Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The Dungeon Books
Chapter 10: Rotten Boughs and Jackal Folk
Sirius Black and Remus Lupin arrived in London on a sweltering July morning. After their luxury cruise ended, the two wizards loitered in mainland Europe for another month. They procrastinated on crossing the Channel as much as possible, dreading whatever new disaster the British Wizarding community had wrought for itself in their absence. Finally, the Animagus and the werewolf found their steps faltering, the glow of foreign dawns and sunsets fading, and their nerves tingling with anticipation of new challenges. At last they made haste toward their native soil.
They hailed the Knight Bus and asked Ernie to drop them off within walking distance of Little Whinging. Despite the oppressive heat, Sirius was skipping. He could not wait to see his godson again, but above all he could not wait to hug the stuffing out of Irwin and Diane. He had not been the recipient of such unbounded generosity since the Potters had welcomed him when he ran away from the stifling domains of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.
Which I now have to go back to... the actual house, I mean. It is mine after all. For a few days, though, I'll unwind at the Joneses'.
His skip had faltered momentarily at the memory of his family dwelling, but picked up once more after he shoved the issue to the back of his mind. He looked sideways to find his friend also caught in his own pondering.
"A Knut for your thoughts, Moony."
The werewolf smiled. "Just wondering what is the situation here, Padfoot. The Joneses were adamant we cut ourselves off from the Wizarding community during vacation—so much must have happened!"
Sirius grimaced. "Yeah, and I bet most of it's unpleasant. Let's enjoy our blissful ignorance a half hour more, Moony."
The werewolf smiled again. "It has been blissful. I hadn't seen you skip like that since we were teenagers."
Sirius laughed. "You mean I actually grew up at some point?"
Remus joined in the mirth for a while, but at last it ebbed.
"We all did, Padfoot. Rather rudely, too. That's why the Joneses sent us away."
Sirius nodded. "Therapy. I'd say it worked, don't you think?"
Remus found his laughter again. "Oh yes, it most certainly did. Whatever we find here, we'll have a year worth of memories to fall back on."
Sirius and Remus stood in the porch of Number Nine, Privet Drive, looking at each other, trying to decide who would knock first. The decision was made for them as the door opened before either could raise a fist to it. The sight that met them shocked them speechless.
Before them, clad in serviceable Muggle jeans and black buttoned shirt, stood none other than Severus Snape.
Snivellus? What in the hell?
Fortunately Sirius caught himself and instead exclaimed "Snape?"
The Potions Master's lips curled slightly, obviously amused by the gaping expressions of his old rivals. The Animagus and the werewolf took in Snape's silky and shiny hair, gleaming white teeth, and the much healthier tint of his skin.
"Where are the Joneses? You are house-sitting for them?" chorused the two Marauders.
Snape's beetle-black eyes glinted momentarily, and the air seemed chill despite the heat wave. The truce engineered by the Joneses notwithstanding, the last two Marauders and Snape were anything but chummy.
Such wit from Gryffindors.
But the facetious reply was never uttered. In fact, the dour man's usual biting tone was strikingly absent.
"Black, Lupin. Welcome back to the British Isles." When he paused, Remus and Sirius could see the tiredness in Snape's features.
"Diane, Irwin and Harry left on vacation immediately after school year end. All they would reveal about their destination was that they were bound for the Americas.
"They asked me to watch over their property. They had reason to believe certain people would attempt to snoop around."
"Well, Severus, you are the best for that job." Remus, ever optimistic and genial, extended his hand. He nudged his best friend to do likewise.
"Thanks for receiving us." Sirius made the effort. After all, he owed his life and freedom to this man. And he had promised the Joneses he would be civil. He would rather die than disappoint the wonderful, quirky clan of his beloved godson.
Which reminds me...
"Snape? What's been going while we were away?"
Before Snape could answer, Tomoe slithered over the Potions Master's shoulder and looped her coils around the Animagus and the werewolf.
"Hi, Tomoe. How have you been?" greeted Remus.
The python crooned, obviously pleased, and turned to gaze at Sirius.
"Hey, snake girl. Caught many rats?"
Tomoe tickled Sirius's nose with her forked tongue, making the Animagus jump. Sirius glanced warily at Snape, expecting the man to laugh, but Snape merely stood aside and gestured for his erstwhile nemeses to come in.
Door locked and wards in place, the Potions Master set out to play host. After showing the two Marauders their quarters, he began to prepare a light but substantial lunch.
Remus tried to stop him. "Severus, that's very kind of you, but there's really no need..."
Snape scowled impatiently. "I assure you, Lupin, there is need. You do not want a full briefing on an empty stomach—nor on one under strenuous activity."
Remus gulped, nodded, and joined Sirius on the couch.
The three wizards partook of the food and drink in uneasy silence. The air was heavy with questions. When all lowered their cutlery, Snape cleared the table with a quick string of household charms. Then he signaled for the others to wait, and went into the room he was currently occupying. He returned with a very familiar object, which he placed at the center of the table. The hook-nosed man touched his wand to his temple, and began extracting memory strands. One by one the thick gauzy ribbons dropped them into the Pensieve, where they roiled and bubbled like a stormy sea. Strife, undoubtedly—and for that the werewolf and the Animagus braced themselves.
