Chapter 42- "The Swamp Song"
Circe stumbled towards the stadium, pulling her coat hurriedly over her shoulders, in quite a hurry. Severus too was looking a little flushed as he straightened his collar, walking briskly at her side. All of the students were inside and waiting for the last challenge to commence and Circe heard the roar of the gathered crowd as she approached. The Hogwarts March played loudly in the air, a jaunty, catchy little ditty.
"You go in first, Sev." She said as they approached the stands. "And I'll wait a little while here, just in case anyone notices we've turned up together."
"Alright." He replied with a sheepish smile. His expression changed in a flash as he looked towards the stands. "Just keep a wary eye on Moody. That weirdness you told me of, about the bundle of hair, is..."
"Creepy? Unsettling? Sinister?"
"To say the least…" he muttered. "But don't let him see that he's alarmed you. Cards close to your chest from now on, Circe." Severus said a little sternly.
"Oh, is that my first lesson in espionage, Professor?" she replied with a wink.
Severus grimaced and rolled his eyes. He turned to leave but Circe grabbed his arm suddenly.
"Wait, wait…" She reached up to his collar, still in a bit of a crumple about his neck, and straightened it out for him. They locked eyes as Circe ran her hands down his chest again, smiling warmly at one another. Severus looked around cautiously for any prying eyes and after he was satisfied there was nobody watching, he leaned forward and kissed her.
His fingers caressed her cheek as his lips lingered on hers. The tickle of his hair on her face was as gentle as a soft breeze. She pulled back with a grin, chuckling at his persistence.
"Go! Or you'll miss the start of the challenge."
He grumbled and stepped back from her, clinging onto her hand still as he moved towards the stadium.
"Let go!" she chuckled, shaking herself loose. He groaned again as his hand dropped to his side and reluctantly turned, finally breaking eye contact with her, breaking into a light jog. Circe sighed to herself. For all Severus's talk of secrecy and "keeping cards close to your chest", he was the one who was finding keeping his hands to himself hard.
And his lips…
She rolled her eyes, thinking that it might be better if she found another entrance into the stadium to the one Severus had just used. She dragged her heels as she looked around her, seeing another entrance a little further around the curve in the stadium. It was quieter than the other entrance she had parted with Severus at. And it looked like it didn't lead directly into the stands. As she stole her way inside, she realised a little too late that this was the Champion's entrance. She looked around the small ante-room and saw Harry, Cedric, Fleur and Krum waiting patiently for the commencement of the final challenge, all of their expectant faces looking at her wide-eyed.
"Oh… Sorry…" she muttered.
"Professor, it's you." Cedric said brightly. "We thought you might have been that ghastly Skeeter woman." Krum stood up and began pacing nervously around the ante-room again. Fleur sat very still, almost as if she were meditating.
"Oh Lord, has she been snooping around again?" Circe asked as she gave a small wave to Harry, sitting patently in a corner, tapping his foot on the floor.
"She cornered Fleur a while back to ask her about which hair products she uses." Harry said with a small smile.
"WELCOME STUDENTS AND ADULTS, ONE AND ALL. HOGWARTS, DURMSTRANG, AND BEAUXBATTONS…" Dumbledore's voice boomed, shaking through the ante-room.
"Is my father out there, Professor?" Cedric asked, a small quiver of nervousness in his voice.
"I… I don't know. I haven't been out to the stands yet."
"FIRST, PLEASE WELCOME TO THE FINAL CHALLENGE, THE DURMSTRANG CHAMPION...VIKTOR KRUM!"
The crowd outside roared and Krum nodded curtly to the other champions, and finally to Circe, before stepping out into the stadium. The voices rose as he stepped into the light.
"How are you both feeling?" Circe asked looking to Harry and then to Cedric. "Nervous?"
"A little." Harry replied meekly. Cedric scoffed, but she caught the lightning-fast flash of unease on his face before he looked away from her.
"NEXT, PLEASE GIVE A BIG HOGWARTS WELCOME TO THE BEAUXBATTONS CHAMPION, FLEUR DELACOUR!"
Fleur rose up from her meditative position as the crowd's volume swelled again, a cheerleader-esque chant embedded in the noise coming from her fellow French girls. She too walked out into the adoration of the stadium, and Circe saw her waving to a few people around her as she disappeared from sight.
"I'm sure you'll both be fantastic, boys." Circe said, wrapping a comforting arm around Cedric and smiling warmly at Harry. "Show them all what true Hogwarts spirit is and send them crying back to The Continent." she said in mock viciousness.
Cedric scoffed. "Well, only one of us can win for Hogwarts, Professor."
