A/N In this chapter we meet Octavian Mont-Strepping (or Ted Mason as he
prefers these days). The name 'Mont-Strepping' came out of my imagination,
such as it is, though I think there's a place called Strepping somewhere,
so I suppose there's something in the old saying that there's nothing new
under the sun!
Thanks again for your reviews and encouragement. They, and it, mean a tremendous amount to this poor bewildered writer.
Chapter Four
"Something concerns me about this mission." Fretted McGonagall.
"Hm?"
"If this Mason - I mean Mont-Strepping - is an old family friend, won't he recognise you?"
"Yes, he will. Which means slightly different measures are called for. There's little point in us pretending to be muggles in front of him. I propose instead that you retain your fake identity while I threaten him with violence."
McGonagall was not convinced.
"Albus did say to use any methods 'within reason'. I'm not sure violence is 'within reason'."
"I only say I'd threaten him, not actually hurt him. I'm rather good at threatening people."
"Indeed, you are one of the most sinister individuals I have ever met."
"Why thank you."
"That isn't a good thing, Severus! I mean Michael." McGonagall added quickly. They were seated on the number nine bus from Victoria to Camden, which was not the most appropriate place for a conversation about ex-Death Eaters and torture techniques, given that the bus was full of muggle Londoners.
"What then do you propose?" Demanded Snape, in a whisper.
"That we greet this person politely. Pretend the meeting is an accident. Just how much contact does this Mason have with our part of the world?"
"Probably he will have access to the more important information, but I doubt he'll know much in the way of gossip, although in the old days his lot could yak for England and eavesdrop for Great Britain and knew everything about everybody. Why?"
"We could easily enough keep up the pretence to be married. You could introduce me as your muggle wife."
Snape grunted. "Mont-Strepping would never believe I'd taken a muggle wife."
"Not even an extraordinarily intelligent and beautiful woman?"
"Where do we find one of those? It was a joke!" He added quickly, as McGonagall's lips began to disappear. "All right, the idea has some merit. I suppose he might think I was overcompensating for my earlier…activities. Yes, the more you mention it, the more sense it makes. But why do it that way?"
"Obvious, my dear Severus. If Mason thinks I'm a muggle, he will be more likely to let information slip because he will assume I know nothing of all that's been happening. In fact, you might try to persuade him that you yourself have taken a muggle identity, just as he did. Will he have information to the contrary?"
"Probably not." Snape heaved a sigh. "Very well then, I will interact with this foul excrescence just to please you."
"And for the sake of the mission."
"Personally," growled Snape, "I preferred my torture idea…"
Late that afternoon, they finally arrived at the little grocer's shop - it took several hours to negotiate Camden Town, what with Snape insisting that he knew the way and ending up wandering around Camden Lock, surrounded by menacing-looking punks trying to sell him suspect substances. After Snape had dangerously offended one of the punks by asking whether there was a cure for his condition, McGonagall grabbed her 'husband's' arm and dragged him forcefully back to safety.
The shop was innocuous enough, small but brightly painted outside and in. McGonagall pretended interest in a heap of unnaturally large marrows - magically enlarged, she suspected - while Snape skulked beside her and kept an eye out for Ted Mason.
"There!" He hissed, suddenly, nudging his companion and almost knocking her into a display of iceberg lettuces.
"Where?"
"Behind the counter."
"Honestly, Severus, where did you expect him to be?"
'Ted' was serving a customer, an elderly lady dithering about whether or not to purchase some 'nice red cabbage' for her husband's tea. When the old dear finally departed Snape cleared his throat and said loudly,
"What enormous marrows!" Sneaking a glance at Ted Mason as he did so. The Death-Eater.-turned-greengrocer's head snapped up at the sound of a familiar, but near forgotten voice. With a cry of surprise he waddled over - being somewhat overweight. Mason had a flushed, doughy sort of look about him, and the redness of his nose suggested he liked to indulge in alcohol. The mousy hair atop his large round head was thinning, probably in direct proportion to the thickening of his waist, and a vaguely repulsive beer-gut hung over his aged trousers. A man living well and trying to pretend otherwise, Snape deduced, thoughtfully. He had not failed to notice a sovereign ring upon Mason's finger, or the fact that the oval framed spectacles the man wore were expensively rimmed with white gold - muggle greengrocers didn't as a rule have *that* sort of money without carrying on a little hobby on the side…
Snape looked up from his pretended zealous examination of the marrows, as did McGonagall, when Mason approached them.
