My apologies for taking so long posting another chapter! All I can say is that I've revised over 100,000 words for my new original project, IN THE SHADE (sequel for DEAD MAN'S HAND).
My thanks again to Bluewater5, who encourages me and beta'd this chapter. Go read her stories, too!
Chapter Seven
Snape paused as he heard noise in the hall near the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. The two youngest Weasleys were having it out and he wished to hear it. It was early Friday evening, and if there was trouble, best to sort it out quickly. He remained on the other side of the corner—he would prefer not to intervene unless he must. Both children had been back from the Burrow for only a day.
"You have to stay in school, Ginny!" Ronald Weasley shouted.
"You're going to quit as soon as you can to work, why can't I?" The girl's voice had a rough edge to it, and no wonder. Snape felt his own guilt and grief over Arthur Weasley's death.
"But you have to take your OWLs!" her brother shot back. "I've done mine already. I can tell you what the hard parts were and put what Hermione says in words normal people can understand."
"You didn't used to!" his sister crowed.
"Well, I had to learn better this summer," Ron said. "Besides, no one expects me to be a great brain, so my results don't matter as much. Your grades are higher than mine when you work at it."
That part was true, at least in Potions. Snape was fascinated to know that young Mr. Weasley was becoming a Granger-interpreter. His essays this year had mostly shown that to be true.
"If I have to stay, then so do you." The girl's voice was a little calmer now. "Besides, you should talk to Bill first. Mum will tell you to stay even if she has to sell the pigs. Bill will tell you the truth if she needs help. Besides, the twins can do their share better than we can—they're both wearing better robes than anybody else in the family."
"That's because they've ruined their old ones fooling around in the back of the shop," Ron said. "You're right about talking to Bill, though. He won't be shy about landing on the twins or on Percy, for that matter. But it's not right. I should be earning now, not faffing about with homework on subjects I'll never need."
"Ha, that's the real reason!" Ginny snorted. "You're just afraid Hermione won't let you copy any more."
Snape suppressed laughter of his own. No doubt Mr. Weasley did not enjoy having to write essays using his own thoughts instead of those of his friend, though he had done more of it this year than before. His handwriting was still ghastly, though. Perhaps he should encourage the boy to continue printing instead. I wish someone would give him a DictaQuill for Christmas, though. I'm not the only teacher here who would contribute to a whip round for that.
He stepped forward loudly enough for them to notice. The two shut their mouths and scattered—nothing wrong with their hearing or their ability to realize which teacher was on their way. There was something to be said for a reputation spreading terror and despair.
Then his arm began to burn. He shuffled away from the Gryffindor area, and then slumped against a wall. Of course there will be a meeting over Arthur Weasley's death, and of course I will have to go and pretend to enjoy the celebration, he thought, and hoped his barriers were holding. He breathed rapidly and tried to calm himself as waves of his own terror and despair nearly brought him to his knees.
"Winky," he said, while gasping for air.
The small house elf appeared, her eyes wide. "What can Winky do for master?"
"I am all right," he lied, and hoped to make it true. "I am called away. Please notify the Headmaster, and then go to the dungeons. I don't know if any of the students are affected, but please let Mr. Nott know that he should look after the others either way." I have probably paralyzed the apprentices with my feelings , he thought. Maybe that's for the best tonight.
Winky disappeared, and then returned with his Death Eater gear in a bag and his new broom. "Master should ride, not walk."
"Thank you." This saved time—he could put on the cloak and the mask away from here before he Apparated to where he was summoned. He just wished he knew if he was the only one or not. With the broom, he could wait a few moments to see if any others were coming without pushing his luck by delaying too long.
If he could only slow his heart down. He could try to find the others through the Mark then. But that was a goal he couldn't reach just now. His hands shook even after Winky left again on her errands.
He would try once he'd reached the gate. He left the castle by the nearest exit as he continued to tremble inside. The cold air helped him to focus, as he concentrated on the ugly weather brewing instead of his desire to vomit. He mounted the broom—odd how it felt more secure to him than most brooms did—and that helped, too.
Snape sighed as he finally regained control. It was dark already, so he scanned the usual gathering point carefully in case others were there. Nobody was. If they felt what I did through their own Marks, I can imagine why they didn't come.
He donned the Death Eater robes and mask. The wind was cold enough that the gear helped to keep him warmer. He finally snapped down his Occlumency shields. There, that was better. Then he lifted them, just a bit, and concentrated on his Mark. No…no sense of the students this time. If I am asked why they didn't show up, I will try to find a good reason. Mr. Nott may have to assume responsibility sooner than he thought. No doubt he should not be afraid that he would die every time he was summoned. But the last several times had only driven that possibility home. He doubted he was the only follower who greeted each summons with fright.
He touched his wand to the Dark Mark and swirled away.
The house elf at the door took his broom, though it handled it very gingerly. A bonded Blood Broom probably did feel odd to anyone else—Snape certainly approved of that. I should probably have left it near the gate, but if something happens to my wand, I still have a chance to escape. He felt inner panic washing against his shields but ignored it.
He took a deep breath and entered the sitting room where the other Death Eaters gossiped and had drinks. They blinked a little when he entered and took off his mask, as the others had done. It was a full meeting, with only adults this time. Macnair was present, and unless something had changed recently, was not a member of the Inner Circle.
He sat and had tea served to him by the house elf who guarded the door. He tried to remember what potions he was still on after this busy week, and decided he'd better not try firewhiskey tonight.
"Snape!" said Macnair, whose flushed face betrayed he'd had a few drinks already. "We're celebrating the blood traitor's death tonight! Catch!" The huntsman tossed him a wand.
Severus nearly grasped it, only to have Bellatrix Lestrange snatch it out of midair.
"Sorry, that's mine!" she said. "I didn't expect him to die, that was just a bonus, but this is my trophy. You were useless, of course, but we expect that these days." She slid one hand up and down the wand as if pleasuring it.
Snape arched one eyebrow and smirked. She should remember that she owed him a favor, but she was a slow student and needed remedial instruction.
She turned her face away and then squealed when Wormtail grabbed Weasley's wand from her hand, and sent it sailing over towards Bella's brother-in-law Rabastan. He caught it and tossed it towards Narcissa Malfoy, who appeared in a doorway, probably to announce dinner. She caught it with a startled look and threw it back towards Macnair. Snape discreetly pulled out his own wand and wordlessly deflected it back towards Pettigrew. The rat caught it with glee but looked dismayed when the wand flung itself out of his hands and towards Mrs. Parkinson, who had stayed out of the game so far, but seized it as it passed by her. She gripped it with both hands. Bella shrieked and went over to her. The wand leaped up towards the ceiling, and hovered there. Snape knew he wasn't the only one chanting spells silently or whispering them.
Then the real fun began. The wand went from hand to hand. Snape held it himself for a brief moment, only to have it slip out and back towards the doorway, though Narcissa had already retreated.
