Posted January 17, 2016

SUMMARY: Rasalas receives another unwelcome visit from Voldemort; Lancelot's return to Camelot forces both Arthur and Rasalas to take action to prevent bloodshed in the castle's courtyard; and Kate's ongoing investigation into the affairs of the Hogwarts headmaster summons Rasalas from training, forcing another Hogwarts professor into making a decision with immediate serious implications...

OPENING NOTE: I dedicate this chapter to the memory of Alan Rickman, who left us on January 14, after a battle with cancer. He will be missed. He brought Professor Snape's persona to life, and I would have great difficulty picturing anyone else filling that role.


ACT III, EPISODE 13
FAMILY BUSINESS II
May/June, 2007

"Agitators are a set of interfering, meddling people, who come down to some perfectly contented class of the community and sow the seeds of discontent amongst them. That is the reason why agitators are so absolutely necessary. Without them, in our incomplete state, there would be no advance towards civilization."

- Oscar Wilde


It had been yet another long morning, binding the magic of another fifteen Death Eaters held by the Ministry. Though not magically-taxing, the experience was mentally stressful, and so Rasalas needed a bit of time to recompose himself between cases. As had become the usual procedure, both Brady and Arthur joined Rasalas, with Marcus also along, keeping the record.

"God, that was more taxing than usual," Rasalas remarked, as they left the conference room.

"Les' go flying," Brady suggested.

"After lunch, but sounds good," Rasalas agreed.

"Perhaps we could take lunch in Avalon, down at the water's edge," Arthur suggested, "It has been some time since we have done so."

Rasalas grinned. "I like the sound of that. Marcus, you're welcome to join us."

Less than a half hour later, the four of them were set up at the edge of the lake in Avalon, a picnic lunch spread out, thanks to Dobby and Kreacher. As they ate, Rasalas could feel the calming effect of the island washing over him, taming the turbulent energy he'd arrived with. It wasn't the issue of it being draining, if he really thought about it—more like, being overcharged. Perhaps Viviane might have a suggestion on how to keep a lid on it without coming into Avalon—after all, there would come a time when Avalon wouldn't be an option. Of course, there were a finite number of captured Death Eaters left, so...

"Ras? You're starin' off into space," said Brady, drawing his attention back to his friends.

"Wha... oh. Sorry."

"You appeared lost in thought," said Arthur.

"Thinking about the rituals I performed this morning. It's like being over-charged magically. I need to neutralize it, and guys, let's face it: coming here isn't always gonna be available."

"Morgaine or Viviane might have a suggestion," said Marcus.

"As I was thinking."

"The outcasting rituals you have been performing... I have thought on what effect that might have against my son."

"Arthur..."

"Sire, doing such a thing could have terrible consequences to the future—our present," Marcus cautioned.

"Likely won' be able to... God won't let it happen," said Brady.

"Or the Goddess."

"Let us assume a moment that the action is permitted. You all must understand, Mordred cannot ever rule over Camelot. He is a tyrant in every sense of the word."

"Arthur, we know," said Rasalas.

"Then we must be certain he can never gain complete control. I am aware that taking his life is out of the question, but some sort of action has to be taken."

Rasalas sucked in a breath, and blew it out.

"There will come a time when your son will flee Camelot. When, I can't tell you. But it's coming soon. Thing is, when that time comes, you—and us... we have to be ready, because..."

"The Saxons will have arrived."

"Exactly. And you know that we'll be right beside you when that time comes, the Goddess willing. Let's give this a bit more thought before we proceed though. We really don't need any further complications."

"I worry for those who live at Camelot, Rasalas. Bedwyr has warned me of most disturbing spectacle taking place nightly in the castle courtyard, sights which become worse with passing days."

Rasalas hummed. "Perhaps I need to visit the little shit in the small hours of the morning again, and convince him to curtail such behaviour."

"Maybe we should see what he's up to," Marcus suggested.

"Have there been any people hurt by the, uh, spectacle?"

"Up to now, no," Arthur answered. "My knights believe it is only a matter of time."

Rasalas gave a nod, already knowing the extent of Mordred's 'spectacles'. Thing was, there was no clear time line of escalation. Further, they had no right to interfere. As ghastly as it was, there was just no way around it; they were interfering with things far more than they should as it was.

"I'd like to storm into the place and put a stop to all of it, but all of you know we can't. We must keep our distance."

"Well, we gon' go flyin' or what?" Brady asked, wanting to put the dark topic aside.

"Yeah. Enough of the dark rubbish for now, we spent the morning dealing with it. Kreacher?"

A soft pop announced the house elf's arrival.

"Is master Rasalas finished?" Kreacher asked.

"We are finished. If you could pack up what's left of our lunch, that would be great."

"Of course, master." Kreacher bowed low, and with a snap of his fingers, everything vanished.

Brady only shook his head.

"What?" Rasalas questioned.

"Jus' thinkin'. Christmas at our house a few years ago. Shame we couldn't just do that... y'know, just... snap your fingers and -poof-, i's done."

"Is master Rasalas and his company needing anything further?" Kreacher asked.

"No. You can go back to the sanctuary."

Kreacher bowed low again, and popped away.

"Right. Let's go flying..."


