Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, A Song of Ice and Fire to George R.R. Martin, I don't own anything and I'm just playing around with these wonderful characters of these great stories.
Author's Notes: Hello everyone, sorry for the slow update this time. Work had been too much lately and I didn't have the time to write anything. So I hope you enjoy the newest chapter, it's the longest one, I think ;)
And a big, big thank you again to Sonia605 for taking the time to leave a review. Yeah, Varys has his own agenda here and he's playing his games with everyone. Let's see out it all turns out...
The Serpent and the Lion
~Chapter 12: A Lannister always pays his debts~
It felt like he'd been buried in this ocean of darkness for years, that he'd been bathing and floating in it forever. There was no light, no sound, no warmth, no feeling. As if all his senses were numb here. Was it possible he was losing his sanity in this nightmare? Harry wanted so desperately to wake up again. Any second he was sure he'd open his eyes and realize it only had been a dream. That all this wasn't real. It couldn't be real. How could someone endure this cruel torment? This loneliness? This hopelessness and despair weighing heavily on his heart? Was there a way out of this hole? The boy didn't know. For hours he ran and ran, his naked feet touching cold and wet ground, but nothing changed. Darkness followed him wherever he went, like an impenetrable shroud enveloping his entire being.
Please... Someone, anyone, help me! Find me! Ron! Hermione! Tyrion! Sirius! Please! He often tried calling for his friends and his godfather, somehow hoping they would hear his cries for help. But to no avail. No one heard him down here and no one came to free him.
Just when he was almost breaking down, on the verge of going mad, someone finally found him.
Soothing, red and yellow light blinded his vision. The bright light dispelled the darkness instantly and Harry couldn't help but cry now, crying tears of relief that he wasn't alone any longer.
And it was an unexpected surprise his saviour turned out to be the red priestess of Asshai, Melisandre. The woman stood there in front of him, burning brilliantly like fire itself. Her thin satin robes swirled around her slender figure like dancing flames as her red eyes found him.
Melisandre's red lips curved into a smile as she spoke softly. "The Dark Lord tried to conceal you from me, Harry, yet his power is no match for the power of R'hllor, the Lord of Light. The darkness cannot hide you from me."
Harry adjusted his glasses, giving her a questioning look. "So this was all Voldemort's doing? I am trapped here because of him?"
Images were playing in his inner mind's eye. Once again he was experiencing defeat at Voldemort's hands, hearing his threat to kill him in front of all his friends and comrades. And then there was nothing. After this point his memories had faded away completely. He had been plunged into darkness, not knowing how he got here and how long he had been staying here.
The woman with the long copper-red hair only nodded silently, watching the anguish on Harry's face, knowing there was no word of comfort she could offer him now. That Harry needed time to process this revelation himself.
For a few minutes Harry had turned away, his eyes fixed on the yawning void and his whole body trembling with anger. What Voldemort had done to him was cruel and indescribable. No one deserved to suffer like this. Compared to this living hell, death almost seemed like a blessing to him.
The young wizard cleared his throat. "Where am I? What is this place?"
"Where?" Melisandre asked, her shining red eyes looking around and her gaze returning back to him. "A very interesting question, Harry. I think you should specify this."
Harry frowned, not quite understanding her. "Why? What do you mean?"
"Your body is at Casterly Rock. Now it is only an empty shell, unconscious and seemingly sleeping. Your mind, however...". Her foreign, melodic voice trailed off and she gave him a concerned look.
"What is with my mind? What has he done to me?" Harry wanted to know, his voice growing louder with every word now, his hands tightening into fists.
"It's magic of the Dark Arts, Harry. Very old and very powerful. The one who must not be named has imprisoned you within your own mind. And I fear you can't leave this place. Not on your own." She added, narrowing her eyes.
"But you found me here." Harry reminded her. "You can help me, can't you? Your magical powers are stronger than his. You've said so yourself."
"My powers are not sufficient enough to break this magical seal. Not yet." Her crimson eyes gleamed now, like the red lava sea inside a volcano. "I have told you before, my magic requires a sacrifice to become more powerful. The greater the sacrifice, the greater is the power I shall wield. Do you understand this, Harry?"
Harry remembered what Tyrion had told him and nodded slowly. "The tale of Azor Ahai. He chose to sacrifice his wife to forge his sword Lightbringer."
Melisandre seemed somewhat pleased. "Yes, you remember the prophecy, very good."
"So, what is the meaning of this? Do you sacrifice something or someone and then," Harry clipped his finger,"you become stronger?"
"No, this is not the way it works. It is not me. I am merely a priestess, a voice that conveys R'hllor's words, his will. I am nothing but a vessel, a weapon which obtains and harbours the strength of light. But you are the Chosen One. It must be you who gives a sacrifice to the God of Flame." The red priestess made clear.
"Me?" For a moment Harry felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from under him. His mouth was dry like a desert. He didn't want to know, already fearing her answer. This sorceress might demand the life of his godfather Sirius Black or the lives of his two best friends Ron and Hermione.
"And who or what should I sacrifice?" The young boy asked her reluctantly, feeling a lump in his throat.
She slid closer to him, an ominous shadow in red. The unsavoury scents of scorched earth, smoke and fire were in the air now. "The greatest sacrifice is required, Harry. Think about it. Who is the greatest sorcerer this world has ever seen?"
Harry swallowed, thinking. "The greatest sorcerer..." Suddenly his emerald eyes flashed at her, the realization slowly sinking in who she was referring to.
