Trojan Horse – Part XI: Conscia Fati
Dedicated to my friend Firebolt. Happy Birthday!
~
Helen walked with Arion across the grounds of the school. Neither spoke as they neared the place where the besieging spell barred their exit. Helen could see the air shimmering a little with the strength of the two competing spells, Dumbledore's to keep things out and Voldemort's to keep them in.
They both stopped a few paces short of the spell.
'Well,' said Arion, 'here goes. Good luck, Helen.' He took out his wand. 'Don't forget that you're my prisoner,' he said. 'I'm going to tie you up now.'
'Okay.' Helen gave him a nervous half-smile. Arion only nodded and pointed the wand at her. He muttered a spell and a cord lashed Helen's wrists together behind her back. Somehow, not having her hands free unbalanced her, and she almost fell. Arion grabbed her shoulder to steady her. Then he stepped into the barrier. It flung him back violently and he fell to the ground. He sprang up, his wand pointed at Helen for acting's sake, and she stood quite still. Then he shot a jet of green flame at the invisible wall of magic before him. It bounced back as well and flew back towards him. He ducked just in time.
'Right,' he muttered. 'Tom, you're going to let me through.' He did not assault the barrier with magic, instead he said to Helen, 'We're going to walk round to the source. I think it's not far, it should be at the main gates by right.' With his wand still pointed in Helen's direction, they walked along the edge of the barrier towards the main gates.
It seemed to Helen that the walk took forever. She was quite glad she had her hands tied, otherwise she might have considered running back. Hogwarts still loomed over her in the dawn light, and she looked at the numerous windows, trying to work out which one housed her children. Well, whichever it was, they were safe, and nothing mattered more than that.
She glanced at Arion. Why was he doing this? He seemed to have no guilt to absolve, nor did he seem to be seeking adventure like some of the other members of the League. Perhaps he wanted to clean away the memories of being friends with the Dark Lord. His closed face gave away no secrets.
At length they reached the main gates, and the school was behind them. Arion reached out and grasped Helen's shoulder. She stopped. Arion looked up at the tall iron gates that were supposed to keep evil things out of the school. There was a person standing guard there, who had not seen them approach.
'Hey!' called Arion. 'I want to speak to Voldemort!'
Helen automatically flinched at the name. The guard whirled around. He saw them through the barrier and his eyebrows raised.
'Who are you?' he shouted back gruffly.
'Voldemort knows us both,' said Arion. 'Now let us through!'
The guard looked horrified at Arion's casual use of the name. 'Can't do that,' he said. 'Nobody to come through either way, orders of the Dark Lord himself.'
'Then tell whoever's in charge here that Arion has come to see Voldemort, and he's bringing Helen de Laurent with him.'
'De Laurent?' muttered the guard, looking closely at Helen. 'Bloody 'ell.' To Arion he said, 'What d'you want, anyway?'
'To speak to Voldemort, like I said,' replied Arion crossly. 'Just get on with it, man.'
Still muttering under his breath, the guard spoke into some sort of device – Helen couldn't quite see what. Neither could she hear his words, save that he repeated her name several times. Finally he turned away.
'Wait there till the lieutenant arrives,' he said.
'Look, we can't hang around,' said Arion in an angry tone. 'If anyone from the school spots us, I'm for it.'
'That's not my problem,' answered the guard. 'My business is to make sure you lot stay on your side of the fence, all right? But the lieutenant won't be long.'
Arion stood with his wand covering Helen, waiting. Helen watched Arion for a while, wondering how he could have ever been friends with the Dark Lord. It seemed beyond ridiculous, like some sort of joke that everyone was playing on her. The guard hadn't seemed to have recognised him. Helen wasn't sure if this was a good sign or not. A tiny paranoid part of her wondered what would happen if he wasn't lying, if he really was going back to work for the Dark Lord. He'd kill her, Helen supposed. And that would ruin everything, unless she could get to the knife first.
But no, Helen told herself, this is foolish. Dumbledore himself had trusted Arion, he would not be a traitor. Besides, she thought with some bitterness, who was she to suspect others of betraying them?