"True, but just remember when you're out there that you're brothers. You'll only be a champion until the next Tri-Wizard tournament rolls around. You'll always be a Hogwarts student." Circe looked to Hary and watched as the young boy chewed over what she had said. "Just, look after one another out there." she finished, gesturing out towards the maze.
"Here that, Potter?" Cedric said with a mischievous air. "You've got the Professors so worried about you they're practically begging me to give you an easy ride!" Harry scoffed as Cedric broke from Circe's grasp to give him a playful rap on the arm.
"AND NOW, HOGWARTS. PLEASE WELCOME YOUR FIRST CHAMPION. CEDRIC DIGGORY!"
From somewhere out in the noise, Circe heard the cry of "MY BOY!" and Cedric beamed from ear to ear as he recognised the voice of his father. He looked one last time to Circe, his face illuminated with an expression of youthful pride. Circe nodded to him and said "Good luck, Cedric."
"Thanks Professor." he replied, before turning to the buzzing crowd and stepping out into the stadium.
Harry stood and walked slowly over to Circe's side, mentally preparing himself for his own entrance. He looked strangely calm as he gazed out into the roaring stands.
"Last but not least, eh Potter?" Circe chuckled. Harry snorted.
"Well, they've got to leave me for last. Everybody else has family to cheer for them, for me they have to build up the suspense to compensate."
Circe's heart ached when she heard that. "I'm sure your Mum would have screamed loud enough to put Mr Diggory to shame if she'd been out there."
"I… didn't think you knew my parents, Professor." Harry asked a little unsurely.
"I didn't…" she mumbled, turning a little red. She instantly regretted saying what she'd said, but it was too late now. "But I've heard enough about them to know they'd both be insanely proud of you and what you've achieved."
"Or maybe they'd have bitten my head off for somehow getting myself into another dangerous situation." Harry grumbled.
"True… true. But if you were my kid, I could help but be a little bit impressed that you'd managed to do all that you've done this year." She smiled at Harry and he back at her as Dumbledore made his last announcement.
"FINALLY, PLEASE WELCOME TO THE STADIUM, THE LAST OF OUR CHAMPIONS. THE SECOND HOGWARTS REPRESENTATIVE. HARRY POTTER!"
Circe clapped her hands and hollered loudly, but she hadn't needed to. The students screamed and bellowed their support for Harry so loud that the walls of the stadium shook. All of his friends in Gryffindor, and throughout the school, all joining together to give Harry the support he deserved.
Circe lingered in the ante-room, not wishing to draw attention to herself by walking out into the stadium before the challenge commenced. Everyone would be looking at her if she walked out of the champion's entrance now. She could hear well enough what was going on, thanks to Dumbledore's booming voice.
"AT THE SOUND OF THE CANNON, MR POTTER AND MR DIGGORY WILL ENTER THE MAZE AS THE JOINT FIRST-PLACE CHAMPIONS. THREE, TWO-"
Boom!
The cannon went off ahead of its cue and Circe almost jumped out her skin. Circe tiptoed cautiously up to the threshold of the entrance and watched from the shadows as Harry and Cedric strode bravely into the leafy arms of the maze. They were both swallowed up in the blink of an eye, engulfed by the enchanted branches and snaking ivy and Circe sent up a small prayer of good luck into the ether for them both.
"RIGHT MR FILCH, ON CUE THIS TIME!" Dumbledore boomed. Filch shrugged apologetically from behind his cannon. "ON COMMAND THEN, MR KRUM. THREE-"
Boom!
Circe laughed as the cannon went off. Dumbledore rolled his eyes and the crowd cheered as Viktor entered the maze. Without warning the cannon went off for a third time and Fleur too rather reluctantly followed her competitors into the maze.
After a moment's quiet, the Hogwarts brass band began repositioning themselves into the center of the stadium. It was due to be a long wait and there was little for the spectators to do whilst they waited for the victor to come back as the winner of the competition. Circe was able to slip out of the champions entrance unnoticed as the band began setting up on the stadium floor. She cast an eye over the stands and spotted amongst the visitors seats Amos Diggory, who had been making that substantial noise beforehand, a prim blonde couple whom Circe assumed were Mr and Mrs Delacour, and the little Bulgarian boy whomst she had last seen at the World Cup.
"Dimo!" She called out, waving at the little boy. Dimo tugged on a dark woman's arm sat beside him and pointed enthusiastically at Circe. He waved to her and Mrs Krum smiled politely at her. She smiled back and continued to her seat. Severus was eyeing her up from his position sat amongst the other Slytherins. A few rows in front of him sat Karkaroff with a vacant seat beside him.