Early hours, May 19, 2007

It had been such a great dream. Rasalas was behind the wheel of the Sawyers' truck, with Arthur leaning up against him in the front seat, and Brady in the back seat, plucking out a melody on his guitar. Then darkness, the scene melting away, morphing into a chasm, an enormous serpent filling his vision, twisting, coiling—he found himself fighting to breathe, the binds constricting, tighter and tighter.

"Your efforts are... admirable, Harry," came Voldemort's disembodied voice. "Nearly three quarters of my followers, silenced without your raising a wand. Not even my closest circle has been spared your wrath. Bella, Lucius, Yaxley...

"Yet, your effort will mean very little in time. My reach... extends beyond my existence. Something you will never truly understand. It is something perhaps even I did not properly take into account, when I faced your parents..."

"Fuck off, Tom," Rasalas managed.

Voldemort clucked his tongue. "Tut, tut, such dreadful language. What would your parents think?"

"They'd tell... you... the same thing," Rasalas ground out.

Swiftly, the coils relaxed, and Rasalas found he could breathe. "What do you want?"

"Only to visit my most precious possession, of course," Voldemort mocked. "Wouldn't want you to incur an accident, now, would we?

"You must know, had I known years ago, I would have taken steps to see you protected."

Rasalas couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, thanks. I think I was better with the Dursleys. Thank the Goddess I only have a few memories of my life with them. Still, having to put up with whatever rubbish you and your sycophant followers would have come up with... I likely would have offed myself."

He felt the coils begin to tighten again, but they abruptly relaxed, and Voldemort let out a hiss. The chasm was fading, being replaced by the lawn at Avalon. Now Rasalas grinned.

"My name is Sir Rasalas Antares Peverell, Tom Marvolo Riddle. You are not in control here. I am. You do remember the last time you attempted to visit me, correct?"

The scene had completely changed now, the atmosphere working as a well of... joy. The serpent, an enlarged version of Nagini, hissed in anger, and slithered away, while Rasalas sat down on the lawn.

"Anything you wish to add, Tom, or will you be on your way? I mean, I'm confident the Goddess is likely on her way, and if she pulled me here, well, let's just say she won't be pleasant company."

"You cannot hide behind Avalon forever, P-p-peverell," Voldemort ground out.

"Care to bet on it?"

He was jolted awake, finding his lips locked with Arthur. His eyes widened a moment, but he only wrapped his arms around Arthur, thankful for what had been clearly an intervention.

They at last separated, and Arthur said, "You woke us both, twisting about. It was a bad dream?"

"Voldemort," Rasalas answered.

"He visited 'ya again?" Brady questioned.

"Yeah. He tried to squeeze the life out of me with a Nagini look-a-like, then told me he would have took care of me instead of the Dursleys if he'd known sooner. I told him to go get bent."

He blew out a breath. "At least we've been relatively lucky. Only the second 'visit' since we destroyed his body."

"I think he fears you, Rasalas," said Arthur, "Knowing you have both Avalon and the Goddess behind you, it is nothing to take lightly."

"Prob'ly takes a lot out of i'm, visitin' 'ya, right? Fightin' against all your defences, 'an he's already weak, no body."

"Yeah, I think that's exactly it, Brady. Now if we could just entice him to do it while we're at Avalon, it could quite possibly destroy him once and for all."

"And that is quite likely what will happen," said Arthur, "That in combination with drawing the Horcrux out of you."

"He's concerned about keeping me alive."

"No shit," Brady agreed, "You die, so does he."

"We have had this conversation a number of times already," said Arthur, "Aunt Viviane will come up with a more sane solution."

Rasalas sighed. Arthur was right. No sense in having the same conversation for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Right, guys. Since we're awake, we might as well get up and get started. No doubt Ryan and Aaron are already up as it is."

Stepping into the sanctuary's dining room, they found a simple note left on the table. Rasalas scanned it, and frowned. "They're at Ryan's place."

"Perhaps Ryan has had second thoughts," said Arthur.

"No. Ryan wouldn't cancel the event last-minute. Not unless it was some sort of emergency," Rasalas answered, as they passed through the door leading into Ryan's bedroom.

They could hear voices downstairs, and so headed for the dining room, and sure enough, they found the room busy with a number of people gathered around the table.

"'morning everyone," Rasalas greeted. He took an open seat, with Arthur following suit, picking the one beside him.

"W-w-we know there's more room in the s-s-sancutary, but Ma wanted to make b-b-breakfast this morning."

"It's all right. A change of scenery is nice, actually."

Ryan gave a nod. "S-s-so the plan. Aaron and I will b-b-be running the steam t-t-tractor today, so you g-g-guys will need to run the train. The g-g-guy who helps with the tractor c-c-couldn't get today off. He'd already s-s-switched shifts with someone."

"I think we can handle it," said Rasalas, "It's not the first time. Beside the point, it's fun. Whole point of the exercise and all that."

"There'll be four additional locomotives running today, five tomorrow, but likely only three on Victoria Day," said Aaron.

"But if things go well today and t-t-t-tomorrow, we may see more," Ryan threw in. He let out a sigh. "Goddess, this is g-g-gonna be hard. P-part of me s-s-still wants to cancel it."

"We've talked about this already. Your dad would've wanted you to carry on in his place," said Rasalas, "Do it in his memory."

Ryan could only nod, knowing his friend was right. There had been plenty of discussion over the past month and a half about the Victoria Day weekend, whether to carry on with it or cancel, given the circumstances. In the end, they had chosen to host the event.