Nobody meant for the wand to strike the Dark Lord on the forehead as he walked through with Nagini at his side. The serpent reared up and hissed, while the wand clattered to the floor.
Voldemort bent down and picked it up. "Macnair, did I not give this to you for safekeeping?" His voice was high and angry.
"Yes, my lord." Walden went to his knees, and so did everyone else. "We were just having a bit of fun."
"Even Snivvy joined in this time!" Bella jeered.
The Dark Lord sighed and looked at Snape, as if thinking, I expected to have one grownup in this group. Then he glared at Macnair and handed the wand to him. "I will not give this back to you again. See that you don't lose it."
Snape bowed his head, though he wasn't as penitent as he hoped he looked. His earlier fear had been broken during this idiotic game of keep-away. His Occlumency shields had slipped, though, and he should repair them subtly.
He stayed on his knees as he reported on the conversation he'd heard from the two Weasley children. It couldn't be news that any Weasley was concerned about finances. Then he allowed a thought to slip out that he could put the family under obligation to him if he helped the youngest boy stay in. After all, Dumbledore was going to foist the lad onto him anyway as an assistant after the Christmas break when Quidditch ended for the winter months. He could make inroads on the boy's loyalty, or even just gain his confidence and find out more about what the Trio was up to this time.
Voldemort offered a thin smile and took a seat. Snape hoped there wouldn't be another ghastly guardianship hearing or some such and knew that he wasn't about to offer any bright ideas for a while. He would discuss such things with Dumbledore before he opened his mouth again. No doubt there would be more business about Grimmauld place before the ramifications of his last brainstorm were done.
"Please, be seated," the Dark Lord said—he seemed pleased that everyone had held their position all this time. Everyone hastened to obey. Macnair seemed to have trouble with his joints, though he was relatively young compared to the rest of the group. Snape filed that information away. He made sure his own rise wasn't smooth, either—fooling people with apparent weakness was a Slytherin family sport.
"We are here tonight to enjoy the death of a blood traitor," Voldemort said. "That extremely prolific family is in disarray, or at least widely separated. In fact, one of them is already one of us."
"Let me take care of the rest!" Bella said. Her dark eyes flashed. "We only need the one, after all."
"No, my dear, we are changing tactics for the holiday season. We shall allow them to relax and enjoy it, as we shall do as well. Our last expedition was not the success we were hoping for. We would be foolish to follow it with something planned too quickly. Considering how Mr. Weasley showed his abilities at the guardianship hearing, their side has lost an asset they will not soon replace."
"What about the fat mother?" Bella said. "Can't I torment her just a little?"
Snape tried hard to not to show his fury. He amused himself by imagining what he could do with his favor, with a dividend to make up for the Crucio that Bella had nearly unmanned him with. I could always say that I need an heir for my line, he thought. Seeing her face when she realized that I meant that she should bear me one would almost do it. But thinking of that was a mistake. The memory of the children he'd seen in the dish at the fertility clinic rose in his mind and nearly choked him with anguish with the knowledge he would never see them.
Pettigrew glanced at him and cautiously rolled his eyes. Snape nodded with equal discretion. Building a bridge with Wormtail would take time but could be worth it. Provided he had it.
Voldemort sighed. Snape could guess exactly what sort of headache the Dark Lord had now, having been in the same predicament. "I know you miss the sort of action you enjoyed so much before you were sent to Azkaban," he started. "Unfortunately, the Muggles these days prefer bombings and wholesale slaughter rather than individual craftsmanship."
"So we attack Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and Knockturn Alley," Bella retorted.
"My dear, we should leave the Wizarding world alone for a few months. Allow them to relax and think we are, well not reforming, but sitting back." The Dark Lord was being quite patient. Everyone else was quiet. Bella nearly pouted but cleared the fury out of her face when her lord made a gesture towards his wand.
Voldemort nodded, as if to say, good girl. "Don't worry, I shall find something for you to do. I know the sort of treats you like."
Snape understood the Dark Lord's impatience. If he had Bella in his charge, he would send her out to the Forbidden Forest to kill Acromantulas and swap insults in the process. What a pity she had been gone when the Marauders were in full flower. Even if she thought Snivellus deserved whatever he got, she would have been unable to resist joining in the fun on his side.
He compared this organization to the Order and wished them joy of each other. If he had known how similar they were back then, he rather thought he might have run all the way to Bolivia, or some such place. Oh, I hope my Occlumency shields are working now. But I must protect my students for as long as I am able.
But he knew enough to hold his tongue while the Dark Lord and Bella worked things out, and so did everyone else. Snape remembered his last encounter with the madwoman all too well. He decided he would allow someone else the honor of dealing with her.
The general conversation began again. "Then what should we do till spring, my lord?" Crabbe asked. "The Order seems pretty idle, and it looks like we could have a free hand."
"Yes, but a free hand to do what? The last time we gained new members was only a few months ago, when so many apprentices were brought in. Terror will only drive others away. It does no good to force any to join, only to find out how willing they are to back out. Without Snape at Hogwarts to protect the new generation, we would have only those joining because their parents did." Voldemort looked unhappy, no doubt because all but a few were there because of their parents. "In the past, the other side did much of our work for us. The persecution of those with pure blood has not been as open as it used to be—even the old fool has learned a few lessons, I suppose."
Snape had a vision of the Sorting Hat going up in flames. I suppose that few see this conflict from both sides, though Percy Weasley likely thinks the Ministry is a third one. I will have to think more about this later. We should not be so divided. Maybe Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw will combine and throw a blanket spell on the rest of us the way that Madam Hooch did on that game not that long ago.
The Dark Lord glanced at him, but just then Narcissa appeared in the doorway to announce dinner. Voldemort rose to lead them in. Snape, to his surprise, discovered he was hungry enough to eat, provided the cook had not gone overboard with the sauces. I'm sure I could bore everyone to death with my potion regime if necessary, but I really hope I can keep everything down.
Everyone sat, with no masks or other concealing spells, since they were among friends. Even with Nagini in the other room, there were still snakes at the table. Any misstep would be recorded for later use. Then again, that was true everywhere he went, and was used to it. For part of an evening, he'd thought he could relax, until he found out what Dumbledore thought of a game of Snapdragon where Molly had let Severus kiss her. He was happy to see the Dark Lord in the seat of honor here, since anyone else would only invite too much scrutiny.
Bella made small talk with her sister, and then whinged some more. "Why, Snape, I would be delighted to invite you along to a little party I'm going to plan. You would have so much fun targeting the parents of some of your worst students."
"But my dear Madam Lestrange, you've already removed the parents of the very worst student I have." Snape grinned then, with more teeth than usual. "But isn't it my choice to determine the favor I want?"
"Ah. Yes." She sputtered and then fell silent.
