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 11: Only Lidless Eyes Are Clear
Severe shock makes intelligent people think. After the mighty tide of denial ebbs, comes the frantic grasping for the slightest inkling of a possible explanation. A sharp wit leaves no stone unturned, though it may tremble as it nears the boulders it has labeled as immovable. Gingerly it probes underneath the behemoths, timidly it peeks around them. The reward of such persistence is truth.
Albus Dumbledore possessed a gifted intellect. Until now, it had been clouded by that most pervasive of maladies: irrational fear. Finding himself a hostage in his own territory, however, had spurred him to introspection. It also opened him to suggestions, and his non-human companion, Fawkes, took full advantage. As soon as the beleaguered man raised focused eyes to his perch—something he had not done in years—the majestic bird had launched itself at one of the massive bookshelves lining the vast office, and swooped back bearing an old Muggle text in its talons. The phoenix deposited his burden in front of his human, and waited with meaningful stare until the man picked it up.
It was a battered edition of Diane Irwin's beloved Jungle Books.
Dumbledore gazed affectionately at Fawkes, but pushed the book aside.
"Fairy tales, Fawkes? Hmm, that might not be a bad idea. But I think I ought to reread Beedle—it is, after all where everything started for me."
The aged wizard Summoned his vintage edition of Tales of Beedle the Bard, but as he thumbed through to his intended story, a golden talon swept the text off the desk, and a gleaming beak pushed the Muggle book forward. Dumbledore looked up into the glinting eyes of his flaming familiar, who began mantling furiously. The Headmaster of Hogwarts capitulated. It was his wisest decision since the day he set out to confront Gellert Grindelwald.
Severus Snape wiped his creased brow impatiently, desperately wishing to be back in his potions lab. The Potions Master currently stood in the foyer of Malfoy Manor, preparing to give a speech. Snape was an expert at speeches, particularly intimidating ones where he laid down the law and intimated unspeakable punishment to whoever defied him. Tonight was different. The Malfoys were hosting a gathering of those Death Eaters who were... less than pleased with their lord's strategies of late. The offspring of these men and women would be spending the night at Malfoy Manor. Before they repaired to bed, they would receive an orientation, ostensibly as to their expected behavior while at Hogwarts. In reality, their Head of House would insist on the stark opposite, while appearing to fulfill the Dark Lord's command. The young Slytherins, schooled in the arts of misdirection from a tender age, would read between the lines.
Snape's concern was for his own continued existence after the Dark Lord examined his acolytes' memories of tonight's events.
An urgent tugging at his robe hem snapped the Head of Slytherin out of his contemplations.
"Professor Snape, sir. All is being ready for yous, sir." whispered a quivering House-elf before promptly vanishing.
"Here goes nothing." muttered the dour man. He dearly wished Tomoe the rock python were there, coils comfortably hugging his shoulders. But Tomoe was safely ensconced in her custom-designed lairs at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. It was a necessary precaution, now that Dolores Umbridge had free reign at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The students quieted as soon as Snape stalked in, robes billowing. The adults glanced up, cold façades betraying none of the unease curdling their stomachs. They could all die slowly and painfully if Snape misstepped. After tonight there was no turning back.
"Slytherins."
All backs were stiffly at attention, all eyes riveted on the Potions Master. Snape racked his brains for something to say that did not entail rehashing the painfully obvious. He studied his charges. In perfect imitation of the actions of their Marked elders, all were present—those of... less than ideal background discreetly claimed by close friends. The beetle-black eyes paused on Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. The two portly youths were notorious for their paucity of cerebral activity, yet tonight their stares were anything but vacant. Swift anger coursed through the Potions Master's veins. These children of the Serpent were anything but stupid, appearances notwithstanding! The Sorting Hat had known as much, when it deemed them suitable for the Serpent's lair. Snape bared his yellowed and crooked teeth in a feral snarl.
"I will not waste my breath stating the obvious. Any of you not yet privy to the current state of affairs is a disgrace to Slytherin House." Not one student flinched at the savage pronouncement, and Snape allowed his features to relax into his more familiar scowl.
"We shall all honor the glorious emblem of our House, or suffer the consequences. Serpents cast off the old skin, never to creep back into it. Serpents' eyes have no lids, therefore, only they can truly see clearly. Serpents bask momentarily in the sun, but hunt unerringly in the darkness. The hour of pride and power has come at last! Let all know by word and deed that we are loose till dawn! The House of Serpents moves as one!"
For an endless moment silence reigned. Draco Malfoy was the first to shake his astonishment, rise as majestically as he knew how... and start clapping vigorously. A minute later all the others followed suit, until the deafening ovation thundered through every crevice of the Malfoys' domain.
Snape did not allow himself an explosive sigh of relief until he was safely beyond the heavily warded door of his dungeon chambers at Hogwarts. Though tempted to indulge in heavy drinking, he refrained until he had minutely examined every angle of his performance. Satisfied that he had a convincing explanation for his every turn of phrase, he sought the comfort of Ogden's finest.
A tempest of owls pelted select Wizarding and Muggle residences that night. The missives were curt, bearing at most a handful of lines. The painstakingly chosen words carried both dread warning and solemn promise. Every single one contained the same postscript.
The House of Serpents moves as one.
The next day dawned hot and clear. Snape cursed the sunlight and wished he truly slept in a coffin, as some of the more colorful insults on his person implied. The Potions Master had a beastly hangover, had not bothered to brew a Sobriety Draught, and would much rather roar a Killing Curse than a Summoning Charm...
As soon as I procure my effing wand, which should be right under the bloody pillow! And who the bloody hell dares to Floo me at such an ungodly hour?
"Severus Snape! Respond at once, young man, this is no social call! Pomona, Filius and I must speak to you urgently! We have scant hours until Dolores arrives."
Ah. The unmistakable brogue of Minerva McGonagall.
The Head of Gryffindor had a point—the Heads of House would have no chance to delineate strategy with Snape's intolerable old Housemate snooping around. Marshalling his every ounce of discipline, Snape ignored his pounding temples and set briskly about his morning ablutions. Once more in control of his faculties, the Head of Slytherin proceeded to mollify his Gryffindor counterpart with an account of the previous night's events.
"If it is any consolation, Severus, He Who Must Not Be Named likely does not have an ear for poetry."
"Minerva! This is no laughing matter! If the Dark Lord takes exception to my words, he will kill me... exquisitely slowly, I might add!"
"I only meant that he will probably take them at face value, Severus. You did report he has long made a habit of doing so."
"Be that as it may, Minerva, the Dark Lord is quite perceptive."
"He is also a narcissist, convinced that the world either fits his view or ceases to exist. Does he not believe his mastery over serpents to be absolute?"
