Chapter 4
A blast of warmth and noise greeted him as he opened the door. The large room, full of yellow smoke and the din of a hundred conversations, was unusually crowded. A scowl formed upon Snape's lips, for he saw no one he knew---- or rather no one that he wished to speak with. At the far end of the pub, Sirius Black was standing on a table and waving his drink at two of his four companions---- James Potter and Lily Evans. "That's right, folks," he was crowing, tossing his dark pony-tail excitedly. "They've finally decided to make it official. Tying the knot on June third. About bloody time, I say! Why James, are you blushing?" He sprang off the table, elegant as a panther, and held up Lily's hand. "The ring, ladies and gentlemen. Seventy gold Galleons, if you'd like to know. . ."
Snape's scowl deepened as he watched Black. He never could resist drawing attention to himself, he thought. He was on the verge of approaching the small cluster of Gryffindor graduates with some effectively sarcastic remark, when suddenly a voice behind him remarked in surprise: "Severus! Severus Snape! I thought that was you."
He turned and came face to face with the gray-eyed Lucius Malfoy.
Snape gave him a sour look. Malfoy, although a fellow Slytherin, had never been one of his favorite people. A year older than him, Malfoy had been a school Prefect during the last few years at Hogwarts. Snape had always considered him to be a bit of a prat, and he certainly looked the part. He was dressed in a sophisticated Muggle-style suit, a copy of the Daily Prophet tucked beneath one arm. His champagne- colored hair was swept neatly to the side. He regarded Snape from a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he said, quite pleasantly, "Come, won't you join me for a drink? I'm here with a friend, who I think you should meet. I think you'll find that. . . you have rather a great deal in common." He beckoned Snape to follow him to a table near the back.
Malfoy's companion was a older man, perhaps in his late fifties. His black hair had a few shadows of gray, his face was beginning to show the lines of age. His most remarkable feature was his eyes: a peculiar golden color, flecked with reddish-brown. He smiled, faintly, when he saw Snape approach with Malfoy, and motioned for both to join him at the table.
"Severus, I'd like you to meet Tom Riddle. Mr. Riddle, Severus Snape." Malfoy introduced the two men.
"Severus Snape. I'm pleased to meet you," Riddle said.
"Indeed," sneered Snape, who was not in a particularly courteous mood. Narcissa had spoiled any chance of that.
Riddle nodded, fixing his strange eyes on Snape, who suddenly felt as if his life was abruptly being dumped out on the table and examined under an intensely bright light. He felt his temper beginning to flare, but then Riddle laughed.
It was not at all a pleasing sound, and it startled Snape out of his anger. It was much lower than he would have expected, down-right terrifying, really. But also, strangest of all, he found it somewhat reassuring, confiding. As if Riddle somehow knew, and understood. . . what? Snape's total disgust for all human kind at that moment? Prats like Malfoy, nosy meddlers like Arsenius, bastards like James Potter and Sirius Black, and saucy, nonsensical harpies like Narcissa?
Snape forced a smile, a difficult trick under such conditions. Nevertheless, he was intrigued. And wary. He'd never encountered anyone who laughed like that. As if Riddle knew that the world was the one big joke Snape suspected it was.
Malfoy fumbled with his newspaper. Snape's eyes caught a headline: Bartemius Crouch Lobbies For Legalization of Unforgivable Curses.
Noticing that his companions seemed interested in the article, Malfoy obligingly read it out loud:
"Dark times have befallen our world," it announced. "The Dark Lord, referred to only as You-Know-Who, brings terror and violence to everyday of our lives. In the last week alone, he and his followers, the Death Eaters, have struck three different times. Recklessly using the Unforgivable Curses, they torture their victims until they are driven to insanity or death. Seven Muggles have been killed, as well as witch Agnes Prewitt, age 33, daughter of Richard and Shirley Prewitt.
"The Ministry of Magic has been greatly criticized over the past few years for not taking action to control the Death Eaters. Their main priority has been to keep Muggles, whom You-Know-Who and his supporters despise, from realizing the impending danger.
"Aurors, members of a distinctive division of the Ministry specially trained to capture Dark Wizards, have had difficulties subduing You-Know-Who's Death Eaters due to their nonchalant use of the Unforgivable Curses. "However," says Chief Auror Bartemius Crouch, "we are about to see some serious changes." Next month, on the first day of the new year, the Ministry will vote on whether or not to grant Aurors the right to use the Unforgivable Curses against Death Eaters. "It is the only way," Crouch assured the Ministry in his speech yesterday. "If we do not legally give them the right to use the Unforgivable Curses as well, they can easily outmatch us. If we do not act now, You-Know-Who may indeed accomplish his goal in seizing power."