Severus enjoyed the food today. Plain fruit, roast beef that fell apart on his fork, and soft, warm bread with easily spreadable butter. The others had the same, but with sauces in bowls so they could add them for taste. His 'wine' was dyed barley-water again—Narcissa was considerate that way. The portions on his plate were also small; his ability to digest large ones had been poor before this ghastly potions regimen. The only time he'd really eaten more than most had been the last month before leaving Hogwarts and going back home, and then he'd saved out some nonperishable food to take back as well. Potter had not done so as far as he could tell. I am surprised he never called on Dobby or Kreacher to bring him food, though from what I saw at the beginning of school, the boy didn't look as famished as he normally did before. I hope those letters to his aunt helped with that. Besides, he's a Weasley now, and his new mother will stuff him like a Christmas goose.
"Professor," said Narcissa, "is everything to your liking? I still owe you a great debt over the hearing, though we all wish things had turned out otherwise."
"Yes, this is a fine dinner," Severus said. He wiped his mouth with the napkin and felt silly about being proud of a nearly empty plate. It helped that the Dark Lord was the seat of honor on the other side of Narcissa. He didn't relax too much, since Voldemort probably didn't need to look into someone's eyes for Legilimency, but Bella being across the table on her lord's other side might distract the greatest snake of all just a bit.
In fact, just then Voldemort stood up. He had eaten as well, or at least pretended to. "My thanks to you, Mrs. Malfoy." There were other murmurs of gratitude up and down the table, even from Bella. Crabbe and a couple of the other men were busy on their second helpings but stopped at the Dark Lord's words.
Everyone departed the table. The ladies went somewhere, while the men smoked and drank in the parlor. Snape accepted another glass of the barley-water and sat back in the one comfortable chair among the French gilt furniture. He amused himself by trying to identify the different sorts of tobacco in play by their smell.
Walden came up to him. He said, "Thank God she has you to feed, or we'd be smothered in spices and foreign muck the way we are when you're not here. Now, I don't mind a bit of topping, but I like to choose how much I have, not the cook."
"I could bore you for hours on my wonderful potions and how I know the Swiss hate me, but I'll be polite this time and not do it," Severus said.
The other man seized a fragile-looking chair and set it down by Snape. "I'd hate it myself if I was off my feed as often as you are. I must admit, I was surprised when you joined in our little game with the wand instead of taking fifty points from all of us. His Snakeship was, too. Whatever's in that stuff must be doing you some good."
"As you say, the potions are doing something to me. I told Dung Fletcher that I planned to write a letter of complaint to the manufacturer."
Walden threw back his head and laughed. He calmed down and said, "I don't know how you manage not killing both lots someday."
"Oh, but you forget the Ministry," Snape said. "So far there have been no gatherings where all three sides are together at once. It helps me avoid temptation."
"Well, we're all glad you don't have a hand with the food or the punchbowl," the huntsman said. "There's been talk that we'd look the other way if you gave some tea with two sugars and a potion to Mad Bella, though. We heard about what she did." The other man grimaced.
"I think I'd rather throw the two of you in a room without your wands, lock it, and award a hundred points to whoever came out alive."
"Ha, I carry my wand with my all the time!" Walden sniggered.
"So do I, but she didn't like the looks of mine." Severus shrugged, and took a sip from his 'wine'.
The other man looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, the other side has a juicy widow in just a year's time. She'd be quite a cushion for any man's bones."
"I don't think I'd survive bedding either one." Snape wouldn't mind trying it with Molly Weasley, though he'd be insane to admit to that here.
"Yes, but what a way to go," Walden said with a fake, love-stricken sigh. Then he added, "You know, it's been a while since we had a little chat outside of school. Now, I'll be glad to wait till the Swiss are done torturing you, but it couldn't hurt to have another magical discussion once you're not throwing up every day. I know dear old Poppy would patch you up, and the Ministry healer doesn't even ask what happened any more when I come in all banged up."
"It should be away from all prying eyes, I think." This would be a good way to work off some of his frustration. Damn, he was so tired of being this sick.
"Ran into a nice Muggle place last summer. The Wonder Lad was there for the weekend, but I caught on too late, and only found it by following the pink-haired lass the Ministry put on watch. I'm a member there now, and it's good to limber up against foes who won't actually eat me if I lose. Some of those Muggles are stronger than you'd think. Sadly, they have rules I have to follow with them. But the two of us know better that there really aren't any…"
Snape grinned. He hadn't been allowed to fight that way for a long time. Hogwarts frowned on strictly physical assaults, though even Knockturn Alley thought four on one was a bit much. Some of his old reflexes could come in handy for this one. "It would be nice to go all out for a change."
"I know. Muggle fighting is bad form on our side and going all out definitely not for you by either one. Let's sweeten it with some stakes. If I win, you have to wear a color other than black for a week at the school and not explain it. I'm sure the word will go round that you lost a bet anyway, but you can't tell that to anyone."
"I can't guarantee what color it will stay once I've taught a couple of classes," Snape said. "But on my side, I want Weasley's wand if I win."
"Oh, ho! I can just imagine you giving it to the roundest tits in the Wizarding World," Walden said with a leer. "That's fair enough. But you'll have to send me a picture of you in those robes for that week if you lose. And I get to pick the color."
"As long as you don't pick anything the Headmaster likes," Snape argued. "My eyes bleed enough just looking at him. Plus, I'll give you a picture each day after my wonderful students get through with it."
"That's fair enough." Macnair held out his hand and Snape shook it. "We'll find a day when you're not puking too much—wouldn't be a good fight otherwise."
"I'll just aim it at you," Snape said with a smirk. "But yes, I'd prefer that. Avoid the twins' shop, though, their latest gag is something called a Puking Pastille."
"God, aren't they a menace? I wouldn't trust them with the punch bowl no matter whose side they were on." Walden shook his head. "Well, I need a drink. I hope there's more to this evening than stand down and Happy Christmas, but after that shower at Azkaban, I doubt it. It was probably just as well our Lord kept both you and Bella out of things, but we were a bit short-handed that night, and having those damn wolves turn on us did not help. Then again, I was nearly skewered by one of those ghastly centaurs, even after you warned us they might be there. Maybe it's just as well."
Snape nodded. He rather hoped that Voldemort had nothing new up his sleeve. He'd nearly died from the last two parties he'd been invited to and would rather send his regrets for the next one. It would be a nice change to go back to Hogwarts able to walk and talk.
He glanced around and saw the Dark Lord talking with Mr. Parkinson. Pansy's father rarely involved himself in his daughter's life and preferred to let his far more vicious wife mange the family duties. Snape sighed inwardly. I hope that Miss Parkinson uses her brain more than as support for her hairdo, he thought. It was odd that she hadn't made her OWL in potions, as her grades had been decent for most of last year without leaning on Draco that much, and her potions adequate. I really should have sent her Summer Potions the way I did for Mr. Weasley and for Miss Lovegood. It's not right for me to neglect my students. I should have a conference with her about this and see if she has time to catch up. True, it's always better when students at odds with each other aren't sitting next to a cauldron… but that wasn't fair to the girl. He made a mental note to find out if she wanted sixth-year Potions, even at this late date. She might not have room for it in her schedule, but there were ways for her to catch up, if she wanted to. I should definitely make notes on her file—if nothing else, my successor may have to manage things.