"Severus!" the shopkeeper roared. "Severus…it *is* you, isn't it?" Before Snape could reply, 'Mason' grabbed his hand in a podgy paw and shook it vigorously. "You do remember me, old fellow?" Mason lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Rumours of my death, and all that. I'm still live and kicking, as you can see, ha ha ha! Well then! Going to introduce me to your lovely companion? Ha ha ha!"
Snape shuddered. The Mont-Strepping laugh. His mind had blocked it out until now…so horrible…false and grating…ugh…with as much dignity as he could muster (his hand was still being pumped by Mont-Strepping) Snape indicated McGonagall.
"This is my wife, Margaret. Margaret, this is Octavian Mont-Strepping, an old friend of the family." Leaning forward quickly - which unhappily involved coming rather close to Mason - he hissed, "she's a *muggle*…doesn't know about…you know, my past."
"Oh!" Mason grinned at McGonagall, showing hideous rotten teeth. "Pleasure to meet you, m'dear, great pleasure, charmed, charmed." Mason finally released Snape's hand to shake McGonagall's. His piggy eyes flicked briefly to Snape, full of greed as he contemplated the blackmail opportunity dropped into his lap.
"I suppose I'll have to tell you all Sevvy's deep dark secrets eh? Ha ha ha! We go way back, he and I, way back, don't we, old boy?"
"Hmm." Muttered Snape, a muscle twitching in his cheek.
"Yes, right back to our schooldays, not that we were in the same year, but I think you knew my brother, what? Fine boy, fine boy. Doing well, you'll be glad to hear, well, well, well. Ha ha ha!"
I'm going to kill him Snape thought calmly. never mind wands, I'm going to rip out his foul throat with my bare hands if he laughs that laugh one more time…
"Ha ha ha!"
Aaaaagh! Kill! Kill!
"Ha ha ha!"
Snape's legs were trembling, his hands writhing together as he struggled to prevent himself from going for Mason's neck. Apparently he wasn't doing a perfect job of hiding his feelings, for McGonagall was staring at him as a muggle might a hippogriff…with a quick tight smile she grabbed Snape's hand and entwined his trembling fingers with her own.
"We've been married for five years now!" She burbled with false cheer, squeezing Snape's hand agonisingly. "Haven't we, *dearest*?" She hissed, and gave her fake husband a small but vicious kick in the ankle.
"Ouch! I mean, yes, yes." Snape's eyes were starting to bulge out of his head.
"Ha ha ha!" Said Mason, inevitably. Snape shuddered, and McGonagall's hand tightened on his.
"Well, we must be getting along…" she smiled. "But first, I really must purchase one of your wonderful marrows, Mr. Mont-Strepping."
"Call me Octy, call me Octy. No, no, I wouldn't dream of having you pay…take a few, help yourself, consider it a gift."
"You're very kind!" Squealed McGonagall. She really was a far better actress than Snape had given her credit for. She chose a couple of large marrows and Mason put them into a bag for her.
"Well, it's naughty of old Sevvy to have hidden you away…" the greengrocer oozed. "I didn't even know he was living in London…you should both come over for dinner, meet the missus, she'd be delighted, ha ha ha!"
"Oh, how kind!" Exclaimed McGonagall. "We'd love to…wouldn't we, Severus? Severus? SEVERUS!" She kicked him again.
"Wha…oh, yes, yes. We'd love to. Dinner. Wonderful." Snape spat out the words through a mouthful of bitter bile.