"That he does. He expects Lord Brehas and Lady Tomoe to bow to his wishes as soon as they hear him hiss." Snape looked piercingly at his colleague. "To them the Dark Lord is Abomination, marked for death on sight."
"Well, then, Severus. May we join you for breakfast?"
"You may, Minerva."
The four Heads of House broke their fast in companionable silence. As soon as the dishes were cleared, however, the mood of the gathering shifted abruptly.
"We cannot stand by while the children's education suffers." huffed Minerva. "Especially in such a crucial subject as Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Snape eyed the Head of Gryffindor sardonically. "Are you suggesting I take Dolores's place?" He drawled. "Use Polyjuice perhaps? While one of you takes my place in Potions and the others rotate accordingly?"
The women blushed furiously, but Filius Flitwick laughed as he shook his head.
"The thought did cross our minds, Severus. However, none of us can ever hope to match your Potions brilliance. What we propose is that the four of us tutor the children... clandestinely, of course."
Snape's brows climbed toward his hairline. "That is surprisingly Slytherin of you, Filius."
The diminutive wizard smiled. "Why thank you, Severus! Does that mean we can count you in?"
Snape nodded, smirking. "Of course." He turned to Minerva. "How shall we justify our activities?"
The Deputy Headmistress grinned slightly. "Students can always benefit from supplementary instruction in the core subjects. This year we have a particularly large class entering OWL year. It would only be fair to extend the option to everyone else."
"What of Albus?" inquired the Head of Slytherin.
Minerva snorted. "He is in no position to interfere."
Snape laughed. "Very well. Shall we design a schedule?"
Pomona Sprout, hitherto silent, spoke up. "First we need a safe location, Severus. We were thinking of the Guardian's Chamber?"
Snape shook his head. "While Lord Brehas would welcome us, it would be terribly disrespectful to unleash hordes of unruly children on his domain. The other inhabitants of the premises would object also, unsettling the whole habitat greatly."
Sprout's expression grew dejected. "You're right, Severus, please forgive me."
Snape waved away the apology. "Don't trouble yourself, Pomona. I may have the perfect solution."
Flitwick looked up excitedly. "Pray tell then, Severus! Or better yet, guide us thither!"
Snape's lips curved in amusement. "Of course, Filius. If you would follow me, please."
The Head of Slytherin led his three colleagues to the third floor of the castle. He paused by a distasteful statue and marched back and forth three times in front of a garish tapestry. A doorway materialized before them. Snape pushed it open to reveal a vast, cavernous chamber shrouded in twilight. Ponderous cathedral ceilings presided over a staggering repository of objects in various stages of disrepair: veritable mountains of them, accumulated over the centuries since the founding of the school.
"Minerva, Pomona, Filius, welcome to the Room of Hidden Things."
"Hogwarts's own rubbish heap!" exclaimed the Head of Hufflepuff. "I had wondered where it all went."
"Very practical." drawled Minerva. "Any suggestions on how to best handle this mess?"
"Hmm. Fire would be the quickest option, wouldn't you say, Severus?" inquired Flitwick.
"My thoughts exactly, Filius. Shall we proceed, then?"
The Professors raised their wands as one. "INCENDIO!"
Two hours later, the centuries of refuse had been obliterated. What the fire wouldn't consume, the Professors blasted and Vanished. Finally, a single, stubborn object remained.
"Merlin, it won't budge! Unbreakable Charms, do you suppose?" Sprout glared at an old, battered tiara.
Her other three colleagues converged on the spot, taking turns applying their strongest spells at the ancient headdress.
"I apologize for the Dark origin of some of the spells I shall try." said the Head of Slytherin as he went forward.
"No matter, Severus." said Flitwick soothingly. "Your intent is anything but evil."
As he struck again and again with no result, the Potions Master was reminded of a similar incident at Black Manor. The sudden insight made him stagger back.
"Severus? Are you OK?"
"Yes, thank you, Pomona. It is only that I have remembered a crucial piece of information."
"What would that be, Severus?" inquired Minerva.
Snape looked at each of his colleagues searchingly. Satisfied by what he found, he conjured chairs for all of them.
"Besides assisting the Joneses, I had occasion to participate in another household project this past summer: Black Manor."
Pomona chuckled. "Why, Severus! I never knew you were also a Master of Domestic Arts."
Snape's lips quirked. "I am glad you find my pastime amusing, Pomona." The Head of Slytherin's expression turned grim. "I regret that my findings shall be much less so."
The other three professors sobered immediately.
"You see, as we were finishing our renovation of the premises, Black, Lupin and I encountered a similarly problematic object..."
Once the harrowing narrative was over, the Heads of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stared at the battered diadem with undisguised horror and disgust.
"You mean this... thing actually contains..."
"A fragment of the Dark Lord's soul. Yes, Minerva, it does."
"It must be taken to the Guardian, at once." stated Flitwick.
"Indeed, Filius." agreed Snape.
Pomona stood, arms akimbo, a bothered expression on her features. "Well? What in Merlin's name are we waiting for?"
Myrtle Johnson had not moaned earnestly in three years. She remained a sentinel in the bathroom where she died, but nowadays she mostly spent her time in the Guardian's Chamber. After Brehas apologized profusely for having slain her over half a century earlier, the mercurial ghost no longer feared the basilisk. This morning she was fluttering around the hidden portal when the four Heads of House marched in as if into a battlefield.
"Miss Johnson, would you be so kind as to summon Lord Brehas? We have urgent business to discuss." declared the Head of Gryffindor.
The ghost took one look at the drawn faces and flitted away to follow the order. So intent was she in her errand that she crashed into another of her kind. When she righted herself, she realized the other specter was her superior, the Bloody Baron.
"S-Sir B-Baron, p-p-please... f-f-forgive m-me..."
The scraping of the basilisk's coils upon the grass brought Myrtle's awkward stammering to a halt.
"Lord Brehas! Professors Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout need to see you!"
The giant serpent nodded, head sideways as he ever carried it to prevent accidents, and glided upwards toward the entrance. The ghosts followed, and when the Bloody Baron beheld the object Snape gingerly carried, he broke his accustomed silence with a gasp.
"The lost diadem! Lady Ravenclaw must see this!"
Snape, McGonagall and Sprout looked at their diminutive colleague questioningly. Flitwick shrugged.
"I know as much as you do, my friends..." His eyes widened. "Unless he means... no... it couldn't be..."
"What is it, Filius?" prompted Minerva.
Filius turned to Snape. "Severus, does this diadem have writing on it?"
The Potions Master turned the headdress around and looked closely.
"It does, Filius. Wit beyond measure..."
"Is man's greatest treasure." interjected a melancholy voice. All heads turned toward the entrance to the bathroom. There, between Myrtle and the Bloody Baron, stood the Grey Lady, resident ghost of Ravenclaw Tower.