The three-day event proved to be one of the busiest yet, as the weather brought a taste of summer, with clear skies and warm temperatures. The final gate registered nearly four thousand visitors, the donation box being filled to overflowing on two of the three days. Monday night saw a wicked fireworks display, thanks to the twins—the fireworks had been tweaked to appear non-magical in nature, to prevent another visit from the Misuse of Magic office.

Monday had also been the busiest yet as far as the number of trains, as seven locomotives were on site, a first for the club. The event had attracted attention from several local television stations, which then meant sequestering Arthur and his fellow knights back in the sanctuary for a time during the afternoon.

With the fireworks over and the commercial crew beginning to pack up the rental tent and clean up the property, everyone retreated to Rasalas' back deck, where an ice chest of refreshments awaited.

"Th-thanks everyone for the help this w-w-weekend," said Ryan, "No way we c-c-could have done it without."

"Your father would be proud of you," said Casey, "My word, never saw this weekend as busy. That said, we really do need to think about Labour Day."

"Been speakin' with the promoter," said Brady, "Longer we wait, we lose more acts, summer plannin' 'an all that."

"I think given the success this weekend, we go ahead," said Casey, "But we'll need the help."

"Count on it," said Rasalas, "And if we need it, I'm sure I can convince some of my friends to help out. I mean, count on the Weasleys being here again over the summer—and Fred and George have their shop in Toronto."

"D-da left a lot of stuff to the promoter last year as it w-w-was," said Ryan, "It's just—"

"We know, dear," Casey finished.

"You have to carry on," said Rasalas, "Your dad was very proud of you. I saw that from the first time I met him. You have some big shoes to fill, yeah, but goddess knows, you'll do it. You'll make it, and you'll be just fine."

Ryan felt his eyes get damp, but he wiped them with the sleeve of his shirt, and sucked in a breath, then blew it out. "Thanks, m-man."

"Besides, this stuff is still a lot of fun, right?" Aaron questioned.

Ryan nodded. "Yeah. Otherwise I w-w-wouldn't do it."


May 23, 2007

Though Brady had only been receiving instruction on Astral Projection for less than a month, Rasalas was surprised by how quickly he caught on to the concept. That morning, he was able to successfully transmit himself across the stone circle, and if anything, Rasalas felt a little bit of jealousy at how quickly his friend had progressed. Now question was, could he learn partial projection—

Rasalas' thoughts were interrupted, as Dobby arrived with a pop. He looked agitated.

"Sir Razzy, you and his majesty needed at Camelot, knights are fighting in the courtyard!"

"Bloody hell... everyone gather around," Rasalas said, reaching into his pouch and pulling out a pie plate—he'd gotten into the habit of putting various pieces of junk into his pouch which he could then use to create port keys. He touched it with a finger, whispering, "Portus."

"Dobby, return to the sanctuary and close the door to the castle."

"Right away, Razzy sir!" He popped away.

Seconds later, the port key activated, carrying Rasalas and his friends back to the castle. There, they found a tense standoff forming between knights still loyal to Arthur, and knights loyal to his son.

"What's going on?" Rasalas demanded, before Arthur got the chance.

"Since his majesty has no intention of carrying out justice concerning a traitor, we are acting in his stead!" one knight shouted.

"It's not your place to mete out justice!" Bedwyr shouted right back, "That power rests solely with the King and no one else."

"A king in name only!" another shouted, "Cuckolded by his own wife, and he refuses to act! How can he expect the country to follow him, when he cannot and will not stand up for himself?!"

Now, Rasalas and his companions understood what was going on. He huffed, realizing all he'd said weeks earlier had fallen on deaf ears. He was getting tired of repeating himself. Really.

"Sir Lancelot?"

"Sir Rasalas!"

Lancelot pushed through the group of knights who had come to his aid, to stand in front of the group. "You... you have not changed a bit."

"And you have aged two decades, sir knight. But we will catch up later."

"Your majesty. F-forgive me."

"It is forgiven, Lance," answered Arthur, "I know you love Gwen as you love me."

"It is mortal sin!" shouted yet another knight in Mordred's camp.

Rasalas huffed. "Even with King's blessing? I think it is Arthur's choice on the matter, not ours. And personally, I think the lot of you are behaving as traitors, rather than Sir Lance here. You swore your swords, your blood, and your very lives to your king. Rather than back him up, support him, you turn your back on him. You lot have divided the kingdom, leaving it wide open to terrible enemies that approach our shores.

"What happens when the Saxons land en mass? With all of you busy murdering each other, their conquest becomes rather easy, does it not?"

Whatever Rasalas was about to say was interrupted, by slow clapping, coming from the upper balcony which overlooked the courtyard.

"Questions very well put, Sir Rasalas," said Mordred, "What will happen, when the Saxons come? Will they find Camelot divided, its belly exposed to their arrows and their blades? Or will they instead find a untied front, put forth by one leader?"

"And who will be that leader, I have to wonder?" Rasalas questioned. "What makes you think it should be you to carry that mantle? You have... at best... a third of the castle behind you. Just you, alone.

"I know the Lady of the Lake paid you a visit some time ago... before you came to Camelot. I know you rebuked her, turned your back on her. A tragic mistake if you ask me."

