Chapter 19
The Eye of the Serpent
"A snake though, really? A snake?" Ron said sceptically.
It was dinner time, and Alaw was sitting with her friends at the Gryffindor table. The news of her triumph over Pansy had spread quickly through the school that day and Alaw had found herself being patted on the back by more than one person. Apparently, Professor Flitwick had been waxing lyrical about her tattoo and Tracy had already been hauled up in front of him and Professor Babbling to discuss the new technique. Not everyone had been so keen on the idea of course, Alaw had overheard whispers about 'vulgar, ugly muggle scarring'. But, compared to the usual nasty whispers she heard, this was all relatively tame.
"What's wrong with snakes?" Alaw asked dangerously. "They're symbols of protection and renewal, have been for thousands of years. I'm not going to let Voldemort ruin them for everyone."
"But a snake tattoo though," Ron persisted. "Don't you think it's a bit – you know – inappropriate? It's bound to make people think of the Dark Mark."
Alaw patted her own shoulder and tutted.
"Don't you listen to him Wadjet, you do you."
Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head before returning to his steak and kidney pie. Neville quickly changed the subject.
"So, are we going to this Halloween party in Hogsmeade tomorrow?" he asked and Hermione nodded enthusiastically.
"Of course, we Prefects helped organise it, we have to make an appearance. It should be fun after all the stress we've been through lately."
On that count, she was entirely correct. Umbridge had been breathing down their necks all week like a particularly irritating asthmatic hoover. She'd set them five thousand word essay about non-magical solutions to confrontations that had had the third years trapped in the library most evenings, cursing her to Hades. Umbridge also had Filch safely in her pocket and he had been hounding Alaw's footsteps all week. She'd been particularly disturbed to find him waiting for her in the Entrance Hall once when she came in from the grounds after visiting Emrys.
"And just where have you been?" he wheezed.
"Out," Alaw had replied coldly before stepping smartly around him on her way towards the marble staircase.
She'd been more cautious in her trips to the forest since then, wearing the invisibility cloak at all times. The last thing she needed was Umbridge finding out about Emrys. Worried thoughts like this tended to bring on Alaw's chest pains and she discreetly pressed her free hand to her breast and winced as she buttered her potatoes. Hermione's sharp eyes caught the movement and she frowned at Alaw.
"It's hurting again isn't it?" she asked and Alaw grimaced.
"Yeah, but it does that all the time now."
"Al, that's not a good thing!" said Hermione in exasperation. "Seriously, I think you should go and see Professor Dumbledore about it. It might be important."
"It's not important," Alaw insisted, lowering her hand and devoting her full attention to her dinner. "Voldemort's got a body now, all his powers back, of course it's going to twinge a bit more. I can handle it."
Hermione clearly wasn't buying her airy demeanour because she continued to frown worriedly.
"But why does it hurt all the time?" she asked, lowering her voice. "Why can you sometimes feel what Voldemort is feeling? Has Professor Dumbledore really never explained it to you properly?"
"Is the Pope Catholic?" Alaw asked bitterly. "Of course he hasn't explained anything. He loves keeping us in the dark, I reckon he thinks it makes him look wise and mysterious. All he's ever said to me is I have a 'connection'," she sketched quotation marks around the word, "With Voldemort because he tried to kill me when I was a baby. He's never said how it works, or why it happened."
Which was pretty standard behaviour from the headmaster. Alaw never expected a straight answer from the old coot and she had long ago realised that if she wanted answers, she had to find them herself. Unfortunately there were no answers to be had where her strange connection with Voldemort was concerned, and her aches and pains were only getting worse. Alaw put off going to bed that night as she knew she'd only be tossing and turning. She sat in front of her fireplace trying to read a passage about healing compound fractures in The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Three, but her eyes kept sliding away from the page and she found herself gazing into the flames.
Around midnight she gave it up as a bad job. She took her time showering and brushing her teeth before reluctantly climbing into bed and drawing the hangings shut around her. It was going to be a long night.
