Disclaimer: I own nothing except a laptop and the plot. Characters and world belong to J. K. Rowling.
Destroyer
By Catsitta
Chapter six;;
It was in the shadowed corner in which he stood, watching in contemplative silence as the Order of the Phoenix bickered amongst themselves. So many had been lost in the past year, Severus noted grimly. No love was lost between he and a vast majority of the members, but the ranks of the Light were dwindling fast. With Alice and Frank Longbottom comatose and unresponsive in St. Mungo's, Lily and James Potter in hiding and others having since fallen prey to the numb embrace of death—less than a dozen men and women stood to face the ever growing Dark. Being a double agent, a spy whom everyone in the room knew walked the grey line between "good and evil", alienated Severus immensely. Many of the Order whispered in his presence, covertly planning their escapades and the while treating him with minimal tolerance.
He was not liked. He was not trusted. And yet, he was the one whom kept the Order alive thus far. It was because of his actions and observances, his misdirection and information, that preserved the safe houses and protected members from raids. If it were not for him, hundreds more innocent lives would have been lost!
Yet, here he was, treated like the scum of the earth.
Abused by both masters he served. Used like a convenient scapegoat. A pawn that both sides wished to play covertly against the other. Dispensable. All he had sought was acceptance, a sense of purpose and control over and otherwise chaotic life. And all he had gained was a guaranteed death sentence and no chance of becoming…respectable.
Severus scowled at his train of thought. He did not often wear another expression these days.
"Severus, my boy, you claimed to have news to share." It was Dumbledore whom spoke, drawing the young Professor's gaze towards the rest of the Order. All eyes were on him, none regarding him with anything akin to respect. Ingrates. The lot of them. Lupin seemed to hold pity in his eyes. Severus had no use for pity, especially not from a monster that should be exterminated. Filthy werewolf. Why Dumbledore allowed that animal into the Order, he'd never understand…except he was a Marauder. One of the Headmaster's golden Gryffindor boys who could do no wrong.
Disgusting.
Forcing himself to maintain a semblance of calm, Severus regaled the Order members of his latest findings. The Dark Lord was getting antsy and violent to the point of irrationality. His attacks on muggles and muggle-borns were becoming sporadic but increasingly vicious. No less than twenty people of "lesser birth" had died in the past week due to Death Eater raids or planned "accidents". The Dark Lord was fervent in his mission to destroy the one who would defeat him, his prophesized enemy, a child born of those whom had defied him thrice.
The Potters were in grave peril as was the Longbottom's son.
Both needed to go under the protection of a Fidelius charm and choose a Secret-Keeper. Hallow's Eve was fast approaching.
"I have information on the young witch whom attacked Malfoy Manner as well," Severus intoned, sneering as he continued. "For those who are not aware: the girl appears to be in her late teens, brown eyes and curly brown hair, and stands perhaps five feet five inches. She wears what can best be described as oversized student robes and is marked as extremely dangerous. While her crusades against the Death Eaters are quickly becoming notorious, she had yet to align herself with either side of the war and has proven her tendency to strike first regardless of her adversary. She is well versed in wandless and wordless magic and is highly unpredictable. She has yet to deliver a fatal blow or employ usage of the Unforgivables from what I can gather from my sources, some of which have been…first hand."
As destructive as the Destroyer was, she did not seem to have a penchant for slaughtering people by her own wand. Investigations of the dead and wounded at Malfoy Manor had proven surprising. Compulsion spells were at play and aside from a few broken bones and lacerations, none of the Death Eaters were wounded by the Destroyer's hand. She had literally compelled the wizards to slaughter each other, defending herself with shields and tossing reflexive hexes now and then, but the witch did not kill anyone directly. At worst, she maimed a few…
…which brought him to his latest revelation.
"The Destroyer, as deemed by the Dark Lord, is driven by an unknown mission. From what I have come to understand, it involves the destruction of certain items…perhaps artifacts of some variation, through the usage of basilisk venom." Severus said as he reached into his robes, withdrawing from them the warped remains of a silver locket. "This is one such item, but I cannot surmise its purpose as of yet, given its state."
Moody, the paranoid git that he was, stood, knocking his chair back with a crash as he did so.