He rose and wandered over to where Pettigrew morosely nursed a glass of gin. That was a surprise, since the rat didn't hold his liquor well. Nobody forgot, even those who wanted to, the time the Marauder had serenaded Miss MacDonald in the Great Hall one Valentine's Day and then passed out on the floor in front of her.
Snape lightly clinked his glass against the other man's. "I can offer you a vial of Sober-Up if you like."
"But then I'm sober again," Pettigrew said.
"I know the feeling," Snape said.
"You?" Peter said with a laugh. "Everyone knows that you're never drunk."
"Only because too many other Slytherins laughed at me the few times I had too much," Snape said. "The few time it's been safe enough, like at Hagrid's or the Burrow, I either sicked it up or felt my arm burn. Took all the fun right out of it."
"Percy doesn't drink much either. Even with working for Umbridge." Peter took another swallow. "I overdid it a few times as a rat, and a glass or two was left on the table, but I could crawl off and become me again if I wanted. That took care of matters in just a moment. Not safe there now, not safe anywhere." His eyes darted about, as if he'd smelled a predator.
"Tell me about it."
"Yes, we made you the dog's dinner often enough. No wonder you joined up here. Only…"
"I wouldn't continue that thought," Snape said quietly. "Our dear hostess, or someone else, might think you're not enjoying the hospitality here."
Pettigrew sweated. "Oh, never!"
He decided to let the rat in on one of his plans. "You may as well know that Macnair and I may have another personal discussion and have set the stakes. But I'd feel better if we had a neutral party with us to decide who the winner was. Or remember who stayed conscious longer."
Peter laughed. Snape almost winced—he'd heard it too many times when he was the reason.
"And perhaps drinks after we've both seen a healer," Snape continued. "If you change into a rat, it should not be too much trouble to take you home to, er, where you are living now. We'll let you know when we've set a date. I hope you can get away."
"I would love to," the other man said. He looked as if a night out was all he could hope for. Given his position with the Dark Lord, opportunities for recreation were likely few. I certainly know how that feels. I'll have to arrange matters with both my masters and warn Poppy that I'm going off to do something stupid. He knew it was dangerous for him to be tired of playing it safe; yet anything he did was dangerous, and he was beginning to have trouble judging degrees of it these days.
He and the rat left the kitchen when Voldemort called for all of them to gather once more.
The Dark Lord sat in Lucius' favorite chair in the parlor while the rest stood crowded closely together. "I know some of you are disappointed about having to refrain from action against the Order during the holiday season."
"We haven't done anything for months!" someone in back complained.
Voldemort sent a hex which found its target, judging by the scream. "And we will continue to do nothing, save to add to our members and continue our drill in tactics. We should save our strength for major operations. We should have assaulted Azkaban in much greater numbers, to name one problem."
Snape tried not to look as surprised as he and everyone probably felt. It was not like the Dark Lord to admit anything ever went wrong. If he was going to start acting intelligently, the Order was in a lot of trouble.
Voldemort continued. "Patience will win for us when terror has not. Will it not be sweet when our continued patience brings us the fruits of victory?"
Bella bit her lip and looked unhappy. The Dark Lord inclined his head towards her. "Some provision will be made for those in special situations. We do not forget the sacrifices that you and others have made over the years."
She calmed down. Voldemort and Dumbledore should sit together and complain about their subordinates, Severus thought. He awaited his own dismissal and tried not to twitch.
His heart fell out of his chest when his master said, "It's time we retired for the evening. Snape, I wish to speak to you afterwards. Please stay."
Bella smirked at him, while Narcissa put on her good hostess face and led people towards the door. Macnair had the grace to look unhappy, though only for a brief moment. He probably felt their promised bout was going to be put back a bit.
Narcissa returned, asked if either one would like something more to eat or drink, received a negative reply, and then withdrew.
Voldemort gestured at Snape once they were alone. "Please sit."
Severus chose the couch and sat back so he might not hit the floor this time if the Dark Lord was displeased with him. He hoped he wouldn't bleed on the upholstery.
"I know you have no reason to believe you will remain unscathed when you meet with either side these days," Voldemort began. He placed his scaly hands on the arms of the antique chair. His wand was nowhere to be seen. "Yet I gathered from your thoughts that you have questions. I am not surprised. I feel you have been much more careful not to offer anything new to our counsels, and for good reason. For the next ten minutes—" He pulled out his wand and set a glowing timer in the air—"speak, and you shall not be punished for what you say. Well, I might hold a grudge and work it off later. I owe you that much truth. Yet I ask you to speak."
Snape hid his surprise at this new turn. He had his question and hoped it would not be considered worthy of punishment, since he knew what the Dark Lord's promises were worth. "My lord, we speak of victory and the fruits that will someday be ours. What will that victory look like? What will change for those who are pure of blood, half-blood, or Muggleborn? What of the Squibs and the Muggles themselves? Will Hogwarts be just a mirror image of what it is now? Should the Sorting continue, or should the Hat go up in flames? What of the other two Houses? What will their place be in our new society?"
Voldemort looked thoughtful. "You ask questions that I believed I knew easy answers for. Yet much has changed since I first began. I will be equally honest with you. Ideas that once were clear have become more complicated. Muggles are stronger, and we are weaker. Other factors have changed, too. If we seem to draw back, it will be more difficult for the old fool to persuade the Ministry that we are a threat. I know we have members who live for blood, and I must find something for them to do. Do you have any insights?"
Snape glanced at the glowing letters and time counting down. "The centers of our life are few. Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, and Knockturn Alley, all overseen by the Ministry to some extent, though their attempt to control Hogwarts was not well-planned. Madam Umbridge did manage to increase hatred of Slytherin through the tactics she chose, though I do not know if that was the ultimate goal or not. In fact, the Headmaster increased his hold over the rest of the school, as even his whimsical approach to administration appeared better than hers after his absence. I attempted to keep my students from participating, but unfortunately I failed. I tried to point out that teachers of that subject are always gone at the end of the year, but I digress.
"And yet, Hogwarts really is key. Not all of us work for the Ministry. Not all of us deal with Diagon Alley or Knockturn, except to buy wands. But nearly all magical children in Britain go to Hogwarts. There are a few who take the tests while being home-schooled, and fewer still who don't bother using a wand that has the Trace on it or are careful till they are 17, but the vast majority learn through Hogwarts. Without the Muggleborn, our numbers would be far fewer."
The Dark Lord continued to look interested. "Some say that Muggleborn only exist because Squibs leave for Muggle society," the snake-like man said.
"It does seem odd that nobody tries to trace their ancestry," Severus said. "Perhaps there are some families who think they have enough heirs already. However, other families thought to have died out might be revived if this was done."
"That would not please those who ended up with the estates from those families," Voldemort observed.
"You are right as always, my lord," Snape said. "To move to another topic, what of magical creatures? Perhaps we should petition for more rights for them again. The Ministry will refuse, of course, but those we act for will notice who tried to help them." Though he loathed the idea of werewolves existing to begin with, he had to appear as if he cared.
