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The Shadow of Death
Chapter 9: The Faithful
Her brows narrowed as she looked upon a piece of parchment framed in old, dark wood. It was the fifth of such to be posted in the Entrance Hall. The first had come last week after Umbridge had been named the Hogwarts High Inquisitor.
The first hadn't been odd. It'd simply stated that Umbridge would be conducting reviews on the other Professors. Despite her obvious inability to teach anything meaningful, it'd made sense. Umbridge had been tasked with improving Hogwarts' education.
The Educational Decrees became more and more outlandish as time went on. Students passed by, commenting on the Decree and rolling their eyes. Fleur shared their sentiments.
Educational Decree #5
By the authority of the Hogwarts High Inquisitor
Students may only possess quills from Quinn's Quills and must at all times keep no less than fifty-two sheets of parchment on their person.
Additionally, students may only write notes and tests using color-changing ink. This is to include all written O.W.L.s, N.E.W.T.s and correspondence with family.
Any students found violating this Decree shall face immediate expulsion.
Dolores Umbridge
Hogwarts High Inquisitor
Her oddities had intensified since her first detention with Harry Potter. Fleur's first class with Umbridge had been what she'd expected. Umbridge had spoken to her with thinly veiled hate when she had actually bothered to speak to her.
The last class had been absurd. Umbridge had walked between the desks, ensuring her students took notes from Slinkhard's book. But every time she'd passed Fleur, she sneezed violently. After the fifth time, she'd yelled at Fleur to leave and had taken fifty points from her.
Fleur had overheard a group of first year Gryffindors talking about a similar event. The woman could have always been strange but it was unlikely.
'So what is making her act this way?'
A loud sneeze drew her from her thoughts. Dolores Umbridge sneered at her as she walked by. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair was unkempt.
Harry Potter walked into the Great Hall seconds later. He didn't look at either of them but his shoulders did stiffen as he walked by. Fleur grit her teeth as she walked into the Great Hall a few seconds later.
Stares followed her every footstep, just as had been the case in Beauxbatons. Fleur tilted her head up and took a seat at the table. She'd sat only a dozen spots down from Potter.
'My betrothed.' Fleur speared a piece of cantaloupe harder than was necessary. 'You won't escape me so easily this time.'
To her chagrin, Potter still hadn't approached her about their contract. Not that she'd been inactive over the past two weeks. No, she'd attempted to corner him on several occasions.
Potter seemed to have a sixth sense. He never let on that he knew she was following him, but he always managed to disappear into thin air. Fleur was at a loss to explain it and it stung her pride that a fifth year could outsmart her at every turn.
Pressure from her father had been mounting because of her failures. Sebastien Delacour had written her that morning. He'd grown frustrated from her lack of progress. Apparently, high ranking politicians cared quite a bit about "teenage romances".
Gabrielle had also written to her. Fleur cherished her sister's letters, but the most recent one only frustrated her. Gabrielle had been smitten with Harry Potter since she'd been young. The girl was jealous of Fleur and hoped the contract would be switched over to her.
'Over my dead body.' Fleur's narrowed eyes watched as Potter rolled his eyes at something Corner said. 'That pig won't go anywhere near Gabby.'
Her mother, Apolline, had been strangely silent on the matter, likely at her father's instruction. Fleur's knuckles whitened as she stabbed her fork into a pastry.
And that left her very much alone in this strange place. She'd left her few close friends behind at Beauxbatons and Fleur hadn't found any worth her time within Hogwarts' walls.
A gurgling sound drew her attention. Fleur glared. A seventh year Ravenclaw had worked up the courage to sit across from her. His food untouched, the brunette wizard stared at her open-mouthed and drooling.
Fleur rolled her eyes as his friends came to his rescue. Their receding ribbing and laughter was drowned out by the din in the hall. This had happened at every meal since she'd started at Hogwarts. Fleur wished she'd at least be able to eat her breakfast in peace.
It was yet another difference to her last school. Madam Maxime had been harsh in her punishments of wizards that bothered her in such a way. After the first year, most of them had left her well enough alone.
She looked at the staff table. Umbridge's eyes were on her. The woman's left eye had developed a small twitch. It had not been there two days ago.
Fleur raised a brow and the woman looked away, sneering at a gathering of students. She'd been more circumspect two weeks ago. Something had happened to Dolores Umbridge and Fleur knew Potter was involved somehow.
Movement in the corner of her eye had her leaping from her seat, her meal half-eaten. Fleur caught up to her target and looped her arm through his from behind.