Something was happening at last on the other side of the barrier. Helen saw her husband approaching, and the muscles in her shoulders tensed on reflex. She watched nervously as he spoke briefly to the guard. Then he approached the barrier. His eyes fell on her.
'Well, well, Helen. This is an unexpected delight.' He turned to Arion. 'You wish to speak with my master?'
'I demand to speak with Voldemort,' retorted Arion. 'Immediately.'
'Indeed.' Alexander de Laurent gave a slight smile. 'Why, after the last time I saw you, I would never have thought you were interested.'
'Things have changed since then.' He scowled. 'Helen is my prisoner, as a token of my good faith. She was sheltering with the people in the castle, but it was not difficult to extract her from their clutches. I bring her to show you that I am in earnest.'
Alexander de Laurent looked at him, and then at Helen. 'A prisoner, you say? We'll see about that.' A shadow of concern crossed his face. 'I think, under the circumstances, I shall permit you to cross. As soon as you are through I will ask you to surrender your wands, both of you.' Arion gave a curt nod.
Alexander went to the gate. Helen saw the flash of his wand, and the gate swung slowly open. The guard and Alexander stood with upraised wands as Arion prodded her through, following closely behind her. Once they were through, Arion passed his wand to Alexander and the guard shut the gate behind them. Helen felt a wash of relief. First hurdle over.
'Now then,' said Alexander. 'I will take you to my master.' He stuck Arion's wand in his belt carefully and turned to Helen. 'My dear, it was not at all wise of you to run away like that,' he said. He looked at her bound hands. 'No need for those,' he added and flicked his wand, releasing her. Helen flexed her arms a little to get the blood flowing to her hands, trying not to look at Alexander's face. There was a gentleness in his voice that she mistrusted.
'Come then, let's go.' He looked at Arion. 'I will work the spell.' Putting a hand on Helen's shoulder, and pointing his wand at Arion, he spoke a complex Apparating spell and Helen felt everything spin faster and faster and faster…
…until she landed on the grass outside the stone circle of Stonehenge. Dizzy, she allowed Alexander to hold her with one hand. Arion seemed perfectly at ease, and he scanned the circle intently.
'Here we are,' said Alexander. 'Now, we shall enter the circle.' He turned to Arion. 'I should warn you that if your intentions are not what you claim they are, you will never leave this place.'
Arion's only response was to step towards the outer ring of stones. Raising an eyebrow, Alexander went beside him, taking Helen's arm.
'Don't say anything unless you have to,' he hissed to her. Helen looked up at her husband in surprise. Obedient, she said nothing, but she was puzzled.
They entered the circle, and Helen felt a tingling as she went through another field of magic. She looked around, sensing that something was different but not sure what. Then she realised. In the centre, the fallen Altar Stone had been raised up and now stood dominating the circle. Helen felt an obscure fear as she saw its looming shape. Alexander led the way towards it, still holding Helen's arm.
The Altar Stone frightened Helen all the more as she approached. She recalled what she knew about Stonehenge. The Altar Stone was one of the most important and most powerful magical things in the world, but the power in it could not be channelled while it lay on the ground. No wonder Voldemort was gaining strength, if he used the Altar Stone. Would it fall when she worked the Conscia Fati Enchantment, she wondered. Well, she would never know.
Alexander opened the trapdoor at the foot of the stone.
'Go in,' he said to Arion. Helen was watching Arion's face closely, but saw nothing beneath the mask of arrogant confidence. She wondered again why he was doing this, and if he was ever afraid. Did he think he would survive today's work? But before she could consider this more closely, he dropped down into the hole. Alexander sent her after, and came down last, closing the trapdoor above him.
Helen took a deep breath. Here she was, and everything was going according to plan. Only one more thing to do.
~
On the lawn, Vivian was grooming Altair again. He was shiny already, beautifully clean, but she continued to smooth his silky hide and talk softly to him. She thought that things were dull here. Nothing at all to do. The students were all nervous of her, she could tell that most of them had never met a blind person before and weren't sure what to say or do. And as for the staff – they were nice enough, but they were all busy and not particularly interesting to talk to. But with this spell on the grounds, there was no way she could get out.