"Again, you raise questions for which we need to have answers. My long absence nearly destroyed our movement, and that is not the mark of one with wide support. I know that people don't like anyone who offers change unless there's something in it for them. You see, my Shadow, I have spent time thinking about the future and not just indulging my favorites. I do not blame you for wondering about that."
Severus saw his time was nearly over. "One last thing, my lord. What do you wish me to say to the Headmaster tonight?" He hoped he would be conscious, or indeed alive, enough to tell Dumbledore something.
"Why, ask him the same questions you asked me. Does he hope for any changes in the future, or only a perpetual springtime of Gryffindor triumphant? And…ask him if he has plans for the day when the other two houses finally tire of our little war and call the game."
The timer expired with a soft puff of air. Snape wearily prepared himself to endure what would surely come now for his audacity in asking questions in the first place.
Voldemort smiled with his nearly lipless mouth. "Go now to your many duties, Shadow. No doubt your apprentices will behave, but we all know other students will not. It is a Friday night, and some things will never change as long as there is a school."
Snape rose, bowed and departed as rapidly as he could. Narcissa would understand. The house elf gave him his cloak and broom. Severus thanked him—being rude to a house elf could be fatal, as he hoped people had learned last year. He Apparated to Hogwarts as soon as he was outside and rode the broom in from there. The rain had ice in it, no surprise this time of year, and he was glad of his extra cloak. Once inside the castle, he summoned Winky and had her take the broom and the Death Eater gear to his quarters. He reported to the Headmaster's office.
Poppy was there with her wand and waved it in a diagnostic charm as soon as he entered the room. "Well, you seem healthy enough, though you could gain two stone and it wouldn't hurt you," she said. "But I'll worry about that some other time. I believe Minerva should sit in for the rest of this, though." At that moment McGonagall entered with a notepad and quill.
Severus was very happy. He could easily imagine a future where the Headmaster was dead and everyone thinking him a true Death Eater. Well, except for Madam Lestrange, but he was used to that.
He sat down and repeated the conversation he'd had with the Dark Lord. He ended with what he'd been told to relay to this side. He hoped the phrase 'perpetual springtime of Gryffindor triumphant did not offend, at least not too much. "He is, of course, trying to divide us. But what does victory look for us?" He hoped they noticed his use of the word 'us'. "What does it mean for those left behind, like magical creatures whose rights have been ignored for so long?" He paused to sip some excellent tea. "I am not foolish enough to think this quiet phase will last for long. The terror will begin again. And yet…we should have plans in case it doesn't. Perhaps this would be a good time for us to act more…actively."
Albus nodded grimly. "I have thought about that," he said. "Your questions are good ones for both sides. And I…we…will need to have answers for our part. All of us, not just the House of the Lion."
Minerva spoke. "It is hard to change the trend of several generations." She glanced at the Headmaster. "I tried to do so at my first talk with mine at the beginning of the year, only to run into a great deal of resistance. Given the good conduct of the Slytherins thus far, I suspect Severus had a chat with his. We do not know what the other House Heads said to theirs."
Albus had the grace to look embarrassed. "Severus, we do think of such things."
Snape did his best to look like he believed it. Of course, any changes will be thrown out the next time a Gryffindor does something to a Slytherin and walks way with a slap on the wrist. "Is there anything else?" he asked. He decided not to mention the play with Arthur Weasley's wand—that really had been sadly juvenile of him, though it had been fun. Plus, what he, Macnair and Wormtail did out of sight of others was a private matter.
"No, Severus," Dumbledore said.
Snape stood up to go, and then realized he had some care and feeding of the Headmaster to arrange. "If I may, I would like to have tea up here Sunday afternoon. If your schedule permits, of course." If his potions planned to attack him, he was usually over it by noon.
"Why…yes, Severus, I will be glad to see you then." Albus said in a warmer voice.
"Thank you," said Snape. "And now, I will soon find out if the dungeons are still in place…"
He departed just as quickly as he had Malfoy Manor, though for a somewhat different reason. He knew people from the same House were often more outspoken with those from the same one with nobody else around. That was true of Slytherins, too. Though our idea of outspoken is probably a little different than in Hufflepuff!
The dungeon was only a 2.5 out of 10 on the standard Friday night scale. Any altercations where the go-to spell was a Jelly-Legs Jinx was hardly worth noticing but stamping down hard on the small things kept most of the major things out of his sight. Besides, the handwriting of the two miscreants was bad anyway. Doing lines would be good for them and for his own eyesight.
Winky was pleased to see him—he'd finally given up thinking of himself as pathetic and merely enjoyed her company now. She chased down the last stray rubber duck—Duck Vader was clearly the leader of the small pack—and drew his bath. While he was in there, she brought him his potions, which he drank only with her promise to bring him ice cream later to take the bad taste of them out of his mouth. The sedative would be waiting for him by his bedside.
It was nice to enjoy a bath instead of grimly limping from place to place, lying in the Infirmary, or freezing on a forest floor in a mindless state.
He made the mistake of wondering if either side had a future that included him. Instead of wallowing in despair, though, he had Winky bring him some ice cream and ate it right there in the bath. The contrast between the hot water around him, and the cold sweetness of the dessert helped interrupt his tendency to view everything as dark.
I had the past, but it's gone. If I have a future, I don't know what it will be. But I have now. He decided to float in the water, at the perfect temperature, until his mind and body finally relaxed. And when he heard the faint quacks of Winky's little flock, he smiled, rather than grimacing in irritation.
It worked for long enough for him to prepare for bed, and drink the sedative. The future would have to care for itself if he was not going to be here to see it. I wonder who will be the designated go-between when I'm gone? I hope it's not Draco…
Section break
Voldemort looked at the paper where he'd written Snape's questions. Wizarding society had shifted while he was gone, and not for the better. How much could be done to change it? The Muggleborn who were penalized too severely would just leave for the Muggle world, and probably jeopardize the Statute of Secrecy in the bargain. Plus, they could form a knot of resistance when the time came for the magical world to assert its dominance over all the rest. Squibs remaining here would flee once they heard what was planned for them. I won't be surprised if they're warned to leave in time by the same relatives who allowed them to live in the first place. And they are likely to spawn more 'Muggleborn'—Snape is very likely correct about that part. The testimony of Mrs. Dursley during the guardianship hearing indicated that was true about her family.
He sat and simply let his mind rest for a moment. An idle memory returned, of how Dumbledore had introduced him to the magical world. I knew so little about it that I might as well have been a Muggleborn myself. The same goes for Mr. Potter. I daresay Snape tries to school those in his house from Knockturn Alley till they can manage to behave, but Slytherin has so few Muggleborn in that House that he probably doesn't have much experience with them.
The Muggle world was still a mystery to most, and its population had grown by leaps and bounds even during the relatively few years of his absence. Muggle Studies was still taught by people who had never been in it. Merlin only knew what that fraud Trelawney was doing with it. I need to know much more about it myself, he realized.