The subject of her previous thoughts glared down at her, his body stiff. He moved the arm she was holding and she tightened her grip. Fleur returned his glare for one of her own.
"What do you think you are doing, Delacour?" Potter's growl was dangerous.
She didn't care.
"Somezhing you should have done two weeks ago, Monsieur Potter." Fleur lifted her nose. "We will go somewhere private to discuss our betrothal."
Whispers broke out across the hall.
He pulled his arm back again. Fleur's knuckles turned white, her manicured nails digging into his flesh. Potter didn't flinch. His green eyes became steel.
"And if I refuse?" His eyes narrowed at her smirk.
"Zhere are many eyes on us right now, Monsieur Potter." The wizard looked around the hall and grimaced. "You wouldn't want to make a scene in zhe Great Hall, non?"
Potter grunted and led them from the Great Hall. Fleur's satisfied smirk remained on her face until they entered the Great Hall's antechamber. Potter flourished his wand and Fleur felt his magic settle over her.
It was not powerful. It was cold, aloof. But there was something great within it, just beneath the surface. It was only thanks to her nature that she'd noticed it.
'He is hiding something.' Fleur flicked her hair over her shoulder. 'But what?'
He turned toward her, his face neutral. But his eyes burned with anger. "Whatever it is you want, Delacour, make it quick. I am a busy person."
"Non, you will listen to what I 'ave to say, 'Arry Potter," she growled. Her betrothed crossed his arms and her skin prickled. "You've avoided zhis conversation for too long and I 'ad to swallow my pride to seek you out. Why didn't you approach me as is expected of you?"
Green eyes looked her up and down. They were unlike the other boys' gaze. Cold settled in the pit of Fleur's stomach.
"I thought that was painfully obvious," he retorted. Her skin felt as if she were walking through brambles. "But I suppose that was too much to hope for. I have no interest in the contract, Delacour. And I have no desire to marry you."
Fire surged through her veins and her skin felt as though it had become heated wax. Potter walked around her, giving her a wide berth. Fleur stepped in his path.
Impassive eyes met her own and she had to suppress a feral growl. 'I refuse to lose control. Not over this...thing.'
"No desire?" Fleur scoffed. Her allure fell from her control and he flinched. "You can't zink zhat I am unattractive. Non. Zhen what is it you want, Potter?"
Potter's eyes bored into her. "Nothing."
"Everybody wants somezhing." He remained impassive under her withering glare. Potter shook his head.
"You misunderstand, Delacour." Potter took a step back. "I never wanted to marry to begin with, especially not to one of your kind. Your very presence is an affront to me."
She saw red. An inferno raged in her gut, demanding release, and goosebumps broke out across her skin. The desire to transform was all-consuming, held back by a thread.
"So it iz because I am Veela." Fleur sneered up at him, fire crackling at her fingertips. "Zhen you are just like ze rest."
Potter's form loomed over her in the moment it took her to blink. She didn't back down, she couldn't. His magic rolled off of him, measured and cold.
Dangerous, RUN! Her instincts screamed at her. She wouldn't lose.
Fleur stood tall and looked him in the eye.
"You know nothing, Delacour." His breath came out in puffs of fog and the shadows in the room lengthened. "I do not care that you are Veela. What your people represent is what is appalling. I hold a grudge against the Veela. That much is true, but never throw my lot in with them."
'What we represent?'
"Zhen what of our marriage, Potter?" Fleur took a step back.
Waving his hand, he replied, "I do not care. We will be married but that does not mean we are tied to one another. Do as you will, just leave me alone."
The meaning was clear. And if she were honest with herself, his casual dismissal stung more than his strange hatred.
Fleur shook her head. He was walking away.
"Zhis is not over, 'Arry Potter," she screamed at his back.
"There was never a beginning, Delacour." His words echoed back to her as the door closed behind him.
A sad sigh escaped her lips as she looked down to her feet. What she saw made her anger abate. Grief overtook her.
A tear rolled down her cheek as she stared at the singular white feather that laid on the stone floor. Its edges were an angry red. It smouldered at her feet, the same as her dreams.
'I lost,' she thought. Fleur wrapped her arms around her stomach. 'And I never had a chance.'
*****BREAK*****
A low fire hissed in the dim room. Silence had settled upon Malfoy Manor. It was something he had come to cherish. His followers kept odd hours and had little in the way of common decency.
Moonlight filtered in through the lone window. The greens and greys of the room were muted, though the bit of light sparkled off the mahogany furniture.