"Crouch's request for legalizing the three Unforgivable Curses is widely supported amongst the Ministry. These Curses, though terribly harmful, can greatly simplify the Auror's task of stopping the Death Eaters. The first is the Imperius Curse, which forces a person to be totally controlled by another. The Cruciatus Curse inflicts great pain upon the person it is cast, weakening them so that they can be easily captured. Avada Kedavra is the final Curse, using purely for killing. "Death Eaters are more dangerous than many of the magical community even dare to imagine. It is necessary that we grant Aurors the right to use this Curse," Crouch says.
"Few oppose Crouch in his mission to spread use of the Curses. Of those who do, the only prominent names are that of Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and Auror Alastor Moody. Over the next few weeks, Crouch and his followers have reluctantly promised to delay the final vote and address their concerns. However, there can be little doubt in anyone's mind as to what the ultimate result will be. With luck, these new powers for Aurors will be able to put an end to the reign of You-Know-Who."
The bartender appeared, carrying drinks, just as they reached the end. Malfoy set the paper down, carelessly lighting a cigarette.
Riddle's face was impassive. "Tell me, Lucius," he said. "You work for the Ministry don't you?"
Malfoy nodded. "It's a family post," he explained. "I believe I'm youngest member to have seat in over fifty years."
Snape chose to overlook the boasting. "Will you be voting on the matter of the Unforgivable Curses then?" he asked.
"Naturally," the blonde man answered smugly.
There was a pause. "Well, are you for them or against them?" he asked.
"For them," said Malfoy. His voice was clam and normal, but Snape noticed he gave Riddle a strangely significant glance as he spoke. Riddle made no sign that he had seen as he said:
"I, for one, doubt that the Ministry will be able to capture the Dark Lord, even with the Unforgivable Curses to aid them."
"Is he that powerful?" asked Snape, sharply.
"Yes," replied Riddle. "But it's not only that."
"What do you mean then?" Snape suddenly suspected that he was about to hear some very inside information.
Riddle sipped his drink. "I worked in the Ministry for a number of years, as an Auror, no less. But I retired some years before the Dark Lord began his reign. You see, the Ministry has grown very corrupt. Nicholas Flammel may have once been an excellent Minister of Magic, but I'm afraid he should have retired long ago. The Sorcerer's Stone may have given him eternal life (he's six hundred and fifty-two), but by no means has it kept his intellect viable. He chooses to look the other way, while countless scams and illegal operations occur under his very nose. It's sickening. And the public has no idea. "
"It's true," commented Malfoy. "The Ministry is slowly decaying, from the inside out."
Snape's eyes became slits. "So that's why You-Know-Who has had so little difficulty in taking control."
"Precisely," said Riddle. "It took Flammel two years to decide that the Dark Lord really was a threat to be reckoned with. By then, it was far too late to stop him. The Ministry was in no shape to deal with a task so great."
"Of course," Snape nodded.
"What we need," Riddle continued. "Is change. The Ministry must undergo some sort of change. The sooner the better." He smiled thinly, the reddish color in his eyes becoming unusually prominent. "Perhaps, in a strange twisted way, the terror brought from this Lord Voldemort will eventually lead to some effective reforms."
"That's a very optimistic view," said Snape sarcastically, succeeding in hiding his astonishment that Riddle had spoken the Dark Lord's name. Malfoy, on the other hand was not. He was giving Riddle a very strange look.
There was an long pause through which only Riddle seemed at ease.
"It's beginning to snow," murmured Malfoy, unable to endure the silence. The three men glanced out the window. A fine crystal-like glaze was beginning to cover the streets. The drizzling rain had turned to snow as they spoke. It drifted down slowly from the gray sky.
A man and a woman stopped directly outside the window, admiring the snow.
"It's so beautiful," Snape heard Lily Evans say. She was wearing James Potter's scarlet Quidditch cloak over her robes. It clashed dreadfully with her hair, but Potter, who had his arm around her, didn't seem to care.
"They're engaged," Malfoy remarked to no one in particular. "I'd have thought James Potter would know better than to marry a Mudblood. I hope that whenever we do get those changes in, Mr. Riddle, we'll be seeing some way in restricting the rule making to pure blooded magic users only. The Muggle-born should never be made equal to us."
Riddle shrugged, looking closely at Snape. "If it is what the people wish," was all he said.
Malfoy seemed very perturbed by this comment. For some reason, Riddle's words had confused him. He sought solstice in his newspaper. Flipping through it, he found another headline.
"Crouch's Attempts to Legalize the Unforgivable Curses are Unforgivable," he read.
"It is impossible to please everyone, Lucius," said Riddle. "What does your opposition have to say?"
"I wouldn't call it opposition, really," Lucius answered. "This article, editorial really, is by one of the Daily Prophet's more unconventional columnists. She writes anonymously, protesting almost every act of the Ministry. No one pays her much attention, but she has collected a few followers. They come and stand outside the Ministry's doors and wave signs and such. Very irritating, but nothing more."