Then he considered the Ministry. They still weighed the words of a pureblood higher than they did others, but there was a disturbing tendency by some of the Muggleborn in lower positions to add some Muggle methods 'for efficiency'. If the Ministry was efficient, half the people working there would end up out of a job! He had long understood the need for the Ministry to employ as many as possible, if only to keep them occupied and out of trouble. Without that money circulating and people having some sense of purpose, the economy would stagnate and devolve into what Knockturn Alley already was. As it was, few pureblood wizarding families besides the Weasleys had more than one or two children in order to keep fortunes concentrated in as few hands as possible. That led to those lines dying out.
Only Knockturn Alley spawned more children, but most of them had little magic save for those like Snape. Voldemort had gone there a few times since his resurrection in disguise, and he suspected some lower-class Muggles had infiltrated and were the source of those children. People didn't ask too many questions about origins there as long as the rent was paid on time, and his keen nose had sensed very little magic around some of the denizens. He'd felt much more around the hags, vampires and other less identifiable creatures who rarely showed up during the daytime.
But nobody wanted to do anything about the place—it was much too valuable as a source of private vice, and pureblood owners looked the other way when one of their own decided to go slumming. Oh, the Prophet sometimes called for 'cleaning up the place' and 'draining the swamp', but the Alley was much too profitable just the way it was. After all, its inhabitants, whether they were too Muggle or too Dark, would certainly not be welcomed anywhere else. Pretty little Hogsmeade certainly would not want an influx of those with uncertain ancestry. There was a need in their society for some unpleasant services, and Knockturn had drawn the short straw to provide them.
Only a few like Snape managed to escape. Voldemort wondered if Dumbledore simply 'lost' most of the letters from Hogwarts that should go there, or if the Book thought most of the people there were unqualified due to lack of magic or being too nonhuman.
He thought about some other matters, too. I wonder if the other two Houses will finally combine to shut our conflict down. There was a story going around about a recent Quidditch game that Hooch shut down for foul play on both sides…that should be a warning to everyone in the conflict.
We were lucky to have two non-Slytherins join us, and I am still surprised we bagged a Weasley. He needs to be tested, I think—someone in the Ministry might have had a bright idea about using him as a spy against us, and there are several possible candidates for that. I do wish I could visit each one of that family and find out if it was their idea just to make sure the family survives the coming war. If it was Arthur Weasley, perhaps we don't have a problem now. But young Mr. Weasley's current supervisor might wish her own power base. And yet, Pettigrew has sensed no problems with his apprentice, and the boy's resentment was clear to me at the time he took the Mark.
We are too few. Before, we had so many that I had to trust those in charge of the apprentices, with only a few like Snape standing out in their own right. The pureblood families have dwindled. Has the tide come in too far to be turned? Or do I just need to wait for the old fool to die?
I should never have gone after the Potters. That was obviously a trap. I could have eliminated the father, taken the son for my own and used him to keep the woman in line, and the woman to keep Snape loyal.
Oh, yes, he'd heard the whispers, mainly from Bella, about how Snape had betrayed them all. For all he knew they were right. Still—if the professor had truly left them, why had he raised the guardianship issue? Why had he been brave enough to offer a few home truths tonight? He could have offered a few pleasant lies and been more secure he would survive the encounter.
Snape had more apprentices than any full member of the Circle ever had before. He could turn them into a force of his own against all comers. If I and Dumbledore continue to treat him as an enemy, he could easily become one to both of us, and if he could find allies in the Ministry, both sides could be in grave trouble. Madam Umbridge protested just a little too much that she cared nothing for the professor the few times the issue has been raised. Mrs. Weasley is personally liked by many in the Ministry but is not considered a player.
Voldemort paused to think about that part. Then again, if Severus married the redhaired widow, he was likely to dominate the whole family, and wouldn't that be fun for the Order?
Dumbledore was still playing favorites, which continued to work against him. Surely he had to know this by now? Even those outside Slytherin were not amused by one year's Leaving Feast. And yet the Trio had not become the Marauders, so that spoke to some restraint despite some unhappiness in Ravenclaw over Miss Granger's ruthlessness.
He laughed. There really was life outside Hogwarts, but you'd never know it from the way even he obsessed over the place.
How he missed the days when he could send his troops to spread fear and terror. He had enjoyed it as much in his way as Bella did. But had that been true power? In fact, there was a common thread running through some of his ventures that had failed in the long run. Oh, he couldn't blame them all on his indulgence of Madam Lestrange, but there were a few. He had wanted to free Bella's husband from Azkaban—along with the others, of course—and so had ventured into a real attempt too early, when he really should have had a dry run. He had failed to rein in her passion for blood and had nearly lost his Shadow thereby. My own desires sometimes match hers. I lost my own life the first time because of it, and I need to remember that.
If only I had returned looking human. I would have had a much better chance to stand for Minister in my own right, instead of using tools like that popinjay Malfoy or that odious Umbridge. I am still glad I never Marked her. She would have quietly taken over while I was gone and I never would have been brought back in the first place. I read about people like her in Germany in the history books—true, she never farmed chickens, but she has the accountant type of soul, and would make just a few changes here and a few changes there, till somehow everyone looked at her for instructions. Or she'd work through Malfoy as well. I may have to let Bella kill her once we've won. She could become far too useful for any of us to dispense with her otherwise. Of course, I could always have her be the public face of anything that's too unpopular—from what I have heard, she unified nearly all the school against her, including half the Slytherins. Some people have a gift for making themselves loathed by the rest, and there are ways I could make use of that.
He sighed. He knew the purebloods thought him a good stooge for their own ideas and policies. And he couldn't do without that support.
I must find something for my idle followers to do, or they'll go off again and murder families that we need all in my name. I suppose I will have to prop up Lucius. His looks have matured. He's somewhat more intelligent than Lockhart and not quite as vain. It was a bad sign for the Ministry to have the vote in the Wizengamot be so close for Potter's guardianship.
And yet I need someone from the next generation. Malfoy's son is a bit too young yet, but who else can be looked at as a possible public face when people tire of Lucius and have beheaded Umbridge? Diggory is incorruptible, everyone knows that, and after his son's death, hates us with a passion.
Perhaps he needs an assistant. Who better than a Weasley? He can show a bare left arm, too, and if I were him, I would lead the mob to his current supervisor when the time comes. Snape put the Second Bond on him, and not Pettigrew, but if Snape ends up in that family, that will only work for us.
Poor Pettigrew—he seemed rather lost at dinner tonight. Snape is wise to make up to him—I thought he'd let old grudges stop him from that fairly obvious maneuver, but he's gone through a great deal in the past few months. Now, if he started flirting with Madam Umbridge, I would really start to worry!
He sighed. A waiting game had its lure, as Dumbledore would not live forever. His own body had its problems, too, and his possession of Quirrell had not gone as well as he'd hoped.