She heard running feet and arguing voices of people approaching rapidly, and she straightened. Perhaps something interesting would happen after all.
'You're mad. You think you can fly over Hogsmeade and everything, and not be seen?'
'What else do you suggest? We can't Apparate there, so we'll have to fly.'
'Look, I've seen what Voldemort does to people he catches, and I don't want to see it again, and I don't suppose you do either.'
'Do you think we'll be able to get through?'
'We'll have to give it a shot, won't we? I don't suppose Voldemort is that good at earth magic.'
Both voices she knew instantly, the soft tones of Remus Lupin, who knew Altair, and Sirius' determined accents. Opposites, those two, but very good friends by all accounts. Vivian heard everything when she ate in the Great Hall, and had already learned much about the characters of all the staff and some of the students as well. Clearly, something strange was happening here. She breathed in slowly, her mind running over the undercurrents in the two voices.
'What's happening?' she asked when she judged they were close by. The footsteps hesitated.
'We're in a rush, sorry, Vivian, get someone else to explain to you if you're worried.' That was Remus, and his tone was tenser and more troubled than she had ever heard before.
'Can I do anything?' she asked urgently.
'No.' That was Sirius. 'Thanks, we'll be all right. See you in a bit.'
She heard him begin to rush off again, and scowled in his direction.
'Sorry,' repeated Remus, and she heard him following Sirius.
Vivian stood still for a moment, thinking. Something was definitely happening, and she didn't want to miss it. She faced the direction the two men had run in, senses alert, trying to work out where they were going. When she heard the creaking of the Whomping Willow's branches cease, she realised. But that didn't tell her much, only that they had gone down the tunnel. Where would they go after that? They were preparing to fly somewhere, too, she thought.
Altair poked her with his nose, and smiling slightly, Vivian turned back to him and scratched his head.
'What do you suppose is happening, Altair?' she asked. The best way to find out would be to go to the school. She swung herself across Altair's back in a flowing movement and rode up to the main entrance to the school. Someone was bound to know what was going on.
She did not stumble as she went up the steps to the school. In the entrance hall, she stood still, listening to the sounds of the students in lessons around the castle. Footsteps alerted her to an approach, and the slight unevenness of his steps from his injury gave away the person's identity to her.
'Severus,' said Vivian in a matter-of-fact tone as he came near. She heard his sharp intake of breath, and his footsteps stopped. She walked a few paces closer, smiling, pleased that she had disconcerted him.
He seemed to recover himself. 'Has he gone?' he asked sharply.
'Has who gone?'
'Lupin.' Disgust and hatred were unmistakeable in his voice, and Vivian raised an eyebrow.
'Where was he going?' she asked curiously.
'Stonehenge,' said Snape. 'On some damn fool wild-goose chase.'
'He was rushing off somewhere about ten minutes ago,' she said easily. 'Sirius Black was with him. I don't know where he was going, though.' In her mind, she had no doubt of it at all.
'Black too? Ah.' Snape began to turn away.
'Why would they go to Stonehenge?' asked Vivian.
In an impatient tone, he said, 'They've gone after that Helen woman. I don't know what they hope to accomplish, but our Headmistress condones it, so that's all right.'
Vivian almost flinched from the sarcasm in his tone. 'I see,' she said. 'Well, they've gone.' And now she knew where they were going. Stonehenge. Where Voldemort was.
'So I understand.' He did turn away this time, and Vivian made her way towards the stairs. She could feel Snape's eyes on her back, and wondered if there was anything in her way. Her inner hesitation did not show in her strides, and she climbed the stairs without trouble.
Now, she would get a cloak and her wand, and go to Stonehenge. But how would she get out of the school? Well, what had worked for Sirius and Remus would work for her as well. She had learnt of the tunnel under the Whomping Willow from Sirius, and she wondered if it would be large enough for Altair to get through. If it was not, she would be in trouble. Well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, she thought.
Luckily, Snape had gone when she went back downstairs, and she didn't think anyone noticed her as she went back out the door. She did not rush the way Remus and Sirius had done, but she wasted no time as she mounted Altair and rode him towards the Whomping Willow. It lashed out at her, and she paused. How was she to get into the tunnel, wherever it was?