"Shall we say, seven thirty? We live above the shop, little place but our own, ha ha ha! Can't introduce the kids I'm afraid, they're away abroad, say they're studying but really spending all their father's money, ha ha ha! Ha ha HA…!"
Snape wondered if he was going to be sick. That high-pitched over-the- top aristocratic voice…the smarm…the laugh…the marrows…
"We'll certainly see you then, and I look forward to it!" McGonagall was saying. She squeezed Snape's hand.
"Ah…yes, Octavian, very kind of you. We shall see you this evening. I won't be a minute, my dear." He added, shooing McGonagall out of the shop, after firmly extracting his hand from hers. McGonagall hesitated, then backed slowly outside, giving Snape a warning look.
"Octavian," Snape murmured when she was out of earshot, "you won't mention…"
"Of course not, old boy, we all have our little secrets, eh? But you've turned over a new leaf anyway, working for dear old Albus Dumbledore, eh?" Snape nearly gulped.
"As a potions teacher." Finished Mason, and Snape sighed - internally - with relief.
"I was," he said, "but, well, I met Min…Margaret, and one thing led to another - she knows I'm a wizard of course but nothing about…the unfortunate events of my younger days. I'd prefer it if she was kept innocent of that particular knowledge."
"You can rely on me, old fruit, you can certainly rely on me, as I said, all got our little secrets, ha ha ha! Of course I was overwhelmed with guilt, just overwhelmed, bowed down, me and the missus both, all those poor muggles, who'd have thought it? Tcha! All those lives. Terrible, terrible, never thought it'd go that far but once you're in you're in eh? Hard to get out of with your life. Bit of luck that Potter lad coming along, eh? Ha ha ha! Wonder how he's doing now? Funny sort of life for a boy, eh? Well I just had to give it all up afterwards, you know, old boy, too much guilt, too much guilt, being hoodwinked by the Dark Lord, me, a Mont-Strepping! Hence the living among muggles, as a poor greengrocer, trying to Atone, you know, Redeem myself, by giving them the best vegetables in London, ha ha ha! No, no, terriible shame, terrible shame. But you know, Severus…" Mason's voice lowered to a harsh whisper, and for a moment something other than foppishness, far worse than greed, flickered in his small watery eyes. "I've been hearing rumours, old boy. Rumours that the Dark Lord is regaining his power." The piggy eyes narrowed, the nostrils flared, the thick lips quivered. "Don't suppose *you've* heard anything of the sort, have you, Sevvy old fellow?"
"Can't say I have." Replied Snape, calmly- though he was shaken by the hideous *wanting* in Mason's voice. Mason continued to regard Snape with narrowed eyes for a moment, then he laughed his appalling laugh, and the moment mercifully passed.
"Well! Mustn't keep you from your lovely lady, Severus. See you tonight then, old boy! We'll make it an evening to remember, what? Ha ha ha!" And Snape found himself practically shepherded out of the shop. Once outside, he stood shivering a little on the footpath, wondering just how much of his horror and disgust he had given away. It was blatant that Mason was positively hankering for Voldemort's return…those sickening words of fake contrition only made it more horrible…but McGonagall was shaking his arm, snapping him out of his unhappy (and guilty) thoughts.
"Severus! What did he say? Anything useful?"
Snape swallowed a few times, took a breath, and brought himself forcibly under control.
"Like I told you," he replied smoothly, "a typical Mont-Strepping. He's quite happy for the Dark Lord to return provided there's something in it for him. And he's planning to blackmail me." McGonagall waved this off.
"But did he say anything about the Wainthrops, or the list?"
"No…we will hopefully be able to find out something this evening. I sincerely hope this Mont-Strepping, Mrs. is not of the same branch of the family."
"Severus!"
"They inbreed, Minerva. No one else would have them. Come on," abruptly he grasped her arm and led her away down the street. "I need something to wash this foul taste out of my mouth…"
A/N The end of another exciting - ahem - instalment. BTW Mont-Strepping's infuriating laugh is inspired by, and sounds like, that of Dr. Prunesquallor in Mervyn Peake's 'Gormenghast' trilogy. The plot thickens! If you can spare a moment please review…
Thanks again for your reviews and encouragement. They, and it, mean a tremendous amount to this poor bewildered writer.