"English, over here!" He called out to her, waving her over. "We have not spoken for so long, you and I."
"No, I've been kept rather busy recently." She replied, casting Severus a side glance as he smirked under a concealing hand. "How was the excursion to The Cotswolds?"
"Beautiful." Igor responded simply. The latest overnight trip for the overseas students had returned only yesterday. Circe had declined to accompany them on any more sightseeing trips throughout the UK, given the disaster of the Edinburgh trip. Yet, she would have liked to have seen Bourton-on-the-Water as it was a frequent day out for Circe and her family during her childhood days. Warm cotswold stone illuminated in a golden light of a summer day, thick strawberry ice cream eaten on a clipped green lawn, a babbling little brook ambling idyllically through the quaintest of English villages…
"You know, when I was a little girl, my Mum used to take me to this tiny village just outside Bourton. There was an old slate bridge over the river where we used to sit and have picnics, and there was a massive trout that lived under the bridge. If you timed it just right, you could throw a bit of sandwich in the water and the fish would dart out from under the bridge and eat it."
"Ha, how wonderful. My daughter also enjoys throwing things in the water, just branches and leaves, but she is only five! We walk all the time by the river at home." Karkaroff said with a far-off look in his eye. Circe hadn't known Igor had a family back home in Bulgaria. He had spent the best part of a year here and he must have been missing them terribly.
"We call that Pooh-sticks in Britain." She said with a grin.
Igor's eyes bulged. "Whyever is it called that?!"
"After Winnie-the-Pooh. He does it with Christopher Robin in the children's book."
"Oh! Goodness me, I thought you meant the other kind of-"
"No, no… the English would never say anything so vulgar." She interrupted speedily.
Igor chuckled. "After many, many years of study, the English language still continues to surprise me!"
The brass band tuned up, tooting and trumping on their instruments as Filius clicked his conducting baton. Circe leant forwards in anticipation, unaware that Flitwick had organised entertainment for the spectators whilst they waited for the winner to emerge. The students poised their instruments at their mouths and after a moment's silence, Flitwick gestured for them to begin. Out into the silent stadium floated the beginning notes of 'A Bicycle Built for Two'. Circe's smile grew as she recognised the tune, singing along quietly to the song.
"Daisy, Daisy
Give me your answer do.
I'm half crazy
All for the love of you.
It won't be a stylish marriage
I can't afford a carriage
But you'll look sweet
Upon the seat
Of a bicycle built for two."
Circe remembered the song from her days in The Cotswolds, perhaps from a Merry-go-round or a fairground calliope. Some of the other muggle children in the crowd seemed to know it too and they too sung along.
"Is this a traditional English song?" Karkaroff asked.
"Yep, a real lazy, crazy, hazy day by the seaside sort of tune."
"My daughter, she is Margueritē! That is "Daisy" in English, no?"
"I think so, yes."
"Ha! You must teach me. I will sing it to her when I return home."
The brass band gave quite the quaint little concert to the waiting crowd. Some of the tunes Circe knew and some not, but it kept the students entertained enough as time wore on. Around an hour or so into the waiting, a bright crimson flare was sent shooting into the sky above the maze. The crowd and band fell silent as it exploded.
"Someone's in trouble." Circe whispered. She looked from Igor to Maxime, sat across the stands. Dumbledore stood up and waved his hand in a long sweeping motion, and at his command a great wind whipped up, stirring through the crowd with a whoosh. Circe stole a nervous glance at Severus and saw his face too was set into a stern mask of worry. The maze shivered as the wind swept through its hedges and before her eyes it seemed to warp and change shape. The band hurriedly packed away their instruments as the wind raised to a deafening roar. The huge maze groaned and creaked as it changed and shifted before her eyes. And then suddenly, from out of the ground at the stadium's floor, out spat Fleur.
Maxime exclaimed, rising from her seat and rushing to her student's side. Fleur was motionless on the floor, covered in dirt and leaves and Circe's heart leapt into her mouth as she sat up, gasping and hysterical.
"Il est ensorcelé! Il n'est pas lui-même…"
"Qui, ma chérie?" Maxime asked, kneeling at her side.
"Krum!"
Igor flinched at the mention of his student's name. And then another flare went off above their heads, bathing them all in an eerie red light.
"Igor, what did she say?" Circe asked, tugging at Karkaroff's arm.