"Is that so?"

"You could have received training in the art. Had both Viviane and the Goddess at your back, been given a chance to stand with us to oppose the threat to Britain. Instead, you come here with poison in your heart, which you then dump all over Camelot. With what intention? To drive your King away? What purpose does that serve, other than to hand Britain over to the barbarian horde?

"Quite frankly, that is exactly what will happen."

"You have no proof of this!" yet another knight shouted.

"I have more than enough proof. Mordred has done nothing but poison the atmosphere here at Camelot, and I call out anyone who says otherwise."

"Thing y'll are forgettin' here," Brady spoke up, "Arthur's your king. End of story. His words are all that count here, 'an honestly, I don't get why he don' just execute the bunch of 'ya. In his place, it's what I'd do."

That earned furious looks from many of the knights present. Arthur, meanwhile, seemed to ponder Brady's words. It had been far too long since he had properly asserted his authority. Perhaps no time like the present. He partially unsheathed Excalibur.

"Sir Mordred. Come before me."

Rasalas felt uneasy. What was he doing? "Arthur?"

"There is something that I must do, and all of you shall bear witness."

Mordred, meanwhile, felt the compulsion take hold. His own feet were betraying his thoughts, carrying him through the rooms, and down several flights of stairs. There was no escaping whatever his father held in store for him.

The rest of the gathered knights on both sides found themselves unable to move. The air tasted of oppressive magic, and now all knew, the magic of Avalon was at work. With Rasalas and Brady being agents of the magical isle, it should not have been a surprise.

Mordred at last found himself before his father. Arthur seemed to think a few moments, before coming to a mental decision about something.

"One gathers many regrets in a lifetime. Decisions that come back to haunt us all, at one point or another. However, a man can only act with the information in front of him—no matter who he might be.

"This man before me... I welcomed him into my companionship willingly, believing him to be nothing less than an honorable man with honorable intentions. He came to us, warning of the Saxon danger, and for that, I do thank him.

"That said, none of his actions that followed have been honorable in any way. His actions have done nothing less than sow unrest and discord here at Camelot. My home, your home... has become a suffocating fortress, poisoned with fear and suspicion. All of this, lies at Mordred's feet.

"The words Sir Brady have spoken carry nothing but the truth. Perhaps I have been soft for some time, my heart and mind not being where it should be. Grieving for lost companions. Heartbroken with the loss of my wife. In hindsight, a great many things have been let slip, paving the road which led us to where we now stand.

"That ends here. Britain cannot survive with an absent ruler, nor can it survive with Camelot divided. This event unfolding here this morning, knight against knight, for what purpose? Murdering each other? You would strike down a brother?

"Meanwhile, this man who stands before me, silently laughs with mirth, enjoying the chaos he has sown. This is exactly what he has wanted, nothing more, nothing less. Tell me, Sir Mordred, how many times have you visited a forward camp on the coast, erected by our Saxon enemies?"

Mordred found himself answering, his mouth moving without mental permission. "Eight times since the winter."

"Conspiring with the enemy. Now who's the traitor, Mordred?" Rasalas mocked. He turned to Arthur. "We cant kill him."

"This I know. I will not murder family, no matter the brief immediate satisfaction I might gain."

Arthur again briefly and partially unsheathed Excalibur.

"Sir Mordred of Orkney. By my order, you are henceforth and immediately relieved of all titles and duties. I expel you from the companions, also effective immediately."

He felt something shift in his mind, as words began to form. "Mordred Pendragon of Orkney. By my right as the Pater Familias, I decree that you are now and hereafter expelled from the family. You forever lose the rights to 'Pendragon', and all that encompasses it. Your children, should you bear them, will have no rights to the name. So mote it be."

Rasalas smirked, seeing the dark thread of magic connecting between son and father. Mordred gave Arthur a cold, furious look.

"May the Saxons take you," he ground out, as the thread finally dissipated.

"Even with you on their side, don't count on it," Rasalas muttered. "Dobby, Kreacher."

Two distinct pops brought the pair of house elves before Rasalas.

"Master Razzy sir."

"Sir Rasalas and his majesty," Kreacher greeted.

"We need Mordred's room packed up. He is leaving us within the hour," said Arthur.

"As you wish, sire," said Kreacher, bowing low. The pair popped away.

"Have his belongings sent to Orkney," Rasalas suggested, "I'll put a self-unpacking charm on it—though it's tempting not to."

That earned another furious look from Mordred.

Arthur again began speaking. "Mordred, former knight, former War-duke. You have one hour in which to leave Camelot. After which, your safety cannot be guaranteed. From this moment forward, you are considered an enemy of the crown in perpetuity. In the war-time climate, no quarter will be given. Are my words understood?"

"Understood."

Rasalas then felt something shift in his head. "There is one further piece of business, as the Goddess wishes. Mordred No-name. The Goddess commands your magical gifts to be forever bound. You are considered a danger to the safety and stability of Britain even without such skill and ability, this action prevents compounded calamity. Know that had you walked a lighter path, perhaps you could have joined our ranks, been a force for good.

"Instead, you walked a path of darkness, which led you here—"

Rasalas couldn't finish, as Mordred passed out in a dead faint.

"Uh... well..."

"Carry him down to the river and throw him in it," said Arthur, frostily.

"He may drown," said Rasalas.

