Hey all! So I was settling in to start typing up new chapters and was rereading what I've already posted and decided to rewrite this chapter…I was rather unhappy with it, especially the bit with Severus. So here's the revised version…still poor writing, but a bit more in depth, with a few important (yet subtle) changes made.
The Color of Crimson Chapter 14: Crimson Tidings
Fudge stalked into the ornate reception room of his suite of offices as the standard two Auror guards detailed to the Minister's protection peeled off and took up posts outside the heavy door. The numerous undersecretaries scurrying about, carrying out the business of the Ministry, all slowed nearly imperceptibly as the tension of the office doubled with the arrival of their boss. Fudge paused beside the desk closest to the door of his private office and drummed his fingers expectantly. Babcock, Fudge's head secretary, leapt to his feet, fumbling and dropping his quill as he jerkily readjusted his crooked glasses.
"Minister Fudge, Sir! Humblest apologies! We didn't expect you back so early, Sir." Babcock hesitated a moment, glancing at the worried faces of the other secretaries. "And…and Harry Potter, Sir? Did you find him?"
A look of malice flickered across Fudge's features. The hand that had been pressed flat against the desk clenched. Fudge forced a cheerful smile.
"Yes, we found the poor child. Alive, thank Merlin." Babcock mistook Fudge's agitation as a consequence of great stress of the morning and scurried to pour the Minister his usual cup of tea. Earl Grey, extra sugar.
"I've placed the boy in the protective custody of the Ministry, seems the…great…Albus Dumbledore cannot manage to protect a single child." Fudge scowled as a teacup was pressed into his hands. "Doddering fool should be removed from his post—a security threat to all those children, I say! But do the Board of Governors listen to me? Of course not. Whole group went sour once they forced out dear Malfoy. Now there's a level-headed man if I ever saw one. Solid wizard stock. Now the Board is a biased, coddling lot. I still say the Board should be placed under Ministry control, but…"
Fudge shrugged, and took a sip of tea. Face twisting into a sour grimace, hastily setting the cup down. He pulled out his pocket watch and startled at what he saw, quickly tucking the timepiece back into his pocket.
"My, is that the time? All this business about Potter and I've lost track…five of the hour! I must step out a moment—lunch meeting—very important, not to be disturbed. No, no, I'll use the floo in my office." Fudge swung open his office door and paused, turning around again after risking another quick glance at his pocket watch.
"And Babcock, best not a word about the Potter boy—for his own protection, of course. If the Daily Prophet asks, he is safe and they're not to worry." The secretary nodded, such instructions were not unusual. A thought occurred to him.
"Sir, what about Dumbledore? Hogwarts opens today for the new term." Fudge smiled, this time not at all forced.
"I shall deal with the Headmaster myself. Not a word, any of you." Fudge spun on his heel and entered his office, slamming the door behind him.
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"Then we are agreed," Lucius leaned back in his chair, a superior smile curling his lips. He paused, hand suddenly grasping his forearm. "You shall act on my order, no other." He stood, surveying the others in the room.
"Come, we have been summoned."
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Severus had been coaxed into an armchair and there he now sat, relatively oblivious to the conversation between the other two men in the office. The Potions Master's unfocused gaze was fixed on the rapidly-cooling cup of tea balanced on one overstuffed arm of the chair. After his initial fury with the Dursleys had cooled—or more aptly, been compartmentalized for future consideration—Severus had moved on to guilt. As just as his anger with Albus might have been for placing Harry in the Dursley's care, Severus could not ignore that he himself was also to blame. True, he had been in no position or state to care for his son in those early years after the Dark Lord's defeat, but after… Severus had decided to leave the child with Lily's sister, convincing himself he had no other choice, that he had to protect his delicate position between Dark and Light for when—and he had always been certain it was a question of when, not if—Voldemort returned. But he knew that while maintaining his dark reputation had been legitimate concern, truly it had been a convenient excuse to justify relinquishing his duties as a father. He had been lost without Lily, and every thought of their son had immediately reminded him of her and what he had lost. But finally he now came to realize that not protesting the Ministry's belief that Petunia Dursley was Harry's sole living relative had served only to further deepen his loss. Even worse, his cowardice in attempting to block Lily from his mind and fear that he would fail as a father had condemned his son to a childhood of misery and suffering. He had deprived Lily's child of love and happiness, and went on to worsen the wounds when Harry had at last escaped the world of the Dursleys. And now, he yet again had failed his son, allowing him to be taken before his very eyes.
Someone brushed against his chair and Severus quickly reached out to restore the tea cup to its precarious position on the arm, successfully jostled from his line of thought back to the discussion at hand.