His own voice sounded hoarse in his ears now, as he blurted it out loud. "You're talking about Professor Albus Dumbledore. You want me to sacrifice Dumbledore?"
"To stand a chance against the darkness that surrounds us, yes. Only he can increase my magical powers." Melisandre explained.
"But... but there must be another way. I can't sacrifice Professor Dumbledore. He's my friend, my mentor. If one wizard is able to defeat Voldemort, it's him. He's the only one Voldemort fears. I can't offer what you ask for. It's out of the question." Harry said quickly, shaking his head and feeling his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
"To sacrifice someone you love, someone very special and dear to you, yes, I know it must be hard, Harry. But that is the reason why you call it sacrifice. You can't just sacrifice any flesh and blood. It won't do. Albus Dumbledore is the only acceptable, the only logical choice. In the end, it is you who has to choose. But no matter how long you wait or think about your final decision, it won't get any easier."
"And what if I choose to sacrifice no one?" Harry asked her in a stubborn tone, clenching his jaw.
Her red eyes turned to thin slits. "If you can't make an offering, I will not receive the powers I need to chase away the darkness. And believe me, even if someone manages to get you out of this prison by any chance, what will happen next? Voldemort still exists and the cold darkness is still looming over us, threatening to cover our whole world. Everyone you love and cherish will cease to exist. Your sacrifice pales in comparison to all the lives you could safe, can't you see it, young one?"
"No, I can't. Maybe you're right and maybe I'm wrong. But I'd rather take my chances. I will try everything in my power to defeat Voldemort myself. I'd be even willing to give my own life to kill him. But I'll never risk my friend's life. I could never look at myself in the mirror again. How could I go on and live my life after that? I can't do this."
The red ruby of her necklace was glistening and throbbing slowly as she tried to convince him. "The flames do not lie, Harry. I assure you, you will sacrifice Albus Dumbledore. Nothing can change that and from now on it is only a matter of time until you realize this yourself, that you have no other choice. If you reach a decision now or later, whatever happens, the end result will always be the same. The gears of fate have been set in motion, my friend. And the only thing we both can do now is accept our destiny, our future. Like our great hero Azor Ahai, who accepted the truth, to give his beloved wife's life to forge his magical sword."
"You once told me, the future is not set in stone, my lady. We can always change it if we want to. And you seem to forget, I'm not Azor Ahai, Lord Stannis Baratheon is the Prince that was promised. He should be the one to offer a sacrifice, not me." Harry reminded her, not wanting to believe her divination although she seemed very certain that everything would transpire exactly the same way she had foreseen it.
"At one point we all have to make an offering, regardless if you're the Chosen One or not. Lord Stannis knows what has to be done, he knows he can't turn back and that he can only move forward now. Not once did this brave man falter. He is ready and willing to offer a sacrifice to R'hllor. His lordship has accepted his destiny, this heavy burden only he can carry alone. And it won't be long now, Harry. You will realize this too."
The young wizard didn't believe it, he couldn't believe it. He'd never let Dumbledore die, not for him. No one should die for him.
Melisandre saw doubt in his eyes and went on. "You don't believe me and I can't convince you, just as I have foreseen it. Take your time then, think about it. I won't push you, Harry. But if this day ever comes when you finally accept your future, when this moment arrives when you finally embrace your destiny, call me. I promise I'll be there and together we shall vanquish the darkness, once and for all."
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They had brought Jaime Lannister deep inside the bowels of the castle. The Death Eaters had led him down a long, spiralling staircase, descending for so long that Jaime thought they were nearing the underground caves of Casterly Rock, until they had reached a jail cell.
A lattice of thick iron bars had been lifted to let him enter the room. The chamber wasn't exactly what one might call a common prison cell. It was large and seemed rather comfortable. There were raised dais with several beds on it for sleeping. At the corner stood a single washbasin, through which fresh water flowed in a constant stream. There was also other furniture as well, a dinner table, some chairs, several bookshelves, a huge wardrobe and a cushy couch. Even warm sunlight shone through the vaulted ceiling, high above his head. Jaime knew he had to thank his father Tywin for this kind treatment. Lannister cells weren't really known to be pleasing or comfortable at all. After his stay at Malfoy Manor's cellar he wasn't used to this unusual luxury.
Jaime had taken his time to wash himself thoroughly and was glad he could finally shave his beard and change into freshly laundered clothing. Unfortunately, not everything was for his best satisfaction. After Bellatrix Lestrange's death the Dark Lord had picked a new torturer and watchdog to keep his company. It was the Death Eater named Peter Pettigrew, yet most of his shady comrades addressed him as Wormtail. Unlike Lestrange the short man with the watery eyes didn't offer a beautiful sight. He was chubby, unkempt and the man's round face reminded Jaime of a rat, his front teeth standing out, very similar to rat's teeth. After this discovery he had made it a habit to label him 'Ratface'.
His new companion didn't seem very fond of his new nickname but he didn't complain. Instead he chose to punish him by casting the Cruciatus Curse upon him. Thankfully Ratface wasn't as skilled as the Lestrange woman, he always performed very poorly. The pain only lasted a few minutes and it didn't have the usual excruciating effects.