Chapter Four
"Something concerns me about this mission." Fretted McGonagall.
"Hm?"
"If this Mason - I mean Mont-Strepping - is an old family friend, won't he recognise you?"
"Yes, he will. Which means slightly different measures are called for. There's little point in us pretending to be muggles in front of him. I propose instead that you retain your fake identity while I threaten him with violence."
McGonagall was not convinced.
"Albus did say to use any methods 'within reason'. I'm not sure violence is 'within reason'."
"I only say I'd threaten him, not actually hurt him. I'm rather good at threatening people."
"Indeed, you are one of the most sinister individuals I have ever met."
"Why thank you."
"That isn't a good thing, Severus! I mean Michael." McGonagall added quickly. They were seated on the number nine bus from Victoria to Camden, which was not the most appropriate place for a conversation about ex-Death Eaters and torture techniques, given that the bus was full of muggle Londoners.
"What then do you propose?" Demanded Snape, in a whisper.
"That we greet this person politely. Pretend the meeting is an accident. Just how much contact does this Mason have with our part of the world?"
"Probably he will have access to the more important information, but I doubt he'll know much in the way of gossip, although in the old days his lot could yak for England and eavesdrop for Great Britain and knew everything about everybody. Why?"
"We could easily enough keep up the pretence to be married. You could introduce me as your muggle wife."
Snape grunted. "Mont-Strepping would never believe I'd taken a muggle wife."
"Not even an extraordinarily intelligent and beautiful woman?"
"Where do we find one of those? It was a joke!" He added quickly, as McGonagall's lips began to disappear. "All right, the idea has some merit. I suppose he might think I was overcompensating for my earlier…activities. Yes, the more you mention it, the more sense it makes. But why do it that way?"
"Obvious, my dear Severus. If Mason thinks I'm a muggle, he will be more likely to let information slip because he will assume I know nothing of all that's been happening. In fact, you might try to persuade him that you yourself have taken a muggle identity, just as he did. Will he have information to the contrary?"
"Probably not." Snape heaved a sigh. "Very well then, I will interact with this foul excrescence just to please you."
"And for the sake of the mission."
"Personally," growled Snape, "I preferred my torture idea…"
Late that afternoon, they finally arrived at the little grocer's shop - it took several hours to negotiate Camden Town, what with Snape insisting that he knew the way and ending up wandering around Camden Lock, surrounded by menacing-looking punks trying to sell him suspect substances. After Snape had dangerously offended one of the punks by asking whether there was a cure for his condition, McGonagall grabbed her 'husband's' arm and dragged him forcefully back to safety.
The shop was innocuous enough, small but brightly painted outside and in. McGonagall pretended interest in a heap of unnaturally large marrows - magically enlarged, she suspected - while Snape skulked beside her and kept an eye out for Ted Mason.
"There!" He hissed, suddenly, nudging his companion and almost knocking her into a display of iceberg lettuces.
"Where?"
"Behind the counter."
"Honestly, Severus, where did you expect him to be?"
'Ted' was serving a customer, an elderly lady dithering about whether or not to purchase some 'nice red cabbage' for her husband's tea. When the old dear finally departed Snape cleared his throat and said loudly,
"What enormous marrows!" Sneaking a glance at Ted Mason as he did so. The Death-Eater.-turned-greengrocer's head snapped up at the sound of a familiar, but near forgotten voice. With a cry of surprise he waddled over - being somewhat overweight. Mason had a flushed, doughy sort of look about him, and the redness of his nose suggested he liked to indulge in alcohol. The mousy hair atop his large round head was thinning, probably in direct proportion to the thickening of his waist, and a vaguely repulsive beer-gut hung over his aged trousers. A man living well and trying to pretend otherwise, Snape deduced, thoughtfully. He had not failed to notice a sovereign ring upon Mason's finger, or the fact that the oval framed spectacles the man wore were expensively rimmed with white gold - muggle greengrocers didn't as a rule have *that* sort of money without carrying on a little hobby on the side…
Snape looked up from his pretended zealous examination of the marrows, as did McGonagall, when Mason approached them.