Nagini slid between the metal bars of the lift with ease and looked around the corridor carefully. Voldemort, watching from behind her eyes, assessed the situation closely. There had been too many blunders in this operation, too many false leads. He needed to see the corridor to the department himself as he was becoming frustrated with his Death Eaters conflicting reports. Obviously, he couldn't set foot in the Ministry in person, so sending Nagini along with Yaxley was the obvious solution. He was waiting upstairs now to take Nagini safely away once her mission was complete. The plan had been for Rowle to escort the familiar, but he was currently in disgrace. Voldemort wasn't particularly surprised at his followers' loose morals, but he was furious that Rowle had been so indiscreet about his affairs.
The corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries appeared to be empty that night. The walls and floor were tiled with reflective black marble and every few feet there was a torch in a sconce, burning eerie blue. Nagini slithered along towards the plain black door at the end, the door which, according to his Death Eaters, was always guarded by a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Nagini stopped a few feet from the door and her forked tongue flickered out to taste the air. There was someone there, Nagini could sense it. A male, alive, but drowsy, their heartbeat slow and their breathing deep.
No, wait, the man wasn't asleep now, he was rising from the floor, a silvery invisibility cloak slipping from his shoulders. Nagini's instincts took over then. She reared up as the wizard drew his wand, striking with lightning speed. The man yelled as her fangs sank deeply into his flesh and Voldemort could taste the blood gushing forth.
"No! Stop! Nooo!"
Voldemort jolted upright as a woman's panicked screams filled the room. Then he realised that the screams were coming from his own mouth and that he was thrashing around uncontrollably. He fell out of bed with a thud and became entangled in the hangings. After struggling to free himself, he took great gulps of air, looking wildly around the dark, unfamiliar room he was in. This didn't make any sense, his physical body had been sitting in an armchair before the fireplace in his private home, he couldn't understand where he was now, or how he came to be there.
As he fought to get a grip on himself, he felt his stomach turn and before he could stop it, he'd fallen onto all fours and vomited. Well, that was an unpleasant experience that he hadn't had in years. He choked on the burning after-taste and tried to get up, but found that his limbs would not obey him. Instead, his hand moved of its own accord and lifted to wipe his mouth and push the hair away from his face. Hair? How did he suddenly have hair again? Grunting in pain, his body turned itself towards the bed and used it to stand up. Then his eyes landed on the hand gripping the bedpost for support, and he understood.
The hand was not his at all, it was smaller, and definitely feminine. He was in her body, the mud-blood, Alaw. Voldemort barely had a moment to register this strange turn of events before the door of the bedroom burst open and a woman ran inside. Minerva McGonagall was clad in a tartan dressing gown and had her lit wand held aloft.
"Phineas Nigellus came to tell me that you were in distress," the witch said, hurrying over to Alaw. "Are you hurt? Is there somebody here?"
"Professor!" Alaw cried. "Professor, he got Mr Weasley, Voldemort! He just attacked him!"
This was a bizarre situation. It was very strange to have one's mouth move by itself and issue a voice which was not one's own. Alaw was swaying perilously and McGonagall reached out to steady her.
"What do you mean, girl? Take a deep breath, calm yourself, and explain."
But Alaw couldn't calm herself. Her heart was pounding and adrenaline was coursing through her veins, threatening to overwhelm Voldemort.
"Voldemort just set his snake on Ron's dad. He was in that corridor, he was bitten really badly, there was loads of blood, oh god, the blood…"
Alaw pressed a hand to her mouth as bile rose in her throat again, but she swallowed a few times and the sensation passed. McGonagall was staring at her with an appalled expression.
"How did you see this? Was it a dream?" she asked and Alaw huffed impatiently.
"Yes, but it wasn't just a nightmare. I get these visions sometimes, Dumbledore knows about them. Sometimes I can see what Voldemort is doing."
Can you indeed? Voldemort thought. This news was both alarming and intriguing. How could he have been unaware of these intrusions? What secrets had the Mud-blood plundered from his mind? Alaw wobbled again.