Days went by and he soon got accustomed to a diurnal rhythm. Wormtail would arrive and wake him early in the morning with a little dose of the torture curse, followed by breakfast. In the next hours Jaime would usually spend his time taking a shower and reading a book and then it would be time for lunch. The afternoon was reserved for further torture activities and in the evening he would get dinner and read something again before going to bed. After a while it all became very tedious. He had no one to talk to and Ratface was anything but a chatty person. It was no fun to mock someone who didn't react and kept silent most of the time. But what troubled him the most was this feeling to be left in the dark about everything that happened outside. Where was his sister Cersei? Was she safe? And what about father and his brother Tyrion? Should he fear for them? Were they in danger? This uncertainty wore him down little by little, not knowing what took place outside these walls.
So it had been quite a surprise as they had thrown other prisoners into his cell. They were two young boys. One was unconscious or perhaps asleep the whole time and the other one took a seat without saying a word, giving him a cautious glance.
The boy sitting there was a redhead, still very young, maybe sixteen years old, Jaime guessed.
"Wonderful, I have company. You know it's very rude not to introduce yourself, don't you?" asked Jaime in a cold tone.
His new friend chewed on his bottom lip. "You're... you're the Kingslayer, right?"
"I am Jaime Lannister, boy. And I've grown tired of people like you, calling me Kingslayer, oathbreaker or other adorable nicknames."
"Sorry, ser." The boy mumbled, quickly averting his blue eyes.
Jaime knew he sometimes had the habit to intimidate others, his behaviour was especially hostile and arrogant towards strangers who didn't belong to the Lannister family. Maybe his tone had been a bit harsh, he reflected. It wasn't beneficial at all acting like that These two boys were his comrades now, they should learn to stick together, after all they were all sitting in the same boat.
He cleared his throat and addressed the lad again. "Look, I apologize if I've sounded rude somehow. It seems my undesired stay here is slowly getting on my nerves."
The other boy looked up, nodding silently and Jaime gave him a disarming smile. "So, shall we start all over again? I'm Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister, former member of the Kingsguard. And yes, they also call me Kingslayer because I've killed the king I had sworn to protect. And no, I don't feel guilty about it and I don't regret my evil deed. On the contrary, I believe this world is a better place without a mad king who had this strange obsession, hurting people and watching them burn. But enough about me. I'm dying to know, with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"
The redhead smiled uneasily. "I'm Ronald Bilius Weasley, er, son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. And the boy over there is my friend Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter." Jaime followed his gaze to the sleeping body and returned to Ronald Weasley again.
"You're Tyrion's brother, right?" The Weasley boy asked him, curiosity in his hoarse voice.
He was probably wondering why he and Tyrion both seemed so different appearance wise, although they were related. Unfortunately his little brother hadn't inherited the good looks of his family like his two older siblings. Yet, it didn't matter to Jaime. He loved his younger brother, regardless what others might say or think about him.
"So you're acquainted with Tyrion? The world is very small, isn't it?" said Jaime in an amused tone and regarded Harry Potter, lying motionless on the bed with his eyes closed. It was hard to believe this little, skinny brat was the Chosen One.
Potter was too young and he didn't have an commanding aura around him like his father Tywin Lannister, or Lord Voldemort. He was a mere boy. There was nothing special about him. But still, it was only his first impression and maybe Potter would prove him wrong one day. Perhaps he really was the Chosen One, the only one who was destined to kill the snake lord.
Jaime gave him a searching look "What happened to your friend? Is he a late riser? Don't you want to wake him?"
"I tried many times but Harry won't wake up. I'm not really sure but I guess it must be one of You-Know-Who's spells. I can't think of any other plausible explanation and honestly, this is something the Dark Lord would do, to make sure Harry can't escape."
Jaime grimaced. "Well, it wasn't a wise move to come here in the first place if you ask me. I wonder, though, please enlighten me, what were you two doing at Casterly Rock? What did you hope to accomplish?"
Weasley paused for a long moment, narrowing his eyes. He then looked up again, muttering in a low tone. "We have tried to snatch Gregor Clegane..."
The boy stopped abruptly as he saw Jaime bursting out in laughter. "Trying to snatch the Mountain?" He chuckled, arms folded over his chest and thinking it was just too damn funny. "Gods, you guys must be crazy. Crazy or bold. I have yet to decide which one it is."
"It was Harry's idea, not mine." Weasley grumbled, his freckled face showing an embarrassed expression. "But it doesn't matter. You-Know-Who captured us and I only hope the others were able to escape."
"The others?" Jaime raised an eyebrow. Oh, now it's becoming interesting...
He nodded. "Yes, my friend Hermione, your brother Tyrion and his mercenary friend, Bronn."
"If my brother is with your friend, you shouldn't worry. Tyrion is clever and he knows this castle like the back of his hand." Jaime assured him, raising his hopes. And maybe there was hope for him too. Tyrion would never leave them in this cell. He was a Lannister and he wouldn't hesitate helping his brother. As children they have all learned their family ranked above everything else, it had the highest priority and Jaime was certain Tyrion would remember that lesson.
The next hours flew by and the boy's initial wariness towards him slowly dissipated. Weasley started to warm up to him, telling him all about his family, his home at the Burrows and his life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The boy didn't seem to stop, talking his head off.
Under different circumstances this flood of words might have bothered him or give him headaches, and in return he might have gagged him or worse. But not this time. Words were not enough to describe how joyful he felt right now, having someone to talk to again, someone to crack him up. Well, the company could have been better, a pretty lady would've been a nice change, yet he didn't care.