"Yes. That is the diadem my mother Rowena wrought, and imbued with the gift of her intellect. I stole it out of greed. When it did not work for me, I fled far away with it. I concealed it within a tree, deep in the forests of Bulgaria."
Filius approached the ghost of his House. "But milady, all these centuries... so many great things could have been accomplished, for the benefit of all!"
"I know, Professor! None regrets my egoism more than I."
"Yet you saw fit to reveal the secret to the Dark Lord." shot Snape.
The ghost's cheeks glittered with embarrassment. "He was young and handsome when he was here. So enamored of knowledge too. He sought me for conversation, never demanded anything from me... I could not help confiding in him... I am so sorry."
"Well, the past is gone, lady." sentenced Minerva. "Now, however, this precious heirloom must be destroyed. That... young and handsome man tainted it irrevocably with his Darkness."
Brehas obliged, promptly reducing the legendary diadem to a smoldering wreck. Basilisk, humans and ghosts stood silently for several minutes, mourning the loss of Rowena Ravenclaw's magnum opus.
Evening surprised Albus Dumbledore still in the Head Office, poring over the reading Fawkes had assigned him. The wizard was feeling every single one of his many years.
"Greater irony I have yet to experience, Fawkes." the headmaster mused forlornly. "Gellert and I followed a fairy tale and doomed the Wizarding world. Harry and his foster family are following a different one... and doing a far better job.
"For so long I have insisted that love is the greatest magic of all... it could well be that the Joneses' love has contained the soul fragment's influence. Oh, Fawkes, I played right into Tom's hands, by letting fear blind me!"
The phoenix trilled and cooed soothingly, nuzzling his obstinate human. Dumbledore sighed.
"I most definitely deserve to see my village crumble around me. All this time I have only hindered an already titanic quest, making things worse at every turn. Tell me, Fawkes... do you think this old buffoon of a village priest has a chance to undo his evil?"
To the old man's vast relief, the phoenix nodded.
The Headmaster of Hogwarts entered the Great Hall still deep in thought and grim of visage. Word had already reached him and the rest of the faculty about the tense situation among the students. Indeed, as he surveyed the gathering before him, Dumbledore could see the upper years trudge in with heads and shoulders stiffly held, bitter scowls marring their faces. Houses Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff took their places oblivious to the banners above them. The members of Slytherin House, in stark opposition, fell in together at their corner, all looking every inch the grim soldiers, battle-ready.
A pair of hooded eyes swept over the Great Hall with thinly veiled excitement. Dolores Umbridge fully sympathized with Lord Voldemort, not that she would ever admit it openly. Instead, the toad-like witch decided to regularly comment on the situation at Hogwarts in the presence of certain folk at the Ministry, like Walden Macnair, for example. Dolores already had a job lined up for Walden: a school was no place for a basilisk. The filthy monster should be executed posthaste, before any more susceptible young minds were contaminated with that egregious nonsense that animals could possibly have rights. It was all that impudent Potter boy's fault.
By the way, where is that disgusting son of a mudblood?
That same question—though in much less offensive terms—was making its rounds through the minds of everyone in the Great Hall, including the apprehensive first years waiting to be Sorted. Harry Potter Jones was nowhere to be seen. He had not been aboard the Hogwarts Express that morning, nor was he conveyed by any other means of transport to the school. Not even Professor Snape, Remus Lupin, or Sirius Black had heard from the Jones family as to their current situation.
The Sorting proceeded without complications, but Dolores Umbridge decided to interrupt the Headmaster's welcome message. Though her tone was deceptively sweet, her words carried a clear threat: she would make sure that Hogwarts toed the Ministry's line... or else.
After the Feast, the Head of Slytherin escorted his students to their Common Room, and took the chance to praise their performance.
"I am most pleased that you have all upheld the standards of our House."
Before the hook-nosed professor could turn to leave, Draco Malfoy detained him.
"Professor Snape, sir? Have you any news of Jones?"
Snape turned and regarded the expectant students searchingly. At length he shook his head. "I find myself in your same situation. I will inform you should that change."
Another youth, a seventh year, spoke up next. "Sir? What of our brood-mother?"
Snape's lips quirked at the appellation. "Lady Tomoe currently stays at a safe location. With the school under the... care of... unfortunately inclined authorities, it was judged best."
There were several relieved sighs at that. Draco raised his hand again.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Sir, I have been approached discreetly by...like-minded parties from a rival House. They propose a subtle campaign which would further our aims."
Snape was impressed, and did not conceal it. "Indeed, Mr. Malfoy? Would these like-minded parties happen to possess an overabundance of red hues in their skin and hair coloration?"
Draco merely smirked.
Snape sighed. "Very well, you may proceed. I entreat you, however, to exert your superior cunning when carrying out your interventions."
This time all the Slytherins smirked.
Lord Voldemort pierced Snape with his crimson eyes. The Potions Master had just offered Riddle his carefully edited memories of the past month and half since the term began. When the Dark Lord remained coldly silent, Snape began sweating profusely, hoping against hope that his final moments elapsed swiftly.
Voldemort threw back his head and laughed.
"Poetry, Severus? You plied our children with poetry?"
Snape bit back an explosive sigh. "I... could not think of anything else to... intimidate them properly, my lord."
Riddle sneered. "It served its purpose then. However, by their looks, they judged you insane. That is not a comfortable addition to your reputation."
Snape lowered his eyes meekly. "I only wished them shocked into unquestioning acceptance of your commands, my lord."
"That you achieved, which pleases me greatly, Severus."
Voldemort's ghastly features then shifted into an expression that contradicted his previous words. "But what is this about Potter? I need the boy for my plans!"
Snape groveled. "None have seen or heard from him or those filthy Muggles who shelter him, my lord."
"I thought you had gained their trust, Severus."
"I did, master! Even now, I am convinced I still have it! They simply have not seen fit to return to Britain. The Muggles threatened to do it before..."
Voldemort snarled, making Snape wince. When no curses came, the Potions Master risked a peek at the snake-like visage. "My lord?"
"Barty Crouch." snarled Riddle. "He will regret his incompetence. Lucius!"
The stately blond approached Riddle and genuflected. "Yes, my lord?"
"You shall lead the attack on Azkaban! Prepare to free our brothers and sisters... and to punish the unworthy. Dismissed, all of you." He turned to Snape.
"Severus, you will await our return right here. It would not do for a certain Order to discover our purposes."
Snape shivered at the obvious threat.
The more I please you, the less you trust me. Just as well, bloody Abomination. You will not see us coming. Ah, Jones, Jones, what are you and your so very Slytherin parents up to?