But before he could reply, Karkaroff was clutching at his wrist, groaning as a sharp pain spiked through his entire arm. Behind her, she heard another stifled groan and she wheeled around to see Severus too clutching at his sleeve, his teeth clenched together in agony. He locked eyes with Circe as sweat began to pool on his forehead and white-hot panic seized his guts. His eyes were alight with real, tangible fear. A fear that turned Circe's legs to jelly beneath her and gripped at her chest like a vice was squeezing around her heart.
Krum was spat out of the bushes in the next moment. Fleur screamed and pointed hysterically at the young Bulgarian boy. Shouting at the top of her lungs in her delicate voice to keep him far away from her. But Karkaroff did not run to Krum's side as Maxime had done. Instead he turned to Severus with an ashen face and motioned to meet him outside of the stadium. Circe watched as Snape compliantly followed him, grabbing his arm as he passed by her.
"Tell me this isn't happening now, Severus." She whispered. Snape coldly avoided her stare, and walked on. The crowd was in a commotion around them, all eyes on Fleur and Viktor, no one paying attention to her, Snape or Igor. Severus was too stunned to think of a reply for her, his Dark Mark burning ferociously from beneath his robes, the pain consuming his every waking thought. As he moved to follow Igor, Circe followed him too, at a safe distance so as not to rouse suspicion. As she passed by Krum, she could see his eyes were glazed and distant, not wholly seeing what was around him.
Bewitched. She surmised in her head. Luckily, Minerva and Dumbledore were there to care to Viktor, working their magic to remove the malicious spell upon him as his own Headmaster had abandoned him.
Circe slid away from the commotion, in hot pursuit of Severus and Igor. She broke into a nervous jog as she exited the stadium just in time to hear the two men in a vicious argument.
"He calls to us, Severus! He summons his loyal to him." Karkaroff shouted. "Surely even you cannot deny it now."
"And will you be answering his call, Igor? He shall expect us all present at the conclave." Severus said gravely.
"The hell I will…" Karkaroff spat back at Snape, visibly shaking. "I need to return to Bulgaria as soon as possible… Take my wife, my child…"
"And you will all be hunted to the ends of the earth if you run from him!"
Karkaroff screamed anew, sinking to his knees as his Dark Mark seared. Severus too groaned and clenched his fist before him. Circe rushed to him, cradling his arm in her hands as she tore open his buttons. As she peeled back Snape's sleeve, she watched in horror as the snake of the
Dark Mark seemed to writhe and move of its own accord on his white skin.
"No… Already? So… so soon?" She stuttered, her mind in free fall. She had expected the Dark Lord's return to come sooner or later, but tonight? Right now? Her dreams had told her that Voldemort had intended to rise up once more in the near future, but imminently? That very night?
Circe thought she'd have time to mentally prepare herself, to steel herself and make herself brave for his resurrection. She thought her and Severus would still have time to just be together. She thought she'd have time to train herself in the arts she'd need in the upcoming war. But no. Her and Severus both had been caught unprepared and still somewhat in willful denial. Severus stared into her frightened eyes with a hard look of resignation.
"The storm is finally here, Circe." He muttered miserably, caressing her face with his untattooed hand. "And it threatens to rip us all apart."
"And you?" Karkaroff called out to Snape. "You will go willingly back to his side and endanger your woman now too?" He pointed to Circe, understanding the bond that existed between them from the closeness of their touch. "English, I thought you were cleverer than to be caught up in this…"
"Igor…" Circe said as calmly as she could muster. "Go back to your wife, to Marguerite. Teach her that song, play Pooh-sticks with her. Hold them close and tell them that you love them… and then, for the love of God, hide them. Hide them like they are the most precious jewels in the world. You live by the consequences of your actions, and I shall live by mine."
Igor said nothing, staring at Circe with an unfathomable look. Circe too stood in silence, her jaw set firm and unwavering.
Igor nodded slowly, his bushy eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown. He stared long and had at his boots before finally looking at Severus and Circe both again.
"Dovizhdane to you both then." he uttered in a hoarse whisper. "Who knows if we shall meet again." And without another word, he turned away from the stadium and ran headlong into the black night.
Circe turned back to Severus's thunderous face, tears in her own eyes. She had no words for him, impossible to voice the bottomless pit of dread she felt within. And then a shrill, blood-chilling scream came from within the stadium.
"Oh no." Circe uttered. With Fleur and Krum already back, that scream of terror meant that only one of two people remaining in the maze were hurt, or worse. Cedric or...
"Lily's son..." Severus muttered under his breath as he barged past Circe. She gasped aloud as she heard what Severus had said. Those two simple words sending shockwaves of an awful, aching pain throughout her. She watched Snape hurry back towards the stadium, not even pausing to turn and look back at her once. He was like a guard dog, summoned to his station. Nothing else crossing his mind as he flew to Harry's aid.