As far as he could tell, Ronald Weasley was a good and honest boy. And it was a pleasant surprise he even knew Ratface. As Ron recognized the small man during their torture sessions, he told him Ratface had once been his pet rat Scabbers. The world was indeed very small.
Between meals they often spent their time playing chess together and the Lannister knight was astonished how able this boy actually was. Jaime was used to lose his games against his father Tywin. Now he had to find out that Tywin wasn't the only highly skilled player he knew.
Ron showed a natural talent in strategy and tactics, always thinking many steps ahead of him. Jaime thought the young boy could become a talented strategist himself one day, with the right training and the right teacher.
Late in the evening the cells were opened again and for one moment he hoped Tyrion and the others had finally arrived to break them out. However, everything turned out quite differently as he had expected and he quickly abandoned hope as the ones who were supposed to rescue them had been caught too. The seven gods must love me today, Jaime thought.
Tyrion, his sellsword Bronn and a young girl were roughly pushed into the cell by a group of Death Eaters.
By the looks of things they had presumably gone through a lot. There were a few bruises and cuts here and there and they all had a very tired and exhausted look in their eyes. Like soldiers who had just returned from a lost battle, their heads and shoulders hanging in defeat.
Tyrion managed giving Jaime a crooked smile. "Beloved brother, so good to see you again. This time I'm afraid you look better than me."
Jaime smirked. "Well, I've always been the pretty one of us, so you shouldn't worry about that. How goes our saying again? There's the pretty one and there's the clever one."
His younger brother laughed at that. "The Lannister brothers. Yeah, I remember that."
The girl standing next to Tyrion probably couldn't fathom how they could laugh at a time like this, she grimaced and shook her head. "I don't think this is the right time to joke around, my lord."
"Oh, please, my lady. Do you really want to spoil our family reunion here?" Tyrion asked her with a grin and she only frowned at that, walking over to the Weasley boy, beginning to talk to him.
"Your new girlfriend, brother?" Jaime asked him, smiling.
Tyrion waddled towards his brother and waved his hand dismissively. "Hermione? She's just a friend of mine. You know how it goes. Most people, especially beautiful ladies, can only tolerate my charming self for a very short period of time."
Jaime chuckled. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I, for one, cherish your company, brother. So, why are you here now? Did you miss me?"
"Guess what, we came to rescue you." Tyrion replied in a carefree tone.
Jaime cocked an eyebrow. "Rescue us? Good job, brother." He noted dryly.
"I know. You should thank the Spider if you meet him perchance. That slimy bastard betrayed us. I should have killed him when I had the chance." His little brother mumbled with a grim expression on his face.
Jaime frowned. "I think I have often warned you, little brother. Varys is not a man to be trusted."
"I know, I know. But can't you see? I had to take my chances, there had been no other way. I don't mind if you blame me for this failed rescue attempt. But I promise I'll try to do it better next time." Tyrion assured him.
"You still think you can get us out?" asked Jaime, staring at him doubtfully.
Tyrion hopped on a nearby chair with ease, taking a peach in his small hand and grinning. "Of course, dear brother. I may be in a prison cell but that doesn't mean my wits have entirely left me."
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The Dark Lord stood at the windows, his cat-like eyes roaming over the turbulent sea below. The weather had changed drastically during the last few hours. Rain clouds shrouded the grey sky, thunder and lightning were the harbingers of an approaching storm. Sudden flashes of light illuminated his face, casting eerie shadows over his pale, serpentine features.
For a brief moment the dark wizard wondered if this abrupt weather change had a meaning. Was it an omen or a warning, perhaps? Casterly Rock was his newly chosen headquarters but did he feel safe here? His answer would be no. As long as Tywin Lannister lived, he had to proceed very carefully. The head of the Lannister family was known as a cunning and calculating strategist. According to his other reliable sources he was also a very powerful wizard.
It wasn't in Lord Voldemort's nature not to act against this man, not to eliminate such a potential threat. But he couldn't deny the fact that Tywin Lannister could also be a useful ally, in fact be a great asset if he would succeed to subjugate this proud man, forcing him to become his loyal follower. A difficult task admittedly, yet there was nothing he could lose. Voldemort would either rule over the lion or he would destroy him. It was as simple as that. In his mind he had gained a small victory in this regard. Lord Tywin's daughter Cersei was his, his Death Eater and his property. One Lannister lion already belonged to him.
His scarlet eyes wandered and his gaze settled upon a golden lion statue which was positioned at the small meeting chamber's entrance. A silent and proud guardian sat on a high stone pedestal, roaring its defiance. There was a familiar, fiery glance in these cold emerald eyes, much like the fire in Cersei's eyes.
It was strange that his thoughts often revolved around this woman lately. Why did he seek her presence or summoned her to his side? Cersei was just a possession, a plaything, a tool, nothing more. Yet still...
There was something about her that intrigued him, something that sparked his interest. Maybe if he kept her close, he would soon know the reason what allured him.
Was it only his desire to own her, to take care of his newest possession? Unlike Bellatrix she didn't succumb to him immediately. Her submission had been an act, there had been no sign of unquestionable loyalty or faithfulness. Cersei still struggled against his bonds of control, like a rabbit unavailingly trying to escape from the snake's deadly embrace.
Feeble attempts, Voldemort thought. No one was able to resist him. Not her, and not her father. Cersei would soon be his and her father would follow and join his cause too, one way or another.