"It'll be a rude awakening, but he won' drown," Brady said. "Uh... everyone's still frozen."

"So they are." Arthur again partially unsheathed Excalibur, and everyone found they could move. Arthur, Rasalas, Brady, Lancelot, Accolon, and Cai climbed up the stairs leading to the castle's entrance. Arthur seemed to think a moment, while the rest of the companions gathered at the foot of the stairs.

"Fellow knights and companions. What my former son has done... has left terrible scars on our order. He has left scars on the kingdom as a whole, and very little time for us to heal.

"But know. The Saxons are coming. Great sacrifice will be required, from all of us. We must present a single, united front."

Rasalas squeezed Arthur on the shoulder, then spoke, "If any of you here and now cannot or will not put these past weeks, months—years... behind you. If you still believe Mordred's doctrine... please just follow him out of the castle and not come back. This matter is being put behind us here and now."

"And know that, should you follow Mordred, you will, like he, be considered an enemy of Camelot. There can be no middle ground," said Accolon.

"You're either for us, or against us, end of story," Brady summed up.

For several moments, no one moved. Then three knights near the back of the group made to leave.

"Take your leader with 'ya," said Brady, waspishly.

That spurned two more to join, and between them, they carried Mordred out the large gates of the castle courtyard.

It seemed like a minute passed, before Arthur again briefly unsheathed Excalibur.

"I name Sir Rasalas as my new war-duke, effective henceforth."

"Sir..."

"I trust you, Rasalas."


May 28

Rasalas found yet another day of training at Avalon cut short, as he received a missive from Kate, asking him to return to the sanctuary. Knowing she wouldn't send a missive unless it was important, a port key was quickly made.

Kate was waiting in the common room, along with her assistant, and Griphook.

"What happened?" Rasalas questioned.

"You are aware the inventory of your vaults is ongoing, correct?" Griphook questioned in return.

"Yeah, somewhat."

"Last Wednesday, we uncovered a collection of documents which were incorrectly filed. An examination revealed a further collection of documents which were sealed by the Ministry."

"Griphook contacted me first thing Thursday, and we were able to force the English Ministry to un-seal the documents first thing this morning," Kate followed.

"How angry is this gonna make me?" Rasalas wondered.

"A potential family friend and ally, Sir Rasalas," said Chris, reaching into his portfolio and retrieving a single page of parchment. It was written in loopy handwriting:

Dear Lily,

I know you do still value your friendship with Severus, however, I must warn you of his dark leanings. Other Order members are concerned he may be attempting to sway you and possibly break your engagement, and this must not be allowed to happen.

I apologize if this letter causes you grief, but it is for the best, and we must all make sacrifices for the greater good. I only hope you will understand.

With deepest sympathy,

Albus

"Meddling goat-fucker," Rasalas muttered.

He glanced up at the clock, and then prodded the school's wards. Good. Snape was not teaching a class at the moment, and the meddling headmaster... in his office. He projected two separate requests to the wards.

"Follow me."

"Rasalas..." Kate cautioned.

"I'm just wantin' some answers, make Dumbledore squirm a little."

They stepped through the doors which led into the guest suite at Hogwarts. The wards had gone further, the room's furnishings now better suited for the meeting that was about to take place. A table had been provided, with seating for everyone.

"Rasalas," Kate again cautioned.

"Don't worry. 'I' won't do too much. Though I do think it's gonna be rather entertaining, to see what Professor Snape will have to say about this matter."

"What's the letter say?" Brady wondered.

"Not so much what it said, but what was not said," Rasalas answered.

"Compulsion magic," Accolon guessed, to which Rasalas nodded.

"Who are we expecting?" Arthur asked.

"Besides Professor Snape? The headmaster."

"I would suggest having at least one other present from the faculty," said Chris.

Rasalas blew out a breath. Kate's assistant was right. Better to have an outside witness. Where was Professor McGonagall? Crap, teaching fourth year Transfiguration. No matter. They can get along on their own for part of the class. He projected yet another request to the wards.

"I've summoned Professor McGonagall as well, considering she's the deputy headmistress." He gave a nasty smirk. "I'm sure she'll have loads to say about this as well."

It was then the doors leading out into the corridor opened, and Snape stepped into the room, a sour look on his face.

"I hope there was good reason for the interruption. I was in the middle of brewing."

"I know your time is valuable, Professor. Information has come to light which involves you and your relationship with my mother," Rasalas answered, "We're waiting for two others, and we'll get started."

He opened his mouth to let loose a frosty barb, but chose against it, seeing present company. Being named a Knight of the Round Table was earned honestly. "Lily would be tremendously proud of her boy," he thought, as he took an open seat at the table.

"Why is this meeting taking place here?"

"It was hastily arranged by my client, Professor," Kate answered, "He feels you deserve to know the truth about certain matters."

"I see."

It was then the doors opened a second time, and Professor McGonagall entered, also looking rather sour.

"Sir Peverell, what sort of thing is so urgent you had me pulled from teaching a class?"

"A potentially sour meeting, Professor. I'm aware you have fourth year Transfiguration—I figured they're old enough to study on their own for the hopefully brief meeting I've requested."

"I asked the castle's messenger to keep an eye on them, but this is hardly appropriate. It could have waited until class let out."