Sunlight played across the sleeping visage of Sirius Black. He swiped at it reflexively and turned over. That was the only complaint he had about this otherwise paradisaical vacation. No matter where this fancy Muggle vessel made port, the sun always fell on him too early for his tastes. Then again, so far every day had more than made up for the importune wakeup call. Better to rise now and see what new delightful adventure the Joneses had decided he and Moony should participate in today.
Sirius turned again, opening his eyes groggily. He jumped free of his bedsheets as he realized he wasn't aboard any luxurious Muggle ship. This was the same room he had lived in during the year the Joneses sheltered him, before his name was cleared. His eyes flicked toward the bedside table. The empty vial lying there made everything click back into place.
Oh, Merlin! I'll have to thank Snape for that Sleeping Draught. Not to mention everything else. Who would have thought that old Snivellus—no, no, Snape, Snape! I swore to Harry I'd stop that. Nothing else will do after what I saw yesterday. He may have been... what he was back then, but he's since done more for Harry than that blasted old manipulative geezer. Hell, he's done what Albus should have done and then some, after James and Lily died for our Harry. Oh bloody hell, Harry, I should've been there for you! No, stop that, Sirius, remember what the Joneses taught you. The past is gone; you can only change what is yet to come. Oh damn it!
The physical backlash made Sirius double over. His stomach seemed determined to tear itself from the inside out. Sirius dashed to the bathroom with one hand clutching his midsection and another over his mouth. Five agonizing minutes later, the Animagus had another reason to be eternally grateful to the man he had tormented mercilessly while both were teenagers. Between the previous day's light fare and the vial of Calming Draught he found waiting beside the sink, Sirius merely had to ride out the waves of nausea for a couple of minutes.
Suddenly, he felt a comforting hand at his back.
"Better, Padfoot?"
Sirius looked up at his concerned best friend. "Yes, thanks, Moony. Have you been up long?"
"Not that long. If it's any consolation, I too sat in the same spot, waiting for that Calming Draught to kick in."
"He's changed so drastically. I never, in a million years, would have expected Snape to do all he's done."
Remus smiled wryly. "Padfoot, you always overreacted where Severus was concerned. We all did. We never looked past the surface or gave him a chance. We judged him and condemned him from day one. But that's all in the distant past, Padfoot. Come on, he's made breakfast already, and it smells delicious."
The three wizards ate their breakfast leisurely, the air between them peaceful in comparison with last evening. There were still things to be said, and Sirius felt he had to say most of them, but he was thankful for the crushing weight lifted from his shoulders. When they were finished, the Animagus cleared his throat. For the first time since the Joneses had... persuaded him to be civil, he met Snape's beetle-black eyes directly.
"I never liked you, Snape."
Remus growled in warning, but Sirius waved his protest away.
"In fact, I despised you with a vengeance from the very moment I first saw you." He smiled wanly. "It wasn't anything you did or said. You just reminded me too much of my family."
"Obviously you never met mine." interjected Snape, again without bite.
Sirius nodded. "Then my godson—James's son—trusted you with his life, and you didn't disappoint. Hell, I could not have done better, even if I had thought before haring off after Peter. You kept Harry safe from Albus's bloody stupid schemes. You risked your job to destroy the slime who sold his own best friends, helped make Harry an orphan, and sent me to Azkaban in his place. You offered Remus your hand in friendship and helped him with his illness.
"And last year, you... you were as good a father to Harry as Irwin... as James, during the single year he had with him."
At that, Sirius's voice broke, but he forced himself to plow on.
"When the Joneses took me in, they... berated me at length for my... crimes against you. Not a day passed without one or the other taking the slightest opportunity—the smallest careless comment I made—to pound it into my head that I... had terribly wronged an honorable man and that I absolutely, inescapably, must make amends.
"Back then I agreed meekly on the outside, but on the inside I still... judged you wrongly. Right now I look at myself with... disgust... that I could be so blind, so stupid, so... everything you've ever called me, Snape. The Joneses were right, and I can only say that I swear, from now on, to make it up to you. Ask of me anything, anything at all: it's done."
Sirius's hands began waving wildly. His tone was pleading.
"Scrubbing your Potions lab with my bare fingers, even wearing that bloody harness and muzzle of Diane's for no other reason than your amusement! I mean it, Snape. Absolutely whatever you come up with. I owe you my life and everything I hold dear, and... and it's yours."
Snape held his old enemy's gaze for a long moment. At last he chuckled. "I could not ask you to scrub my lab, Black. I would lose the perfect chore for detentions." He scratched his chin, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "The harness and leash, however, has... potential. Lady Tomoe could use the extra pillow."
At the sound of her name, the python roused from her place on the chair beside Snape's. Remus burst out laughing as the serpent looped around his best friend's torso, laid her head comfortably on his shoulder, and crooned her approval.
Sirius went beet red, but soon joined in the mirth.
"As you wish, Miss Python. After all, you were in it with the Joneses—Diane in particular! That exasperating, wonderful woman got it into her head to make us family, and damn Merlin if she didn't go at it like a model Slytherin." He grinned toothily at Snape. "It's her fault Harry got into your House and bloody tore it down and rebuilt it, you know."
Sirius paused for a moment to wipe his brow. When he met Snape's eyes, his face was sober.