Everything was going according to plan. The Dark Lord would become the ruler of the Wizarding World, establishing and enforcing new laws, creating a flawless and perfect society of pure-blood wizards and witches and finally fighting against their true enemies, all those Mudbloods, blood-traitors and Muggle-lovers out there who dare befoul this world with their sheer existence. He and his followers would cleanse this earth, they would purify it and cut away all the corruption that had spread here like weed over the years.
Voldemort paused his train of thought as he heard a quiet buzzing behind his back. He turned around, his ivory hands absent-mindedly stroking the snake resting across his shoulders. His long fingernails scratched Nagini's chin and his familiar hissed softly, visibly enjoying her master's share of kindness and affection.
The dark wizard was here to converse with his spies Serverus Snape and Varys, to hear their recent reports. Their chosen meeting room was richly furnished, magnificent tapestries hung on the walls, showing scenes of battle, glorious victories of House Lannister. Large red carpets covered the marble floor and a silken, golden tablecloth spread over the mahogany table. The Lannister colours red and gold were clearly dominating here.
Snape sat at the table, his hands neatly folded in his lap and his black, attentive eyes following the movements of the other spy. Varys was walking through the room, holding his wand in his right hand and casting anti-eavesdropping spells.
The bald man probably felt their eyes upon him and turned his head, giving them an apologetic smile. "The walls have eyes and ears, my friends. One must always be careful, some secrets are not meant for other ears."
"I know Lord Tywin's men are watching me closely. It is fairly obvious what this man is scheming. He's a fool who thinks Lord Voldemort wouldn't know... But Lord Voldemort knows, he always knows." The Dark Lord hissed in a menacing tone, Nagini's yellow eyes instantly flashed at both men, obviously sensing her master's displeasure.
Varys seated himself, straightening his expensive dark red robe and smiling knowingly. "It is no secret how Lord Tywin feels about your unexpected arrival and your treatment of his children, my lord. I daresay the head of House Lannister is a resentful man and he hates surprises. You are indeed wise to suspect him."
His newest spy didn't tell him anything new. For a second he felt the sudden impulse to torture this man, to make him realize he only needed useful information. Yes, there was talk amongst the Lannister guards that the old lion was on the move, that he was planning something. But he didn't need gossip. What he needed were the exact plans, the strategy the enemy would utilize against him. And he needed loyal and reliable spies who would provide all the information about his enemies' schemes and plots.
Harry Potter's inescapable death was drawing near now, he could feel it in his bones. But that didn't mean his victory was secure. Not as long as Albus Dumbledore was alive. The old man was still a thorn in his side and his pathetic Order of the Phoenix was still opposing him, fighting against the inevitable outcome of this war. They were just an unorganized lot who didn't even have the slightest idea with whom they truly dealt with and how far his Death Eaters have infiltrated the Ministry of Magic. These idiots would soon have a rude awakening, he would see to that.
Varys went on. "However, Lord Tywin should be of no concern to you. It might surprise you to hear that right now the lion takes great interest in another man, Lord Stannis Baratheon. He fears this Lord might start a war. A war of thrones."
"Stannis Baratheon? Who is this man?" Voldemort asked.
"The Lord of Dragonstone, my lord. They say he is a proven battle commander, and he is utterly without mercy. Lord Stannis intends to proclaim himself king and you should know, just a few days ago he announced to kill you too." Varys said.
Voldemort gave him a curious look. "Kill me? Why? What kind of fool is this?"
"A fool who believes in justice, a fool who believes you have no right whatsoever to claim the rule over the Wizarding World. Be careful of this one, good lord. There's no creature on earth half so terrifying as a truly just man." Varys warned him.
The Dark Lord was silent for a long moment, contemplating the man's warning. His gaze moved between Serverus and Varys, his eyes shining with such intensity that any other Death Eater would immediately avoid these piercing red eyes.
He spoke again, very quietly and composed. "I don't concern myself with the sabre-rattling of one lord. No one threatens Lord Voldemort without suffering the consequences. This man shall feel Lord Voldemort's wrath, no one escapes his punishment."
Varys nodded silently, watching as the Dark Lord turned his attention to his other spy.
"Serverus," Voldemort eyed Snape now, slightly leaning forward over the table to look down at him, "tell me, has Dumbledore finally made his move? Surely he must have noticed Potter's absence, did he not?"
The dark-haired man didn't move, his face showing an impassive mask. "Dumbledore believes you have the boy, my lord. He has instructed the Order to search for him and his two friends."
Voldemort's lipless mouth curled into a smile. "Ah, but they won't find him. The Order doesn't know his whereabouts, they don't even have a clue."
The other man smiled. "The Order thinks you have hidden him inside Malfoy Manor and Sirius Black intends to lead an attack tomorrow, early in the morning."
There was a mischievous glint in his red eyes as he glided closer to the table. "Good, let them come then. My Death Eaters shall give them a befitting reception and they shall take down as many of them as they can."
"Shall I go and give the command to Lucius Malfoy and the others, my lord?" Snape asked, already getting up from his chair.
"Yes, they shall make all necessary arrangements and prepare themselves for the upcoming battle." Voldemort ordered in a calm tone.
"Very well, it will be done, my lord." said the potions teacher, giving him a curt bow and quickly leaving the room, the wooden door softly closing shut behind him.
Voldemort tilted his head to the side and studied his other spy now, stroking Nagini's snout fondly. "Serverus has been very valuable to me all these years. He is the only reliable source within Hogwarts who offers me every tiny bit of information concerning Albus Dumbledore. And once again he has served me well."