"Apologies, Professor. We're just... ah, the last one summoned to this meeting arrives. Curious, Professor, knowing you are not bound by the anti-apparition wards, you chose to take your time getting here. Care to enlighten us?"

"I only took the time to consider why I was being summoned to a meeting outside of my own office, Lord Peverell," Dumbledore answered.

"Because I wanted it to be clear that we are the ones asking the questions, rather than it being the other way around. For a brief time, I considered having this meeting conducted at Gringotts, but I did not wish to inconvenience the staff further than necessary. Again, Professor McGonagall, apologies for pulling you away from your class—I'm aware you're preparing for end-of-year exams, so hopefully this will be rather brief.

"Headmaster, please join us."

Dumbledore took the last vacant seat, still unsure of exactly what Rasalas was up to. Two parchments were set up, dicta-quills poised and ready to record. He mentally groaned. This was clearly a legal proceeding.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, at any time, did you write a letter to my client's mother with regard to Professor Snape—who at that time was a close friend of hers?"

Dumbledore seemed to think on the matter, before closing his eyes, and opening them.

"Perhaps, I did. I cannot recall for certain."

"I see. Professor Snape, I'll let you have a look at this," said Kate, as she slid the letter in question across the table.

"It's not been dated, but queries with the Canadian DMLE's Document Analysis Division places the origin to be 1989 or thereabouts," Chris explained, "The Document Analysis Division is somewhat akin to a police forensics lab in that they can reveal forgeries, date documents, uncover latent spells, and so on."

Snape finished reading the missive, and when he looked up, his customary mask had fallen, replaced by cold fury. Rasalas knew it wasn't meant for him.

"Tell me, headmaster, when was this sent to Lily?" he questioned, his voice calm, but frosty. He absently passed the letter over to McGonagall.

"A year before Lily became pregnant," Dumbledore answered, looking defeated.

"Tell us, headmaster. How many compulsion charms was that letter laced with?" this from Chris.

"I do not recall."

"Try no less than six. Even though the magic has degraded due to the passage of time, it still leaves traces, as I'm sure you are well aware."

"Attempting to evade the truth only does further damage to your reputation, headmaster," said Arthur, grimly.

"No matter what, this demonstrates why I continue to have trouble trusting you on matters," said Rasalas, "You destroyed my mother's relationship with someone she considered a dear friend.

"Professor, you don't have to answer if you don't want to but... if you still had Lily, would you have joined the Dark Lord?"

"...no," was the simple reply.

Rasalas sucked in a breath and blew it out. "So, headmaster. How many other plots and plans have you hatched over the years... that ended up exactly like this? People don't like being played like chess pieces!"

"I daresay, I have many regrets..."

Brady let out a snort. "Yeah, only regret here is that 'ya got caught."

"I have to take exception—"

"And we continue to take exception to your meddling, headmaster," Rasalas snapped. "Unfortunately it's a matter which unfolded in the past, and so I'm not pursuing the matter legally. But purpose in this meeting was to drag yet another ugly dirty secret out into the light, and make sure the victim is aware of your crime.

"I'll make this very clear. Every time I catch onto one of your harebrained schemes, I'm gonna call you on it, make you own up to it. You're not God. Stop acting like it."

"On the subject of compulsion charms," said Marcus, at last wading into the conversation, "I have to wonder. How far fetched would it be for Professor Snape to be under the influence of charms or potions?"

"I resent such an accusation, Mr. Flint," said Dumbledore, coldly.

Snape, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat, mulling it over. Surely, he would have noticed a potion, right? Being a master potioneer and all that rot... but... compulsion charms... a possibility. And considering he at one point did answer to two masters.

"I do have to wonder, headmaster. The evidence does give Mr. Flint's suggestion credence."

"Perhaps Mr. Weasley should be summoned," Marcus suggested.

"It was simply for the best," said Dumbledore, "Severus, you must understand, we needed someone inside of Voldemort's inner circle."

"Oh I do understand," said Snape, frigidly, "Lord Peverell and his party have painted a very clear picture of exactly what sort of value you place on those in your employ. You will have my resignation by sundown."

"Severus, please..."

"Save your platitudes, Albus."

"Minerva..."

"Oh don't drag me into this mess, Albus," McGonagall answered, waspishly, "I do have to wonder if perhaps I might have any charms or other sort. Perhaps we should extend this investigation to the remainder of the staff while we're at it. Ethically improper at best!"

"Fawkes," Rasalas called. Rather than appearing in his customary flash of golden flames, he fluttered in from the sanctuary common room, to light on the back of Rasalas' chair. Rasalas scribbled out a quick note, rolled it up, and passed it to the bird.

"To Bill Weasley. Urgent."

The bird lifted off, and vanished in a flash of flames.

"Lord Peverell," said Dumbledore, "Please do not..."

"Why not?"

"Lie in the bed 'ya made," said Brady, nastily.

Kate nodded. "It's unfortunate that this matter took place well over a decade into the past, and outside of Canadian jurisdiction. Otherwise, I would be filing documents with the court, and this matter would be handled before a magistrate.

"It does not, however, prevent us from righting a wrong."

"Rightly said," said Rasalas, "For the record, I now consider Severus Snape an ally and friend of the Peverell family, and therefore extend any and all protections upon his person hereafter. Any crimes perpetrated against him shall be considered a crime against myself directly, and the guilty shall face consequences befitting the crime."

