Chap. 41: Moundsville blues, Hermione, Voldemort, and Snape.
Lucius Malfoy wondered if he could take his incarceration anymore, as he lie back on his narrow bunk, and after knocking a cockroach off his thigh to squash the thing under his heel. How many of the bloody things had he killed now, he wondered? Maybe a few hundred? He thought this after running his hand through his now stubby hair.
Worse, though, were the bloody ghosts that prowled up and down the main corridor, and just outside his small cell every bloody night. They were much worse than Dementors, he thought, with all their moaning and screams. If one said anything to them, they would come into your cell, get right in your face, admit to the murders that they committed, and then tell you what Ol' Sparky felt like until their souls left their cooked bodies. They would also inform you of how they soiled themselves once the electric current started to flow, and in both ways. Even worse, some's eyeballs had popped out of their sockets while the steam rose from their bodies as they cooked before their hearts finally stopped.
Most of them were nasty pieces of work, who had enjoyed the rapes and murders they committed. They loved reminiscing about those days, it seemed, before they were caught, and one was a bloody cannibal for Merlin's sake!
As Lucius lie there listening to the wails and moans, he thought back to shower time, and what some of the other inmates, whom he thought were his friends, had done. He caught some of them staring at him in the nude, calling him "Frenchy," and he was wondering if..., and scared, even, that they would try to rape him. The guards didn't care, it seemed, and only laughed in his face when he reported it. One even told him to "not drop the soap!" They hoped he would be buggered!
The guards enjoyed telling them, and especially, Lucius, what was behind the steel door to his right in the corridor. It led to a small room where a man of the cloth would be waiting to pray, or say their last rights. Also, they were dressed in a diaper so they wouldn't soil Ol' Sparky, and they were shaved where the electrodes and skull cap were placed. When one was led from that room into the next, there sat Ol' Sparky waiting for them. They were tied down in the chair, the electrodes placed, the sponges wetted, and then, a blindfold was placed around their head so the witnesses on the other side of the glass couldn't see their eyeballs leave their sockets. Then, there was the small window, they said, where the warden and executioner looked through. The warden would watch the time, and at the correct minute, he signaled the executioner to pull a large switch lever that sent the first jolt into the bodies, which generally killed them. If that didn't do it, a second one did, which was much stronger. The lights would dim, or "brown out," when one was executed all over the prison. Of course, they always knew when one was coming, as a hearse was brought in through the "Wagon Gate."
Lucius, with a cold shiver, decided on dropping the morbid thoughts, where he thought about their daily activities.
Recreation was being allowed out in the yard for an hour a day, and a visit to the library. That was when they weren't working, as they were forced to wash their own uniforms and cook their own meals. All were supervised, of course, and they were always patted down to make sure they didn't have anything "contraband" on them when leaving. If they did, they got the boot and the billy.
Sunday, though, was horrible, as they were forced to sit in a small chapel and listen to a pastor preach about their corrupt souls. Worse, the old pastor handled snakes and poisonous ones at that. Copperheads and Rattlesnakes, he said. When several of them complained, along with him, they were told that the warden thought that they enjoyed snakes and that they were to attend every service! He had said this, of course, according to one of the guards, after spitting into a spittoon beside his desk with a huge grin.
They had brought Macnair and Jugson in the other day, as well, and the news wasn't good. Both men had been beaten half to death and were black and blue. They had been with the giants, they said, along with Mulciber, who, they found out, had been snuffed out like a candle just before they were attacked by a force of Aurors, Hit Wizards, and Unspeakables. Potter was with them, they had said, and he had killed the bloody gurg with one curse to the head. They said its head exploded, as did a few other giants, all by Potter's wand, before they, themselves, were taken down, and apparated away.
Bellatrix was dead, and so were the Carrow twins, they claimed. They also said that Rabastan was suspected of doing a runner after that. The ministry was now using every curse available to them, and his fellow Death Eaters claimed it was Potter's doing.
Their family's vaults, he found out, were all cleaned out, and those included any Gringotts' vaults in other nations. They said it was due to "Potter's Law," and their cause was now dead broke. His wife and son, nobody knew where they were. This relieved him a bit, because if the Dark Lord didn't know their whereabouts, then his heir was safe. However, what was Draco now an heir to? At least, Malfoy Manor was under the Fidelius. Worse, who had taken possession of his farms in the Caribbean, and what happened to his stock in the mills?
Lucius closed his eyes, and he could see that little shite, Potter, laughing and smirking at him, now. He could even see his old wretched house elf doing the same beside the boy. What a Christmas present! That was all his sleep-deprived body could take before it passed out, regardless of the raucous that the ghosts were making just outside his cell.
Hermione was sitting at the Gryffindor table having breakfast and was reading the Prophet for any news. A break-in was reported at Gringotts, and the paper said that it was Voldemort. It said that he had broken into a high-security vault, but left the contents there. One goblin was complaining that Voldemort had tracked in dog feces for Merlin's sake!
No one was harmed, the paper said, and it claimed that Voldemort had apparated away when the Aurors had shown up.