"And how exactly did come to possess that bauble, Snape?"
It was a thinly veiled threat. A very, very thinly veiled threat.
Exuding an air of indifference, Severus continued,"She left it behind after stealing from my stores." Dumbledore arched his brows at this, having not heard of the incident before now. The old man disapproved of his spy keeping secrets from him. Bloody tosser needed to learn that not everyone thought of him as a dotty grandfather or as a brilliant leader of the Light that needed to be trusted with every scrap of information. "The girl and I have crossed paths...more than once. The incident where I obtained this locket being the third meeting of ours."
"So you're working with the witch?" declared Moody with a snarl. "Whose side are you on, Snape? First you kiss the boots of Voldemort,"—Severus could not help but cringe at the usage of the Dark Lord's name—"and then you crawl to Dumbledore when you 'realize the error of your ways'. Now this Destroyer character comes around and you're the only one who isn't blown to bits by the chit."
With the exception of a few select members of the Order, no one knew how involved Severus was involved with the Death Eaters. Strange how most chose to live in ignorance of the fact that a mark wearing wizard stood amongst their ranks, aware only on the most subconscious of levels. Moody accused Severus constantly of being a traitor and a Death Eater, wanting nothing more than a good excuse to lock away the Order's spy for the rest of his life. Only Dumbledore stilled his hand and kept the young Professor "trusted", claiming that he was not and had never been a Death Eater, despite his wearing of the Dark Lord's mark.
However, the teen witch's erratic behavior had succeeded in sending a waver of distrust through the Order. Some of the more twitchy members were eyeing him like a dangerous animal, ready to curse him should he so much as moved the wrong way.
"I do not understand the Destroyer's intent, Alastor." With a flick of the wrist, the locket sailed through the air, landing in the middle of the long table around which the Order sat. Everyone stared at it, reluctant to touch. "What I can assure is that I am far from alliance with the witch. In our every encounter, there were hexes exchanged. She simply believes me…"—special?—"…of little import.
"On a related note, my hypothesis of her hunt is further qualified by my most recent findings. As you all well know, Lucius Malfoy was attacked in his home before the meeting. The Destroyer is at fault. Her objective was to obtain a book...Tom Riddle's diary to be exact."
Dumbledore inhaled sharply, paling considerably, his demeanor blackened with revelation.
"Why did Malfoy possess…" the wizened wizard began, his words trailing off meaningfully.
"It was a favor," Severus explained. "One he accepted most graciously. It is a great honor to be bequeathed a token of the Dark Lord's affections."
The room fell silent. Even Moody sat down, speechless.
Severus closed his eyes, pinching his nose as he did so to fend away a blossoming headache. Memories of his meeting with Lucius slithered over him, filling his mind's eyes of the fateful attack.
Lucius smiled at his wife as he pulled out her chair with a courtly bow. The woman offered him a demur fluttering of her lashes, a subtle curl flickering onto her painted lips. Dinner was a grand affair despite the attendance of two. Candle flame danced in the half-darkness of the dining room, the shadows cloaking the couple in an intimate manner. This was supposed to be a night of romance for the pair.
As they tucked into the first course, Lucius tensed. Someone had broken his wards. He listened for a moment to the sound of the spell warning him of an intruder briefly, before dismissing himself to attend the matter. The minutes passed without issue…until a house-elf popped into existence, exclaiming that there was a stranger in the library.
Like a Malfoy, fool that he was, the man strode boldly towards the library, managing to open the door and take one step in before all hell broke loose.
He saw the witch, the hood of her robes lowered as she examined the book in her hands. Lucius recognized the text in an instant, for he was supposed to be its keeper. He knew not its contents, nor why a strange witch would want it, but either way, the stranger was a threat and a thief. He gestured his wand with a wild flourish, thinking himself having the upper hand. But the spell glanced off an invisible barrier and the witch looked up.
Amusement played in the girl's eyes.
"Hello Lucius," she greeted softly. "Fancy meeting you here."
Who in Merlin's name is this witch? Lucius wondered as he exclaimed,"This is my home, wretch!"