"Please," she begged desperately. "He's really badly hurt, he might be dead already, I couldn't tell. We have to tell Dumbledore."
"Yes," McGonagall agreed. "You're right. I'll take you to him at once. The older witch turned towards the door, pausing only to wave her wand and vanish the pool of sick. Alaw snatched up her wand from the bedside table and followed on unsteady legs. The two women crossed a living area before stepping through a portrait hole.
"Be of stout heart my lady! The good Professor shall drive off those villains!" cried to occupant of the portrait as they passed.
Though the words were spoken in a language Voldemort was unfamiliar with, Alaw could understand them and thus Voldemort gleaned their meaning easily enough. A scrawny, dust-coloured cat was sitting on the windowsill opposite Alaw's room and McGonagall shooed the creature away. As they walked along the dark and deserted corridors of the school, Voldemort took stock of his predicament. A quick mental check revealed that he hadn't lost contact with his physical body, he could still feel it distantly and could return to it whenever he pleased. But he decided to stay for a while, this was too curious a development not to investigate.
The girl said she'd been seeing flashes of his daily life, and now it seemed the process worked in reverse. But how? This couldn't be Legilimency, they were hundreds of miles apart, and both Hogwarts castle, and his own home, had strong wards around their walls. There had always been a strange connection between himself and Alaw, Peter had mentioned that she and her friends sometimes spoke about it when he had been posing as the Weasley family rat. But until now, Voldemort had never given the connection much thought. He had been a fool.
As they climbed the marble staircase, Voldemort realised that he was cold, or rather, Alaw was cold. She was only wearing pyjamas and the stone under her bare feet was like ice. Voldemort hadn't felt cold, or warmth, in many years. His new body wasn't particularly sensitive to taste, touch and smell, there was only so much magic could do after all. He could make do with three out of five of his senses dulled, provided hearing and sight were sharp.
As the witches moved through the castle, Voldemort felt a surprisingly strong sense of nostalgia. It had been decades since he'd last set foot in Hogwarts, but the halls still felt like home. Once the war was won, he planned to set up base permanently in the castle, which he was sure still held many secrets for him to uncover. Soon they were standing before the stone gargoyle which guarded the entrance to the headmaster's office.
"Fizzing Whizzbee," said Professor McGonagall.
Voldemort mentally rolled his eyes at the childish name. It seemed that Dumbledore still delighted in the ridiculous. The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal a spiral staircase that was moving continually upwards. The two women stepped onto the moving stairs; the wall behind them closed with a thud and they began to move upwards in tight circles until they reached the highly polished oak door with the brass knocker shaped like a griffin.
Professor McGonagall rapped three times with the griffin knocker and the door opened of its own accord. When Professor Dippet had been the headmaster of Hogwarts, this office had been filled with comfortable armchairs and the cabinet in the corner had held many bottles of gin. Now, under Dumbledore, there were spindly little tables scattered about, each holding a magical artefact, curiosities from his travels or gifts from his many accomplished friends across the world. Over by the window perched a magnificent phoenix and Voldemort couldn't help but be impressed. He'd only ever seen such an animal once or twice in his life.
Dumbledore was sitting his a high-backed chair behind his desk, leaning forward into the pool of candlelight illuminating the papers laid out before him. He was wearing an ostentatious purple and gold dressing-gown over a snowy white night-shirt, but seemed wide awake, his penetrating blue eyes fixed on Professor McGonagall.
"Phineas told me there was a commotion, what has happened?" the headmaster asked without preamble.
"Professor Dumbledore, Jones here has had – well – a vision of sorts."
"Voldemort attacked Mr Weasley!" Alaw burst out and McGonagall looked down at her with a frown. "Well, it was his snake actually, you know, Nagini, but he's really hurt. He was in that corridor Voldemort's obsessed with, you have to find him!"
There was a pause in which Dumbledore leant back in his chair to gaze up at the ceiling. His lack of response irritated Alaw, Voldemort felt it keenly. She was quivering from head to foot, strung tight as a spring, this calm was not what she wanted at all. She wanted action.
