Wishes
By: Airelle Vilka
Chapter 26 Something Wicked
There were few things worse than being led blindfolded through a wood by a Death Eater pointing a wand at one's back. Well, except maybe dating Lockhart, the pinnacle of all things gone wrong with the male gender. But at this moment, even Airelle would have preferred a rendezvous with that idiot to the situation she was in. At least she could pummel Lockhart senseless. With Noah, it was not a likely course of events.
The tip of the wooden stick dug into the small of her back, making her shiver involuntarily. Of all times to be remembering Snape. And speaking of Snape – he was going to kill her when she came back for him. That is, if Noah or Voldemort wouldn't do so first.
How was she going to get out of this? They'd been walking for at least twenty minutes, and Airelle's brain still had not flowered with any worthy ideas. Instead, she had been thinking of how she was going to find this place again. So far, she'd received three clues to its location – gray marble floors was the first, sylvan surroundings was the second… And also, the most important one—the place was protected from Apparating Spells, just like Hogwarts. Otherwise, why would they walk anywhere when they could just Apparate into Hogsmeade from the cell?
A sharp prod from Noah signaled her to walk faster, and it was all the ex-Auror could do to keep from lashing out at him verbally. This was not the time to risk one's life, not yet.
If I had never become an Auror, what would my life have been like? she found herself wondering despite her circumstances. Where would I be right now? Still at Hogwarts, maybe as a teacher, like I am today? Or in a completely different country, perhaps?
Was it innate human nature to reflect on one's life when he or she was in danger of death? In any case, Airelle could not help but remember her last interview with Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. She had been fresh out of Hogwarts then, armed only with a recommendation letter from Albus Dumbledore and her own ambition…
"Well, Miss… Vilka, is it?" said Cornelius Fudge, pushing up his reading glasses and blinking up at the skinny, pale figurine of a girl in front of him. "You think you can be one of the Ministry's finest, do you?"
She bowed. "I don't think, Your Honor… I know."
A hint of a smile stretched the elderly man's features, and he fixed his slightly lopsided bowler hat. "Indeed?"
"With all due respect, sir," said Airelle, "I was meant for it. The magical community needs more of us, in this dark hour."
"Hmm, yes, well…" he paused, scratching something on a paper with a quill. "You are held in high regard by your professors, and especially my good friend Albus… excellent grades, an Illusions expert, I see…" He suddenly looked up, realizing he'd been speaking aloud. Airelle watched him in curiosity.
"Ahem," he declared, "Miss Vilka, by all standards, you fit the requirements. However, there is one vital thing missing that I must know, my dear."
"What is it, sir?" she asked, tilting her head sideways in surprise.
"How is it that you, who are so young and inexperienced, have suddenly decided to switch your career choice to an Auror so close to Graduation?"
Airelle bit her lip. She couldn't tell him about her best friend's deflection to Voldemort, not ever. But…
"Your Honor," she replied, "I want to make certain no one else makes the fatal decision to join You-Know-Who. As a healer, I could have helped many recover from injuries. But as an Auror, I can prevent them from experiencing the pain in the first place."
There was silence for a long time. Then Fudge placed his elbows on his desk and said, "Miss Vilka, could you please open my office door?"
Airelle hesitated for a moment; what if he was telling her to leave? "Uh…certainly, sir," she said, and cautiously pulled on the handle.
When she opened it, the space in the doorway was filled by a huge, tall man in rich blue robes. Airelle looked back at Fudge, confused.
"Miss Vilka," said the Minister, "this is Omar Fauks." The dark-skinned wizard smiled at Airelle, showing two rows of perfect white teeth. He was about two heads taller than she, and his enormous build signified that he may have once played Quidditch Beater or Keeper. However, for all his size, Omar Fauks's smile was as gentle as of a toy teddy bear.
"Mr. Fauks, meet Airelle Vilka," continued Fudge as Airelle shook hands with the newcomer. Just one of those hands could easily grasp around her neck; yikes. "She will be your apprentice for the coming months. And then, she shall join your team."