Several disquieting events took place near the end of October and the beginning of November. One was the mass breakout from Azkaban ordered by Voldemort, which added a dozen fanatical soldiers to Riddle's forces, most notably one Bellatrix Lestrange. At Hogwarts, Dolores Umbridge skirted perilously close to a complete breakdown thanks to the insidious campaign against her edicts spearheaded by Fred and George Weasley. Their latest stunt rendered her unable to sack the Divination teacher. Somehow, the fiends had caused Dolores to start coughing explosively every time she tried to send Sybill Trelawney packing. Blinded by House prejudice, Umbridge never guessed at the Slytherins' complicity. The disagreeable witch could not think of anything besides constantly tightening red tape, until she was tripping herself with it at every other step.
Then the creatures of the Forbidden Forest denied admittance to humans, on pain of death.
"The centaurs have confirmed the ban, but would not say a word more." reported Dumbledore to the Heads of House, whom he had summoned urgently.
Snape's brow creased. "I must collect ingredients, Albus."
Dumbledore gazed piercingly at his Potions Master.
"I do not think the prohibition extends to you, Severus. You do have Harry's blessing, after all."
Snape shook his head at the blatant probing. "I do not know where Mr. Jones is, Albus. No one does."
"I do not see what Mr. Jones's whereabouts have to do with the Forest situation, Albus." interjected Minerva.
Albus sighed, and retrieved a book from a drawer. Snape's eyes widened in recognition.
"I think the two are intimately related, Minerva. Are you, Filus and Pomona familiar with this Muggle classic? I see Severus is."
The Heads of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff examined the text one by one. Aware that the strange aside was the Headmaster's idea of a preamble, they decided to play along.
Minerva smiled. "Ah, but of course... A Muggle-born colleague recommended it during Animagus training." she said fondly.
"I came across it once," said Filius. "A most engaging anthology of prose and verse."
"I never heard of it. What is its significance, according to you, Albus?" inquired Sprout impatiently.
Dumbledore twinkled weakly. "Not according to me, Pomona. According to Harry and his family. I think Severus can explain much better than I."
All heads turned toward Snape, whose scowl had reached epic proportions. The Potions Master addressed Pomona.
"The protagonist of the stories and poems in this tome is an orphaned boy, rescued and raised by wild animals. The villain is a man-eating tiger, whose cruelty strikes terror and disgust among humans and non-humans alike. This deranged feline attacks the boy's parents in his quest to devour the child, effectively marking the boy as his own future slayer."
Pomona raised a hand to her mouth. "Dear Merlin! But that... that is..."
"A close facsimile of Mr. Jones's own life, yes. More so because Mrs. Jones treasures this book so much that she has followed it nearly to the letter while raising and educating her son."
Snape turned his baleful stare upon Dumbledore.
"Mrs. Jones also read very closely the missive you left with the boy when you abandoned him on the late Dursleys' doorstep. She knew what her son would have to do, and endeavored to prepare him to the best of her abilities. Which is more than you have done, Albus. So... much... more."
Dumbledore hung his head. "You are correct, Severus... to my unending shame."
Minerva gasped. "At last you admit it, Albus?"
The headmaster's eyes were dim. "I do, Minerva. There is no point to remaining in denial, is there?"
An enthusiastic trilling drew all eyes to the perch on the corner. The phoenix, visibly elated, launched itself into the air and cartwheeled over the professors' heads.
Dumbledore smiled. "It was Fawkes who finally reached through my regrettably thick skull. He insisted I read this. It was disconcerting, to say the least, to see myself as a complete bumbling idiot—which is, I'm sure, what you have all been experiencing."
"That's putting it mildly." shot Snape. He cleared his throat. "In the interest of expediting this business, Albus, allow me to summarize."
At Dumbledore's nod, Snape addressed the other Heads of House.
"Our esteemed Headmaster has apparently regained his senses after perusing this essential text. He has made a connection between the current behavior of the Forbidden Forest's denizens and the talents exhibited by Mr. Jones in the course of last year's Tournament. He has concluded, perhaps correctly, that Mr. Jones currently resides in the Forest, and is marshaling its forces in preparation for an offensive against the Dark Lord.
"I sincerely hope the Headmaster has decided to either cooperate or refrain from interfering."
"Is Severus's hope the truth, old friend?" inquired Flitwick.
"Yes, Filius. Which is why I would like to communicate with Harry. I have information he needs."
"Such as?" drawled Snape.
Dumbledore sighed. "I have received word from Hagrid. His envoy to the giants was largely successful." The aged wizard chuckled. "He tells me it would have been even more so, had he just mentioned Harry's name and omitted mine."
Pomona grew agitated. "Albus, is Hagrid OK?"
"He insists he is, Pomona. According to his message, the giants allowed him to leave their domain relatively unscathed, after he relayed the tale of Harry's exploits. He should be arriving at the outskirts of the Forest within the week. I have reason to believe he is not alone."
"Giants in the Forbidden Forest? Albus, that is madness!" fumed Minerva.
Snape placed a soothing hand on his Gryffindor counterpart's shoulder. "Actually, Minerva, I think it will be fine. If Albus is correct, and Jones is in the Forest, the giants will be welcomed and accommodated after the ritual claim of kinship."
"You think you'd be able to make contact, Severus?" asked Dumbledore.
Snape smirked. "No. If Jones has gone to such pains to move incognito, I daresay he will rebuff even his Head of House. He will not, however, rebuff the Lady Tomoe. May I be excused? I wish to compose a thorough report before I send for milady."
"Of course. Severus?"
The Potions Master raised an eyebrow. Dumbledore gulped.
"Would you be so kind as to... convey my humblest, most heartfelt apologies to Harry?"
Snape regarded his employer loftily.
"I can only try, Headmaster."
Through a long corridor the large, hooded serpent ranged, the black marble uncomfortably cold against her belly. Nagini had surrendered most of her mind to a wreck of a human; as a result, she was lamer than he. At least the guttering torches did not disturb the shadows too much, bettering the odds for the outcome of this hunt. Out came the forked tongue: serpent and parasitic human could taste the lush, mouth-watering prey. Closer the cursed reptile crept... became lightning in her strike against the beckoning warmth... the pulsing blood... once, twice, and again...
"At the hole where she went in..."
The ominous whisper startled the serpent. Someone else was with her in that cold human cave. Another of her kind?
"Who goes there?"
There was no answer as the human she had brought down thrashed in agony. Nagini turned back to her prey, only to jump at the staccato rattling and ticking that began echoing through the empty hallway. Unnerved, the serpent unfurled her hood and whirled. But the insidious vibration was everywhere! And then...
Pain.
Fur, fangs and claws charged the serpent, the unseen enemy spitting its challenge.
"Red-Eyes calls to Wrinkle-Skin! Hear what little Red-Eyes says! Nagini, come up... and dance with death!"