"Severus!" the shopkeeper roared. "Severus…it *is* you, isn't it?" Before Snape could reply, 'Mason' grabbed his hand in a podgy paw and shook it vigorously. "You do remember me, old fellow?" Mason lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Rumours of my death, and all that. I'm still live and kicking, as you can see, ha ha ha! Well then! Going to introduce me to your lovely companion? Ha ha ha!"
Snape shuddered. The Mont-Strepping laugh. His mind had blocked it out until now…so horrible…false and grating…ugh…with as much dignity as he could muster (his hand was still being pumped by Mont-Strepping) Snape indicated McGonagall.
"This is my wife, Margaret. Margaret, this is Octavian Mont-Strepping, an old friend of the family." Leaning forward quickly - which unhappily involved coming rather close to Mason - he hissed, "she's a *muggle*…doesn't know about…you know, my past."
"Oh!" Mason grinned at McGonagall, showing hideous rotten teeth. "Pleasure to meet you, m'dear, great pleasure, charmed, charmed." Mason finally released Snape's hand to shake McGonagall's. His piggy eyes flicked briefly to Snape, full of greed as he contemplated the blackmail opportunity dropped into his lap.
"I suppose I'll have to tell you all Sevvy's deep dark secrets eh? Ha ha ha! We go way back, he and I, way back, don't we, old boy?"
"Hmm." Muttered Snape, a muscle twitching in his cheek.
"Yes, right back to our schooldays, not that we were in the same year, but I think you knew my brother, what? Fine boy, fine boy. Doing well, you'll be glad to hear, well, well, well. Ha ha ha!"
I'm going to kill him Snape thought calmly. never mind wands, I'm going to rip out his foul throat with my bare hands if he laughs that laugh one more time…
"Ha ha ha!"
Aaaaagh! Kill! Kill!
"Ha ha ha!"
Snape's legs were trembling, his hands writhing together as he struggled to prevent himself from going for Mason's neck. Apparently he wasn't doing a perfect job of hiding his feelings, for McGonagall was staring at him as a muggle might a hippogriff…with a quick tight smile she grabbed Snape's hand and entwined his trembling fingers with her own.
"We've been married for five years now!" She burbled with false cheer, squeezing Snape's hand agonisingly. "Haven't we, *dearest*?" She hissed, and gave her fake husband a small but vicious kick in the ankle.
"Ouch! I mean, yes, yes." Snape's eyes were starting to bulge out of his head.
"Ha ha ha!" Said Mason, inevitably. Snape shuddered, and McGonagall's hand tightened on his.
"Well, we must be getting along…" she smiled. "But first, I really must purchase one of your wonderful marrows, Mr. Mont-Strepping."
"Call me Octy, call me Octy. No, no, I wouldn't dream of having you pay…take a few, help yourself, consider it a gift."
"You're very kind!" Squealed McGonagall. She really was a far better actress than Snape had given her credit for. She chose a couple of large marrows and Mason put them into a bag for her.
"Well, it's naughty of old Sevvy to have hidden you away…" the greengrocer oozed. "I didn't even know he was living in London…you should both come over for dinner, meet the missus, she'd be delighted, ha ha ha!"
"Oh, how kind!" Exclaimed McGonagall. "We'd love to…wouldn't we, Severus? Severus? SEVERUS!" She kicked him again.
"Wha…oh, yes, yes. We'd love to. Dinner. Wonderful." Snape spat out the words through a mouthful of bitter bile.
"Shall we say, seven thirty? We live above the shop, little place but our own, ha ha ha! Can't introduce the kids I'm afraid, they're away abroad, say they're studying but really spending all their father's money, ha ha ha! Ha ha HA…!"