"How did you see this?" Dumbledore asked quietly, still not looking at Alaw.
"What? I dunno, in my sleep I suppose like all the other times," said Alaw angrily. "Look, he's lost so much blood, you have to –"
"You misunderstand me," said Dumbledore, still with that calm tone. "In your dream, where were you standing? Next to Arthur? Behind the snake?"
He knows, thought Voldemort darkly. Of course he did, the old man had always been eerily omniscient.
"Oh for god's sake, what does it matter right now?" Alaw snapped. "I saw it all from the snake's point of view, like I was her. Now please will you just -"
But once again Dumbledore interrupted her, get up quickly from his chair and now addressing McGonagall.
"Minerva, please go and fetch the Weasley children for me, I will ensure that Arthur is reached quickly."
McGonagall left and Alaw watched anxiously as Dumbledore moved over to a portrait by the window.
"Everard?" he said sharply. "And you too Dilys!"
A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe and an elderly witch with long silver ringlets in the frame next to him, woke from their feigned sleep at once.
"What does this man look like?" asked the headmaster called Everard in a business-like tone.
"He has red hair and glasses," Dumbledore informed him. "He was on guard duty tonight. Raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people."
The witch and the wizard disappeared from their portraits and Dumbledore turned away towards the phoenix. He stroked its golden-plumed head with one finger and the bird awoke at once. It stretched its beautiful head high and looked at Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes.
"We will need," Dumbledore said very quietly. "A warning."
There was flash of fire and phoenix was gone. Dumbledore now swooped down upon one of the fragile silver instruments, carried it over to his desk and tapped it with his wand. As he worked on the artefact, he kept his back to Alaw who starting to feel light-headed.
"Sir," she began. "Sir please, I'm really scared. What's happening to me?"
Dumbledore acted as if he hadn't heard her. Well, that was certainly an interesting reaction. It was most unlike Dumbledore to ignore an obviously frightened student, and Alaw's distress was prominent, she was still unsteady on her feet and she had a cold sweat.
"Sir please tell me what's going on, sir!" she tried again, but still she got no response, not even a glance in her direction. A sudden and powerful rage rose in Alaw.
"Look at me what I'm talking to you, you twinkly-eyed bastard!" she shouted.
Dumbledore turned to face his furious pupil. Voldemort felt a powerful hatred for the man, but he wasn't sure if it was his or Alaw's. This was truly delicious. All this time, he had been working under the assumption that Alaw was Dumbledore's new protégé, that she and her friends were to be the new generation of Order members. But he could see now that Alaw didn't have a shred of respect for this man, all she felt was frustration and resentment.
"Alaw, please, calm yourself so that I can think clearly," Dumbledore said patiently. "This device will confirm a theory I have been working on for some time."
But his words only infuriated Alaw.
"No!" she cried. "I am not doing anything you say until you explain what the fuck is going on! I was that snake, I bit Mr Weasley, I killed him!"
Alaw hugged her middle tightly as if she was trying to stop herself from falling apart and Dumbledore's measured tone was doing nothing to alleviate her fears. He doesn't care about you, Voldemort thought, subtly projecting the words into her mind.
"I do not know exactly what is happening," Dumbledore said but Alaw interrupted him.
"Yes you do! You do know, you've always known, stop lying to me!"
She took a step towards the headmaster, now gripping her wand in a trembling fist and for one, wonderful moment, Voldemort thought she was going to attack the old man. But then the door opened and McGonagall came in, escorting a gaggle of red-haired Weasleys. One of them, a tall, freckled young man, looked at Alaw in alarm.
"Al? What's going on? McGonagall said you saw dad get attacked!"
Alaw turned towards him and tears began to spill down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she sobbed. The boy, Ron Alaw's mind provided helpfully, hurried over to her and put an arm around her shoulders. Voldemort cringed internally, he hated being touched.
"Bloody hell Al, you look fucking awful. And you're shaking! Here."