The Dark Lord smiled as he thought of a plan, which would combine a waiting game and provide him with a new body far more suitable than this one. He would have to investigate precisely how to manage it, since his spirit might not survive intact after the move, and he would be entirely too vulnerable for years. Bella would certainly be pleased by part of it.
He would have to hold the ceremony at the right time, as well. Unfortunately, the best day for it had already passed for this year. Then again, he had made errors before by moving too quickly. He considered other dates which were closer which also had special meaning—but no, there was only one that parted the gates between life and death.
I will have to wait and control my impatience. Let's see if the Order can control theirs.
Section break
Albus and Minerva talked about what Snape had told them. "The sad thing is that our enemy is partly right," McGonagall said frankly. "We're just lucky the Trio isn't like the Marauders, because we've given them a pass for nearly everything they've done. The situation with Miss Edgecombe was handled a bit awkwardly. If the Toad—if Madam Umbridge had sent to the Ministry for some real Veritaserum, any number of students might have a hex on their foreheads. Miss Granger is asking questions about the future of Wizarding society that I have tried my best to distract her from. Also, the next time a student's parent is killed in this war, they will notice that they are not treated as generously as the Weasley children."
Albus sighed. "I have to agree with you. Yes, I do tend to see all Slytherins as young Tom Riddles. I fear I allow Snape and others to suffer for it even now. Severus was beginning to trust me till that Leaving Feast debacle. I believe he's concluded that Harry is a fatted calf being indulged till he's sent to the shambles. He's mostly stopped complaining about special treatment for any Gryffindor. I expect he thinks it will do no good, which is correct. Tonight, I had the feeling I was being managed, but don't say it, Minerva, I know I deserve it." He went through his own Pensieve once a week to what he remembered of Snape's memories when the man was dying in that shadow of Knockturn Alley. "I have to be honest with myself and you."
Minerva took notes. "I went along with your bright ideas like everyone else," she said. "We need more input from both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, though. The vote over Harry's guardianship shows that. During the last war, we barely had anyone from another House. This time around we don't have anyone from Hufflepuff. Now, Moody won't take any nonsense, just like last time, but Miss Tonks pretends she's a Badger half the time rather than admit that she's a Snake. Severus seems to have picked up the idea that if he survives the war either side will rapidly make sure he doesn't."
Dumbledore grimaced. "Melchior warned me ahead of time the vote would be close. And I put everyone on notice about Snape's legal position as my parolee there, too."
"Yes, you need to do something to make sure Severus isn't sent back to Azkaban if things go badly. I suppose it would be a way of putting him in escrow while rival factions battle over who will be allowed to do him in, but I think he would rather avoid the situation." His Deputy Headmistress waited for his answer.
"I don't know what to do about that," he murmured. "I think he would appreciate a half hour start. I would be very surprised if he had not made plans for that eventuality."
The room fell quiet. The fire snapped and provided the only noise for a few moments. Then Minerva sipped some tea and said in a soft voice, "When James Potter and Sirius Black were so favored, admittedly with my eager cooperation, did you really like them, or were you thinking that they were the presumptive heirs to great vaults?"
Yes, his Deputy had known what kind of scrimping had gone on with Hogwarts' own budget to provide funds for the Order. He was startled, though. Things had really changed if she was willing to ask that question. This time he must be honest. For once.
"I was amused by their ingenuity," he said. "But yes, knowing that the Order needed money was part of it. I didn't think anything drastic would happen, Madam Pomfrey is too good for that. Bellwood sang Snape's praises, but he also sang Tom Riddle's. That made me mistrust the boy even more."
"I imagine you've found it disagreeable when Snape tried so hard not to be ignored over his students' welfare."
"Yes, I did, though I managed to ignore him anyway." Arthur Weasley was dead—but so was Gregory Goyle. He was sure people had already noticed the difference in how Gryffindors and Slytherins were honored in death and would soon notice how some students received time off for deceased parents and some did not. He had never meant such differences to become so blatant, but bit by bit, over the decades, they had. When Harry and his friends received so many points at the end of the year instead of a special award, I suppose I signaled to the rest of the school that I was not even pretending to be neutral. Last year, when I decided not to investigate what happened to Montague, I told them that the life of a Slytherin was once more not worth as much as some other student's. And this last week, I have undoubtedly made it clear that the parent of one family is worth more than other parents.
"I won't say that once this is over, I will step down," he said, after a pause. "For one thing, you won't believe it. There will always be a crisis that only I can solve, even if I must create it in the first place."
"I am glad that Mr. Potter did not use the cloak you gave him to attack people out of nowhere," Minerva said, as she stared down into her tea as if she did not like what she saw there. "I will be the first to grant that Mr. Malfoy can be very annoying, although he has changed somewhat this year. However, I did not help matters by giving Harry and his friends so many points when I returned from St. Mungo's. I hesitate to think what this year might have been like if we hadn't changed things after this last summer."
Albus nodded sadly. "This is why you are here. You should also have a House Head meeting in a room without portraits and without me. The two of us will reinforce our prejudices, Snape will offer objections, and the other two will sigh and agree to whatever is proposed just to end the meeting, because they both know whatever you and I want will end up being policy."
McGonagall nodded. "Yes. We should talk about what victory ought to look like, since the phrase 'perpetual springtime with Gryffindor triumphant' is so very apt. I hate to give that much credit to the talented Mr. Riddle, mind you." She made a few more notes and then rose. "You should toddle off to bed, Albus. We won't solve the woes of the world tonight, more's the pity. Here's another question I have asked myself, though. How many Muggleborns decide to choose Gryffindor because I make my own preferences known when I describe the different Houses? And I wonder how many children live in undesirable circumstances that I do not visit? I still don't understand why you sent Hagrid for Harry Potter his first year. That was really a task that should have gone to me."
Dumbledore was stunned. At time he'd thought it reasonable given Vernon Dursley's flight with his family and had privately thought the pig's tale a delightful prank. "I…I thought you were already busy, and Harry really isn't a Muggleborn."
"Being raised in a Muggle household is much the same," Minerva said. "But then, I would have noticed how they treated Harry and would have had words, especially if nothing changed in future years. How very convenient my ignorance was. I'm sure the boy was very grateful to be rescued, year after year!" She turned and walked off, with the heels of her shoes making an audible click as she left.
Albus gulped. Malachite had accused him of playing Lost Prince with Harry Potter, and from all appearances, rightly so. No doubt Minerva would try to arrange to visit the home for every child who received their first letter, though that would be a waste of time. After all, what would be gained by going to the Burrow every year to look over yet another red-haired scion?
However…households did change from year to year, and some children were favored more than others. Aberforth reminded him of that every time they met. Still, time was limited after the letters first went out. It was probably just as well the letters are addressed automatically—someone might have noticed the one sent to 'The Cupboard Under the Stairs'. And something could have been done then. How fortunate for all of us that Snape did a more than adequate job helping with the situation this last summer. But would I have asked him to do so if he had not seen Harry's home life during those Occlumency lessons?