Snape wondered if he was going to be sick. That high-pitched over-the- top aristocratic voice…the smarm…the laugh…the marrows…
"We'll certainly see you then, and I look forward to it!" McGonagall was saying. She squeezed Snape's hand.
"Ah…yes, Octavian, very kind of you. We shall see you this evening. I won't be a minute, my dear." He added, shooing McGonagall out of the shop, after firmly extracting his hand from hers. McGonagall hesitated, then backed slowly outside, giving Snape a warning look.
"Octavian," Snape murmured when she was out of earshot, "you won't mention…"
"Of course not, old boy, we all have our little secrets, eh? But you've turned over a new leaf anyway, working for dear old Albus Dumbledore, eh?" Snape nearly gulped.
"As a potions teacher." Finished Mason, and Snape sighed - internally - with relief.
"I was," he said, "but, well, I met Min…Margaret, and one thing led to another - she knows I'm a wizard of course but nothing about…the unfortunate events of my younger days. I'd prefer it if she was kept innocent of that particular knowledge."
"You can rely on me, old fruit, you can certainly rely on me, as I said, all got our little secrets, ha ha ha! Of course I was overwhelmed with guilt, just overwhelmed, bowed down, me and the missus both, all those poor muggles, who'd have thought it? Tcha! All those lives. Terrible, terrible, never thought it'd go that far but once you're in you're in eh? Hard to get out of with your life. Bit of luck that Potter lad coming along, eh? Ha ha ha! Wonder how he's doing now? Funny sort of life for a boy, eh? Well I just had to give it all up afterwards, you know, old boy, too much guilt, too much guilt, being hoodwinked by the Dark Lord, me, a Mont-Strepping! Hence the living among muggles, as a poor greengrocer, trying to Atone, you know, Redeem myself, by giving them the best vegetables in London, ha ha ha! No, no, terriible shame, terrible shame. But you know, Severus…" Mason's voice lowered to a harsh whisper, and for a moment something other than foppishness, far worse than greed, flickered in his small watery eyes. "I've been hearing rumours, old boy. Rumours that the Dark Lord is regaining his power." The piggy eyes narrowed, the nostrils flared, the thick lips quivered. "Don't suppose *you've* heard anything of the sort, have you, Sevvy old fellow?"
"Can't say I have." Replied Snape, calmly- though he was shaken by the hideous *wanting* in Mason's voice. Mason continued to regard Snape with narrowed eyes for a moment, then he laughed his appalling laugh, and the moment mercifully passed.
"Well! Mustn't keep you from your lovely lady, Severus. See you tonight then, old boy! We'll make it an evening to remember, what? Ha ha ha!" And Snape found himself practically shepherded out of the shop. Once outside, he stood shivering a little on the footpath, wondering just how much of his horror and disgust he had given away. It was blatant that Mason was positively hankering for Voldemort's return…those sickening words of fake contrition only made it more horrible…but McGonagall was shaking his arm, snapping him out of his unhappy (and guilty) thoughts.
"Severus! What did he say? Anything useful?"
Snape swallowed a few times, took a breath, and brought himself forcibly under control.
"Like I told you," he replied smoothly, "a typical Mont-Strepping. He's quite happy for the Dark Lord to return provided there's something in it for him. And he's planning to blackmail me." McGonagall waved this off.
"But did he say anything about the Wainthrops, or the list?"
"No…we will hopefully be able to find out something this evening. I sincerely hope this Mont-Strepping, Mrs. is not of the same branch of the family."
"Severus!"
"They inbreed, Minerva. No one else would have them. Come on," abruptly he grasped her arm and led her away down the street. "I need something to wash this foul taste out of my mouth…"
A/N The end of another exciting - ahem - instalment. BTW Mont-Strepping's infuriating laugh is inspired by, and sounds like, that of Dr. Prunesquallor in Mervyn Peake's 'Gormenghast' trilogy. The plot thickens! If you can spare a moment please review…