"If there's something I'd rather not be there for, it's a face-off between Diane and Irwin Jones and Vol... the Dark Lord."
"Or Albus, for that matter." quipped Snape.
Remus burst out laughing again, elated and relieved that the terrible feud was finally over.
Sirius's house was located at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. House was something of a misnomer. It was an impressively large and forbidding manor, the sort every family of the rancid, pure-blooded aristocracy counted proudly among its possessions. Thanks to countless enchantments—most, if not all, Dark and therefore proscribed since its construction—the ancient residence was both structurally sound and magically impregnable. Every non-perishable object within it lay exactly where it was left fifteen years before. The only evidence of time's passage was the accumulated dust, filth and magical vermin characteristic of such neglected abodes.
Once the protections layered upon the manor recognized Sirius as rightful owner, Snape insisted on preceding the other two wizards. Despite the truce, Sirius's first instinct was to balk. Remembering himself, the last male Black motioned for the Potions Master to go ahead. It turned out to be a very wise decision.
The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black was notorious for its practice of the Dark Arts—and for ostracizing all members who eschewed that tradition. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had no choice but to accept Sirius and his guests, but that in no way implied it would do so gracefully. Snape led the way into a veritable magical minefield. The efficiency with which the Potions Master dispatched and disabled the curses launched at him left Sirius and Remus gaping. Both Marauders had received Auror training. As a werewolf, moreover, Remus had become intimately familiar with the ways witches and wizards could visit death and torment upon their chosen enemies. Still they were astounded by what their dour companion must have been through, that he could master and break such evil so inhumanly fast.
"It would go even faster if I had help." Snape's drawl shook the two out of their daze. They hastened to join the fray.
It took them until well into the evening just to make sure the house would not murder them in their sleep. After finishing for the day, Snape extracted the makings of a hearty supper from a basket he had charmed to carry much more than its apparent volume—a certain python included.
"Lady Tomoe's lair is separate from the area designed for human foodstuffs." drawled the Potions Master silkily while he once again demonstrated his culinary proficiency.
Sirius and Remus looked at each other, the same thought going through their minds.
All that we were missing because of that stupid feud!
The task grew less intense with each passing day. Sirius shuddered to think what would have happened to anyone less proficient than the three of them at Defense Against the Dark Arts. Then he wondered what to do with so much space.
His soft sigh made Remus look up from his copy of the Daily Prophet. Snape didn't move, but they knew he was listening.
"I don't know where to start." began Sirius. "I'd like this to be a sanctuary—for whoever needs it badly during the upcoming war."
Snape met Sirius's eyes levelly. "Let us cast the Fidelius at once—with yourself as Secret Keeper. That way, only you may choose whom to welcome."
They cast the protective charm before engaging in the final phase of the cleanup. As they swept each room painstakingly for any cursed objects left, a strange scraping and squeaking noise interrupted them. At once they headed toward the corner where the sound seemed to be originating.
Tomoe lay curled upon herself as tightly as she possibly could. A rippling motion down her length was causing her scales to rub against floor and wall. Snape's eyebrows rose questioningly. The python continued shivering—as if she was freezing.
Snape's eyes widened in realization. "Snakes like it warm." he whispered.
"What was that, Severus?"
"Lady Tomoe feels very uncomfortable, Lupin." Once again he quoted Harry. "Contrary to popular belief, dark and dank caves are not ideal serpent habitats. They are tropical creatures."
Sirius burst in giggles. "Never, in my wildest dreams, had I imagined you quoting a Potter, Snape!"
Snape smirked. "I fear I must disappoint you, Black. I was quoting a Jones."
Tomoe's intense fondness for warm and airy spaces enabled the three wizards to render each room not only habitable but soothing, welcoming and downright cozy. As Tomoe demonstrated extensively after they were done, any corner was perfect for a weary reptile's impromptu nap.
They had left the downstairs sitting room for last. It was the largest area besides the kitchen, and the place for entertaining guests. Consequently, it was littered with fancy shelves, cabinets, curios and mounted displays, all luridly appropriate for boasting Black heirlooms and treasures.
The three wizards had been careful to keep their voices down in the lower level of the manor. Presiding over this area was the magical portrait of Walburga Black, last mistress of the manor and Sirius's mother. Walburga had been thoroughly unpleasant in life—death, if anything, had only exacerbated her strident bitterness. Snape reinforced the Silencing Charm on the portrait's curtains; nonetheless, it was most prudent to avoid rousing her. Until now, the three wizards had managed fine.
The final day of their task was upon them, however, and Sirius could not restrain his joy while disabling the last batch of cursed objects. When he saw they had but a single one left, the last male Black let out a loud whoop.
"FILTH! BLOOD-TRAITORS AND MUDBLOODS IN MY HOUSE! BEGONE YOU FOUL CREATURES! TAKE YOUR FILTHINESS OUT OF MY PRESENCE!"
Before any of the wizards could react, a loud hissing brought the screeching to a halt. All three heads snapped in the direction of the sound. An irate Tomoe was engrossed in a vicious spat with... a locket?
Snape reached the python first, his face betraying horror as he beheld the animated serpents tooled in gold upon the locket. A column of vapor rose from the heirloom—an eerie sight Snape remembered clearly from three years before.
