Chapter 27: Reunion
Severus pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open with a limber thumb. It was ninety seconds before eight o'clock. The Order of the Phoenix was gathered in the small, secret room off Dumbledore's office. Even Harry Potter was there, to Snape's great displeasure. Dumbledore had invited Harry to join the Order, insisting that too much had already been kept hidden from the young man. The Headmaster was not one to make the same mistake twice (in face, he rarely made them even once), and was firmly convinced that the Sixth Year student was ready to assume his fated role in the fight against Voldemort.
There were only four members of the Order missing from the crowded room. Arabella Figg almost never left Wisteria Walk, and was regularly briefed on their meetings by Mundungus Fletcher. Sturgis Podmore was still serving his sentence at Azkaban, which he had received when a mission he'd been carrying out for the Order had gone awry. Then there was Fawkes, who, having burst into flames only two days earlier, was now a mere embryonic shadow of his former self, only just starting to emerge from the ashes as an awkward, quivering chick. It would be several days before he'd be in any shape to join them again.
The final missing member was Adelaide.
Soft chatter suffused the room as the members milled about, greeting those they had not seen in a while and exchanging news of Hogwarts and the outside world. One wizard stood outside this circle of camaraderie, glaring at the door as if to will his cohort into appearance. 'Where was she?' Snape wondered. No one had seen a sign of her all day--she had not been present at any of the meals. As the seconds ticked by, he became more and more certain that she would not come...that she had ducked out, unable to face the Order, and in particular, unable to face Mad-Eye Moody.
He'd wanted to ask Dumbledore about Addy's strange reaction to the mention of Moody's name...had puzzled over it all day, in fact. But he continuously reminded himself that he had papers to grade, ingredients to prepare for the upcoming week of classes, and plenty of work to do on his Snakebite antidote. He'd made a promise to himself—he would stop thinking about her, stop caring about her, and stop allowing himself to be distracted by her. "You don't have those kinds of luxuries, old boy," he'd reminded himself. "They are part of other people's lives—not yours." And so he had barricaded himself inside the dungeons, trying to concentrate on his work so that he would not think about her.
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Addy had spent the day isolated in her room, mostly staring out the window towards the east, lost in sad memories. When a knock came at her door around three o'clock, she sat silently until it stopped and she could hear her visitor's footsteps retreating down the hall.
Her caller had, in fact, been Remus Lupin, who had wasted no time in seeking her out, once he'd returned from the Shrieking Shack and had showered, shaved, and changed into his least shabby set of robes. He'd come bearing a handful of sad little daisies that he'd plucked from behind the Shack, much to Sirius' consternation. When she did not answer his knock, he shrugged and left them in front of her door, smiling to himself at how she might puzzle over who had left them, and relishing revealing himself later.
Finally, Addy's annoyingly helpful clock reminded her that it was time for her to get ready for the meeting. She took a brisk shower and changed into fresh robes, pulling her hair back into a tight, business-like bun. She wanted to make a professional impression, and although there were always those rebellious curls that would not be shackled by the confines of a chignon, it was the best she could do. Leaning on the table top of her vanity, she stared at herself solemnly in the mirror.
"You can do this," she said aloud to her reflection. "You're not the same person you once were. He will see that. And if he doesn't, you'll make him see it. Just remember the faith that Dumbledore has in you. That's got to count for something...hasn't it?"
Ending her pep talk on this plaintive, uncertain note, she gathered up her materials for the meeting and made for the door. Addy didn't even notice the daisies languishing at her threshold as she stepped on them, crushing them underfoot. She proceeded down the corridor at a brisk, confident pace that belied the knot of angst in the pit of her stomach.
To her surprise, the gargoyles that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office sprang to life at her arrival and the doorway rumbled open. Gripping the banister, Addy felt her heart spiral up into her throat as the moving staircase spiraled her upward toward the dreaded appointment. Halfway up, she was seized with the urge to run--to sprint back down the stairs, clambering downward faster than they lifted her, emerging into the corridor, and running to the farthest corner of the castle, perhaps even hiding out in the wet stone corridor she and Snape had used to access the back exit of the castle. She would wait there in the comfort of darkness until the meeting was over, and would face whatever consequences she was dealt with tomorrow.