There were no major attacks, hadn't been for some time, and she wondered why. What was reported, were the possible muggle muggings committed by some of the Death Eaters in several cities. The victims could never seem to remember who had attacked them, and their wallets had been left behind, along with their "plee-stack cards." Of course, Hermione snorted, they would be too dumb to know what credit and debit cards were. At the end of the article, Dolohov was accused of the muggings.
"What is it, Mione?" Ron asked with a mouth full of eggs, beans, and kippers.
"If this is supposed to be a war, Ronald," Hermione said with a sniff, "then why is nothing happening?"
"Maybe Harry's committee has the ministry on the ball, now? Da' said that they were working overtime to stop the Death Eaters and that the Death Eaters were now broke. Funny that," Ron said, "as Da' got a huge raise."
"He did?"
"Yup," Ron said, now looking proud, "he said that everyone within the DMLE did! They have the money now, you see. Said it was over 'Harry's Law,' too!"
Hermione didn't know what to think about making families destitute, by taking everything they had. She had heard rumors that the Crabbes and Goyles were having to stay with relatives over it. She hated it when her morals became conflicted, and it worried her about Harry's lack of scruples through all of this.
Speaking of a lack of scruples, she had read the article about the last Wizengamot session, where Harry had pushed a new law through that would relieve import restrictions on alcohol, and would even allow wizarding establishments to sell muggle liquor. She was not a fan of alcohol consumption, and she sided with the prohibitionists like Molly. Men, after all, she thought, when drunk, liked to screw around, and cheat on their spouses or girlfriends, and that's what Molly told her as well.
Finally, she was brought out of her musing, when she heard Daphne squeal out aloud at the Slytherin table, so she turned around to look, with a scowl.
Daphne was reading a letter, she noticed, and was showing it to her sister and Tracey Davis. She looked quite pleased, especially when the blond witch said "Barbados, here we come!"
Hermione wondered what she meant by that. Surely, not for Christmas? Another swanky hotel, she supposed, where Daphne would run around half-naked, or more, for Harry, while swinging her bouncy bum around? Well, she, for one, would not dress like a hussy for anybody, and her hips, though flat, were starting to develop, somewhat! Their break, for the rest of them, was going to suck, she thought, when she and Ron were stuck at bloody and rainy ol' Crawley, and at the Burrow.
Well, Hermione pondered, Ron did promise her a good time, and in a proper bed this time, too, during their Christmas break. The broom closets left much to be desired, as she had to bend over to let him take care of her randiness, but she couldn't at the moment, as it was her time of the month, so she wouldn't get any until sometime during the Christmas break unless she could talk Ron into it now? What was it Ginny had said about men "earning their red wings?" What were the wings, she wondered? Would he proudly wear them about?
Hermione sighed and looked down at her plate. She was going to have to ask Daphne what that letter was about. Maybe, it was something important, and if it was, she just had to know. Maybe, she could also tell her what those red wings that the men wore looked like, as well, since she was too ashamed to ask her other house members.
"My Lord, how are you today?" Severus inquired, who was looking at Voldemort while trying to hide a grimace.
"You said last night, Severus, that this was not from the Cruciatus. If not, what was it?"
"It was as I told you yesterday, My Lord," Severus replied, "that I would have to research this. It was a strong nerve-disrupter curse in the form of a ward. That is the best that I can fathom from my current literature.
"The after-effects can last for months if this is the case. Also, since you were on goblin territory, wizarding law is blind to it, so the goblins' actions will be ignored by the ministry even if someone complained from a pureblood family."
"Those filthy little greedy creatures! I should just kill them all and be done with it."
Snape looked worried, now, because if he attacked the goblins, they would attack back, and it would start a war and destroy their economy. Plus, the goblins, though wandless, still had magic, and could cast it. It was a type of magic that many couldn't counter.
"What of Greyback, My Lord?"
"Fenrir is on his way, Severus. He was in the Swiss Alps yesterday getting ready to move out during Christmas. He has fifty followers, and they will be coming here.
"I want you to go see Mr. White, Severus, and see about obtaining them portkeys. Next, you, along with Dolohov, are to deliver them to them when they reach western France. I will alert you to when."
"As My Lord wishes," Severus said. "Is White still using the same spot in Dover, by the cliffside?"
"Yes, Severus," Voldemort said, "he owns that small bit of ground."
"I will drop their supplies off there, then, before traveling on to meet them."
"The potion, Severus?"
"My Lord, I made it stronger this time and added more Opium. The nerves should be soothed more, and the pain signals should be more blocked."
"Very well, Severus, you may leave."
Severus left as quickly as he could, after nodding at Dolohov, and made his way to the gate to apparate. As bad as he dreaded it, he would have to speak to Potter.
Severus made his way through the ministry's atrium, and he noticed several giving him a scowl before he walked up to the security desk.
"Severus Snape to see Lord Potter," Snape said, even though the last two words made him cringe to his core.
Eric Munch looked at the man with a scowl, and said, "Wand, please."
Severus handed over his wand and watched the guard as he placed it upon the wand weigher.