His tone was musing and thoughtful as his crimson eyes regarded Varys. "You told me, you possess much more valuable information than Serverus. I think it is time to show me what you have to offer."
This was the perfect situation. He had two able spies and both would do anything to win his favour, seeking his approval. Their rivalry would push them to their limits and the one who would benefit from this competition would be him. It was an ideal setting.
Varys smiled, pouring red wine in his glass and taking a sip. "Of course, my lord. Your time is precious, I know, I promise I shall not keep you long."
The man's usual soft voice sank to a deeper, more sharp tone. "Your loyal servant has been right about the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore is searching for Harry Potter, yes. But all his endeavours not only pertain to the boy. Oh no, our favoured sorcerer has found a new preoccupation which consumes his time completely."
Voldemort grew impatient and hissed threateningly. "Don't test my patience, Varys. What is the old man up to? Out with it!"
Varys looked up and stroked his chin with his index finger, answering. "Albus Dumbledore is researching your family's history, my lord. The last few weeks he has often visited Little Hangleton, investigating Riddle Manor and the Gaunt shack thoroughly. My birds saw him speaking to Muggle neighbours, asking them specific questions about both families and the untimely demise of their members. He has also collected several of their memories for his Pensieve. I fear, he is close to finding the truth."
Varys leaned forward and stared into his red eyes, holding a hand over his mouth as though he were sharing a secret. There was a hardness to his voice, his every word a blade. "It is only a matter of time now, my lord, until he finds your hidden Horcrux, Marvolo Gaunt's signet ring."
The Dark Lord stood in front of the table, unmoving like a statue made of ice. His eyes were fixed on the other man and he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. The old bastard knew about his Horcruxes! But how on earth could he gain such crucial information? Was it Horace Slughorn? Did he tell Dumbledore about his secret? If there was a leak somewhere he had to find and close it quickly. There was no time to waste. But most importantly he had to retrieve all his remaining Horcruxes. He would never allow letting them fall into enemy hands, specifically if this one enemy turned out to be Albus Dumbledore, the most dangerous wizard of them all.
"How do you know about my Horcruxes, Varys?" Voldemort wanted to know, a dangerous glint in his crimson eyes, feeling his anger rise inside him.
Varys gave him a secret smile. "I am the Master of Whisperers and my birds are everywhere, my lord. They whisper to me, telling me the strangest stories. But you shouldn't worry. I assure you, I serve only you and you alone. Your secrets are safe with me."
The Dark Lord strode around the table towards Varys, his serpent hissing furiously at his shoulder. His red eyes stared into his, probing his thoughts and feelings, using his Legilimency to delve into his mind but his efforts were without success. Voldemort encountered a barrier, sealing the other man's mind against intrusion.
I see, he's a skilled Occlumens. I can't detect if he's lying or not. Voldemort thought and lowered his cold voice dangerously. "I must confess I have underestimated you, Varys. You know too much and you pose a far greater threat than I initially thought you might be."
His head tilted sideways and his cat-like eyes studied the spy like a curious scientist would observe an unknown animal. "Who are you, Varys? Which role are you truly playing?"
"They call me many names, good lord. A spider, an informer, a eunuch...," Varys sighed and continued. "We all have our roles to play, do we not? The Master of Whisperers has no honour and no scruples and it saddens me to say, a spy is seldom loved. But there is one thing I can assure you: I am your loyal servant and you will need my aid in these unstable and uncertain times. Wouldn't it be such a waste to kill me now? To lose such a valuable source? It is obvious that Serverus Snape is only Dumbledore's pawn. Oh yes, he receives all the information. But it is only information Dumbledore allows him to share, nothing more and nothing less. I, however, can provide everything you want to know. Knowledge is power, is it not? With my assistance you shall be the one who will hold the upper hand, you will be able to counter your enemies' moves beforehand and will always be a step ahead of them." Varys suggested convincingly, swirling the red wine in his glass.
Voldemort knew he was right. Could he afford to lose such a valuable servant? Without this man's help he would have never known how close Dumbledore really was to discover a way to end his life, to destroy his Horcruxes who represented his path to immortality. No, he couldn't kill Varys. This man was too valuable, too important to him. He knew secrets, beyond a doubt.
"I cannot deny your usefulness, Varys, and thus I have decided you shall continue to serve me. Lord Voldemort remembers and rewards those who are loyal to him, particularly those who serve him faithfully." Voldemort spoke softly, his pale hand resting on the coiling body of his green serpent.
The other man bowed his head deeply. "Thank you, my lord. Your trust shall not be misplaced, you won't regret your decision."
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Lacking anything better to do, Tyrion spent much of his time walking around the cell, thinking of a way to get them out of here. He was restless and couldn't sit still. The little Lannister lord had no idea what he should do, wasting his time as an idle prisoner and feeling the pressure of their situation more and more with each passing hour. Soon the Dark Lord would arrive to kill Harry, there was no doubt about it. Tyrion had promised to help the boy. He couldn't let him die here. Not like this, facing death in this vulnerable state.
The only positive he could think of was that they were all together and not separated. Bronn was snoring loudly, taking a nap on the bed, his brother Jaime and Ron were absorbed in playing a game of chess and Hermione treated the cut wounds on her arms.
Tyrion approached her, seemingly concerned. "Does it hurt?"