But she didn't turn tail. She stayed put, and stepped off unsteadily when the stairs ground to a gentle halt, depositing her in Dumbledore's office. It was empty, which was just as she had hoped. She'd timed her arrival at the last minute so as to avoid having to mingle with the others. After a quick glance at Fawkes' perch, in which what looked like a small lump of feathers lay sleeping amidst a pile of ash, Addy proceeded straight to the hidden door of the meeting room. There would be time enough for a visit with Fawkes, if he was up to it, after the meeting.
The hidden entranceway was located directly beneath the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. The portrait frame had been empty each time she'd been in this room, but now it was occupied by the sallow, pointy features of the former Headmaster. Sirius had briefed her on his Great-Great-Grandfather's fearsome reputation, and so she found herself prepared for his scrutiny.
"Ahhhh!" he called, with menacing glee. "So here is our new little Death Eater. I have heard about you, yes indeed. But you've managed to time your visits to Albus whenever I was out, you clever girl." Addy did her best to follow Sirius' advice and ignore him, as she tucked in her wayward curls and double checked to see that she had all the materials for her presentation, but the old bastard was intent on goading her. Looking her up and down, he continued, "I see you're trying to make a prim and proper impression. Good idea, for someone with so very much to prove. But don't you think you're cutting it a little close on the timing? The meeting is about to start—you've missed your chance to socialize with the other members, including our very special guests tonight, the Aurors and their esteemed leader, Alistor Moody."
Addy knew that he knew perfectly well the import of what he was saying, so she looked up dryly and said, "Bite me, Nigellus."
He chuckled softly, and said in a low, intimate voice, "That's not the password, Dearie," before slithering out of his portrait frame.
Shit! The password! Addy had no clue what it was. The last time she'd been there, she'd come with the others directly from dinner. It had been assumed that the staff would retreat en masse to the meeting once again, and so no one had thought fit to tell her the password. And the meeting was to start in less than a minute.
After all the trouble she'd gone through, and knowing who was waiting for her on the other side of that hidden doorway, the last thing she wanted was to be late. Her mind raced as she started guessing passwords.
"Banana Banshees!" Nothing.
"Gobstoppers! Dragon Drops!" No movement from the paneled wall.
"Uhhh...Humbugs...Violet Creams…Licorice Pixies…" Phineas could be heard cackling somewhere off in the distance, but Addy tried not to come unglued and instead concentrated on remembering more confections, as her last remaining seconds ticked away.
Soon she had named every sweet she could think of, including a few she was pretty sure she'd just made up, and none of them had worked. What was she to do—knock feebly on the oak-paneled wall of Dumbledore's office, hoping someone would open the secret door from the inside? Oh, she simply couldn't enter the meeting like that, and the idea of bolting back down the spiral staircase tempted her once again.
And then, a memory floated into her senses—a familiar scent, one she'd smelled recently, and in this very room. Addy screwed up her face trying to identify it and remember—Aha! It was the thing she'd smelled the last time she'd come to visit Albus. She shouted out, "Cinnamon Buns!" and the outline of a doorway appeared as if lit from within by a thousand shimmering fireflies. Soon, the oak paneling in front of her had dissolved into a luminous, watery looking curtain which parted, revealing the Order of the Phoenix gathered round a large conference table in a dark, torch-lit room.
Stepping over the threshold and entering the room, Addy saw that all the seats at the table were occupied. The only empty spot was on the far side of the room, in front of where Snape stood, leaning against the stone wall between two flickering sconces that cast deep, dancing shadows on his face. Nervously tucking in more curls and trying to look nonchalant, she made her way across the small, crowded room. As the doorway coalesced back into solid oak behind her, the gentle chime of a clock in Dumbledore's office signaled the start of the meeting.
The air in the dim room was thick as she crossed it. She had no patience for Snape's livid, self-centered glare, so her gaze flitted nervously from him, landing instead on Potter's surprised stare. She quickly shifted her eyes away again and gave a relieved little smile at the friendly faces of Remus and Sirius, whom she hadn't seen since they'd left for the Shrieking Shack. Her smile gave way to a worried frown at the sight of them—Remus looked sunken and haggard. Addy would even swear that he appeared thinner. And Sirius looked as though he hadn't slept in three days.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Dumbledore's call for the meeting to come to Order. The room quieted down in an instant, and Addy laid her Underground model and the other pieces of her presentation on the floor next to her seat. Snape stood almost directly behind her, and she could still feel the heat of his glare raising the small hairs on the back of her neck. She swallowed hard, and turned her concentration to what Dumbledore was saying.