Circe began to cry, a single tear escaping down her face. When all is said and done, will it be forever this way? I will run to you, Severus. And you will run to Lilly.
She choked down a sob and ran after Severus, back into the stadium. More screams followed. But not from the same high-pitched voice as before, this time from a man. An older man whose wailing cries rang out into the cruel and empty sky. The stars looking down mercilessly, deaf to the noises of pure grief. As Circe drew nearer to the encircling crowd of people, she heard his gut-wrenching words clearer.
"That's my son... ! That's my boy…" roared Amos Diggory, in a voice that brought everyone around him to tears.
She pushed aside the other onlooking staff, her stomach in knots as the blood drained from her face.
She saw Harry: alive, bloody, hysterical, and bent over the lifeless body of another.
Any relief she felt for Potter's well-being evaporated instantly as she drew closer. "No… please no." she uttered, her words lost amongst the pained cries of the young Gryffindor.
"I couldn't leave him! Not there…"
As she drew nearer to the front of the crowd, she saw the face of the body whom Harry clung desperately on to. Cold and gormless. Bereft of all warmth and life and all the things that had made him who he was. Confirming with her own eyes what her shattered heart already told her: Cedric was dead.
In the chaos that followed Cedric's death, she lost sight of Severus completely. Somewhere along the line, she found herself being swept back up to the castle with Minerva and the other Hogwarts staff. The Ministry and their Aurors had been summoned and some of them were already swooping through the castle grounds, searching for information, clues, anything that might explain the awful situation that played out before her eyes. Circe shivered as the bitter winds whipped around her, whipping up her curls around her face and sending Minerva's skirts billowing in the breeze. She couldn't stop the tears, crying freely and openly with the other adults as they marched their slow and mournful steps back up to the castle. The stars were bright and still staring down on the horrors below them with a cold and distant nonchalance.
How could this have happened? In my home? Under my watch? Circe thought, her eyes clouded with tears as the castle landscape blurred around her. All she could see was black, and grey and deep terracotta colours and shapes swirling around her as she walked on. And then a shock of pink that made her do a double take.
She wiped her eyes and squinted into the gloom. "Tonks?"
"Circe!" a familiar voice called out and rushing into Circe's field of vision was her old friend. She enveloped Circe in a tight hug as she wept into her friend's shoulder.
"He was my student, Tonks…" she wailed, her shoulders shaking violently with her sobs.
"I know. I know…" she cooed gently, waiting patiently for her to stop. "The other Aurors are doing a sweep of the castle and keeping the other kids calm whilst they… sort out what to do with the boy."
A set of uneven footsteps behind her made Circe turn around. She saw Moody, solidly holding up Harry with a strong arm, taking him away to somewhere private. Circe's tears started anew as she saw the vacant and haunted look of the young boy, looking into the middle distance, seeing nothing that was before him but deep in his remembrance of the horrors he had just witnessed. Moody's walking stick thudded into the floor with each powerful stride. Harry leaned on him like he was the last standing mast of his sinking ship.
"Moody!" Tonks exclaimed abruptly.
"I'm just taking Mr Potter to my office, Professor." Moody replied to Circe, completely ignoring Tonks beside her. His eye swiveled in his head as he cast his gaze over the both of them.
"Moody, why haven't you replied to any of my letters?" Tonks asked brusquely.
"Tonks…!" Circe murmured, pulling on her arm.
"I believe there is an appropriate time and place for enquiries such as this, Miss Tonks. Now not being one of them…" Moody replied gruffly, barging past them both as he dragged Harry with him.
Circe grimaced and turned to Tonks with a stern look. She was about to say something chastising but all that came out of her mouth was a whimper.
"Circe…" Tonks muttered, pulling her in close. "He never calls me "Miss Tonks". It's always "Nymphadora"."
"But… no one calls you Nymphadora. You hate it."
"Yeah, that's exactly why Moody called me it. No matter how many times I told him I hated it. He'd always make a point of it cause he told me "your parents gave you that name, so I'm going to be making sure that someone uses it properly"."
Circe furrowed her brow and looked dumbfoundedly at her friend. "And before I said your name, it was like he didn't even know you…"
Tonks was called away by another Ministry Auror, and she reluctantly left Circe to see to her duties. Yet Circe was still left with a strange, bitter taste in her mouth. Something felt wrong. Wronger than it should.
She ambled on to the clocktower courtyard, at a loss for what to do with herself. She could vaguely hear the noises of Dumbledore and Mcgonagall talking heatedly to one another. Minerva throwing out a few "I told you so"'s and Albus arguing back at her unapologetically.