"MILADY! AWAY, NOW!"
The eldritch piece of jewelry resisted every spell the three wizards cast at it—even the Darkest curses the Potions Master knew had no effect. It finally quieted down on its own. Though it appeared inactive, none could pry it open. Finally the three wizards and the python stood staring warily at what could only be another Horcrux. A sudden whisper made them jump.
"They bow to a serpent... Kreacher... you did not tell me..."
A resounding crack later, an old, withered House-elf stood before them. He began sobbing and wailing hysterically, and continued his caterwauling as he prostrated himself, bashing his arms, legs and head incessantly against the floor.
Sirius finally got a grip on his own confusion. "KREACHER! STOP IT!"
The House-elf almost broke his spine in half, so quickly he raised the upper half of his body to look at Sirius.
"Kreacher is sorry, Master Sirius! Kreacher is being bad elf! Kreacher is not telling Mistress about Mistress Snake! Kreacher is being afraid!"
Snape turned to Sirius. "Ask him what is it he fears."
Sirius complied, adding a command for the elf to speak slowly and as calmly as possible.
"Kreacher is being afraid yous is coming from the Dark Lord. Kreacher is not telling Mistress yous obeys snake. Kreacher is fearing yous is come to destroy Mistress and Kreacher."
"We do not follow the Dark Lord, Kreacher," stated Snape emphatically. "Nor do we intend to destroy your mistress. We do, however, intend to destroy this locket. What can you tell us about it?"
Kreacher's eyes widened, and he began a fresh bout of screaming and sobbing. Sirius again stopped him and relayed Snape's question.
The bullfrog voice trembled as the elf struggled to obey his master.
"The locket is belonging to Master Regulus. The Dark Lord is asking for House-elf, and Master Regulus is sending Kreacher. Master tell Kreacher to return to Master after. The Dark Lord is taking Kreacher to evil place... a cursed seaside cave, with lake inside. The Dark Lord is taking Kreacher to island at center of lake... ordering Kreacher to drink terrible potion. It making Kreacher see horrible things! It making Kreacher more and more thirsty! Kreacher is having to drink from lake... and evil things is coming out of the water and pulling Kreacher in!
"But Master Regulus is saying to come back, so Kreacher come back... and Master Regulus is telling Kreacher to take Master to evil place... Kreacher is not wanting to but Kreacher cannot disobey Master! Master is telling Kreacher... to give Master... evil potion... oh poor, poor Master! Master is taking locket... it being under potion... Master is putting other locket in... and Master tell Kreacher... to leave Master there!
"Kreacher is saying no but Kreacher is having to obey Master! Master is saying, Kreacher go to Mistress... no tell Mistress anything... Master says Kreacher is to destroy locket... Kreacher come back... Kreacher say nothing to Mistress... poor Mistress is dying of sadness... but Kreacher cannot destroy locket... Kreacher is trying everything but Kreacher cannot destroy locket!"
For a long while the only sounds in the sitting room were Kreacher's sobs and the wizards' hitched breathing.
"Kreacher." The elf turned at once to the last male Black. "Kreacher, you... have done well. You are a great elf. Regulus would be very proud of you. I am very proud of you.
"We," Sirius pointed to himself, Remus and Snape, "are going to destroy this locket, Kreacher, just like Regulus wanted. And we are going to destroy the Dark Lord. We are going to avenge Regulus. Do you understand me, Kreacher?"
Kreacher looked at Sirius as if the wizard had grown two more heads. When he snapped out of his trance, the beleaguered elf's mood shifted suddenly and extremely.
"Yes, Masters! Kreacher is being very grateful to Masters! Kreacher will serve Masters well!
With those words, Kreacher Disapparated. When the elf returned, he was barely recognizable. He was clean now, his tufts of hair and his towel tunic sparkling white and fresh-smelling. Another mouth-watering aroma was wafting in from the kitchen. The elf bowed deeply at the waist.
"Kreacher is making lunch for Masters. Kreacher is sorry that Masters had to do Kreacher's work."
After lunch, the three wizards thanked Kreacher profusely. They set out to plan their next move.
"Regulus realized the Dark Lord made more than one Horcrux." stated Snape. "We must take the locket to Lord Brehas."
"Albus will know the second we enter Hogwarts." said Lupin.
Sirius looked up excitedly. "Not if Kreacher takes us directly to the Chamber!"
The elf appeared at his Master's elbow as soon as he heard his name. "Kreacher is taking Masters to Hogwarts. Kreacher is seeing locket destroyed."
An hour later, the locket Horcrux shared its diary counterpart's fate. Brehas was delighted to vanquish another fragment of his former Abomination master. Kreacher forgot Brehas was a basilisk and hugged the serpent's nearest coil.
"Kreacher is very grateful to Master Snake!"
Sirius put a hand over his mouth to hide his laughter. He decided to stroll around, admiring the basilisk's habitat.
"Quite a peachy hideout you have here. No wonder Harry likes it so much."
"He also enjoys the solitude." mused Remus. The werewolf looked thoughtfully at Snape. "Just like you, Severus. I'm glad you both can escape for a while. Especially with Albus being such a..."