He was calling Harry Potter—the boy who had never needed any introductions in the wizarding world—up to the head of the table so that he could be sworn in as a full-fledged Member of the Order. When the oaths were complete, those around the table banged it with their hands and those seated away from the table stomped the floor in the customary welcome. Addy joined suit.
When the din died down and a grinning Harry resumed his seat between Remus and Lupin, Dumbledore called out, "I believe we now must introduce another new member, who was sworn in last week during an emergency meeting of the Order. She has been stationed here at Hogwarts, where she works undercover as our Professor of Dark Arts. Adelaide Mayhem, would you please rise."
All eyes turned to her and Addy stood, smoothing her robes, certain that that everyone could hear the pounding of her heart. Dumbledore stared intently over his half-moon glasses at her for just the briefest moment, quietly gauging her. Then he gestured toward an old wizard seated at the table, wearing a shabby, oversized cloak and clenching an unlit pipe between his yellowed teeth. "Adelaide, you have not yet met Mundungus Fletcher, our star Procurer of Necessary Things. Mundungus, Miss Adelaide Mayhem."
Fletcher rose from his seat, and he and Addy nodded cordially at one another. Then he pulled the pipe from his mouth and gave her a gap-toothed smile, saying, "Call me Dung, everyone does!" A nervous smile flitted across her lips as he waved and sat back down, and Addy thought she heard a sound of disgust from a red-haired witch seated further down the table. "If that's not a Weasley," she thought to herself, "I don't know the difference between mandrake and marshmallow." Indeed, her suspicion was confirmed with Dumbledore's next introduction of Arthur, Molly, and Bill Weasley. They all stood and gave her a hearty welcome with warm smiles, and Addy relaxed just a bit more.
Next came Dedalus Diggle, an excitable but friendly wizard wearing an alarming top hat that made her smile once again. As the introductions continued around the room, Addy was beginning to feel at home again, when Dumbledore introduced her to another new face—a witch just a few years older than herself with pink cheeks and black hair. "Adelaide, this is Hestia Jones. Hestia works undercover for us at St. Mungo's."
Jones.
Addy's smile dissolved as she stared at the witch, searching for any sign of familiarity, wondering if she could be a relative on her father's side. 'Calm down, Adelaide,' she told herself. 'There are millions of Joneses, and your father has no known living relatives. It's just a coincidence.'
The witch seemed pleasant enough if a bit on the formal side, and displayed no sign of recognition toward Addy. Still, Addy shifted uncomfortably at the mere mention of her name and the name "Jones" so close together. She hoped it hadn't triggered any unpleasant associations in anyone's mind.
Oh, but it had.
From the shadows next to the hearth came a hacking, coughing sound that turned gradually into a low, mirthless laugh. A scarred, wiry old wizard emerged, each heavy footstep alternating with the even heavier clunk of a wooden leg, until his gnarled features were illuminated by the shifting firelight, which glinted off his rolling, magical eye.
"Don't worry, Miss Mayhem," he said in a voice thick with danger. "There's no relation there." His large, icy-blue eye settled on her and stayed there, trapping her like an animal caught in headlights as he slowly approached her. Step…clunk…step….clunk…
The room had gone completely silent other than the uneven sound of his footsteps and the crackle of the fire. Addy silently ordered her feet to stay put, and held his gaze, lifting her chin in a poor imitation of composure as he approached. 'Dumbledore believes in you…Dumbledore believes in you,' she told herself over and over. Finally, the old Auror stood right in front of her, both eyes still and fixing her to the spot. The diagonal gash of his mouth broke into a twisted grin, as he spoke slowly and softly into her face.
"Hello, Princess."
Addy flinched visibly at the mention of her old nickname, and although he could not see her features from behind, Snape could see her body language transform as her confidence drained steadily away like blood from a gaping wound. He had the sudden, irritating urge to come to her defense … to rush to her side and protect her from Moody's vitriol. He mentally swatted off the thought like a gnat, but didn't take his eyes from Moody's left hand, which Snape knew to be his wand hand.
Addy was frozen. She couldn't move and she couldn't speak. She just stood there as the years rolled back on her, until she was a naïve 22-year old again and she and her family were constantly on the run and the fear of being caught by Moody or one of his Aurors was around every corner and every night she fell asleep in a strange place wondering if her friend Nagini had made it out alive and if the next day would bring their capture and the bleak end would come with the fetid stench of a Dementor's kiss.
Her heart beat wildly, and when she tried to respond, her breath caught in her throat and she croaked out something unintelligible. She took a deep breath, forced herself to swallow, and managed to greet him with a whispered, "Auror Moody." Then she took a step backward and, to Moody's astonishment, held out a trembling hand for him to shake, trying her best to hold his gaze level.