"I warned you, Albus! I warned you that our students were in danger because of this barbaric tournament!" Minerva screeched
"You cared only for Harry! Looking after only for your blasted Gryffindors. Cedric never crossed your mind once." Dumbledore spat back.
"How dare you! And you are Headmaster to them both! Sometimes Albus, I do wonder where your priorities lie..."
Their argument raged on. It was the angriest and most upset she had ever seen her friend. But Circe felt like she was underwater, distant and removed from everything else around her. She was watching the rip-roaring argument the staff were having from the otherside of a glass windshield. Their voices were far away, the cold of the night air barely an icy lick, the raw emotions floating about between them passing by her and through her like distant sailing ships. Her mind would not allow her to leave Moody. Again it was like she held all of the pieces of the jigsaw in her hands, but just couldn't figure out how to place them all together to get the full picture. The only thing that seemed to rouse her from her dream-like state was the shadowy figure of Severus honing into her view from the darkness under an archway at the courtyards' perimeter. He too seemed to be watching the horror unfold, numbed and removed from it all, but his eyes found her and they glinted with sorrow. Circe's chest ached as she looked at him and she found she could not bear the pain of all he had said on top of Cedric's death. The memory of those words he had uttered under his breath when he had heard the scream was like a shard of glass embedded in her mind. It was sore to touch. He was excruciating to look at. She turned from him, sitting down at the edge of the old, abandoned fountain at the courtyard's center. She shivered as the wind picked up, blowing through her like the touch of the cold hand of death.
Pity I don't have any of Moody's weird whiskey to keep me warm… came a thought into her mind, seemingly out of the blue. No, no whiskey. "Loyalty" or whatever trollop he was on about.
The comment had seemed so odd at the time, nothing more than the ramblings of a mad man. But in light of the grim events of the evening, it again seemed to not quite sit right. She remembered Igor's words from earlier, ann echo of Moody's own language:
"He summons his loyal to him."
"Harry… Where is Harry?" Dumbledore asked suddenly. Circe looked up from her miserable ruminations and watched as the Headmaster grew agitated and a touch fearful. Severus too emerged from the shadows, like a bear from hibernation, upon hearing Potter's name. "He shouldn't be let out of our sight! I told you all to keep Potter where I could watch him. He was with us all as we made our way up to the castle..."
"Moody has him." Circe said, rather shortly. "The boy's been through a lot and Alistair probably wanted to spare him an inquisition of questions."
Dumbledore fell silent and Circe watched as his expression turned from one of confusion to one of panic. He turned to Snape and uttered, "Severus, did you tell me the other day that someone has been stealing from your potions cupboard?"
"Yes, Headmaster…" Snape replied slowly. Circe stood up and wandered over to Dumbledore's side. "Although I believe I know where an element of the thievery has been coming from."
"I believe what Severus is trying to say, Headmaster, is that I have been utilising some of the school's supplies to brew wolfsbane for Remus." Circe said bashfully, preparing herself for a disciplining. She didn't want Severus covering for her anymore. She still couldn't stand to look at him, and he was doing his best to avoid her eyes too.
"What? No, no, no… We've known about that for months… " Dumbledore waved a sleeve at her irritably. "Have you had boomslang skin missing? Lacewing fly?"
"I have." Snape said plainly.
"Professor Smith, where did Moody say he was taking Harry?" the Headmaster asked, grabbing her shoulders desperately.
"His… his office." she stuttered.
"You don't think…" Snape breathed, his already pale face draining of colour.
Circe completed the thought before Severus could voice it, gasping aloud. He's the one who's been making the polyjuice potion… "He didn't know Tonks, Headmaster. His own mentee. Hasn't communicated with her for months."
Dumbledore let go of his iron-hard grip on Circe's shoulder and turned to Snape. "Severus, fetch your veritaserum."
The face that stared back at Circe was not Moody's anymore. He was a young man: yellow hair and dark circles under his eyes, a vicious snarling mouth that spat and hurled insults at the gathered Professors. He was bound tight by Dumbledore's restraining spell, but it was Severus's potion that was working its magic, forcing him to spew forth the truth:
"Called me "Mad-Eye" you did. Each and every one of you, behind my back! Well, we'll see who's mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me, his loyal disciple, at his side! He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him!"