"Prick." finished Sirius. "I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around that. For so long I worshiped the ground that old bastard walked on. Now I find out he's no better than Vol... the Dark Lord, I mean."
"Stop twisting your tongue over the name, Black. Call him what you will." Snape's voice was edged with pain and bitterness. "You have no need to grovel before the monster."
Remus walked up to Snape and gingerly laid a hand on a black-clad shoulder.
"Soon enough you won't need to either, Severus. We'll see to that."
Snape snorted. "I should have known you would seize the chance for sentimentality, Lupin."
Remus smiled. "You're welcome, Severus."
Snape changed the subject briskly. "We should return, Lupin, Black. Albus will be upon us soon enough."
Grimacing, the three wizards bid farewell to the basilisk, waited for Tomoe to wrap around their shoulders, and clasped Kreacher's hands.
Once again the Potions Master was right on target. Two days after the locket's destruction, a Patronus-borne message from Albus Dumbledore informed them of the reactivation of the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore created the Order during the first war against Voldemort, as as rival organization to the Death Eaters. The members of the Order were considered paladins of justice—sworn enemies of everything Tom Riddle stood for. But this hallowed group had contained Peter Pettigrew. Its members also neglected Slytherin House abjectly, neither attempting to sway the undecided, nor sheltering those marked for death by Voldemort for refusing him. In fact, its sole member from the House of Serpents was Severus Snape.
Dumbledore's message also inquired whether Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place could become the Order's headquarters. Sirius would have sent a rather venomous response.
"Don't, Black." admonished Snape. "In fact, you should accept."
The Potions Master waved away Sirius's burgeoning explosion.
"Listen and think first, Black! What could we possibly achieve by confronting Albus alone? Who would trust the word of an ex-convict, a werewolf and a former Death Eater?"
Sirius and Remus blanched. The werewolf recovered first.
"What do you have in mind, Severus?"
Snape's expression became feral.
"Let the Order gather here. Remember you hold the Fidelius, Black. Once Albus exposes himself—and he will, as soon as he attacks Jones—we simply recast it to banish him. We need not move a muscle."
The Potions Master chuckled sardonically. "All you must do to restrain yourself, Black, is to picture Molly Weasley's response to the argument that we must kill a child in the name of the greater good."
It took Remus and Sirius the better part of an hour to regain control after that image.
Arthur Weasley would later insist that he should have seen it coming. His wife would soothingly point out that the whole Ministry was so dazed by Harry's actions during the Triwizard Tournament that it could not be helped. Still Arthur rued the day he lowered his guard with Walden Macnair.
It was common gossip that Macnair had been a loyal Death Eater, forsaking his Dark Lord only when Riddle's obsession with the Potters took precedence over subjugating Wizarding Britain. Macnair was a bloodthirsty sadist—it was the reason Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures had taken him back after the war without a second glance. No one else relished the dirtiest of that Department's tasks like Macnair. The man positively glowed when his task list for the day included as many executions of hapless non-humans and part-humans as his superiors could pile on it. Since he was never dispatched alone, many of his coworkers had witnessed his gruesome habit of licking his ax-blade clean after each slaying.
Sometime after Barty Crouch Jr. was exposed, however, Macnair started changing drastically. He requested that his duties include more clerical tasks and less field assignments. He exchanged his usual hangman's trappings for plain robes. He no longer vituperated magical creatures and half-breeds under his breath. He would join other employees for lunch, and display acceptable manners at each exchange. Very slowly, he courted the favor of those he had driven away, terrified and disgusted, for so long. One day Macnair claimed the chair directly across from Arthur Weasley in the lunchroom.
"How ya doin' Weasley?" he growled softly, in an obvious effort to be polite. Arthur was wary.
"Just what are you playing at, Macnair? This is not like you."
"Bloke c'n change 'is mind, can'e?"
"Yes, but yours has been on the same track for too long to change so fast."
"Ya wound me, Weasley. 'Sides, times are a-changin' fast. E'en I 'ave ta catch up."
"Oh?"
"Tha' Potter boy made a good point wi' all tha' caterwaulin', if ya know wha' I mean."
That gave Arthur pause. Harry's display at the First Task had made Arthur feel guilty for weeks, on account of his usual treatment of his attic troll and garden gnomes. How would Macnair have felt, with his enormous list of crimes? Even if his sentiments were not honest, it would behoove him to clean up his record—backlash or not, Harry had made people think. Arthur could see the Magical Creatures laws being changed within the decade. He had been thinking of making suggestions to his colleagues in that area himself. Not to mention Percy's reports that other Wizarding communities were hinting that Britain was long overdue for a paradigm shift on magical creature rights. Besides, Arthur Weasley was an optimist.
"You're right, Macnair." said Arthur finally, offering his hand.
He was nonetheless unnerved by Macnair's answering grin.
A week after the Order of the Phoenix began meeting regularly at Grimmauld Place, Snape's Dark Mark burnt painfully. Donning the Death Eater regalia he had not worn in fifteen years, the Potions Master answered the Dark Lord's summons. He was not the only one.
Not a single one had doubted their old master's return. Riddle had boasted of his experiments in search of immortality far too often for it to be mere bluffing. Leaving behind family and post, all clad in identical black robes and silver masks, the Death Eaters stood subserviently in their assigned places in a half-circle. There were empty spots—the deceased or imprisoned. Everyone still alive and free was present—even those who planned on just pretending.
