from the orb and made itself heard throughout the throne room. The Dark Lord was enraptured, his slitted smile growing wider and wider as the Prophecy went on.

Sebastian and Dumbledore had attempted to leave the Prophecy as close to recent events and the original Prophecy as possible, while also leading the Dark Lord to believe that his imminent take-over of England, and eventually, everywhere else, would happen only with a fair fight. Dumbledore had stressed that the Dark Lord musn't attack Potter or Hogwarts until Potter was as ready as he could possibly be. Sebastian agreed.

""The ones with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approach

The first born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies

And the Dark Lord will mark one as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not

But the Dark Lord will rise from ashes in fire with a heavy fist

Evenly matched shall they be, for neither can live while the other survives

The second to vanquish born only should the first fail, born from within his closest ranks

The Dark Lord was silent for a long while as he recited the Prophecy over and over to himself, committing it to memory. Finally, he turned his scarlet eyes on Sebastain. "And you are certain that Potter and that fool Dumbledore know nothing of the contents?"

"I am certain," Sebastian lied.

The Dark Lord creaked his lips into a smile again, positively jubilant. "You have done well, Villeneauve. Very well indeed." He pocketed the orb and stood. Every Death Eater in the room bowed low to the ground, Sebastian included.

"Narcissa," said the Dark Lord in a hiss, "I have business with you. Bring the boy."