Airelle's ensuing smile was almost as big as Omar's.
"Hold it, here," said Snape's voice in her ear. Airelle nearly jumped in shock before remembering it was Noah, using Polyjuice Potion.
"What, are we at Hogwarts already?" she asked sarcastically, stopping and feeling the tall grass tickle her ankles.
"Well," he said, "no, not exactly. We are getting ready to Apparate. But first… I wanted to stop and smell the surrounding air. Isn't it a fresh and lovely night?"
"What, has your own putrid Death Eater stench finally gotten to you?"
The wand was jabbed so hard into Airelle's skin that she almost cried out. "I'd watch yourself if I were you, Auror," Noah growled deeply, inching five ice-cold fingers towards her neck. "Wouldn't want me to cut out that pretty little tongue of yours. Don't you know," he continued, "that I am in control here? You'll do anything I want, when I want, and how I want it, is that clear, girl?"
It was the absolute worst thing to say to someone like Airelle. "If you want to be hammered into a bloody pulp, that is," she replied, with a glare she knew no one could see because of the blindfold. Noah just laughed.
"Oh, my dear, I don't plan on forcing you to do anything," he purred, sliding up against her back, wand never ceasing to point right at her. She gasped, but not because of the sensation. It was the memory it brought – her nightmare, of Snape being at her back, like this… and planning to kill her, because he was Voldemort… that was it; Noah was disguised as Snape now, and followed Voldemort. That nightmare had almost been foresight. Dear God.
"You will do what I wish, or your friends will suffer a fate much worse than death."
"Please," she sneered. "Voldemort will kill them no matter what I do for you."
"On the other hand," said Noah slowly, "you can save them all, including yourself, by doing one thing."
"Such as?…"
"Simple," he replied. "Join us."
Now here was a test. This was very much unlike that time at Graduation, when she had a choice of going or not… this was either death for her, Snape, and the four students, or… survival of all of them. Airelle decided to stall.
"If I reveal the location of the room to you," she said, "you'll still kill us all after your Master receives the recipe."
"So you know about the potion," he murmured. "You're smarter than I thought… which is all the more reason for you to join the Dark Lord. You shall be a great asset to us. As for your friends… once the potion is made, you, as a loyal Death Eater, will be protected, along with the four children."
"And Snape?"
Noah paused. "I cannot guarantee his survival. Though he is of pure wizard blood, my Master has a bone to pick with him, you see. But is his life worth more to you than your own? And what about your precious students?"
Airelle thought about it. Choosing the right path was not that easy when someone was pointing a wand at you. Snape's words to her echoed from long ago… Lord Voldemort has given me the power to give you anything you ever wanted…
"Lord Voldemort will give you the power," said Noah, startling Airelle out of her thoughts, "to do anything you ever wanted. And besides," he added, "he shall win, ultimately. It will then be just a question of whose side you are on. If you're with my Master, you'll live. If not, you'll die. Easy, no?"
"Yes…" she murmured, "it is easy, indeed."
"So, what is the best thing to do?" he prompted. There was a long silence. And then—
"You know what?" spat Airelle. "Go to hell."
"As you wish," said Snape's voice calmly. "Imperio."
Airelle saw herself as if in a dream… Apparating to Hogsmeade, greeting passers-by as she walked, coming to Hogwarts, Noah drinking more Polyjuice Potion… And wow, here was the main entrance. The Illusions professor saw the Weasley twins approach her, wary of the man by her side, whom they of course perceived to be Severus Snape. But how far from the truth!
"Professor!" they grinned simultaneously. "We missed you at dinner!"
"I've been busy," she replied hollowly; the words were not hers.
Taking one glance at Noah, George Weasley nearly fell over laughing, but managed to maintain his composure long enough to say, "Oh… well, Professor McGonagall wants to know if you'll be joining her for supper."
Yes! Yes! Just get me away from him!!
"No," she said, heading toward a passageway that led to the dungeons. "Tell the Headmistress I do not feel well, and am retiring to my quarters."
"Alright," said Fred, "but aren't your quarters… upstairs?"