Lord Voldemort sat behind the lone desk in the room, his familiar draped over his shoulders. A smile settled on his face.
Barty Crouch Jr had just left the room. The man had a mission and had been doing well over the past weeks. None were wise to his movements, neither local nor abroad. It was a shame that the zealous man would likely die in the coming months.
The Ministry had committed most of their auror force to chasing Crouch around the country. The Dark Lord ensured he struck in a manner that could not be traced. Crouch could not die. Not yet. Not while he had use for the sycophant.
He looked down at his right arm. He had finally healed from his excursion in Romania. Thankfully, his followers knew nothing of his loss. Voldemort had only personally seen Severus while his burns healed.
Now he was free to be among them and further his cause without an inbetween.
But not all was well. The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed as his thoughts turned to the prophecy. None of his faithful, not even Lucius, had been able to penetrate the Department of Mystery.
His followers who had worked in that department were either dead or locked away in Azkaban, out of his reach. He had needed it when Dumbledore and Potter were his only adversaries. Now?
Obtaining it was paramount.
Dumbledore, while powerful, would have eventually fallen to him. Potter was no exception, the prophecy notwithstanding. Severus had reported the boy, while unusually aloof, was average in every regard. They would die in due time.
However, this Unspeakable, as Severus had called him, was exceptional.
"I do not have the power to beat him," Voldemort hissed. Nagini's head came into his view. "And it is unlikely he will allow himself to fall prey to another trap. I cannot act openly until he, at least, is dead."
Plans rushed through his mind, each discarded as soon as they came. This Unspeakable's very presence disrupted his plans. The grey wizard had disappeared from Romania, dying at his feet. Lord Voldemort knew the wizard lived. Men such as them would not die so easily.
Even the unflappable Severus Snape was unsettled by the grey wizard. That and the fact that Dumbledore would ally himself with such a person was concerning enough. Lord Voldemort could only hope Dumbledore would not instruct his Order to meet his followers with deadly force.
The old man was changing and too much was unknown. The battle had changed against his favour. Voldemort snarled and the fire behind him raged.
He took a breath, allowing the fire to settle.
A skeletal hand rose to stroke Nagini's scales. The sentient snake flicked her tongue and stared into his eyes. Nagini wrapped around him and descended to the floor. She slithered to the bookcase in the corner of the room.
"Then the answer is simple, Master." Nagini's black eyes were filled with flame. "You simply need to acquire more power. Then you can kill our enemy and I can feast."
Robes, black as night, shifted around him like smoke as he walked to the bookcase. His finger ran down the spine of the book. It called to him, whispered in his mind. It tempted his very soul.
'Yes,' he thought. Voldemort looked down at Nagini, his gaze calculating. 'The power is right here at my fingertips. But what of the cost? Am I willing to pay an unknown cost?'
The answer was immediate.
"I need my faithful. I need her." Nagini yawned and his eyes moved to the window. "I need to plan."
The trees shifted in a breeze. He could feel their song, a lamenting, mournful thing. Magic itself knew what was coming. Lord Voldemort smiled, his pointed teeth digging into his lips.
'Yes,' he thought. 'The world shall despair and Lord Voldemort will reign over all.'
*****BREAK*****
Harry strode through the dungeons, his grey cloak flapping against his calves. Dim firelight from the few torches sent shadows dancing across the drab stone walls. His eyes flitted around the halls, watching for threats.
A prefect had tried to stop him on the third floor landing. Harry's memory charm had stripped him of the event. Luckily, he had encountered no others along the way.
Hogwarts was silent, well past curfew for the students. The September winds in the Scottish highlands whistled against the stone castle. Torches crackled in their brackets and the sound of dripping water filled his ears.
His footsteps were quick, yet silent as he rounded a corner. His target's magic called to him, a beacon in the dark of night. The man's back was turned to Harry, unaware of the prowling wizard.
Harry caught up to him quickly. He pinned the man's arms to his side with one arm and covered the wizard's mouth with the other. Harry pulled the struggling man into an adjacent room.
The door closed behind them and Harry pushed the man into the room. A spell flew by the young wizard's head and lit the room. The man lit the end of his wand and lowered it.
"I could have killed you," Severus Snape drawled, "Due to your theatrics, Unspeakable."
Harry shrugged. "You would have tried, Snape."
The Death Eater sneered and walked to a corner of the small room. He leant against it, his glittering black eyes never leaving Harry's covered form. A neat pile of dusty furniture separated them. Dust swirled in the air.