"Not so much. This soothing ointment relieves the pain." She explained, carefully putting a bandage around her arm.
The small man lowered his mismatched eyes. "I'm sorry, Hermione. It's all my fault. If I had known what Varys had been up to, all this wouldn't have happened."
"You shouldn't blame yourself. You did everything you could to save us." The young witch squeezed his shoulder lightly, giving him an encouraging smile. "Just look at us, my lord. At least we're still alive. I'm sure we all get out of here soon. The Order will save us, or maybe your squire, Podrick Payne."
Pod... He had forgotten the boy and recalled how Varys had begged Voldemort to spare him, explaining that he had nothing to do with the rescue attempt, that Podrick was an unfortunate lad, being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Well, it seemed even Varys had a heart and it wasn't a ravaged wasteland as he had feared. Tyrion hadn't expected this, certainly not from Varys. Once again it became clear to him he didn't understand the spymaster, neither his intentions, nor his motivations.
Tyrion looked up at her, murmuring. "Oh yes, Pod, he can be a real pain sometimes, yet I wouldn't mind if he were my knight in shining armour."
The bushy-haired girl rolled her eyes. "You're never serious, are you, Tyrion?"
Tyrion smirked playfully. "Oh, trust me, I can be very serious, Hermione."
He was tempted to tell her how he felt, that he truly enjoyed her company. In the majority of cases women only stayed with him if he asked them to, paying money for their attention or affection. That is how it has always been. However, Hermione was an exception, she regarded him as a good friend, not minding his small stature or the fact that he was a member of House Lannister.
"Hermione," he began, looking deeply into her beautiful, chocolate brown eyes and searching for the right words to express his feelings. But unfortunately, he didn't get the chance to go on. Lord Tywin Lannister came into the room with his uncle Kevan following behind him. Another man appeared soon after them, his father's mad dog, Ser Gregor Clegane, dragging Wormtail with him.
They all spun around, facing the four men. His father and uncle wore black cloaks, almost resembling the dark clothing of a Death Eater. Ser Gregor, also known as the Mountain stood before them in his usual heavy plate armour, a giant covered in massive steel. A yellow cape flowed down his back, showing the familiar three black hounds, the sigil of House Clegane. Beside him Hermione shifted in her seat, probably realizing how close the Mountain was, yet still out of reach.
"Father, it's such a joy seeing you here. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" Tyrion asked in a relaxed tone, yet deep down he felt the tension, the way he always did when he had to face his dear father again. From the corner of his eye he noticed Jaime rising up from his chair, a surprised expression on his face.
Lord Tywin's gold-flecked eyes studied his brother Jaime intently until his eyes met Tyrion's. "Look at you two, see where you're standing. Lannisters...," His icy voice became as sharp as a whip now and he pointed his finger accusingly at them. "Lannisters don't act like fools!"
Jaime winced at his father's sudden outburst and Tyrion swallowed, averting his eyes. "We're sorry to disappoint you, father."
"I don't want to hear any of your excuses. You've brought shame to our House, both of you!" His father grunted grimly.
"If you let us out and give us a chance to redeem ourselves..." Tyrion proposed but got cut off, flinching and falling silent immediately as Tywin just glared at him.
"Do you really think I would let you leave, son? That I'd let you walk around out there causing more damage and more trouble? Hmm?" His father gave him a challenging look. "Go on, Tyrion. I want to hear it! Say something clever!"
Tyrion cleared his throat, looking up again. "As matters stand now I suggest consulting Albus Dumbledore, we could bring the Potter boy back to him and ally ourselves with the Order of the Phoenix."
"Never! The lion doesn't ally with sheep! Never forget that!" Tywin made clear.
Hermione rose to her feet, a look of determination on her face and her voice sounding calm and reasonable. "But why? Voldemort is our common enemy. Why can't we unite our forces and fight him together?"
Lord Tywin glowered at her. "You don't say a word unless you're spoken to, girl! Who is she anyway? Another one of your whores?"
"You..." The young, brown-haired witch gave him an indignant look and Tyrion quickly placed his small hand on her forearm.
He could barely hold back his anger himself as he retorted. "Hermione is my friend, father. But why am I telling you this? You don't know what friendship means, you only think of the honour of our House."
"Silence!" His father took a deep breath, eyeing Hermione. "Your name, girl?"
"Her name is..." His uncle Kevan stepped forward, wanting to introduce her but Tywin held up a hand, calmly repeating his question. "Your name?"
She met his gaze unflinchingly and didn't back down. "Hermione Jean Granger, my lord."
He arched an eyebrow. "Granger..., is it a Muggle-name?"
"I'm a Muggle-born witch, my lord. And neither do I deny nor do I regret my parentage."
"She has guts, son, I give her that." Tywin acknowledged, turning to the other boy.
"And you are?"
Weasley's hands nervously fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket, his voice trembling as he answered. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, my lord."
"Weasley? I see." His green-gold eyes glistened as they moved to the sleeping body of Harry Potter.
"And this one must be the so-called Chosen One." He concluded, crossing the room to get to him and paused, watching Hermione hurrying to her friend's side, blocking Lord Tywin's path.
"Get out of my way!" His lord father seized Hermione by the collar of her grey cardigan and threw her to the ground.
"Don't hurt him!" She breathed but Tywin ignored her as if she weren't there, bending over the young boy's unconscious body and placing a hand on Harry's forehead, his eyes closed in concentration.