Oh, thank Merlin, they noticed that much. Boys, you know something's wrong—it's not a joke… go tell McGonagall, Flitwick, somebody!
"Not anymore," said Snape/Noah curtly, and began to lead Airelle away. Fred and George Weasley stared at them in shock before exploding into snickers. "Never mind, Professor!" they called after Airelle as they walked off.
No, come back, please—you don't understand—
"Well, well," said Noah in her ear when the two reached the dark corridor of the dungeons, "what was that line again?—'By the prickling of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes?' Yes, that's it. And it looks like that 'something wicked' is me," he chuckled.
Airelle did not reply. Instead, her mind was wildly focusing on her Auror training. Learning to withstand the Imperius Curse was something every Auror should have known, but Airelle did not. She had read much on the subject, but she had never actually experienced any of the Unforgivables until now. Airelle had kept postponing the date of her Unforgivables testing—mainly because she was afraid of failure… but also because she never thought the Imperius Curse would be put on her. She was part of a huge team, and there was no way any particular Death Eater would strike her unless she was alone. Then again, it was a foolish move on her part. Her good friend Omar would be able to get out of it in a snap… and for all her bookish knowledge, Airelle could not fight this. Or could she?
They reached the inanimate suit of armor in the hallway. Just around the corner was the entrance to Snape's bedchambers…
"The room is here," she found herself saying.
"Excellent. Now, open the passageway."
Airelle reached to the suit's metal hand and pulled down. There was a rumble, and they walked into the hole that had opened in the stone wall.
The room was still unoccupied and dusty as ever; the few chairs carried prints of Airelle's own fingers when she'd been there last. The cabinet stood opposite them like a black landmark, closed tight.
"Finally," she heard Noah whisper from behind her, and the door to the room slid shut. There was silence; most people were at dinner, and no one could hear you scream down here.
The Death Eater reached into a fold in his cloak, and pulled out a wooden stick. In Airelle's dimmed vision, she could barely discern it, but when she did—
"That's right, girl," he said, laughing. "This is your wand, the only one I did not destroy—since you could not use mine, and I needed you."
"You," she choked hoarsely, "broke the others' wands?"
"Naturally. They shall have no need for them now."
Then they can't even hope to escape, came a miserable thought to Airelle. They'll die without their wands.
"You see?" asked Noah. "The Dark Lord always wins, Auror. Always. Now be a good girl and open the cabinet, and maybe I'll let you live."
"I cannot be of any use to you," she said, taking her wand and raising it towards the cabinet all the same. "You lie."
"Every woman has her… uses," was the reply, and this time Airelle could sense Noah relishing in the words. Ye gods, how she would have loved to point that wand at him. But her fingers curled around it, and it was as if her arm had stiffened; the direction of the spell would be towards the cabinet, and no other.
"You… bloody git," she said softly, feeling the need to say the spell. "You will not triumph."
"I've had enough," answered Noah sharply. "No more games, girl, now open it!"
Obedient to the curse, her lips parted…
"Abrete!" she yelled out, and cringed, waiting for the doors to blast. But nothing happened; her wand sputtered a few sparks and fell silent.
Noah swore under his breath. "Damn him," he uttered, clenching a fist and looking like he was ready to pound Airelle in the face. "That blasted Dumbledore must've put more protection on this thing than I thought. A Selvamedora Hex, no doubt."
Airelle recognized the name as a protection spell, so that no one under any forced magic (i.e., Imperius Curse) would be able to open it. That meant—he has to take the curse off me!
"You are causing me more trouble than I thought," he growled, stalking around her and prodding his wand into her side. "Now, listen to me. I will take off the Curse. If you dare to point that wand anywhere but the cabinet, I will kill you. Clear?"
"Crystal," said Airelle. Oh, big mistake on your part, Mr. Lieton. A very big mistake.
"Good. Finite Incantatem!"
She felt the warmth leave her, and suddenly regained all her senses; the chill of the dungeon room made her shiver. Airelle's hand was still holding her wand and pointing it at the cabinet. Great.