A Freezing Charm might work, she decided after a few moment's thought, if she could cast a sufficiently strong one. She reached for her wand and spoke the words of the spell. She could feel the air crackle with its strength, and gave a pleased smile. The creaking ceased.
Vivian took some hesitant steps closer, and almost fell into the tunnel. It seemed large enough for Altair. Luckily Pegasi weren't particularly large creatures; he stood at little more than fifteen hands.
'Come on, Altair,' she said. The horse didn't move. Vivian reached out and caught his mane. He had never refused to follow her before. When he still did not come, she stroked his neck gently, wondering if he was afraid. But he was not baulking, he simply did not move.
Suddenly, feeling stupid, Vivian realised that she had put the Freezing Charm on him as well. She cancelled it with a flourish of her wand, and he plunged down into the tunnel after her. She felt him quiver, and he snorted. Either there was something down here that he feared, or there had been in the past. But he went after her willingly enough when she began to make her way through the narrow, silent passage. Remus and Sirius had probably got through to the other end already, she thought, for she could not hear them and neither could Altair.
As she walked, she wondered what she was heading towards. Like everyone, she knew Voldemort was in Stonehenge, and she understood all too well the danger this posed. But what Helen had to do with it, and why Remus and Sirius had gone, she was not sure. But she knew one thing. She was not going to let all the interesting things happen while she sat around and groomed Altair.
~
In the tunnels under Stonehenge, Alexander moved closer to Helen. Arion was walking a few paces behind, a stone-faced guard with him.
'Helen, listen to me.' Alexander gripped her shoulder with a strong hand, his voice very quiet. She turned her head to look at him.
'What?'
'Pretend you came willingly.'
Helen raised an eyebrow. 'Why? Arion will say differently whatever I do.'
'I'll sort Arion out,' he said. 'It'll be fine. Right now, everyone believes that the werewolf carried you off, and nobody needs to know any different if you keep your mouth shut.' His voice was low and urgent. 'You've got to do this, Helen, or else you'll either be tortured or executed, or both. I covered up for you, don't throw your chance away. You could still have a future with us. I don't suppose you'll be going back to the people at Hogwarts.'
Helen shook her head at that automatically. 'I won't.' But she raised her chin a little. 'I won't work for your people either.'
'Helen,' said Alexander exasperatedly, 'this is no time for scruples. Do you think I really wanted to work for them? But once you're in, that's it, and you have to make the best of it. You won't have to do anything objectionable again, I'll see to that. And the alternative is being treated in the same way as your friend McGonagall was.' His hand tightened on her shoulder. 'Don't you see?'
Helen could see that she could make things considerably easier if she agreed, so she did. Something close to a real smile appeared on Alexander's face.
'Good.' He raised his voice so that Arion could hear. 'Now, come with me, and we will go to my lord.'
The tunnel narrowed, and Arion collided with Helen momentarily. She felt something cold slide into her hand, almost cutting her skin. Her heart seemed to stop beating as she rapidly slid the knife under her clothing and tucked it away. She would use it in the throne room, then she would be certain of destroying everything. Arion did not even look at her, and nobody noticed the brief interplay.
Alexander opened the door to the throne room. He bowed deeply as he ushered Helen and Arion in. Arion walked past him and up to the dais.
'Tom,' he said in a casual tone, as if they had chanced to meet on the road or in a pub. 'Good morning.'
Voldemort's red eyes fell on Arion's face and seemed to search it. Helen, standing near the doorway with Alexander at her elbow, was glad they were not fixed upon her like that.
'So. You return to me at last.'
'I would have come long ago,' said Arion calmly, 'but I could not.'
'Why?' asked Voldemort in a short hiss.
'Because of Albus Dumbledore.' Arion spat. 'He bound me with an oath that I would not return to help you, and only when he died was I released from that oath.'
For a brief second, Helen was frozen with horror. It sounded like the truth. But if he was telling the truth, why had he given her the knife? The fear that Voldemort inspired by his very presence seemed to be seeping into her mind and preventing her from thinking clearly.