He didn't want to answer that question, not even to himself. He had been tempted to give the boy those lessons himself, despite the possibility of seeing Tom's eyes in Harry's body.
Once again, he had shifted all his concern to Harry. Students were being ill-treated here as well. Normally, House Heads managed such things—but Flitwick had let the Lovegood girl be bullied for too long. Nobody had expected Miss Edgecombe, of all people, to deal with the situation. Montague was still somewhat disabled, or so he had heard. The ruthless Miss Granger probably still thought she was justified in putting that curse on the parchment for the DA.
I was rather proud of her, really, till Flitwick mentioned the Veritaserum problem. Of course, if Miss Granger had told people of the curse before they signed…
He knew how much fault for the current war was his own but didn't know what to do if Riddle decided to lie low. I am sure he will spend that time making plans. So should we.
What should we do if he loses patience? What if he fears his new body won't last as long as I will? Who is he likely to possess? It's a good thing I've taught Harry Occlumency, but there are other possible targets.
He looked at a report from the Ministry. The total population for Magical Britain was down for the third year in a row. Even the years after Voldemort's first demise had not shown the sharp growth that many had hoped for.
And he knew that things had to change, or the Wizarding World would die out. 'Perpetual springtime with Gryffindor triumphant' had been tried and found wanting.
Maybe it really was time to retire the Sorting Hat. Few really thought through the fact that it had belonged to Godric Gryffindor, or that nearly all Headmaster and mistresses had been from Gryffindor.
He went to its stand and put it on.
Nice try, Headmaster. It doesn't really matter who I put in your House-you'd find a way to favor them anyway. We both know who should really retire.
He put the hat away. Truth hurt. The war had gone much better last year when he'd been able to leave the school on its own and spend more time on Order business. Perhaps Minerva needed to find a Deputy for herself. She would find herself more in sympathy with Flitwick, but that might not be a good idea. Pomona Sprout would advocate for the students' welfare, something which had been sadly neglected, much more strongly than the Head of Ravenclaw.
Albus sighed and turned towards his bed. His dearest friend was right; he needed sleep much more than he needed to sit up and long for the past. Once he laid down, Fawkes offered a bit of song to carry him on.
Section break
Minerva McGonagall went over her notes. Then she opened her Floo and hoped that her friend was still up.
He was, though he grumbled at her for contacting him this late.
"Oh, you will want to hear about this, Alastor. We have finally persuaded the Headmaster that someone must know everything that he does. And I look at the mirror and realize that I am not young, either. Sit down and have some tea, this will take some minutes to summarize."
The former Auror did as he was told. At the end, he said, "Yes, old Tom can still come up with a good slogan. It must bite to know it's true."
"Yes, it does. I suggest that we come up with some plans of our own to offer the Headmaster. I fear if we don't, nothing will be done except wait on young Mr. Potter to grow up. If several alternatives are put before our beloved leader, he will probably choose one of them. It will be up to us to come up with some."
"Rebellion in the ranks, Minnie? What has the world come to!" Moody laughed so hard that tea went up his nose, and he had to blow it. "And about damn time!" he said, once he could talk again. "Too bad we don't know what Snape's plans are."
"I daresay he's too busy choosing the music to be played at his funeral," McGonagall said. "Now that's your problem, seeing Snape behind it every time you trip over your laces. He was just the messenger boy on this one. And if he had anything to do with Weasley's death, he would have been at the clinic in Switzerland with an iron-clad alibi, and you know it."
Alastor sighed dramatically. "So disappointing. Well, let me pull out some notebooks. Don't worry, anyone else touches them and they'll dissolve into soup. Easier on the carpet than bursting into flame."
Minerva turned to a blank page and readied her quill. "Talk away."
He grinned at her. "Here's one raid I'd like to see set up before Christmas…"
She made notes. At some of the proposals, she raised her eyebrows to where they nearly disappeared under her hairline. But she wrote them all down; one never knew which ideas might hold water after she'd looked at them some more later on.
"I'd like to see some of the younger people brought on now," he added towards the end. "Bill and Charlie Weasley spend most of their time outside the country but keeping the goblins sweet and understanding dragons could easily pay off during a battle. Percy is better off where he is, the poor fellow! I'd put the twins in the front lines, but on which side, I'm not certain. They're a hazard to everyone. The youngest boy will be wherever Harry is, and the young lady who has such interesting ideas about curses. The youngest girl will try to be at the battle if it kills her. You can see the maenad blood in her from her mother at times. It's a pity Diggory's lad is dead—he was a natural leader, and he'd probably still be alive if Potter wasn't around. If I were you, I'd look over the list for the last four to five years to find out who isn't married already and find out which way the wind blows for them. You need more than just the students and staff if Hogwarts is attacked."
"May I contact those from Slytherin as well as the other three houses?" Minerva asked, as she made a silent bet on his response.
"Talk to Snape first," he said, though he looked as if he'd bitten into a lemon. "He'll know which of his lads and lasses might come up to snuff, and who has a family that won't disown them if they do. There's a difference between fighting for your family and fighting against it. Not all of my Ravens are too happy with either side of this war, either. I'd better be the one to contact them, and Pomona for her Puffs."
"Why not Flitwick?" she asked.
"He's going to be a bit on the busy side," he said and glanced away from her. "I won't tell tales out of school, but Dumbledore hasn't told you everything by a long shot. There's some very old business there, some very old business indeed, and it's not over yet."
"Thank you," she said crisply and made another note. Perhaps some of the portraits could enlighten me about this, if Albus won't. "Anything else?"
"No. But I'm glad you had the sense to come to me over this. Waiting games always seem like a good idea until they aren't. We won over the guardianship hearing by holding it when we did, and because even Fudge was terrified."
"And…" Minerva waited to see if Moody would be honest.
"And because that damn Slytherin fed us all the enemy strategy," Alastor said with another martyred sigh. "For which he paid rather hideously. I hope you threw him a bang-up party for it."
"We tried," she said. "I seem to recall someone who made the last one especially memorable." Oh, dear, she had let the acid creep into her tone of voice, hadn't she?
"Yes," he said. "And that's my weakness. You have my permission to set me lines for two hours every time I do it, too."
She grinned. "I know just the quill to do it with."
Moody snorted. "And I would deserve it. Well, I don't know what your schedule is, but the Ministry is still on half-days for Saturday. I would tell you to have a nice lie-in, except I know you'll be awake at dawn anyway."
"But I will enjoy my catnaps," she said sweetly. "Have a care, Alastor, you're important to all of us as well."
"Thanks," he said.
As soon as the Floo connection was closed, McGonagall took a quick report on the corridors from all the portraits who had seen anything in the halls. Quiet, for once, she thought happily. She safeguarded her notes by changing the stack of paper into a plaid coverlet for her bed and wearily crawled underneath it. Am I ready to become Headmistress, if only in fact while Albus concentrates on the war? No. But he could still die at any time, and so could I. We must not forget that.
Hogwarts must stand even if the Ministry falls.