Nagini shivered at the sing-song taunting in her own tongue. All hatchlings of the Poison People learned the lore of their ancient enemies. There were Winged Ones with long, sharp beaks and talons, and there were these. Nimble, warm-blooded hunters covered in fur, with eyes that glowed red in the twilight as they mocked the Poison People. First they crept on their bellies, tails bottled. Then they rose upon their haunches, and began making that horrible noise, so hurtful to a snake's senses. Finally, they would strike, singing and dancing around their victim, until those sharp little fangs found that soft, vulnerable spot behind a serpent's neck.
Nagini fled.
Arthur Weasley was found in time. Somehow he came within reach of a magical portrait who sounded the alarm. After he was stabilized and regained consciousness, the Weasley patriarch insisted that a stranger had helped him. A young woman of exotic features and warm voice had soothed him with soft hands, eased his fever with a potion, and carried him to safety.
The Healers confirmed that Arthur had received emergency antivenin. However, it was Severus Snape who administered that first aid—and the general agreement was that no one in full possession of his or her faculties would ever confuse Snape with an otherworldly nymph.
Thus it was concluded that Nagini's poison must surely include an immensely powerful hallucinogenic.
"Thank Merlin for small mercies!" exclaimed a jovial Pomona Sprout. She and her colleagues returned to Hogwarts the week prior to the end of Christmas vacation. The other Professors shared Pomona's joy: Dolores Umbridge would not make her appearance until the evening before the students came back.
"Indeed, Pomona. Let us make the most of our reprieve." encouraged Minerva McGonagall.
Individual duties fulfilled, the Heads of House met in Snape's quarters to prepare their schedule for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Their initiative had registered a spectacular success, with the most advanced students already confident with mêlée dueling.
"I think I can begin Animagus training with the NEWT-levels. We already cover the theory in regular classes."
"You should consider offering it to any who display the aptitude and commitment to discipline, Minerva." admonished Snape. "After all, non-humans will play a pivotal role in the coming hostilities."
"Great idea, Severus!" exclaimed Flitwick. "And, in keeping with the theme, I shall teach the Patronus Charm... basic and special uses both."
"Merlin, it figures! You three have all the fun!" complained Sprout. "It's all I can do to keep the children from snoring!"
Snape chuckled. "I think I can aid you there, Pomona. It is time to address poisons in my section... I could definitely use your expertise."
Minerva snorted. "It's just as well, Pomona. Your mere presence will assuage the students' concerns about their personal survival."
After his colleagues had left, Snape allowed himself to relax. It was then that his roving obsidian orbs alighted on a neatly rolled parchment resting at the center of his desktop.
"Strange... I did not hear this come in." muttered the Potions Master to himself as he cast every detection spell he knew of at the parchment. Satisfied it would not harm him, the Head of Slytherin unfurled the letter and began to read.
"Dear Professor Snape,
"First of all, this letter is spelled so that only you, Moony and Padfoot can read it. You will be able to speak of the contents to anyone you deem trustworthy, though."
Snape chuckled. "Ten points to Slytherin, Mr. Jones."
"Thanks for sending Tomoe to the Forest; I missed her something terrible. She won't return to you for a while, for security reasons, as Dad would say.
"Speaking of Dad, he and Mum are safe and in good health. We all returned to Britain separately and secretly. I don't know Mum and Dad's exact location; that's how good they are at this cloak and dagger business. They did tell me they evacuated Number Nine, Privet Drive, though it still seems to be occupied. I'm pretty sure they shipped off all the posh knickknacks and furniture and either go themselves or send someone once in a while to mow the lawn and such.
"Hagrid is here, safe and in one piece now (some of the giants beat him up, the brutes). He did bring a bunch with him though, including his own half-brother and the Gurg (chieftain) of the clans who'd rather not side with old snake-face. Hagrid won't be back to teach until Umbridge gets sacked—it's not like she would let him stay for long, and he's quite comfortable here. We fixed him and the other giants with some very cozy getups in the hills—nothing like what you and the other Professors did for Brehas, but nice all the same.
"Excellent, Jones." murmured Snape as he read that.
"Please let Professor Dumbledore know that I'm happy he's come around. Here's an idea if he really means it about cooperating: He can help the Order set up an ambush at the Ministry. Voldy is bound to lose it and go fetch the prophecy himself. He most definitely will not be expecting to face the only wizard he ever feared. If Professor Dumbledore is up to it, he can Polyjuice as me. Send me an owl if the Headmaster agrees; just don't try to follow, or you'll get pecked to bits."
"Another ten to Slytherin. Irwin's training shows." murmured Snape, thoroughly impressed.
"Please send my best wishes for a speedy recovery to Mr. Weasley. I witnessed the attack through the mind-link. Tommy's emotions went off the charts, so I could track the action even through my Occlumantic shields.
"I was also able to send help. I bet Mr. Weasley was told he hallucinated that part! Please tell him he's not mental, but he can't tell anyone else! From what I was able to pick up, Nagini was so out of sorts she Occluded Tom at that point. The bastard doesn't know we have a snake hunter among us.
"This part is actually quite sad... it's hit Tomoe and the other serpents very badly. Merlin, I wish I didn't have to write it down! Here it goes:
"Nagini is a Horcrux.
"The poor beast will have to be put down. None will come to her aid, even if she speaks the words of kinship. Tom bloody Riddle had better get all his affairs in order before he comes visiting, the bloody bastard.
"Speaking of visiting bastards, the Ministry owled the centaurs. They're sending a detail from Disposal of Magical Creatures. Brehas already knows to meet them head on if they come knocking at the Chamber entrance.
"We know this is Umbridge's doing. She really shouldn't invade us, or Brehas. If you can find it in your heart to try and dissuade her, please do your best. Either way, be prepared to relive the Wormtail incident... with a vengeance, since she's been so awful to everyone. Makes me wonder if she bears the Dark Mark.
"Merlin, I'm sorry to part on such a gruesome note. Oh well, war does that. I'm sure you know that better than anyone.
"Sincerely, H.J.P. Jones"
Snape swallowed harshly. "Merlin and Salazar! A Horcrux from a living creature! Abomination indeed!"
An hour later, the resounding crack of Apparition shook the Potions Master from his stupor. Drawing his wand, he whirled onto the interloper. The House-elf flopped its bat-like ears and rushed toward Snape, prostrating himself before the irate wizard.
"Professor Snape, sir! Please forgive Dobby for interrupting Professor Snape sir, but Dobby's family is needing Professor Snape sir's help..."
"ENOUGH!" Dobby curled himself into a little ball. Snape sighed explosively.
"You should know better than to come in here unannounced, elf!" The beetle-black eyes narrowed. "You are a Malfoy elf, are you not? You ushered me in at the manor."
Dobby quivered. "Yes, Professor Snape."
"Speak your errand, then. Lucius does not make a habit of sending his elves to me."