"It's a very powerful sleeping charm." Tywin muttered, opening his eyes again and glancing at Kevan Lannister. "Voldemort must truly fear this boy."
The other man nodded gravely and Jaime gave his father a questioning look. "What will happen to him?"
Lord Tywin shrugged. "The boy will die of course."
"You won't help Harry, my lord? You'd let You-Know-Who enter this cell and allow him to kill Harry? Without any resistance?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening in disbelief and Ron gaping at him in shock simultaneously.
Lord Tywin Lannister, his heart is as cold as all the gold of Casterly Rock. Tyrion thought bitterly.
"The boy means nothing to me. I don't need a Chosen One to defeat the snake. Only fools place their trust in a little boy." Lord Tywin said in an emotionless tone.
"That little boy, dear father, has survived a killing curse. Isn't it obvious? Harry James Potter is special and that is the reason why our Dark Lord couldn't kill him, or should I say failed to kill him." Tyrion reminded his father.
"If this boy has survived every single attack on his life thus far, then he'll surely be able to miraculously survive another killing curse, don't you agree, Tyrion?" His father asked coldly, giving him a look that silenced any further argument.
"Enough of this. Potter is of no concern to me. There are more important matters that need to be discussed." Tywin addressed Jaime now, gold flecks shining in his pale green eyes. "What kind of madness possessed you to sneak into Malfoy Manor, Jaime?"
Jaime smiled weakly. "No madness, father. I wanted to free my sister, that was all."
Lord Tywin snarled. "And Voldemort? Why is the snake still alive? If you start a fight, you should at least have the strength to finish it."
"I couldn't finish the fight, Cersei's life was at stake, I just couldn't..." Jaime Lannister shook his head, his shoulders sinking.
His father sighed. "One day your foolishness and recklessness will cost you your life. The next time you engage in a battle you should keep that in mind."
Jaime raised his eyebrows. "The next time?"
"I will give you half of my men, Kevan and Ser Gregor shall accompany you as well."
"To fight whom?" Jaime asked.
Lord Tywin stared at him. "Death Eaters. I can't attack Voldemort in the open, not now. Stannis Baratheon may spark a war and it would be unwise to fight a war on two fronts. But I won't stand idly by either, we have to diminish his army's numbers by raiding his forces. Soon he'll be outnumbered and he'll be at an disadvantage and that will be the moment when we'll crush the snake at one final blow."
"Sounds like a simple strategy." Jaime remarked.
"Simple, indeed, yet very effective. The Dark Lord will think you've escaped and that you plan to take vengeance on him by killing his men. Of course I will deny any involvement which will give me additional time to deal with Lord Stannis." Lord Tywin explained calmly.
Tyrion cocked his head. "And what about me? Are you sending me to war too, father?"
"You will stay here with your friends, son. Until I decide what to do with you."
"Great. Oh well, I suppose I should be grateful that I'm here and not at the Wall." Tyrion commented dryly.
His lord father's mouth tightened. "Hold your tongue! I've been going easy on you, Tyrion, you should pray and thank the gods I still tolerate your presence here."
The dwarf gave him a lopsided grin. "Trust me, I've tried praying to the seven but sadly, they won't answer my prayers. Look at me, I haven't grown any taller."
Tywin glared at him and chose to remain silent, knowing this could go on forever. Uncle Kevan cleared his throat and waved a hand at his nephew. "We should go now, Jaime. Before other Death Eaters arrive."
"Yes, yes. But first there is something I need to do." Jaime said, holding out his hand. "A sword and a dagger, please."
His uncle and Tywin exchanged wary glances and Kevan finally nodded, undoing the sword and dagger from his waist and handing both weapons over to Jaime.
Jaime weighed them in his hands and ordered Gregor Clegane to release Wormtail.
"Here!" He threw Kevan's sword at his feet and the Death Eater hastily gripped the sword, clutching it awkwardly in his hands.
"Have you lost your mind?" Lord Tywin asked and Tyrion wondered himself what Jaime's intention was.
Jaime smiled languidly, balancing the dagger in his hand. "Me and Ratface here have a score to settle and a Lannister always pays his debts. Am I right, father? I'm even willing to grant him a chance to defend himself. No one should claim the Kingslayer fights without honour."
"Honour?" Tywin snorted, giving his older son a disapproving look but Jaime didn't seem to care.
In the blink of an eye, Jaime stepped forward and at the same time the Death Eater raised his own sword, swinging it down in one swift motion.
Everyone in the prison cell held their breath as Jaime moved sideways, dodging Wormtail's clumsy attack. It was obvious his opponent wasn't used to fighting with a sword as his brother disarmed him easily, the blade dropping to the stone floor with a hard, heavy clang.
"Please, don't kill me! Have mercy!" Wormtail begged, his watery eyes staring at the tip of the dagger which was just grazing the hollow of his throat.
"My lord father told me I should finish my battles." And with that Jaime slashed his throat, a foam of blood spurting from Wormtail's gaping mouth, his body slowly sinking into a red pool of his own blood, empty eyes staring upward at the ceiling.
It's over. Tyrion thought, relieved. Suddenly he heard Ron Weasley scream, his eyes widened in shock as Wormtail's silver hand was moving on its own although the body was dead. It had to be some kind of dark magic. Metallic claws tightened around his brother's neck, strangling him.
Jaime gasped for air, a pained expression contorting his features. Tyrion could hear him croak weakly. "Someone... help me..."