Voldemort gave a short nod. 'And now you are here. You have given my people a great deal of trouble over the years, you know. Why should I spare you?'
Arion answered without a pause. 'You can do nothing else,' he said, the ghost of a smile around his lips. 'You know that as well as I. None of these –' he swept the room with a disparaging hand '-are your equals. I am.' The pride in his voice was breathtaking. If this was acting, Helen thought, there was no better actor even in the best theatres of London.
Voldemort laughed. 'You have not changed,' he said. 'Very well.'
Helen shot a glance at Alexander. His eyes were furious as he glared at Arion. She realised that Arion was probably about to replace him. The other man in the room, Peter Pettigrew, gave Arion an equally hostile look. Voldemort was still speaking, in a lower tone, and Arion replying. Peter and Alexander were straining to hear without being obvious about it; attention was gone from her momentarily. She moved her hand towards where the knife lay hidden, as if adjusting her robes. Her fingers closed around the handle.
'And who is this?' asked Voldemort, looking up a second too early from his conversation with Arion.
'My lord,' said Alexander. 'You remember my wife Helen? She has returned to us after a period of imprisonment in Hogwarts.'
Helen let her hand fall. Arion was watching her with eyes that seemed uninterested, standing at Voldemort's side. He had his wand back, she noticed suddenly, and was holding it loosely in his hand.
'Helen de Laurent,' said Voldemort musingly. 'The woman who failed us, is that not so?'
Alexander flinched visibly. 'My lord, she admitted you to the castle. It was not her fault the attack was – not as successful as we might have wished. But surely the death of Albus Dumbledore is an achievement?'
Helen looked at him curiously, wondering why he was defending her. As Voldemort turned to look at him, her hand went back to the knife. Now or never. She felt curiously unafraid. In a few minutes it would all be over, all the pain, all the torment.
Peter Pettigrew's small watery eyes caught the movement, and he scuttled forwards.
'What's this, what's this?' His hand reached out to Helen's waist, and he smiled slightly. Helen quivered, stepped back, but Peter's hand was tight around her. She tried to push him away. Alexander scowled, but did nothing, standing under the gaze of his master. Helen put forth her strength and twisted out of his grip.
She pulled out the knife. Silver for the handle, steel for the blade, and the rune to ward off evil engraved upon it. It gleamed in the red light and for a split second she hesitated.
In the pause, Alexander leapt forwards, Peter with him. His merciless hands seized her wrists firmly, and however she struggled she could not get free, nor move the knife any closer to herself. Alexander gave a sharp, painful tug. Helen cried out, and dropped the knife. Peter picked it up.
'You shouldn't carry things like that,' he said breathlessly, holding Helen very firmly as she struggled. 'Someone might get hurt.'
'Let me see it,' said Voldemort in his soft voice. Peter brought it to him instantly, going no closer to the man in the chair than he needed to. Alexander stood holding Helen tightly by the wrists. After a moment she stopped trying to break loose and stood still.
Helen felt that the ground had gone out from under her feet. She had lost, she had missed the opportunity, now it would all be over. The knife was gone, her hope was gone, Voldemort would take her and execute her and it would be to no avail.
Voldemort turned the knife over in his hand, touching it only lightly.
'Fascinating,' he said. 'Such a crude device. Did you really think you could achieve anything with this, my lovely assassin? You would have been dead before you took a step.'
Helen felt her heart miss a beat. He was wrong. He was mistaken, he had thought she had come to assassinate him, but he was wrong. Perhaps there was still a chance.
Voldemort looked at Helen's face, and she did not meet his eye. The rumours said he could read people's minds simply by looking into their eyes, and Helen had no desire to find out if this was true.
'So,' said Voldemort. 'How would you like to die?' His tone was casual, and Alexander flinched, while Helen wondered if she dared ask for what she wanted.
'Give me the knife back,' she said weakly, 'and I'll do it myself.'