"Master Lucius is not sending Dobby, Professor Snape, sir. Young Master Draco is being the one sending Dobby. Young Master Draco is in great danger... Mistress Bella is telling Master Lucius he is having to hurry bringing young Master Draco to He Who Must Not Be Named... Mistress Cissy is not sleeping or eating well and young Master Draco is being very worried, Professor Snape sir..."
The House-elf pitched forward and grabbed Snape's legs.
"Please Professor Snape, please be helping young Master Draco!"
"DOBBY!"
The House-elf froze, its saucer-like eyes fixed unblinkingly on the Potions Master.
"Thank you. Now, you say Bellatrix wants Draco Marked shortly."
"Yes, Professor Snape... It is being terrible thing!" wailed the disconsolate creature.
"Hush, Dobby!" chided Snape. "Thank you. Also, Narcissa is showing signs of emotional breakdown."
The House-elf nodded so vigorously that his ears flapped noisily against the floor. Snape began pacing.
"Lucius must also be at his limit, or he would have acted before. This is not like him." Snape paused abruptly. His fathomless orbs froze Dobby to the spot.
"Dobby? Is the Dark Lord in residence at Malfoy Manor?"
Dobby nodded so briskly he smashed his nose against the dungeon floor.
After containing the ensuing deluge of tears, the Head of Slytherin issued his orders to the House-elf.
"Please return to Draco with these phials. I have detailed Narcissa's treatment in the accompanying missive. Is that clear, Dobby?"
The House-elf nodded.
"Very well. Now, I have instructed Draco to ask Lucius to give you clothes." He forestalled any hysterics with a quick gesture. "It goes against the ways of your kind, yes, but it is imperative. We cannot risk the Dark Lord learning of this errand. Also, be assured the Dark Lord will not hesitate to use you your own Masters. Do you understand?"
Dobby's eyes reached record dimensions, and he went mute for a long moment. Snape felt a touch of alarm when the mercurial creature finally gave him a wobbly smile.
"It is being OK with Dobby, Professor Snape sir. Dobby is understanding he is needing clothes to be helping young Master Draco."
Snape sighed explosively. "Thank Merlin and Salazar! Now, please go, Dobby."
On the last day of the holiday, Snape found himself in the sitting room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Sirius had already finished reading Harry's letter, and Remus was almost done. The Animagus was pale.
"I don't know what scares me most: what Harry and his folks have been up to, or the bit about that snake."
"I personally find the notion of a living Horcrux most disgusting. As to the Joneses, I have no qualms that they know exactly what they are doing."
"That's easy for you to say, Snape. They're all a bunch of Slytherins."
Remus chuckled. "Severus does have a point, Padfoot. We can't expect any less from Irwin, Diane or Harry. They knew this was coming long ago, and have spent the last fifteen years preparing for it."
The werewolf cleared his throat. "Now, this plan for an ambush sounds workable. But how will we know when Voldemort will move? I thought he wasn't including you on operations like those anymore, Severus."
"He did not include me in the Azkaban plot, a test which I passed, Lupin. In fact, I shall suggest the move myself. The Dark Lord is miffed that Jones evaded him so neatly, yet he also has grown confident after Arthur's injury. If I confirm Jones's presence, he won't be able to resist."
"We need to talk to the old coot. How about a visit from the Order next weekend?"
"I think speaking to Albus can wait, Black. Though an Order meeting next week is advisable, to ensure everyone is on the same track."
"We'll do that, Severus." stated Remus, his amber eyes aglow with excitement. The Animagus nodded his own agreement, patently amused at his best friend's eagerness.
There came a lull in the conversation, and Snape looked at his former enemies searchingly.
"Out with it, Snape. What else is on your mind?" pressed Sirius.
Snape's lips quirked. "Your family, Black."
"What do you mean? I am the last of the Blacks."
Snape gave a faint version of his famous sneer. "You are the last to carry the surname, not the last of the bloodline."
The Head of Slytherin then relayed Draco's plea.
Sirius Black said nothing for several minutes. Finally he shook his head.
"Well, I did say I intended this place as a sanctuary for whoever had need." He shook his head. "It most certainly never crossed my mind that the Malfoys, of all people, would need it." The Animagus slapped his thighs, resolutely. "Consider it done, Snape. They are my family, after all." He frowned. "Although... you really think they will accept help from a blood traitor?"
Snape smirked. "They are in no position to complain, with the Dark Lord and Bellatrix under their roof."
Remus and Sirius both shivered at that thought. Remus cleared his throat. "Well, then. Severus, how do you want to do this?"
The Head of Slytherin pursed his lips. "I will approach Draco tomorrow evening. When term ends, he can come here directly. Narcissa will have to wait until the ambush at the Ministry."
"And Lucius?" asked the werewolf.
"That will depend on the outcome of the attack. I will try to suggest he allow himself to be captured."
"Won't Voldemort smell the trick?"
"The Dark Lord will have other concerns in his mind, Black. Also, as Lucius will probably be in command, it will be easy to focus on neutralizing him. The plan is ironclad...provided none of us bungles their part."
"Actually, the only one I'm afraid will bungle his part is Albus." declared Remus somberly.
Draco Malfoy was uncharacteristically subdued, with good reason.
"I did as you told me, sir. Mother is no longer crying all the time, and she sleeps through the night."
"Excellent, Mr. Malfoy. And the elf?"
"Dobby!"
At Draco's call, the House-elf appeared. The slight creature was covered in a strange mix of variously colored articles of clothing, including several pairs of mismatched socks. Draco blushed.
"Father only threw him one sock. He's found everything else on his own."
Snape chuckled. "Do not trouble yourself about Dobby's tastes, Mr. Malfoy." Snape turned to the elf, who had perked up at hearing his name.
"Dobby, I would like you to speak with Headmaster Dumbledore. I am certain he will not object to your joining the Hogwarts staff."
The two wizards did their best to tune out the resulting display of hysterics.
Once Dobby left Snape's quarters, the mood chilled rapidly.
"Sir? Where will Mother and I go?"
Snape frowned. "I notice you left Lucius out."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "It's not as if he can leave, sir. That's why I asked you for help."
"Do I detect resentment, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco exploded. "Of course! Father knew it would come to this! We should have gone into hiding long ago! But no, he has to kiss the Dark Lord's robes and give the bloody monster everything! Does that sound like a Slytherin, let alone a Malfoy?"
Snape shook his head. "No, it does not. Lucius too succumbed to the curse of peacetime. However, he is hardly the only one."
Draco nodded wearily. "Yeah. What next, though? Your letter didn't say."
Snape gazed levelly at the blond youth. "You are aware that Narcissa was born a Black."
The silver eyes showed confusion. "Yes... but what...?"
Snape silenced him with a chopping gesture.