"Now, if you please," said Noah, Snape's black eyes glinting, "open it, and let go of your wand once you say the words, or you die."
What to do? What to do?
"Abrete exor!" she shrieked, and a jet of blue light erupted from her wand, encircling the cabinet and blinding both of them for a moment. The doors of the cabinet were thrown open by an unseen hand. Airelle dropped her wand as a small paper floated from the shelves toward them. It glowed a poisonous green, and lit up an insane smile plastered on Noah's face—Snape's face. Airelle wondered if Barty Crouch had looked like that when Dumbledore questioned him a year ago.
Noah stayed transfixed for just a second. But a second was all it took.
Airelle's hands were now free, and she used them well. Instead of going for his wand, which was still pointed at her, the ex-Auror clawed her way to his face, clamping Snape's thin mouth shut with her left hand. Can't say a curse if you're mute…
There was no time to pick up her wand; even as Snape, Noah was much stronger, and was able to rip her off himself. Airelle concentrated all her anger in one hand and threw a punch to his face. She heard a snap; the jaw had broken. Wow.
Noah tumbled backwards, his wand still in his hand… but this time, Airelle was faster. Lifting her own wand from the stones, she took aim.
"Avada Kedavra," she said, and looked away as the jet of green light struck him. Noah Lieton was dead before he hit the floor.
"Not much of an Illusions specialist, are you?" she said to the prostrate body, swallowing a bitter taste in her throat. Airelle had not used that curse for years; she'd have to answer to the Ministry about it afterwards. That is, if she were still alive after going back to help Snape and the others.
The green paper hovered in the air for a while, then vanished. The blue light cleared, revealing the cabinet, doors closed. Thank heavens; the 'Abrete exor' Illusion had made Noah believe Dumbledore's spells had been broken, and that the recipe had floated freely to him, Voldemort's follower.
Airelle sighed and raised her wand again. It was time to find out whether Snape had been right. "Abrete!" she said, and the cabinet doors sprang apart, revealing the same scene that was present there the last time—books and papers strewn all over the place. And right on the bottom shelf was something that looked like a black portfolio with silver edges. Stepping over Noah, Airelle walked cautiously closer and drew it out.
There was nothing inside, save for one tiny sheet of paper, torn from a Muggle notepad. It was greasy with finger-stains and had yellowed with age—but Airelle knew it, felt its power immediately. This was the only copy of the recipe for the Mortis Potion, a measly yet unbreakable little sheet. Airelle tried to rip it apart with her hands, and discovered she was correct in her assumptions. The paper began to glow green, bending under the pressure, but not budging even a little. It was like malleable steel.
Stuffing it absently inside her robes, Airelle turned back to the body, which was now smoking faintly. It was a horrible sight – the face frozen in terror. And the worst part of it was—it was Snape's eyes that were black and glassy, Snape's hair splattered over a pale face, Snape's lips apart in a perpetual scowl of agony. The edges of Airelle's eyes stung, and she looked at the floor. Now what was she to do? Dumbledore was away, the Ministry would not help, alerting McGonagall could send up a panic in school…or even if not, Airelle did not want a crusading brigade of teachers going to take on Voldemort. This was bad.
The answer, literally, came knocking on the door. Except that it did not knock—the passage just opened. As Airelle watched, wand forgotten and nearly limp in her hand, Harry Potter came barging into the room.
"Professor!" he exclaimed as her mouth dropped in shock. "You're alive!"
"P…Pott…HARRY?" she choked out as the Gryffindor stared at the body. "This…this isn't what you think…it's not Snape…"
"I know, I know," he said hastily, coming closer to her and grabbing her sleeve. "You have to come with me, Professor, quickly!"
Airelle, for once, did not argue. She ran after Harry out through the passage, leaving Noah Lieton and the creaking doors of the dark cabinet behind.
To Be Continued…
A/N: Short? Yes, I know. But I promise, we'll be (or at least Airelle will be) discovering quite a few things she did not know in the next chapter. Stick around, you'll enjoy it! (Merlin's beard, I sound cliché…)