Moody's strange grin grew horribly wider, registering her distress as beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. He did not shake her hand, and instead left it hanging there awkwardly in the space between them, as he continued softly, pressing his advantage:
"Imagine…over three years spent chasing you and your family, day and night, through snow...mud...scorching sun...across three continents, over mountains, deserts, oceans…Do you have any idea how close we got…how many times I thought I had you in my grasp?"
As Moody's left hand clenched into an arthritic fist, Snape unconsciously shifted his position ever so slightly to have easier access to his wand sitting inside his robe pocket. He didn't take his eyes off the Auror.
Moody's voice grew steadily more sinister as he continued. "And instead, I come face to face with you here, at Hogwarts, in this cozy, secret meeting room off the Headmaster's office, surrounded by some of the finest witches and wizards I know. And I suppose I'm to shake your hand, and welcome you to the cause, and suggest we have tea and crumpets so you can catch me up on everything you've been doing since I last saw you and your father disappear around a corner at a marketplace in Kathmandu?"
This was it--the moment Addy had been dreading since she'd heard Snape mention Moody's name the night before. She knew the Auror held a murderously vengeful grudge against her father for the number of times he had escaped capture. She and her family had been astounded at the insane resolve he'd shown in pursuing them, madly driving his team ever onwards and always turning up just one step behind them, no matter where they had hid or how far or fast they had traveled.
But although they had come face to face on several occasions, Iscarious Jones had been the one fugitive Moody had sought, and failed, to bring in to Azkaban. At night, Addy had been visited in her sleep by nightmarish visions of the gleam she'd seen in the Auror's magical eye—the maniacal obsession…the utter hatred. He had been close enough for her to look directly into his face on more than one occasion, and she could never shake the feeling that some small part of Moody had enjoyed the chase, never once doubting that it would end with his own triumph.
Indeed, Moody had never forgiven himself for letting Iscarious Jones get away in the days and years that had followed Voldemort's fall. No one had known whether Voldemort was dead or alive or (more accurately) somewhere in between after his fateful visit to the Potter household, and Lucius Malfoy--the Pillar of his Community--was untouchable. That left Iscarious Jones number one on the Ministry's hit list, and every Auror's top prize.
Moody had sworn that it would be his last conquest. He'd bring in Jones, which would invariably lead to the capture of multiple other Death Eater fugitives. He would attend the trial in person, ensure that Jones was convicted, witness the Dementor's Kiss himself, then hand over his resignation to the Minister of Magic. He'd made a promise to his wife, Helena, that when Voldemort and his followers had finally been brought to justice, he'd give up the Auror life and settle down so they could have a stable home life and some time together. He'd been looking forward to it for years, and he'd finally got so close, he could almost taste it. The first thing he planned to do after his resignation was to buy Helena a new hat--one with flowers on it--and then take her on a holiday--the first one they would have had since their honeymoon.
But Jones had proved far more elusive than Moody had ever dreamed. He and his team, which had included the young, rookie Auror Shacklebolt, had chased Jones and his damn family halfway across the world. No matter how good their intelligence, how sure they had been that the noose was tightening, the Joneses always slipped away, and it had driven Moody nearly mad. How could a family of three--including two women!—traveling together, consistently evade the best team of Aurors in the entire Ministry force?
Moody had known that if he'd been willing, as some factions of the Ministry had urged, to risk and accept a certain number of Muggle deaths--aka "collateral damage"--he could have had Iscarious more than once. But it was the one thing Moody had sworn never to do–he would never again cause the death of innocents in order to capture his quarry. Iscarious had known this, and had used it to his advantage.
Neither the mother nor the daughter had been officially charged with any crimes since they could not be directly linked with any. But Moody (and many others) were quite sure that they had in some way been instrumental behind the scenes. And besides, even if she were not a criminal herself, he knew in his bones that the capture of the Little Princess would bring Daddy Iscarious to the rescue, which made Adelaide an even greater prize, perhaps, than her father. How Moody had relished the elegance of using the daughter as bait, and lying in wait for his nemesis to walk right into his trap.