"Listen and do not interrupt, Mr. Malfoy. You are also aware that Sirius Black is Mr. Jones's godfather. Based on both that and the blood relation, plus his Gryffindor sense of honor, Mr. Black will grant you and your parents sanctuary."
Snape paused until Draco's eyes widened. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy, you heard correctly. Black shall welcome Lucius also."
Draco gulped. "That's... great, sir... but I'm not sure Mother... or Father..."
"The mighty Malfoys would scorn the hospitality of a blood traitor? In favor of remaining hostages of the Dark Lord? You would rather be martyred like certain foolish Gryffindors? Now that is bringing shame to Slytherin House."
The barb was heartless, but it had the desired effect. Draco forsook his ingrained prejudice and pleaded with his Head of House to drag his mother to safety, bound and gagged if necessary.
Snape laughed heartily at the image of Narcissa Malfoy in such an undignified position.
"I certainly hope such extremes will not be required, Mr. Malfoy. The Order of the Phoenix will arrange Narcissa's rescue. As for Lucius, the Order will also make his capture a prime objective during their next clash with the Death Eaters."
Draco assumed his best aristocratic air. "That's perfect, sir. Please, do convey my immense and delightful gratitude to my cousin."
Snape's lips quirked. "I shall do that, Mr. Malfoy. In the meantime, I have news from your absent Housemate."
The blond's stiffness gave way to relief.
"You've heard from Jones? How is he? Where is he?"
Snape chuckled. "You may spread the news that Mr. Jones is alive and well, Mr. Malfoy. His current base of operations lies somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. The Lady Tomoe has joined him there. Jones may be reached by owl. However, the birds are under strict instructions to treat any foolhardy souls who attempt to track them as particularly juicy worms."
Draco gulped. "That serious is it?"
Snape's eyes flashed. "Mr. Malfoy, has your own dire situation so exhausted your intellectual resources that you have forgotten the significance of Jones's other surname?"
The blond looked ashen. "I... I'm s-sorry, s-sir." He sighed forlornly. "I have been so scared for my own hide that I thought Jones was having the time of his life. No school, no OWLs, free to do what he wants..."
"Having no contact with his parents, living wild, preparing to do battle against the Dark Lord. Indeed, Mr. Malfoy, the very definition of an ideal holiday!"
Draco blinked furiously, to quell the threatening tears. Snape relented at the sight.
"My apologies, Mr. Malfoy, that was uncalled for. You should return to your Housemates. I trust you will advise your... business partners that this information must not, under any circumstances, be discussed within earshot of Professor Umbridge."
The standoff between Umbridge and the new generation of Marauders resumed promptly. The students assumed the nickname after Snape allowed the conspirators use of the Marauders' Map. With it they ran circles within circles around Umbridge, who finally convinced Cornelius Fudge to appoint her Headmistress. To Dolores's endless frustration, the magical guardians of the Head Office and adjunct quarters refused her entry. Dumbledore, already used to being a hostage at his own school, did not mind the additional isolation.
Umbridge's torment worsened as her attitude prevented her colleagues from feeling the slightest sympathy for her. Even Madam Pomfrey began referring Dolores to St. Mungo's in the aftermath of the students' increasingly vicious pranks.
Furious at her inability to control Hogwarts Castle, Umbridge set her sights on the Forbidden Forest. The last weekend before OWL exams, various Aurors and personnel from Disposal of Magical Creatures—including one leather-clad, ax-swinging Walden Macnair—arrived at the periphery of the Forest. Minutes before the foolhardy invasion, Snape decided to attempt reasoning with his former Housemate.
"Dolores, this is a monumental mistake. It would behoove you to desist."
The witch's eyes flashed. "You would protect those vermin? Has that brat's nonsense confounded even you?"
The Potions Master sneered. "On the contrary, Dolores. I would protect an old Housemate from a painful demise." Snape indicated the Ministry employees. "Those poor imbeciles have no chance against those vermin, as you put it. You have no idea what you shall be facing."
"And you do, Snape?"
"As a matter of fact, yes! I am periodically granted limited amnesty in order to collect ingredients."
At her impatient huff, the Head of Slytherin seized Umbridge by her forearms. "Listen to me, Dolores! I hold a ranking place in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle. I know firsthand what he is capable of. And that Forest," he pointed, "contains power to match his!"
A glint of madness came to the toad-like witch's eyes. "Which is exactly why I will make sure it is destroyed."
Her retreating back was the last anyone saw of a hale Dolores Umbridge. Fortunately, the Ministry operatives turned out to possess the common sense their leader lacked. As soon as they met the defenders' outer perimeter, they fled en masse. Even Walden Macnair, in a surprising display of foresight, did not set a foot further than Hagrid's hut.
Harry's threat became reality.
"And the bitter creepers shall cover you all." quoted Snape grimly. Rubeus Hagrid returned to Hogwarts a fortnight later, bearing the last of Umbridge's remains—the splinters of her wand, twined in the bloated tendrils of a Venomous Tentacula.
"Harry is there, then." breathed the newly reinstated Dumbledore.
Snape looked intently at his employer. The Potions Master took a deep breath.
"I sent my report with Lady Tomoe before the Christmas holiday, as we discussed." he admitted.
"What did he reply?"
"He accepted your apologies, for one. He made sure Hagrid and his... clan were welcomed rather warmly. He also advised me of the possibility of Dolores's tragic end and encouraged me to make an attempt at persuasion."
"When can we expect him back? Will he sit his OWLs?"
Snape chuckled as he shook his head. "He can finish his education after the war, Albus. His priority is the Dark Lord's extermination." The beetle-black eyes speared the Headmaster. "Which the Order agrees with, by the way."
Dumbledore snapped to attention. "Is there aught I can do?"
Snape's lips quirked in satisfaction. "As a matter of fact, Albus, there is. The Order has a plan..."
Lord Voldemort considered Snape his most useful acolyte. He would never admit it, of course. Neither would he admit that his greatest concern was that Snape would turn his coat—or had already done so. So far, the tide of events had favored the Potions Master, and Riddle could see no reason to doubt the man's fealty.
"I pleaded with her not to go... the half-breeds had already promised her death—but she was resolute, my lord. She wished to prove herself worthy of bearing your Mark."
"Fools are not worthy of my Mark!" snarled Voldemort. "Have you any further news, Severus?"
Snape allowed himself to show glee. "Indeed, and most auspicious, my lord. The Potter brat has been found."
Voldemort's crimson orbs flashed. "Where is he?"
"Dumbledore is hiding him in his quarters, my lord. I suspect he has been there all this time."
"Interfering old fool! No matter! I shall blast the mind link open! When I am done, Potter will be mine, mind and soul! Lucius! Tonight we attack the Department of Mysteries. I want that prophecy! Severus, you will return to the old fool's side. Keep him from shielding the boy! Dismissed, all of you!"