The room stank of mould and mildew. Droplets of water wound between the stones making up the walls. They were deep beneath the schools, lower than the dungeon's classrooms.
"What do you want?" Snape fingered his wand but did not change its position.
He knew he would lose, but he wanted to try. Harry smirked beneath his hood.
"Our agreement," he reminded Snape. Harry pointed to the man's left forearm. "Information. What has Voldemort told you of his plans?"
Snape flinched.
"Scarcely little, I'm afraid." His eyes betrayed nothing. "The Dark Lord has been making inquiries into many projects, but none that I am privy to. I have been assisting in his healing after your...encounter."
The sound of Harry's foot tapping against stone echoed in the room. Snape raised a dark brow.
'He no longer fears me,' Harry thought. 'He believes I will not kill him.'
"And what use do I have for a spy that knows nothing of use?" Harry palmed the Elder Wand. The temperature in the room dropped. "That makes you a liability, Severus Snape. I have no room to take unwarranted risks."
Snape's wand hand twitched, the light issuing from it flickering. Harry crossed the room in an instant. The temperature plummeted and their breath formed wispy tendrils of smoke. Frost coated the floor and their shoes.
The potions professor feigned an unimpressed mien. Harry could almost taste his trepidation.
"You asked the wrong question, Unspeakable." Snape shifted, ice crunching beneath his trainers.
"What have you learned from his followers, Snape?" Harry grabbed the man by his robes, their noses centimetres apart. "I have no time for your petty games. Tell me what I want to know."
"Greyback," he answered. Snape attempted to see Harry's face through his shadowed cowl. "He has been whinging about the Dark Lord attempting to sway vampires to his side."
Sallow hands raised to smooth black robes after Harry released his hold on Snape. The older wizard scowled at him.
"Find out the location of the vampire den." The frost stopped expanding but the cold remained. "And what of Greyback's movements?"
"It will take time but it will be done," Snape muttered. "As for the werewolf, I am unsure of his pack's location. Lupin's been tasked with swaying Greyback's pack toward neutrality. You'd be best suited speaking with him."
'The full moon is just over a fortnight from now. I have time.'
Harry nodded and reached into his cloak. Snape stiffened and the hand holding his wand lost all color. The wizard's dark eyes glittered when he saw the thick file. Blood red letters stood out in a field of dull yellow.
"What do you know of this wizard?" Harry placed the file back in his cloak.
Silence settled over the room. Snape fingered his wand and after a few moments Harry cleared his throat.
"He was once part of the Dark Lord's inner circle." Snape's eyes dulled, seeing something that was not in the room. "But he fell from that position upon the Dark Lord's return. He was powerful but has become a drunkard since his wife's death. He frequents The Blade's Edge in Knockturn Alley. I assume he is your next target?"
"You assume right," Harry said. "Do you expect he will know anything of use?"
Oily black hair shifted as Snape shook his head. "Likely nothing you do not already know."
'As I expected,' Harry thought. He crossed his arms as images of the other Death Eaters he killed flooded his mind. 'This will only have a minor impact against Voldemort. I hope I can say the same for myself.'
The guilt he felt over killing the others had diminished over time, but their faces still haunted him at the most random of times. Rage and self-loathing consumed him during those times. Harry did not understand it and doubted he ever would.
"One last item, Snape." The potions master raised an eyebrow. "I need the password to the Slytherin commons."
Snape scowled and his body stiffened. Rage rolled off his narrow form in waves. Sparks issued from his wand as he pointed it at Harry. The young wizard cocked his head.
"I will not give it to you, Unspeakable." Snape seethed and magic crackled at the end of his wand. "I will not allow you to harm my students."
"And none shall be harmed by my hand." Harry waved his hand in a nonchalant gesture. "I have been instructed to not harm them and so I will not. The Headmaster has tasked me with Hogwarts' safety. I merely wish to ensure their neutrality in the conflict to come."
Calculating eyes travelled over Harry's form. He could almost hear the conflict raging in Snape's mind. The two stood in silence for several minutes.
"Dumbledore has already approved," Harry lied. "Either you give me the password or he will. Either way, I will have access to your students."
Snape's shoulders slumped and he sighed.
"Fine," he spat. "But if you harm any of them beyond what I deem acceptable then you can consider our deal terminated through no fault of my own."
Harry nodded and smiled.
Voldemort had recruited students in the first war and Harry did not intend to let him do so a second time.
'Besides,' he thought, 'It is far past time for me to pay a visit to Miss Greengrass again.'