The number of the latter increased drastically by the end of that grisly gathering.
The Death Eaters were familiar with their whereabouts. This cemetery was one of their lord's favorite haunts; the place where new members were initiated and the launching platform for most raids against mudbloods and blood-traitors. Tonight a large cauldron, still smoking, sat to one side. Bound upon a nearby tomb hung the mutilated remains of what may have been a young man. He was undoubtedly dead—Walden Macnair would not be licking his ax-blade enthusiastically otherwise. Despite the impulse to swivel their heads in search of the Dark Lord, they moved not an inch. They did not have to wait long.
Tom Riddle had once been handsome, dashing even. Now there was nothing left of that former glory. Before them stood a gaunt specter, bone-thin under sickly pale, hairless skin. His limbs were elongated and spider-like. His face was grotesque, lacking nose or lips to shield the orifices for breathing and speaking. His eyes were crimson; the pupils, slitted. The resurrected Lord Voldemort addressed his court in an eerie and chilling drawl.
"Isn't this a pleasant surprise? Welcome, my slippery friends. I had heard most... disquieting rumors about you... about your families... about the House of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin. I am pleased to see that information was... inaccurate."
Riddle turned menacingly to where Bertha Jorkins stood like a mannequin, waiting for further orders.
"Bertha, my dear... I am most disappointed in you. LET YOUR FATE BE A WARNING TO ANY WHO DARE DISOBEY ME!"
The alien sound of Parseltongue pierced the oppressive silence. Not even Macnair could suppress a flinch as Nagini shot forward, lower jaw unhinged. The serpent began to swallow the hapless Bertha Jorkins head first. A second before the witch's neck snapped, Voldemort released the Imperius. None present would forget that bloodcurdling scream for a long time.
"Now that has been dealt with, let me share with you my ordeal during the past fifteen years..."
Riddle launched into an extensive oration on his life as a bodiless specter. Behind his ironclad Occlumantic shields, Snape vented his frustration.
As if it were not obvious, what you have been up to, my lord. So little you value your own soul. I do not want to be in your skin when the Veil closes over you—neither can I wait until it does. How many Horcruxes did you make, you disfigured bastard? How much longer before you become no more than a bad memory?
Riddle finished by describing the ritual he had performed minutes before summoning all who bore the Dark Mark. Bone of his father, easily snatched from the tomb he stood in front of. Flesh of his servant, kindly provided by Walden Macnair—here Riddle paused to conjure a new extremity for Macnair, wrought of silver and equipped with enough curses to make strangling easier.
Blood of his enemy—but who exactly was the owner of that mangled piece of carrion? A young boy, fifteen perhaps, relative of no one present... surely his blood has some significance? He was set on obtaining Jones for this, to annul the power of Lily's sacrifice... could it be?
"Dudley Dursley." Sirius Black recognized the young thug who had tormented him on the sidewalk of Privet Drive.
"Petunia Dursley's son. Lily's nephew." clarified Snape.
For a moment no one spoke. Then a sequence of loud gasps filled the air, as one by one the members of the Order of the Phoenix realized as the significance of the victim's identity. Albus Dumbledore's eyes held no twinkle. His features showed grim determination as he ordered Snape to retrieve his memories from the Pensieve. Snape could tell he was getting ready to broach the subject of his plans for Harry Potter Jones. But the headmaster seemed to change tracks mid-thought. He met the eyes of those Aurors in the Order.
"Alastor, Kingsley, Nymphadora? Make haste, please. We will wait for you."
Number Four, Privet Drive was no more. The sickly glow of the Dark Mark bathed the charred and disfigured remains of the Dursley adults, grotesquely posed amid the smoking ruin of their home.
Mad-Eye Moody shook his head. "Nothing to be done here but cleanup."
"What about Harry? Doesn't he live somewhere on this same street?"
"That he does, Tonks—four houses ahead. Number Nine. Come with me. Kingsley?"
The tall black Auror nodded. "You go on ahead. I'll report this to the Ministry. Meet you back here in twenty."
Mad-Eye and Tonks walked over to Number Nine, bracing themselves for the worst. Instead they beheld a mystery.
"Intact, Albus. Not a roof shingle out of place. The other was a ruin. I don't understand."
That was Dumbledore's cue. The headmaster drew a deep breath.
"I have long suspected, Alastor... ever since young Harry came to Hogwarts." Dumbledore paused dramatically. "I fear that the conclusions I have come to are most disturbing, to say the least.
Molly Weasley chose that moment to interrupt, driven by her chief concern.
"Albus? Is Harry safe there anymore?"
"For the moment he is, Molly. I am afraid, however, that his adoptive parents are in grave danger. As are we."
Molly paled. "What do you mean, Albus?"
"Ah, Molly, I wish there were an easy way to say this. Since there is not, I will be blunt. Harry... will soon become Voldemort's mindless slave."
Sirius shot up from his seat, growling. "How dare you slander my godson, Dumbledore!"
Dumbledore's eyes were glacial. "Sit down, Sirius! It is most unfortunate, but true. You see, Harry was supposed to grow up under the protection of his mother's loving sacrifice—contained in the blood of Lily's remaining relatives. Unfortunately, a Muggle couple's misguided charity prevented Harry's aunt from taking him into her house. The magic I invoked was never activated.