Barty Crouch Jr sat back in his chair, cackling with a terrible throaty growl as Harry was ushered out of the office by Minerva. It was all Circe could do to not quiver with shock as she held her wand out before her, squarely at Crouch's face. That awful, flitting, spinning eye sat discarded at her feet, still moving of its own accord. It had almost snapped off Crouch's face when his polyjuice potion wore off and his true features bubbled back into position. All Circe could do, when he turned from the lined and weathered features of Moody, into the gaunt and thin face of the man she saw now, was watch in absolute horror.
It wasn't whiskey in that hip-flask. Or bloody smoothie. How stupid… it was the potion. Circe thought, her head a mess of realisations and revelations.
You haven't been writing to Tonks because you don't bloody know her. And you still didn't bloody know her when she was stood right in front of you a moment ago.
Dumbledore crouched before a huge trunk pressed up against the wall of the office. A set of heavy iron keys sat in the lock at its front and he turned it sharply to the right, hearing the mechanisms within clink and shift as the lid sprung open. The Headmaster helped the real Moody out of his own magical trunk, shouldering the depleted weight of the Auror as he escorted him to the hospital wing; His wooden leg was gone, the socket that should have held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing. Circe wrinkled her nose as he passed by; he stank, having spent months trapped in his own trunk by Crouch Jr. But as Albus left her and Severus, instructing them both to keep a watchful eye on the impostor Crouch, Circe finally came to the worst realisation of them all.
"Voldemort told you of me, didn't he." she asked suddenly. Severus almost flinched as he heard the words emerge from Circe's lips, and the anguish that gripped his stomach deepened as he saw the awful smile etched on Crouch's face. "That's why you were banging on about "loyalty" to me. You think I'm one of you."
"Oh are you not? You are Severus's missus, aren't you?" Barty responded with a derisive smirk. "Our master told me all about the dreams you and him have shared. How he has tempted you to his ranks. Filled your mind with the great and good things he can promise. Oh but Severus, you will have some explaining to do, seen as you didn't respond to his call to action and bring your little girlfriend with you. She needs to meet the rest of the family, Snape..."
Snape shared a furtive glance with Circe, and she was able to read its meaning immediately: Barty was none the wiser to either of their true allegiances. He believed, and likely so did the Dark Lord, that Severus was still aligned with them after all these years and Circe was following him into the path of darkness. His double agent status still held. And she was the new hopeful recruit, drafted into the Death Eater ranks by him. But Circe was silently, internally willing him to stop speaking. She wanted to scream at him to shut up. Her stomach felt nauseous. Her vision went blurry.
"Oh dear, you have been neglecting your duties of turning her into an agent provocateur, Severus." Crouch laughed again, noticing her discomfort. "Or is she more suited to keeping your bed warm as opposed to any kind of espionage work?"
Severus smacked the back of his hand over Barty's face, sending him lurching to the side, spitting blood onto the office floor. Circe flinched, shrinking into herself at Severus's show of sudden violence.
"Sev, don't!" She muttered, reaching out to take his arm.
"I must say, it has been rather touching watching you two dance around one another this year. Like watching a fly caught in a spider's web ." Barty uttered, shaking his head from side to side as he recovered from his slap. Circe didn't even have to ponder over who was the fly and who the spider in Barty's analogy. "I didn't think you had it in you, Severus, to be the kind of agent who lays a honey trap to get a potential disciple on-side."
Severus was turning a strange shade of crimson, clenching his teeth together in anger. It was just as Lucious had hinted at at the very start of the year: they all believed that he was some kind of preying incubus, seducing Circe into Voldemort's ranks. Circe had to think of something quickly, or else risk both of them being outed after Severus lost his temper or showed his true feelings.
"What makes you think he seduced me?" Circe uttered to Crouch with her best play-smirk. Severus's eyes bulged as he heard what she'd said, but he did not contradict her. An outwards image of total coolness whilst his heart beat frighteningly fast inside him.
"Ohhh. So it was like that, was it now….? What happened, Severus? After all these years living amongst the enemy, without the Dark Lord's guidance, you found yourself turning soft?" Barty asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Until I came along and… re-affirmed his love for the dark arts, for the superiority of the pure-blood race." Circe continued, effortlessly lying. "I had always been an admirer of the Dark Lord, but until I came to Hogwarts I had no means of being able to find him. Until I met Severus... and that handy little tattoo you all have on your arm was finally my connection to Him. His dreams were one thing, a beautiful taste of what the Dark Lord offers, but how could I go to him with only dreams as a guide? With Severus, I had my direct link. When he rose again, I would know!"
"So why not fly to his side tonight? On the night of his glorious return? With Pettigrew, and Crabbe, and Macnair and Malfoy? He shall know… he shall know of those who were too cowardly to return and those who have left him forever."