The witch did not respond. Rather, she slipped the book into a small, beaded bag at her waist and made to walk past Malfoy as if she were an honored guest. Lucius, clever enough to know when a wand was and wasn't the best option at hand, sheathed the slender slip of wood and reached out to grab the intruder. As his hands closed around her wrist, the girl flinched, eyes widening fractionally as the significantly larger wizard pulled her close.
She was bone-thin beneath his grip.
"You have made a grave error in stealing from a Malfoy," Lucius threatened, adding pressure to the bird-like bone trapped in his hand. She would be easy to break. The inherently Dark part of Malfoy's mind relished in this thought. The girl would suffer for her impudence.
"And you have made an even graver error in threatening me, Lucius." The witch tossed her head rebelliously, the hood of her cloak falling back, revealing her bushy mass of hair. A heartbeat passed between them. "Let Tom Riddle know I have his diary…that is, if you survive." She flashed him an eerie smile, lips parting over her teeth in an animalistic sneer, like a predator ready to savor the bloody reward of a fresh kill.
Lucius reacted instantly; spinning the girl around, he thrust her against a wall. He used his weight to pin her and a second later, both of his hands were around her throat. The girl writhed against him, gasping. The Dark Lord would never hear of this incident. He would dispose of this wench himself.
When he felt her grow lax in his grip, Lucius released the witch and drew his wand, confident that his prey posed him little threat, laying there on her hands and knees, trembling.
"Cru—" the witch flung one hand at her adversary. "Expelliarmus!"
It was as if he were hit with a wall of pure energy, it stole his breath and wand away whilst knocking him backwards against a bookcase. Lucius hissed as waves of pain radiated through his spine; he then shot a glare at the witch standing before him. Her wand soon traced the hollow of his collarbone, ever briefly, before it was pulled away and he thrown across of the room like a child's toy.
Helpless. He was helpless. Ropes wrapped around his body, ensnaring him, furthering his vulnerability. Lucius struggled against the bonds. Fear fluttered briefly in his chest. Was this witch actually going to make good on her threat to kill him? Apparate! His mind cried as panic began to seep in deep. Lucius struggled to stand up, but only made it to his knees before the first curse hit him, blinding him with agony.
He could not bite back his scream.
"Does it make me a monster to feel nothing about your pain? I should savor your suffering…or be overcome with remorse. Revenge is a most bitter tonic, especially when you've drank your fill and must continue to choke it down. Eventually, it loses all taste, all appeal." The witch sounded wistful, her words directed at no one in particular. "What I would not do to savor life again."
"Let me g-go." Lucius demanded.
"Not yet. I must deliver a message." She flicked her wand, and another invisible knife slashed deep into his flesh, rending muscle from bone. "No one is safe. Not even Voldemort."
Another curse found its target. And another. Ripping Lucius into the black depths of unconsciousness…
…Severus opened his eyes.
"The Dark Lord wants her recruited or dead before Hallowe'en."
All eyes turned to Dumbledore. This was meeting was going to last late into the night.
.x.
Elsewhere, the object of their discussion stood in the doorstep of the Le'Strange estate, wondering if Rabastian and his wife were home.
TBC?
A/N: ( Love all the feedback I've been getting! Reviews are simply lovely.
Character note on Hermione:
I've always thought of Hermione as an incredibly weak character. She's stubborn and smart, yes, but is very emotional. In every book, she has some break down where she ends up crying. In fact, the trio is all unstable emotionally, each having a hot temper and impulse control. So I created this Hermione based on what I would think would happen if she were forced into a "strong" role. She's vulnerable, naïve and foolishly brave, but broken by the war. She experienced so much violence and loss so young. Then toss her, at no more than nineteen or so, back into the heat of the war. Again and again. Make her struggle and fight. She becomes desperate to save her friends and family, to help the good overcome evil. But she fails, for one reason or another, again and again. Her inferiority complex (something made evident by her constant desire to prove herself throughout the books) is made worse and worse, driving her to feel helpless and worthless. All sense of control is lost. Eventually, she grows numb from all the fighting, and accepts her helplessness as a given. It warps her psyche and she loses much of her ambition, but the Time Shifter forces her to continue, and pushes her to make grand, interfering gestures.
She just wants the dying and fighting to end.
But she has no choice but to fight.
Thanks for reading! Hallows Eve approaches~and you all know what happens on Hallowe'en.)