"I did not realize this terrible error until Harry's eleventh birthday. I went to Privet Drive, expecting to meet Harry at his aunt's house. Instead, I found him four doors further. Healthy enough, yes, a strapping young man. The son of Lily and James, but with a different surname. I allowed myself to hope.
"As soon as I crossed the property boundary, however, I felt the probing of an alien magic. A force cold, distrusting, hostile... Dark.
"Despite my misgivings, I did not act then. I waited to see what exactly had become of James and Lily's baby boy. Alas, mere minutes after he stepped into the Great Hall, I knew... The poor thing was already doomed.
"He was already fluent in Parseltongue. A second after his Sorting he struck friendships—enduring friendships, as we have seen—with the less... wholesome members of Slytherin House."
At this, Snape shot to his feet, incensed. "Headmaster!"
Dumbledore waved a hand. "Oh, do not be riled, Severus. You know I am, sadly, correct. You have been exceptionally trustworthy as Head of Slytherin, Severus, but even so, the children there have been exposed to Dark influence since infancy. It... comes with their names, so to speak.
"I will not tolerate..." began Snape in a cold roar.
"You will listen, Severus! You know my reasons. Harry is defenseless against Tom!"
"Occlumency can..."
"Occlumency will only help temporarily! Tom will bend his entire—and rather considerable—Legilimantic powers toward the link between his and Harry's mind. He will attempt to lure Harry into bringing him the Prophecy. The boy has no chance. Not when he is already contaminated by the Darkness Tom left within him when he burnt that scar upon his forehead.
"We must brace ourselves for a dire task, my friends. Before Voldemort possesses him fully, Harry... must be destroyed."
Before any of that horrified, trembling audience could marshal enough wits or ire to react, furious hissing and spitting rent the thick silence. Tomoe launched herself onto the table, rearing until she met Dumbledore's gaze levelly.
"You shall die before you lay a hand on my hatchling, you rotten egg of an Elder!"
A blink later, the python was wrapped around the headmaster's torso. Her rippling coils were aiming to strangle. Alastor Moody leveled his wand at the python, out of reflex, but Remus blocked the old Auror. Sirius also stood, locking eyes with the struggling Dumbledore.
"I never thought—not even during my worst, Dementor-induced nightmares—that the man I came to love like a second father could fall so low. Albus bloody Dumbledore. Headmaster of Hogwarts, Head of the Order of the Phoenix, greatest wizard alive—a bloody coward. A child-killer. NOT... MUCH... DIFFERENT... FROM... VOLDEMORT!"
Each word brought the Animagus closer, until the only thing separating the irate Sirius from his former mentor was Tomoe.
"You know, Albus, I always wondered why you didn't expel me that time I almost got Severus here murdered. Ever since Azkaban, I've also wondered why you were so quick to believe I could sell James and Lily to Voldemort.
"You like your little toy soldiers tame, DON'T YOU, ALBUS? It was OK to torment little Dark Slytherins, as long as I kept my true breeding on a short leash, WASN'T IT? You were happy to count me among your pet Gryffindors, but in the back of your great bloody mind, I was still a scion of the Ancient and Most Noble House of BLACK!
"And Severus here—he was nothing until he swore fealty to you, WASN'T HE? Until he groveled at your feet and accepted your abuse, if only you would help his one friend since childhood. You got your tame Death Eater, and you could always hold the threat of Azkaban over his head if he didn't TOE THE LINE!
"And Remus—your pet werewolf, indebted to you for just about everything under the bloody sun. Another snack to throw Voldemort while you sit in your high chair, plotting. Because that's all you do these days, ISN'T IT? YOU... KNEW... VOLDEMORT... WAS... STILL... ALIVE! I BET YOU ALSO KNEW HOW EXACTLY HE MANAGED THAT! But you were waiting for your child savior to grow up and DO YOUR WORK FOR YOU, WEREN'T YOU? THAT'S WHY YOU'RE SO AFRAID NOW, ISN'T IT?
"My GODSON came into his own power away from YOU. My GODSON is his own man now, not yours, AND YOU JUST CAN'T HAVE THAT, NOW CAN YOU?
"I'm sorry the Dursleys died like that, but I'm NOT sorry Harry grew up far from them. WANT TO KNOW WHY? BECAUSE THEY WERE ABUSIVE! THEY WOULD HAVE HURT MY GODSON! JUST LIKE YOU'VE TRIED TO DO FOR THE PAST FOUR YEARS!
"Tell me something, Albus—did Grindelwald take your spine before you took his wand?"
A round of slow, amused applause met Sirius's tirade.
"Bravissimo! I must commend your eloquence, Sirius."
Snape's smirk made him look exactly like his Patronus. The Potions Master sauntered over to his employer, enjoying the aged wizard's struggles to breathe as Tomoe's coils tightened inexorably. He stood beside the Animagus and spoke to Tomoe.
"Milady, I do think the Headmaster understood your message perfectly. Please, allow him to breathe—he is after all, an old man."