Voldemort laughed. 'I wasn't born yesterday, my dear. No, that shall not be. Alexander, perhaps you will do the honours, as you brought this delightful woman into my presence?' He stared at Alexander piercingly. 'I would not like to think that you would encourage such an occurrence, so you shall prove me your loyalty by executing her.' He looked at Arion, who had watched the scene impassively, without even a flicker of his eyes to show what he was feeling. 'After all,' Voldemort continued, 'if you are weak, you are unnecessary to me.' He rose. Alexander inadvertently stepped back, and Voldemort smiled.
'Kill her. Now.'
Alexander looked at Helen, and then closed his eyes as if summoning courage. He took a deep breath.
'How, my lord?' he asked, his voice quivering infinitesimally.
'However you please. A curse would do nicely, but if you would like to prolong matters, it would be equally amusing.'
Helen looked at her husband. Now it was over. He would have killed the children, there was no way he would hesitate to kill her too. But hesitate he did, his eyes glued to her face. Helen returned his stare, without pleading. She had been prepared to die, though not this way. She glanced at Arion for a split second, wondering if he would do anything. He stood still as stone apart from his eyes, which flickered from Voldemort to herself.
Alexander raised his wand. Helen lifted her head and met his eye. No wild plans ran through her head. She had failed, and now she would die. There was no way she could do anything, not with Voldemort watching her with his red eyes and Alexander standing in front of her with his wand held high.
He brought the wand down, very slowly, but Voldemort did not ask him to hurry. His eyes were dark and unreadable as he looked at Helen, but she thought she saw something she recognised in them, a shadow of the man she had married. She almost smiled.
For another eternity, he stood with his wand pointed directly at her chest.
'Go on,' said Helen softly, her voice shaking. Alexander's hand gave a little jerk as if she had struck him. The distant noises of his breathing and the wind through the tunnels were very loud in the utter stillness of the dimly lit room, and she could hear her own heartbeat.
'No,' said Alexander suddenly, loudly. 'You have taken my life, you have destroyed my family, you have ruined everything I had, will you take this last thing from me now?'
For a split second, nobody in the room moved, stunned. Helen, looking at his face, saw beyond a doubt the intelligent and strong man she had married, and unthinking she put out a hand to him.
Then Voldemort started forwards from his chair, raising his hand. Before he could do anything, Alexander turned his wand upon himself and spoke a deadly curse.
The jet of red fire that shot across the room at him came a second too late. Alexander was dead before Voldemort's spell touched him. He toppled forwards, knocking Helen to the floor and shielding her from the curse. By the throne, Peter Pettigrew stood frozen as the floor shook. Arion strode forwards, wand in hand.
'Tom,' he said loudly.
Voldemort turned like a beast at bay, red eyes baleful and flashing fire.
Lying with her husband's body across her, Helen scarcely noticed.
'Alexander,' she murmured. 'Alex.' She struggled from beneath him and pulled him across her lap. On his face was peace, and he was almost smiling. Helen looked at him in wonder. Gently she reached out and pulled the lids over his sightless eyes. She did not realise she was crying until a tear fell on his face. She wiped it off, and bent down to kiss him.
The walls were shaking, the roof trembled. A chunk of the plaster came off the walls, striking Peter Pettigrew as he stood gaping. The throne room was falling apart. Helen raised her head from Alexander's body without really understanding what was happening.
Arion and Voldemort were standing facing each other, wands in hands. Neither moved, but the force of their struggle struck her like a slap in the face as they stared into each other's eyes. It was not a duel of the sort Helen was used to, but a duel nonetheless. Peter Pettigrew suddenly turned and fled, but Helen sat on the floor with her arms around Alexander.
'Run!' shouted Arion, never taking his eyes from Voldemort's face. 'Get out, Helen, you fool! It's going to come down!'
The roof shook again, the dais trembled. The throne toppled over. Everything seemed to be moving very slowly, time stretched and extended as Helen embraced her husband again. A crack like lightning made her look up, and she saw that the air between Voldemort and Arion was white and blazing. She looked away, shielding her eyes. Then everything came crashing down.
TO BE CONTINUED
Special thanks to morrigan who beta-read this for me.
I promise the next part will be soon...
Blaise.
4th June 2000.