"I'm afraid Cornelius has been under great pressure to explain the recent increase in Dark activity as he still refuses to acknowledge Voldemort's return—"
"But Albus, how would blaming Harry of all people do him any good?" Dumbledore sighed.
"You have been reading the Daily Prophet just as I have, Remus. I'm afraid Cornelius has been focusing his energy on trying to convince the public of Harry's…mental instability. That talk of Voldemort's return is nothing but the mad ravings of an imbalanced child, and various "happenings" as he likes to call them an unhappy coincidence." Albus sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Ah, just a moment, I do believe Sirius has arrived."
As soon as the Headmaster spoke the door flew open and a large black dog bounded into the room. The dog glanced about the office and transformed into the panting, harried human form of Sirius Black. Not even Severus Snape's presence could distract Sirius in his frantic state. He spun to face Dumbledore, still breathless from his dash through Hogwarts.
"Headmaster, I came as soon as I received your owl. What has happened? Where's Harry?" Albus stood somberly, lifting a hand to cut off the younger wizard.
"Take a seat, Sirius. I'm afraid the news is not good."
Sirius nodded hollowly and sank into a chair as the Headmaster began to fill him in on the morning's events.
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Catheus relaxed his grip on his limp charge as the portkey deposited the two in a barren, solitary cell. The boy fell to his knees, eyes watering and gasping pain-filled breaths. Catheus stepped back from the wheezing child and glanced through the cell's bars, checking that the hall was clear. Turning back to Harry, Catheus lifted his wand and aimed at the boy, whose eyes widened with fear.
"I'm sorry, but it will be better for you this way. Stupify!"
Catheus lifted the unconscious form to the makeshift bed. Again checking that the hall was clear, he muttered a few basic healing spells over the child before the portkey recharged and whisked Catheus back to the Ministry.
Harry Potter was left alone in his cell, blissfully unaware as the Dementors moved in to inspect their new charge.
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Fudge checked the wards on his office door once more before he was satisfied with their strength. Pausing at the door to make sure all was right on the other side of the door, Fudge hurriedly flooed to a safe house and then apparated to his final destination. He drew his pinstriped cloak tightly around him as he picked his way past masked guards and through the labyrinth of halls, knowing his route well.
Fudge entered the main hall and was about to make his greetings when suddenly his stomach lurched and his vision swam. He shoved his hand into his vest pocket and clammy fingers fumbled with the pocket watch, thumbing it open just as the minute hand moved to twelve. He fell to his knees, gasping and writhing in pain, watch falling to the floor and glass shattering.
"What are you all standing there for, help him!"
Hands grabbed his arms and helped him to his knees. He lifted his head but kept his eyes lowered as his vision cleared, watching has his bottle-green suit and striped cloak transformed into flowing black robes. He heard the slow rustle of cloth but didn't look up.
"Master?"
A cool hand tipped up his chin and he at last looked up. Voldemort smiled, watching as wrinkled, ruddy skin smoothened and rumpled grey hair melted into sleek brown locks drawn back into a ponytail. Voldemort ran the back of his hand along the kneeling wizard's cheek.
"Marcus, my faithful servant. You have done very well. No one suspects?"
"No, my Lord. All went precisely as you planned. The potion worked perfectly. May I ask, my Lord…"
"Did the others escape the attack?"
Voldemort turned with a flourish. "My loyal servant, ever concerned about his fellow Death Eaters and the cause!" He turned to regard Marcus with fondness. "Now you all see why I chose Marcus for this most special mission. You would all do well to learn from his example." Voldemort's voice took on a new edge. "The boy?"
"Sentenced to Azkaban, as you ordered. The Aurors offered no resistance—the fools actually believe he is a danger to them, and blindly follow the *Minister's* orders," Marcus smiled acidly. "Potter is injured and weak, now would be the perfect time to—" The cool hand which had been caressing his cheek seized his chin, nails digging into his skin.
"You will adhere to the plan, Marcus. Your devotion is admirable, but you must be patient. I want him to suffer as I have suffered." Voldemort began to pace. "A quick death is too good for their little 'savior.' If Potter suffers, Dumbledore and the Order will suffer, and my victory will be assured. As long as he lives, they will focus their resources and energy on trying to rescue Potter, while all the while we position ourselves for our final victory; imagine the demoralization of the Light will be when they find precious Potter driven mad, begging them for death or, better yet, taking his own life. They shall be shattered, and then nothing shall stop me."
Marcus bowed his head. "Your plan is brilliant, Master. Shall I return to deal with Dumbledore?"
"Just a moment. Lucius? Bring our guest."
Lucius and another Death Eater came forward, carrying between them the petrified form of Cornelius Fudge. Voldemort smiled, crimson eyes narrowing.
"Minister, we meet again."
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TBC.