Tomoe released Dumbledore slowly, taking care to squeeze forcefully with every coil as she removed it. Snape took a vial from his robes and dropped the contents down his employer's spasming gullet. He motioned for Sirius to draw back. When the headmaster no longer gulped for air like a stranded fish, Snape spoke.
"It pains me to have to concur with Black." the Potions Master drawled, quirking his lips at Sirius. "However, he happens to have expressed my exact sentiments. I too held you in far greater esteem than you have proved yourself worthy of, Albus. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, you remain my superior. From this day on, however, you are no longer my commander. My oath to you is null. Were she with us tonight, Lily would have killed you where you stand.
"Oh and, Albus? Touch a single hair on Mr. Jones's head, and Lady Tomoe shall be the least of your worries."
Dumbledore quaked in his boots. He had expected strong reactions from Sirius and Snape, though he had forgotten the python. He did not expect the score of disapproving glares and scowls directed at him from all those in the room—even Mad-Eye had broken off his standout with Remus and sat down, head shaking as if that could change what he was seeing and hearing. Arthur Weasley's face was bathed in tears, and beside him...
"HOW DARE YOU ALBUS!"
If Sirius had roared, Molly Weasley now screeched louder than Walburga Black's portrait before Kreacher's revelations.
"I HAVE NEVER, IN MY LIFE, FELT SO ASHAMED! YOU SAID HARRY WOULD BE FINE! WE WANTED TO TAKE HIM IN AND YOU SAID HE WOULD BE FINE WITH THOSE PEOPLE! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, SENDING HIM TO BE ABUSED!
"AND THIS NONSENSE ABOUT HIM TURNING DARK... HOW DARE YOU! AFTER ALL HE HAS DONE! HE'S BROUGHT PEACE TO HOGWARTS, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE! HE DESERVES AN AWARD AND INSTEAD... YOU WANT TO KILL HIM?
"I AM DONE WITH YOU, ALBUS!"
The Weasley matriarch deftly turned toward Sirius and Snape on the next breath as if nothing untoward had happened.
"Sirius, Severus, my dears... anything I can do to help, you let me know, all right?"
Molly hugged the two men, waved her farewell at those still sitting, and left. Arthur and the older Weasley children followed. That began a massive exodus. The Order members of Dumbledore's own generation rose next, disappointment and indignation written plainly on their faces. Mad-Eye and the other Aurors followed. Last of all came Mundungus Fletcher—he may own the loosest morals of the Order, but not even he could condone Harry's murder.
The Headmaster of Hogwarts was left alone. Dejected, he wondered how it could have gone so badly, with his reasoning so sound. He buried his face in his hands.
The boy is a Horcrux! Ah, if only I could say it in so many words! We're lost if we keep him close... we might as well induct Tom into the Order! What am I going to do to salvage this... I cannot face Tom alone... no one can, without destroying his Horcruxes first...
Dumbledore slapped his forehead.
Of course! I was merely too hasty. Once the other Horcruxes are vanquished, not even Sirius will be able to remain blind to the terrible truth.
Dumbledore opened his weary eyes.
Ah well, now all I have to do is apologize...
"Save your breath, Albus. No amount of insincere apologizing can undo the horror you have wrought."
The Headmaster of Hogwarts had forgotten to reinforce his mental barriers. To his growing dismay, he realized Snape was not the only one who had noticed.
"Get out, Albus. You are no longer welcome here."
Sirius did not raise his voice this time. There was no need. The murderous rage in his canine eyes sufficed to drive Albus Dumbledore from Grimmauld Place with his proverbial tail between his legs.
Tom Riddle was jubilant at the news of his enemy's predicament.
"The old fool!" he cackled. "He really expected the Wizengamot to approve of him revealing my return?"
"Indeed, my lord. He has not been himself since his own Order overthrew him. He forgot how complacent the Ministry has become... how little interest they have in abandoning their precious comfort zones. Soon they will kneel before you, my lord."
Riddle petted Nagini absently, imagining just such a scenario. Abruptly he looked piercingly at Snape.
"What of his wretched Order, Severus? Are they truly disbanded?"
"Regretfully, no, my lord. They have regrouped under Black and the werewolf. I have managed, however, to ease myself into their confidence."
"Excellent, Severus. What are their plans?"
"They will station operatives at the entrance to the Department of Mysteries nightly, my lord."
Riddle cackled once more. "Idiots! As if that could deter my plans. Before the school year is over, Potter himself will hand me that prophecy. See to it that no one hinders the boy when that time comes, Severus."
"Yes, my lord."
"Good, Severus. Now tell me, what is the situation at the school?"
"The Ministry has effectively fenced Dumbledore in, my lord. The governors have obliged Fudge's request to station his own undersecretary among the faculty. Dolores Umbridge is the new Defense teacher. Furthermore, she has been granted the power to monitor classes and evaluate teacher performance—and appointed the final authority regarding disciplinary matters."
"How delightful! Dolores may not bear my Mark, but she is quite sympathetic to our... point of view."
"As befits a Slytherin, my lord."
"Yes! Speaking of which... you will ensure that the children remember their place, Severus. If not, their whole families shall pay for their disloyalty!" The spider-like finger caressing Nagini joined its fellows in a gruesome claw.
"Yes, my lord. Slytherin House shall move as one."
Lord Voldemort took that statement at face value. He would later rue having done so.