"And he will also know who his most loyal servant is." Circe said, gesturing back to Snape with a flick of her wrist. "Lying dormant all these years, waiting to become his cuckoo in the nest of the phoenix once more."
Barty Crouch sat in his chair, hands bound, his smirk slowly curling upwards on his grey face. He scoffed. "Behind every great man, there is an even greater woman, ehh Snape?" he muttered. "If I'd have known your feelings for the cause were as strong as you've said, I would never have bothered with my riddles of whiskey and warmth. The three of us could have stormed this castle in His name. But I believe the Dark Lord has other purpose for you…. If you let me loose now we still could-"
"Purpose? What purpose?" Severus asked, killing dead Crouch's pleas to be let free.
"You will still need to prove your loyalties to him. You, Circe, to be indoctrinated into the inner-circle, and you Severus to reaffirm yourself."
"Prove how?" Circe asked, a quiver of uncertainty in her voice.
"You got my little present, Circe. The hair…"
"Yes, but what does it-" Circe halted mid-sentence as she heard footsteps approaching the office. Dumbledore and another voice with him.
"Unbind me!" Couch repeated again, more desperately.
"Whose hair is it, Barty?" Circe asked hurriedly.
Barty laughed sinisterly again, "I'm afraid Dumbledore hasn't discovered all of my secrets in this room…" Severus and Circe in unison, glanced around the dark office and then at one another. "Lift the binding spell on me now! Before Dumbledore gets here!" he cried, excitement in his voice. He frantically pulled at his firmly welded into position arms, stuck mercilessly to the sides of his chair. He glanced at Circe and then to Severus, his excited face falling into one of dawning realisation as neither of them moved to aid him. They looked back at him, stone-faced and still. Dumbledore swept back into the office with Fudge just as Crouch realised he'd been had by them both.
"You liars…" he uttered.
A coldness settled over the room as Fudge ushered in a single black-robed Dementor. Circe sharply sucked in her breath, surprised at seeing the guardian of Azkaban once again in Hogwarts's grounds and feeling an icy stab of sadness slicing at her heart as the Dementor floated ominously in the empty space of the office.
"Barty Crouch Junior, as the Minister for Magic I hereby exercise my right as head of the wizarding community to grant you relief from your torment." Fudge recited levelly, every inch the statesman.
"You… you lying snakes!" Barty roared at Severus and Circe again.
"I therefore pass judgement on your recent declining mental state, and dub you a raving lunatic."
"You will pay! You will both pay for your treachery when the Dark Lord finds out!" Barty spat at Circe's feet. She began shaking again and Severus held her by the shoulders as he drew her away from him and the Dementor drifted silently nearer.
"The wizard formerly known as Voldemort has not and never shall return. So therefore, as Minister, I grant unto you the last mercy: the Dementor's Kiss."
"Cornelius!" Dumbledore exclaimed. Circe gasped too. Barty thrashed about in his chair, fighting desperately against his bindings, roaring at the top of his lungs.
"I am the Minister for Magic, and my ruling is final!" the normally calm and placid bureaucrat shouted. "Dementor, you may commence."
The Dementor leaned in close to Barty's contorted, screeching face and extended a long hand out to him.
"No! No!" Crouch roared, but his cries fell on deaf ears.
A hollow, sucking sound began from the very depths of the Dementor, low and subdued to begin with, but steadily growing in power until the noise filled the room. It was like the gasp of a dying man. Of water gurgling down the drain. Of nails down a chalkboard. It was horrible to listen to, but also enthrallingly awful. The Dementor opened its great, gaping mouth, bereft of teeth, rotting and putrid smelling and began sucking the very air from Barty's lungs. The young man's cries withered away to almost nothing. He choked and spluttered, his eyes bulging with fright as he felt his whole being collapsing in on itself. First his chest seemed to crumple, like a piece of parchment scrunched up into a ball, and then his throat did the same, then his cheeks… Circe had to look away, burying her face in Severus's chest when Barty's eyes withered away to a crinkled and squashed mess. His skin turned leathery and dry, his limbs withered away to the bone, his yellow hair fell off his head like falling straw. When the Dementor finally lay its slick lips on top of Barty's warped and twisted mouth, there was a dried and emptied husk where once there had been a man.
Circe looked up from Severus's chest to the mummified horror that sat now in the chair where Barty had been. Tears rolled down her face once more and she wailed aloud, covering her mouth from what she had just witnessed. But the moment that would continue to live in her nightmares forever came when the husk of whatever remained of Barty suddenly sucked in a long and agonizing breath. Alive, but soulless.