A/N - Hey guys! So, who's excited for Pottermore? Imagine all the fanfiction that's going to come out of the new information JKR is going to reveal ;P
Here's the new chapter, with a bit of a twist that took forever to reveal! Enjoy!
Liam snatched his coat off the coat rack and slammed the door shut, ignoring the creeping sensation of guilt he felt every time he lost himself. The blue of the sky diluted to a soft orange in the western horizon – he felt a strange jealousness, because with the sun's disappearance came the reassurance of the day's end. There was no telling when the nightmare he was in would ever end.
Still, adrenaline was still coursing through his veins and he squinted towards the west, his task written for him. There was no point in idling, especially not when he got followers of the dark arts involved. Not that he harboured any fear at this point, he thought, slipping his wand into his pocket.
He kept his hood up during the short journey, stiff and wary about his surroundings. The snow had lessened considerably and the pines of the tall, dark trees were visible again. Signs of an early spring, something Rickshaw rarely saw. Liam hated that he knew the town well enough to realize the characteristic. He had no personal ties to his surroundings, he realized, as his eyes drifted across the landscape he grew up on. Even Hogwarts, as wonderful as he thought it was at first, didn't feel like home. No father, no mother, no home. No Holly.
After three raps on the Gallagher door, Liam stepped back, arms crossed. Recognizing the knock, the door eventually creaked open slightly for him. He heard footsteps walk away – bemused, he pushed the door open and stepped in.
"Camille?" he mumbled, shaking the snow off his boots. He found her in the kitchen, sitting by a tiny circular table, her usual cup of steaming coffee next to her. Her arms were crossed across her ruffled shawl, and the eyes he knew so well bore down on him with something he never saw before. Suspicion.
"A group of investigators came banging on my door a few days ago," she began coolly, raising her pointed chin. "Strange thing is though they did not ask about Holly – they asked about you."
"What of it?" he replied impatiently.
Her lips were a tight line. "They suspected you of being a part of recent incidents. Do you know anything about this?"
Liam tossed his head back and laughed, but it was void of any warmness. Unable to stand still, he paced the kitchen.
"So what, you trust the word of strangers now?" he accused, glaring at her. "Given up siding with me, have you? What else did they tell you?"
She sighed and rubbed her temples, exasperated. "Nothing, never mind."
He slammed his fist on the table, causing the cup of coffee to crash into the floor and shatter. Camille flinched violently and she squeezed her shut, her hand flying to her heart.
"What else did they tell you?" he hissed, leaning into her. He was unable to control himself now.
"Nothing!" she cried, her eyes still seamed shut. "They only said if I talked to them I could – I could help save another life. I told them to leave, Liam!"
He straightened up, unimpressed, and began pacing the room again.
"What has happened to you?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "You've changed..."
He looked back at her. Her eyes were open now, wide with fear.
"Haven't you?" he asked, rather insulted. "She was your daughter."
Camille stooped down, picking up the pieces of broken glass. Liam watched her, having no inclination towards helping.
"I'm not referring to that," she said stiffly, lifting each shard delicately. "This isn't who you are. Look at what you've become."
"Trust me," muttered Liam, touching Holly's necklace. "By the time this is over, you'll have thanked me."
She peered up at him warily. "By the time what is over, exactly?"
"I can't tell you anything now, but keep your mouth shut, and you'll be rewarded in due time." He pulled a neatly folded note out of his pocket. "If you care about me at all, you'll do this one favour for me."
She stood up slowly, placing the broken glass on the table. Camille eyed the note in his hand before meeting his gaze.
"The three who questioned will return to Rickshaw, I guarantee it. Give this," he said, offering the note to Camille, "to the one who's visibly wounded. You'll see it in their eyes."
She plucked the note from him a trembling, thin hand. Liam could see the confusion masking the fright in the blues of her eyes.
"You're the only one I trust with this," he said fiercely. "I'm sorry. For everything."
With that, he spun around and left her standing there, not offering her a backwards glance.
Severus watched the remaining Death Eaters exit the drawing room, an uneasy churning in his stomach. Lucius Malfoy shot them one final scornful look before closing the double doors behind him.
He turned his attention back to Voldemort, sitting on his rather majestic chair. Nagini snaked herself around the crown of the chair, eyeing Severus curiously. He was flanked by Bellatrix, who eyed Voldemort with an adoring hunger, and Avery, who looked rather confused as to why he remained instead of Lucius. Voldemort placed a hand on Nagini, and the three of them simultaneously knelt down. Severus stared hard at the marble floor of the Malfoy Manor, his mind racing.
"Quiet at last," Voldemort murmured. Remaining knelt, Severus took this as a sign to look up. The other two did the same. "Rise, faithful followers."
They obeyed. Silent, indeed – soon, the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the soft hisses of Nagini.
"We have been at leisure far too long, my friends..." began Voldemort, scarlett eyes flicking like clockwork between the three Death Eaters. "We do not want the Wizarding World to forget us, do we?"
"My Lord," Severus said, clearing his throat. "What of the boy you ordered to capture Potter?"
Voldemort smiled and continued stroking Nagini. "He will undoubtedly follow through, soon. We must be prepared."
"How can we trust him, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, rather bitter. "What is he but a foolish little mudblood?"
"Ah, patience, Bellatrix," hissed Voldemort, the fire's glow illuminating his pale face. "Your blood is no purer than is."
Severus narrowed his eyes the same time Bellatrix gasped softly – he didn't know if it was in surprise or offense.
"My Lord, Woodsworth entered Hogwarts as a muggle-born, surely there is a – "
"No," Voldemort interrupted, his eyes gleaming with a hidden treasure. "His roots are with us, and in time, he will return to them."
"Shall I spare the boy?" Bellatrix said, disappointment colouring her voice. "I hoped to carve his pretty little face off after is insolence towards you, my Lord."
Severus remained confused, searching Voldemort's face for answers. His eyes now slithered to Avery, who remained stiff and quiet.
"Rather silent today, Avery," Voldemort remarked, a cold smile playing on his lips.
"Mulling over why I've replaced Lucius, my Lord..." Avery murmured. Severus surveyed him – it was hard to tell what the man's expression was under his thick, brown beard and furrowed eyebrows. He, too, wondered what Avery's purpose here was – Severus watched Avery's unwavering gaze, stumped.
"Lucius is still preoccupied with the death of Draco," said Voldemort apathetically. "As are Crabbe and Goyle. They are weak – but you are not."
Bellatrix sniffed irritably, jealous at the compliment, and began twirling her wand in the locks of her hair in defeat.
"My Lord," Severus said, meeting his snake-like eyes. "You say the Woodsworth boy has his roots here, among us. You say he's pure. How did you come to find out this information?"
"I have known. I have always known." Voldemort's flicked back to Avery, his smile returning, and waved his hand towards Bellatrix and Severus. "I think our friends here deserve the truth, Avery, and who better than from you?"
Avery stiffened, a hint of a glower flashing across his face. The burly man cleared his throat, choosing against disobedience. He raised his head and turned to his fellows – almost reluctantly, Severus thought. There was a pause; Nagini hissed impatiently, her eyes resembling gleaming coals against the fire's glow. Bellatrix stopped twirling the wand in her hair and crossed her arms. Avery shifted uncomfortably, his eyes shadowed over with what looked like a mix of guilt and fear.
"Reveal your secret," Voldemort hissed.
"The blood that courses through the boy is that of Avery," he blurted out roughly. "He is my own. Liam is my son."
I hoped you liked it, and I'd love if you left a review about what you thought! Cheers!