"Let it be clear," Arthur picked up, "Attacking a knight of Our Round Table equates to treason, be it past or present. Consider those consequences, headmaster. As my war-duke, Sir Peverell is empowered to act in my stead."

"His war-duke? My word," said McGonagall, impressed.

"My son crossed one line too many, Professor," said Arthur, "Action was taken that removed him from Camelot, perhaps a little sooner than your history might recall."

"Your majesty... Sir Peverell... all of you must be very careful," McGonagall cautioned, "If too many things change, it could be disastrous."

"As more than a few of Sir Rasalas' friends have been very careful to explain. Yet there comes a time when action is required, for the safety and sanity of all. Mordred nearly instigated war between my knights in the middle of the castle's courtyard only days ago."

"Oh dear. Such an event... did not occur, according to official history."

"And so our intervention was contrived, perhaps by the goddess herself," Rasalas mused, "Ensuring nothing too drastic happens."

"What would happen if..."

"No one knows for certain, Sir Accolon," McGonagall answered, "There is a very good reason time-travel is so heavily regulated by the Ministry."

"I trust the goddess," said Rasalas, "This event proves with certainly my trust is well placed."

Further discussion was interrupted, as Bill stepped in from the sanctuary's common room.

"Rasalas. What's going on?" he questioned.

"Professor. Are you willing?"

"Weasley… I wish for you to look for compulsion charms, loyalty charms, or any other sort," said Snape. "Hoodwinked, should have saw it," he muttered under his breath.

Dumbledore rose. "Since it is clear you have already placed blame, I have other matters that require my attention."

"Suit yourself. We'll find you if we have further questions," said Kate.

Dumbledore left the room, while Bill Drew his wand.

"All right. Hold still, Professor."

He waved it in a long arc, muttering several spells. A black thread instantly wafted from his left forearm, out the door leading into the castle. A dozen more purple threads came from his chest, also drifting out the door, along with a single crimson red thread. Another blood red thread flew from his chest, to connect with Rasalas.

"What the hell?!" Rasalas exclaimed, about to leap out of his seat.

"I might ask the same thing, Lord Peverell!" Snape growled.

"That... that's not a compulsion charm," said Bill. "It's... it's a life debt."

"A life debt? I do not follow," said Arthur.

"When one wizard or witch saves the life of another, that individual becomes indebted to them," Kate explained.

"So Rasalas owes me one then," Brady guessed.

"No. It was repaid," said Rasalas.

Brady scowled. How very true, he realized. "Guess it explains why we's so close."

"A relationship forged by adversity. I should think so," said Kate.

"As to the professor's life-debt, that should have been cleared in my first year... during the Quidditch match, when Quirrel-mort tried to curse my broom."

"And do remember, it was Miss Granger who then lit my cloak on fire," said Snape, "My spell casting was interrupted."

"How about third year, then? When Remus changed during the full moon. You stood between him and us."

"Only for your foolish godfather to barge onto the scene... could have got himself killed with a stunt like that," Snape muttered.

Rasalas could only nod. Perhaps foolish, but... neither here nor there.

"I was under the impression you did not remember any of your past," said McGonagall.

"Pensieve memories, Professor," Rasalas answered. "Sometimes, the pensieve memory does refresh my own memory of events, but not often. And quite honestly, sometimes the events I do recall, I wish I hadn't. There are times I wonder how I managed to survive four years at Hogwarts—or any of my life with the Dursleys."

"I believe it amounts to your circle of friends, Sir Peverell," said Cai, "Those that have been your dear friends longer than you might remember personally. Counter to the life of the Dark Lord you face, you have experienced love and friendship, and perhaps that has made all the difference in the world."

"Hear hear," Arthur agreed.

"Getting off track here," said Rasalas, "I know enough of my past to know that Professor Snape has been somewhat of a reluctant guardian, and I thank him for that. As to the life debt, if I could personally rescind it, I would, knowing his commitment to keeping me safe."

That earned a curt nod of the head from the soon to be former teacher.

"Right. Onward and upward," said Bill. "The black thread... that would be the Dark Mark, if I had to guess. We won't tamper with that, even with the Dark Lord currently indisposed. The crimson one... ouch. A hate-compulsion charm. I've seen that cast on animals to guard businesses and the sort, but on a human being? God."

"With permission, I'll be filing an official complaint with the ICW. Casting that sort of spell on a human being is a criminal offense in many places."

"Kate... just—"

"I have a legal obligation, Sir Peverell," said Kate, "We need Auror Jackson to sit in on this meeting from here on out. It's a criminal matter."

"I'll see to it," said Marcus, standing.

"Perhaps Auror Jackson should have been present from the beginning," said Arthur, "If only to... what is the expression, cover all the bases?"

"Yeah, somethin' like that," Brady agreed, as Marcus disappeared from view.

Rasalas sucked in a breath, and blew it out again. "Thing is, I didn't want this to become a legal matter."

"Rasalas, you had to know, it would eventually come to this," said Kate, "As important a symbol the headmaster is, he has too many dark secrets. Many of them to do with you, yes, but many others. Plots and plans, all of which in are in motion to keep his power base intact."

Rasalas huffed, feeling his control of the matter slipping away. Dumbledore was a partial adversary as it was... to be truly at odds with him... it could make things difficult to say the least.