Narcissa Malfoy had finished her potions regime. Her frayed nerves mended, she was now in full control of her faculties. As soon as Draco had owled her the news that he had negotiated help from Dumbledore's outfit, she had discreetly begun packing. It had been ridiculously easy, with her sister Bella writing her off as too frail to be of any consequence. According to Bella, that was what happened when you led the pampered life of a trophy wife. Cissy would never be a warrior. Her son Draco, now... that young man had promise.
Bella did not realize Cissy would rather die than see her only son groveling at the Dark Lord's feet, or worse, dead in the bastard's service. The haughty blonde Summoned her belongings as soon as her sister and husband, clad in Death Eater garb, Disapparated toward the Ministry of Magic.
"SERVANTS!" bellowed the proud woman next.
"Yes, Mistress." answered a chorus of voices ranging from soft chirps to booming croaks. A dozen House-elves bowed before her, incongruous noses touching the floor.
"Strip the manor bare! Leave not a single treasure or heirloom of the House of Malfoy here for my greedy sister to plunder. Take everything to the Malfoy vault at Gringotts. When you have finished this task, report at once to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Do not return to the manor until my husband or I summon you!"
"Yes, Mistress!"
While the House-elves melted into a whirl of industry, Narcissa began pacing impatiently. Moments later, the whoosh of the Floo connection brought her to a halt.
"Narcissa!" whispered Snape's voice. "Narcissa, where are you?"
The Lady Malfoy strode to the fireplace, baggage floating behind her. "Here, Severus. Is Draco with you?"
"He is at Hogwarts, and will join you after the Leaving Feast. Your servants?"
"Taken care of as per Draco's letter. Where are we headed?"
"Here."
Narcissa seized the floating piece of parchment.
"Black Manor can be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. That is my Aunt Walburga's home! However did the old man acquire it, Severus?"
"Dumbledore does not own it. Sirius Black does."
Narcissa's eyes first widened and then narrowed. "Sirius? That man...!"
Snape leveled his wand at the blonde. "Do not even start with the blood treason nonsense, Narcissa! I gave Draco my word that I would drag you bound and gagged should it come to that. Do not force my hand!"
Unlike the late Dolores Umbridge, Narcissa Malfoy's survival instinct was fully functional. In less than a minute, both she and her luggage train had vanished into the green flames.
At the Hogwarts Head Office, Fawkes the phoenix flashed away, a parchment in his talons. The succinct message was addressed to Harry.
"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, do solemnly swear a Wizard's Oath that I shall use the hairs provided by Harry James Potter Jones for the sole and exclusive purpose of reaching Tom Marvolo Riddle's presence undetected during the operative led by the Order of the Phoenix in the Hall of Prophecy, Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic."
Fawkes returned with an equally curt acceptance note and five brunet hairs.
From his station high in the air above the Ministry, Tom Riddle cackled in glee. He was so elated with the image he had just snatched from Harry's mind—Harry on his knees, agreeing to fetch the prophecy in a toneless voice—that he neglected to probe any further.
The Death Eaters, led by Lucius and Bellatrix, ran into the Order of the Phoenix, which flanked Harry as he marched into the Hall of Prophecy. Each Death Eater targeted a particular Order member. As they crept toward their quarry, the last thing they expected was for the Order defenders to wheel around as a unit, raining hexes upon the Dark forces.
Harry left the fighting to the Order, and hurried toward the prophecy orb bearing his name and the Dark Lord's. The Order backed the Death Eaters into the Hall of Death, while Harry raced for the exit. The green-eyed brunet made it as far as the Atrium before a thin, eerie voice commanded him to stop.
"Excellent, my child." purred Voldemort. "Now, hand it here."
Harry moved forward as if in a daze, eyes staring vacantly. His arm rose as if a string directed it. Voldemort cackled in triumph as the gleaming orb neared his spidery outstretched hand... only to wail in impotent fury as the orb missed by a hairbreadth and fell to the marble floor, shattering in a million tiny shards.
"Noooooo!"
The distraught Dark Lord began feverishly casting Reconstitution Charms at the glittering fragments. He did not see the youth's features blur and melt, or his body grow thin and tall. The smooth skin of the youth became littered with wrinkles, his dark hair turned white and flowed down to beyond waist length. The black Hogwarts school robes became bright aubergine, embroidered with golden phoenix motifs.
"You should not have come here tonight, Tom."
Voldemort slithered upright in a smooth movement, wand tip glowing green.
"Avada kedavra!"
The curse only hit a stone pillar Summoned wordlessly by Dumbledore. The clash of titans was on.
"How did you do it, old man? Did you just kill your own little Golden Boy?" taunted Riddle. A flaming basilisk shot out of his wand of yew, intent on devouring his opponent.
"Ah, Tom. Ever so quick to assume yours is the only way." murmured Dumbledore sadly, as he conjured a sphere of flowing water to engulf the Dark Lord and his flaming apparition.
"Even now you will still prattle on about love? How pathetic!" sneered Voldemort, before snarling another Killing Curse.
Dumbledore animated the statue of a wizard, which until then had adorned the Atrium fountain. The sentinel of stone took the curse meant for the Headmaster.
"I think not, Tom. Your ignorance, however, is another matter. Even now Harry lies under the protection of magic more ancient and powerful than any you or I could command. I have accepted it, Tom, and so should you."
Voldemort fired again. "You jest, old fool. The Potter boy is mine, and no containment spell of yours will keep him from taking his place at my feet!"
Another statue pounced in front of Dumbledore. "Harry Jones is neither yours nor mine, Tom! A brave Muggle woman, rendered barren by the loss of her own child, claimed the magic I invoked on Lily Potter's blood. Though she was not magical to begin with, it embraced her and her family, and mutated into a force beyond our comprehension. We cannot touch him."
"No!" Noxious, jaundiced clouds spewed inky black lightning at Voldemort's command. A shimmering, iridescent tornado swallowed the evil bolts from Dumbledore's end.
"Yes, Tom. You took the Dursley boy's blood in vain. Harry is pure of your taint. He controls the mind link, not you. The prophecy is no longer of any consequence. You have lost, Tom. In Merlin's name, yield!"
"Never, Dumbledore! You win this day, old fool, but mark my words. You will ALL die one by one... starting with that filthy Muggle who dared to deny me what is mine, MINE TO ME! AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The curse was carelessly aimed, and merely decimated the last of the fountain behind the Headmaster. The aged wizard Transfigured the jagged boulders of rubble into fine, glittering dust that piled harmlessly in a corner.
"There are worse fates than death, Tom." murmured Dumbledore, as the man he had once taught as a child named Tom Marvolo Riddle fled as a roiling cloud of putrid mist, insubstantial but deadly.