"You know," Munch said, "Lord Potter got us a new advanced wand weigher, he did! Brought it up before the Wizengamot and all, an' he told 'em how the wrong sort could slip in here under the guise of a gamot member. Got me a new Probity Probe, too, that shows up more things. Can't hide nuffink from me now, even if it's up their arse!"
Snape grimaced at this.
"I keep a special watch for young Potter, you see," Munch said in a low voice. "Tha' lad is one of the only ta respect we guards, and he helps us. Great lad, he is!"
Now, Severus was squirming, and he felt like honking.
"Let me see iffin you're on the allowed list," Munch muttered as he picked up a small black book that said "Potter" on the cover.
A list! Why Severus had never heard of the such.
"Right..., you are Mr. Snape, right under Dumbledore and Slughorn. Let me get the slip from the weigher."
Here, Munch tore off the paper slip and held it close to read it.
"Severus Snape, born on the 9th of January, 1960 to Tobias Snape, muggle, and Eileen Prince, a witch."
Here, Snape scowled as he looked around to see if any were listening. He didn't know that the new wand weigher spat out that information, now!
"Wand, Birch, twelve inches, with a Dragon Heartstring core. That your wand?"
Severus nodded.
"Right, then," Munch said as he handed Snape's wand back to him, "Lord Potter is on the second floor. Just ask anyone which office he uses; it's the Potter office that he refurbished. Gareth Greengrass is in the Blacks' office, and Lord Potter's father-in-law is in the Greengrass'. You'll be all clear after the Probity Probe, Mr. Snape."
Munch pulled out the long, silver, Probity Probe, and when he ran it over Snape's back, and between his shoulders at the collar, it screeched out.
"Got something to hide, Mr. Snape?"
Snape grimaced and removed a throwing knife from a hidden collar pocket, which he handed to the guard.
"Can't have them upstairs, Mr. Snape. You'll have to leave it with me, and can pick it up on the way back." Next, Eric opened a drawer in his desk and tossed the knife inside, before he shut it, and sealed it with his wand. "Now, you're clear to go on up."
Snape nodded with a scowl and made his way to the lifts. He caught the first one that he came to, which went down instead of up, and then stopped at the atrium, again, before stopping on the first floor, and then, finally, the second. Snape was about to explode at the inconvenience.
When the lift stopped, he didn't wait for the female voice and quickly left after the accordion door opened halfway. Once on the red carpet, he made a left and started looking for the "Potter" office. It was about a third of the way down the hall, and just catty-cornered from the Blacks' office. The gleaming brass plaque on the door said: "Lord Harry James Potter, Lord For Constituency 21, South Wiltshire and North Somerset."
"Godric's Hollow and Bath, then," Snape muttered, but then, he knocked.
The door opened before Snape, where he saw Harry sitting at his desk and reading over a bill with a scowl. He noticed he had a new law book open beside him, which he was glancing at.
"Come in," Harry said without looking up.
Here, Snape stepped inside and closed the door.
"Potter," Snape said as he took a seat in front of the young lord's desk.
Harry looked up in surprise at this, since he knew that voice well.
"Snape," Harry questioned, "what can I help you with today?" Next, Harry sat back in his office chair, which squeaked.
"It's about the werewolves, Potter," Snape said, "who will be on their way here during Christmas."
"Ah, for fek's sake!" Harry exclaimed before he stood, and poured himself a drink. "Some cognac, professor? What day?"
Snape, with surprise, nodded his head. Harry sat his glass on the sideboard and poured his old professor two fingers, which he handed the man before taking his seat and taking a good-sized gulp from his own drink.
"The Dark Lord hasn't told me a firm date, yet, but I will inform you as quickly as I can."
"Tell me what you know, Professor," Harry said.
"Sometime during Christmas break, the Dark Lord wishes Fenrir to bring about fifty werewolves out of Europe, by portkey," Snape explained, "to a spot in Dover owned by Cylus White, who makes illegal portkeys. White owns that small bit of property, as well.
"I will travel there to leave supplies beforehand, and then Dolohov and I will take another portkey into France to meet them, where we will hand out enough portkeys to bring all fifty here."
"Is that so," Harry muttered as he sat back in his squeaky chair, again. "What are these supplies, and how will they be delivered?"
"There will be about ten old rucksacks containing food, etcetera. They'll just be placed on the ground where the group will appear."
"All right, Snape, this is what I want you to do..."
Snape left the ministry, after collecting his knife, and was stunned at the cold-hearted plan that Potter had come up with. Essentially, it was to kill them all, and by using something else that the Weasley Twins would concoct. He was told that he would deliver the items to Snape and that he was to "take care" of Dolohov along the way. He didn't know that the boy had it in him, and he found that he was not the foolish Gryffindor he once was. No, he would have made Slytherin proud of him.
Just before Snape took the floo, he remembered Potter's last order. Tell Dumbledore nothing; it's a state secret.
A/N: I started writing this, yesterday, after coming back from my second injection, but my knee was acting up, so I put it off until today to finish it. Damn sports injury is now haunting me. Thanks again for the good reviews!