And so the chase had continued. Eventually, his entire team, with the singular exception of Shacklebolt, had abandoned him. Kingsley had been the only one there with him in Malta when the news had come of Helena's death. And Kingsley had been there at the end, when all the clues and signs and trails that had led them onward had dried up. It had seemed as if Iscarious Jones and his family had simply disappeared into the thin air of the desert. The two Aurors continued to search side by side for seven more desperate months without a single hint of their prey. It wasn't until Shacklebolt had taken deathly ill that Moody had called off the hunt, and had returned to London just in time to save his comrade's life.
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Moody opened his mouth to speak again—to twist the knife a bit deeper—but before he could say anything further, Dumbledore interjected. Albus' eyes were still twinkling happily, but there was a commanding note in his voice that Addy had never heard before.
"Alastor, I realize that you and Adelaide are previously acquainted. However, she is now one of us, and will be treated with the same respect you would give any Member." Someone in the room snorted derisively.
Moody poked a craggy finger into the air, pointing directly between Addy's eyes, and inclined his head toward Dumbledore while his magical eye remained fixed on her.
"She has no business here, Albus."
"She is here at my invitation, Alastor," the Headmaster replied calmly.
"With all due respect, Albus, you're making a mistake. It doesn't happen often, but you're making one now. She belongs in Azkaban, not Hogwarts. My team and I would be happy to escort her there right now, and with a little…persuasion…she might even agree to invite her dear father along to accompany her." Addy took a reflexive half-step backwards.
With that, Remus exploded from his seat, charging at Moody, and shouting, "Alastor, that's quite enough!" Remus had nothing but the highest respect for the world-weary Auror, but he had crossed a line and Remus was not about to sit by and watch him abuse and humiliate a friend and fellow member of the Order, regardless of their personal history.
Sirius was on Remus' heels, trying to restrain his friend. While Remus had sat there seething throughout Moody's tirade, Sirius had kept one eye on Dumbledore who, it was clear, had the situation under control. Indeed, Dumbledore raised a hand in Remus' direction, stopping him in his tracks. Sirius was able to get a hold of his arm and drag him back to his seat.
Moody snarled in Remus' direction, "You don't know what you're dealing with, Lupin! Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, I always say. And blood is thicker than water."
With that, Moody had managed to simultaneously offend both Snape and Sirius, who suddenly felt themselves unjustly impugned, along with a few others in the room. For an instant, they looked equally shocked to find themselves on the same side of an argument, before turning their attention back to Moody.
Snape advanced until he was standing nearly level with Addy, and snarled, "If that is indeed what you always say, Moody, perhaps you'd like to say it to me. Outside."
Sirius, having just finished getting Remus back in his seat, now came forward himself, shouting, "Blood is thicker than water, is it? What's that supposed to mean, Moody?"
Hagrid stood up abruptly, knocking over the chair behind him. "Yeah! With all due respeck, sir, what's that supposed ter mean?" Quite unexpectedly, Flitwick, who'd been sitting next to Hagrid, jumped up on his chair so that he came to Hagrid's waist and, with a fierce look on his face, chimed in, "Yes, what exactly do you mean by that, Alastor?"
Addy watched in horror as the room dissolved into chaos around her, unable to shake the feeling that this sudden discord among the members of the Order was all her fault.
Minerva whipped around to Snape: "Severus, I'm shocked at you! There will be no dueling among us!" she said with a grim frown. Remus, much to Snape's annoyance, came to Severus's defence, shouting at Minerva, "If you're going to be shocked at anyone's behavior, Minerva, don't you think it ought to be Moody's? What right does he have to speak to Adelaide like that?!"
Kingsley Shacklebolt then came to Moody's defense, whirling on Remus. Moody continued to argue with Sirius, and Snape was snarling something to Minerva, while the rest of the room joined the fray as well. Poor Harry sat there, bewildered at the behavior of his teachers and trying to sort through all the crazy, mysterious accusations and bits of information he was overhearing.
The only other people in the room not screaming at somebody were Adelaide and Dumbledore. Addy looked over miserably at her Headmaster. She wished she could tell him how sorry she was for causing all this strife…that perhaps she never should have come to him in the first place. In fact, there was no need to tell him. He could read it in her eyes, even without his formidable legilimency skills.
She saw that he was about to put an end to all the squabbling, but Addy decided that she'd had enough of Dumbledore stepping in at the last moment to save her hide. She shook her head as if to say, "No, I'll handle this one," and started to reach for her wand. Dumbledore's eyes widened in alarm—he knew that she would never even get it out of her robe pocket, and feared what the repercussions might be in the suddenly explosive atmosphere of the room. He flashed her a silent message to stop and, faster than Addy could blink, had his own wand drawn.
To be continued…