"Likewise, the school's board of governors also must be informed," said McGonagall, "Seeing this with my own eyes makes me very concerned about Albus' intentions and motives."

"Perhaps we should also check you over for similar charms and spells, Professor," Bill suggested. "In the meantime, if you will permit, Professor Snape, I will remove the unwanted spells."

"We wait for the Aurors to be present first," said Snape, "Law enforcement should bear witness to the spells and charms being present."

"Very good point. And likewise, we should also hold off conducting the detection charms on Professor McGonagall, so it's also into official record," said Chris.

"Let's take a five-minute break then."

"Make it ten," said McGonagall, "I would like to look in on the class I'm supposed to be teaching."

"Should have sent the headmaster to look after your class," said Chris, "It is one of the expectations, correct?"

"There are a number of things the headmaster does not do," said Snape, "He sees actual teaching of a class beneath him."

"Severus..."

"Admit it, Minerva," said Snape, waspishly, "When was the last time he looked in on a class, let alone teach it?"

"The headmistress at Upper Canada Academy regularly sits in on classes, and sometimes fills in. It's an expectation," said Chris.

"As it is also an expectation here," said McGonagall. "Now I shall return in a few minutes."

The break lasted just under fifteen minutes, before everyone was re-seated. Now, an additional set of dicta-quills were set up, these for DMLE use. With this going on official record, Arthur and his knights excused themselves back to sanctuary's common room, since their presence could cause complications.

Then, with the Aurors present, and asking questions, Bill removed the spells and charms from Snape. He then moved on to casting similar detection spells on McGonagall, with a similar batch of compulsion charms being found.

"I do voice objection to any charges being filed, as the situation around Voldemort still hasn't been resolved," said Rasalas.

"We can hold off filing an indictment until the matter is resolved," said Auror Jackson, "But know that this is a criminal matter."

"As Kate has already explained," said Rasalas.

"The school's board of directors must be informed regardless," said McGonagall, "This sort of behaviour is most unsettling... and quite honestly, I have to wonder if he's used this sort of thing on the students."

Rasalas frowned. "Y'know... that wouldn't surprise me."

"Perhaps the entire faculty should be scanned," said Bill.

"If you're willing to do it."

"Professor, I would be happy to. I want Hogwarts to be the best it can be... and it can't do will with this sort of subterfuge afoot."

"And I'll cover the expense for your time," Rasalas offered. "I think this thing's taken on a mind of its own."

"I said it earlier, I'll say it again," said Kate. "You had to know, us digging into the headmaster's affairs would eventually result in some sort of criminal proceeding."

"I... I guess, some part of me knew. Just... didn't want it to come out so soon. I guess part of me still respects the man... sees him as a grandfather wanting what's best for everyone. But... this... all this rubbish..."

Rasalas let out a sigh. "The man drives me nuts with his schemes, his plans."

"You don't hate him, even after all this?" Kate wanted to know.

"No. Disappointed. Disappointed in the man I'm finding behind the facade. Does... does that make sense?"

Kate gave a nod. "Perfectly."

"So what happens now?" Brady wondered.

"An official case file will be opened," said Auror Jackson, "All of you should know, you are now considered witnesses. I'll hold off contacting the crown attorney's office until a certain issue is dealt with, but after... there will be criminal proceedings."

"We'll need to be present if and when other professors are checked for spells," said Auror Jackson, "Just so the record is thorough."

"I'll speak with my colleagues," said McGonagall. "I take it then, that this meeting is over with?"

"We are off the record," said Auror Jackson. The dicta-quills all stopped writing.

"If you'll excuse me, I have a letter to compose," said Snape, rising.

"As do I have a class to return to, if only brief."

"Apologies for taking up so much of your time, Professor," Rasalas again apologized.

"It's not your fault," said McGonagall. "If anything, you are only acting in the best interest of everyone... something Albus has forgotten somewhere along the line."

Rasalas huffed. "So true."


UP NEXT: "It All Comes Home To Roost"- Arthur at last get scanned for unwanted spells thanks to Bill; a day of reckoning comes for Dumbledore, the English Wizengamot, and Minister Fudge; and a back yard party at Rasalas' place is interrupted by disturbing news from Camelot...

CHAPTER NOTES: And so the curse on the Dark Arts Defence position remains intact—though in this instance, the teacher doesn't end up dead, absent their memories, or emotionally scarred. Or well, maybe less-so in the last instance.

As for Snape, don't worry, he's not going too far. I have plans for him that will keep him at Hogwarts. Of course, if you know your HP canon, you know where I'm going, right? And just in case anyone is curious, this chapter was written back in the fall, and so Rickman's passing didn't have any bearing on the content. Just ironic that I'm posting this now and all...

Good grief, this chapter took on a mind of its own with the last scene. I'd intended for that to run a page or so. Instead, it took up half the chapter. Though it was awesome, as the scene took shape. Now of course, what I'd planned out in the outline went out the window, or this chapter would end up being a third longer. I think writing 10-12 thousand words or more for a chapter is just a little too long, this one clocks in about 8700, give or take.

Now, I should also mention, this story is nearing its end, as the inevitable battle between Arthur and the Saxon horde is rapidly approaching. There's still a bit of the story left to tell after, but, I see likely 3 or 4 chapters after the battle—so 59 or 60 chapters when all's said and done.