The boy took off his dressing gown and chivalrously put it around Alaw's shoulders. Alaw was grateful for the warmth and she leant against her friend, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffing. Dumbledore addressed the Wealseys.
"You're father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix. I have sent agents to find him, we should have word on that soon."
Even as he finished speaking, the previous headmaster hurtled back into his portrait and leant heaving against the frame, panting.
"They found him, Dumbledore!" he wheezed. "On the lower levels. I saw them bring him up, he's still alive, but he's covered in blood. I don't know if he'll make it."
"Very well," said Dumbledore gravely. "They'll take him to St Mungo's. I am sending all of you to Sirius now, it is far more convenient for the hospital than the Burrow and you will meet your mother there."
Suddenly, there was a flash of flame right in the middle of the office, leaving behind a single golden feather which floated gently to the floor.
"It is Fawkes's warning," said Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. "Professor Umbridge knows you are out of your beds. Minerva, head her off, tell her any story."
As McGonagall left and Dumbledore moved quickly to whisper to one of the other portraits, Ron looked at Alaw in horror.
"How did that hag find out so quickly?" he hissed and Alaw scowled.
"Filch, she's got him spying on us hasn't she? She's desperate to catch us doing something against the Ministry. We'll have to warn the other Flames to be careful around him and Mrs Norris."
Flames? What is that I wonder? Voldemort thought.
"Come quickly, I must send you on your way before Professor Umbridge arrives," said Dumbledore.
He beckoned to the students and they crowded around him. He had gone back to pointedly avoiding Alaw's eyes and she glared at him resentfully. He rummaged around in a cupboard and straightened up holding a blackened old kettle, which he placed carefully on the desk. He raised his wand and murmured, 'Portus!' For a moment the kettle trembled, glowing with an odd blue light, then it quivered to rest, as solidly black as ever. Voldemort felt a grudging admiration. Flamboyant and irritating Dumbledore may be, but he was still a powerful and skilled wizard. Not everyone could create a Portkey so easily.
"You have all used a Portkey before?" Dumbledore asked the Weasleys nodded, but Alaw shook her head. Of course she hadn't, she was a Mud-blood.
"You have to touch it," Ron whispered, reaching out and demonstrating. "Don't worry, I've got you."
Alaw cautiously gripped the spout of the kettle and Dumbledore began to count down from three. This was the closest Voldemort had ever stood to the old man and in that final moment before the kettle vanished, Alaw made eye-contact with the headmaster. You know I'm here, don't you? Voldemort thought, you know she's mine.
Then he was being yanked away, not by the portkey, but back into his own body. Wherever Alaw was going, it was protected by the Fidelius Charm and no amount of magic let him see it through her eyes. But no matter, what he had learned that night was invaluable.
Alaw felt a jerk behind her navel and then she was banging into the others as they all sped forwards in a swirl of colour and a rush of wind. When her feet hit the ground her knees buckled and she collapsed into a pile with the Weasleys. Trembling, Alaw got to her feet and looked around to find herself in the dark kitchen of Grimmauld Place. The only sources of light were the dying fire and a sputtering candle, which illuminated the remains of a solitary supper.
Sirius appeared, kneeling beside her and helping her to her feet. He was unshaven and had a strong smell of drink about him.
"What's happened?" he asked urgently. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been gravely injured."
"McGonagall just said Al had a dream about it," said George, looking at Alaw with a frown. "What's going on Al?"
"I – I don't know," she said, averting her eyes as all the Weasleys and Sirius looked at her. "I had a vision, I saw Voldemort's snake bite your dad, and then I woke up. Dumbledore says they found him though, they'll take him to hospital and the doctors will fix him up."
She said this last part as confidently as she could, though it sounded more like a prayer than an assertion. She drew Ron's dressing-gown more tightly around her and stared at the floor. Fred looked up at Sirius.
"Is mum here?" he asked sharply and Sirius shook his head.
"No, she'll probably go straight to St Mungo's once the hospital's contacted her."