"Well, shall we hear what she has to say?"
Lucius read: "Lately, with the rise of the Dark Lord, we have all seen so much death and violence, that our minds almost cannot cope with the shock. We become detached from it, desenstitzed. We begin to forget that apathy is the worst state of being possible. Worse than anger or hate. It becomes difficult for us to retain any type of feeling for the victims of You-Know-Who's attacks, for we hear about them so often, they become common place. We forget that life is a truly beautiful thing.
"Death Eaters bring exactly what their name implies. They seem to thrive on killing, the death toll since their reign began now reaches about eight hundred people. Chief Auror Bartemius Crouch seeks a way to prevent more meaningless deaths. For this, I commend him. However, to accomplish this, he plans to give his Aurors the power to use the Unforgivable Curses against the Death Eaters. This could be the solution to ridding the world of Death Eaters. But what will the terminal effects be? To put it simply: More deaths. I ask you: How can killing people to show people that killing people is wrong prove anything?' Fighting violence with violence will solve nothing. Crouch's only hope for success is that we, the people, have already become so desensitized that we will not care one way or the other if the Death Eaters are captured or killed. Is this so? In my heart, I know it is not.
"The Ministry has already decided long ago where it stands on this issue. It is up to us to convince them otherwise. Mr. Crouch says, If we do not act now, You-Know-Who may indeed. . . seizing power.' This is true, I do not deny it. But how shall we act? We must plan, quickly, but carefully, protecting as many as possible. Life is a gift, let us not waste it--- ours, or those of our foes."
Snape listened to the article in silence. It had a slightly familiar ring to it, but he could not be sure why he thought so.
"Fascinating," Riddle said. "She makes an interesting appeal, whoever she is."
Malfoy snorted. "Barty Crouch would disagree, I can tell you. If he could ever find out who she is. . . he'd love to give her a week in Azkaban. Floods his office every morning and evening with letters. He practically goes berserk."
"Well, we shall see how events play out. The next few months should take some interesting turns. I suspect that there are some surprises waiting for us all." He finished his drink.
Lucius put out his cigarette. "Shall we be going then? I'm expected at Maria Bones' for dinner."
"Certainly." Riddle got to his feet. Snape hadn't realized how tall he was. "I look forward to our next meeting, Severus Snape. Perhaps I shall pay old Arsenius a visit and purchase a few potion ingredients. We went to Hogwarts together, many years ago. I doubt he'd remember me, but tell of him I wish him well, won't you."
"Of course," Snape promised.
Malfoy and Riddle made their farewells and left the Leaky Cauldron. Snape observed their departure through the large window, reflecting on Riddle's last words, for they told him something very interesting: Riddle had known Snape worked for Arsenius, although, Snape was fairly, they had never even seen each other before. Perhaps, he thought. Perhaps our meeting here wasn't purely by chance. . . What if it was planned? Something told him that this was a distinct possibility. Riddle and Malfoy had told him a great deal, but they certainly hadn't told him all. But why?
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The snow was falling more heavily and it was getting late, when Snape returned to the shop. He reached in his pocket for his key, his fingers brushed a strange object. He withdrew the iron ring he found in the fire place that morning.
There was a shop, on the far end of London, which specialized in magical jewelry. Snape had never been there, for it was in an area of the city with a large Muggle population. He had another free day in a few weeks, around Christmas. He decided he would get it tested then, if he did not run into Narcissa sooner.
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A/N: hi! sorry i took so long getting more of this story up. i had a lot of trouble with this chapter, but i hope it's a success. thus far, it's the only one i didn't write at three o'clock in the morning. i've taken a few creative liberties concerning wizard politics, based off of Sirius' comment in GoF by J.K. Rowling that during Voldemort's reign, the Ministry was in (quote) "disarray". yes! i made up that Nick Flammel is Minister of Magic! the first names for the Prewitts and the Bones come from my imagination too, but that's not important. also, as far as i know, there are no cigarettes in any of the harry potter books. but because we all know Lucius is a loser, he smokes.
Anyway, the next chapter is better (i think), if you didn't like this one. it involves a certain iron ring and Snape's ex-girlfriend. interested? goooood. keep readin!
A special thanks to friends/reviewers!
Sparks-- you are a brick! i'd be sunk without you!
Jerome/Athelstan-- ha ha very funny. lol. thanks for your input. i'll be putting it all to good use.
RC:) --- you RULE, but you knew that already, didn't ya, oh evil one!
Evil Nekko Chan: You, my dear, are simply divine! The next chapter is specially for you (and me too, i guess. i had loads of fun writing it) I will be looking out for your Bebop fic! good luck and arigato gozaimasu for the great reviews.