"We have to go too!" Ginny cried. "Have you got some cloaks we can borrow?"
"Hang you, you can't go charging off to St Mungo's," said Sirius in alarm. "Not until they've told you're mother anyway. If you just turn up it'll look very suspicious. How do you think the Ministry will react if it finds out that Alaw's been having visions of things happening hundreds of miles away?"
"Who gives a damn?! We have to go now!" Fred cried, actually making to stride out of the room but Alaw caught him by the arm.
"Fred no! You can't, how would you explain yourselves? The Ministry will bang me up in the loony bin!"
"You wouldn't be such a coward if it was your dad bleeding to death out there!" Fred shouted at her and Ron stepped in angrily.
"Hey! Don't call her a coward. We wouldn't even know about this if it wasn't for her, dad might be dead if she hadn't raised the alarm."
The brothers glared at each other but Fred was the one to slump his shoulders and back down. Sirius spoke up,
"Look, we need to wait for your mother to send word. Then I promise you can go and see him."
Fred and George exchanged mutinous looks. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. Alaw looked at Ron, who made a funny movement somewhere between a shrug and a nod, and he sat too. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, then took seats on either side of Ginny. Alaw did not want to sit. She left the room, muttering something about going to the toilet, and climbed the creaking stairs out of the basement. The hall was just as gloomy as it had been over the summer and Alaw moved silently past the sleeping portrait of Sirius' mother, mounting the stairs to the upper floors. She turned into the drawing room and sank onto the window seat to press her forehead against the chilly glass panes.
She knew, logically, that none of this was her fault. Nagini would have attacked Mr Weasley whether she had been there or not, but she still couldn't escape the feeling of guilt. This wasn't like the other dreams she'd had, or the curious mood-swings and chest pains. It was like she'd been there, she'd felt the cold of the tiles under her belly, she'd tasted the horrible metallic tang of the blood. What was happening to her? Why did she now have a connection with Voldemort's pet bloody snake?!
She sat there for a long time, staring down at the dark street below with her knees drawn up to her chest. She was so angry with Dumbledore right now, fear and rage was a potent and unpleasant mix. Why couldn't he pull his head out of his own arse for five minutes and explain things to her? Why did he not care how terrified she was? Alaw wasn't sure how long she sat there before Ron came into the room and her head snapped up. He was holding two mugs in one hand and a letter in the other.
"Mum sent this," he said, coming over to sit with Alaw and handing her the letter and one of the mugs. "The healers are still working on dad."
Alaw's eyes sped over the haphazard writing.
'Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I'll send word as soon as I can. Mum.'
Alaw took a fortifying gulp of tea and found the heat to be welcome in the chill of the room.
"Do you think they've let Bill and Charlie know?" she asked and Ron nodded.
"Probably, or mum will have. They're both in the country at the moment so they'll probably go straight to the hospital."
"What about Percy?"
Ron grimaced and shrugged at that. There was a long pause until Alaw could bear it no longer.
"Ron, I'm so sorry," she said in a small voice, cupping the mug between her hands and shivering. Ron frowned.
"Why?" he asked. "Seriously, he's only alive now because of you. Don't listen to Fred, he's just scared. We all are."
"Why is this happening to me, Ron?" Alaw asked desperately. "I think – I think I'm losing my mind! I didn't just see this in a dream, I was that snake! I can see what Voldemort wants, that corridor, whatever's behind that door, I can feel his emotions. I can feel when he's angry, or happy, what the hell is going on?!"
Ron couldn't answer these questions any more than Alaw could, he could only put an arm around her comfortingly. Eventually he persuaded her to join them downstairs where they sat all night, not really speaking, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. Alaw could only turn her wand over and over in her hands, waiting, hoping.
At ten past five in the morning by Ron's watch, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs Weasley entered. She was extremely pale but when they all turned towards her she gave a wan smile.
"He's going to be alright," she said, her voice weak with exhaustion. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now, he's going to take the morning off work."
Fred fell back into his chair with his hand over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother and hugged her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his drink in one.