Disclaimer: The world & Characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and not to me.
Rating: PG-13 for some violence
Description: Action-Adventure/Drama/Mystery
A strange spell, a mysterious dark wizard, and Harry Potter's return to Hogwarts. Where has he been? and why is he returning? That's just what Snape wants to know.
Blood & Dust
Chapter 1: And Curses Abound
Part 1: Message in the stars & Mysterious strangers
It was cold, far colder than it should have been so late in July. The wet sticky fog which clung to their hands and legs probably did not help with the cold, but at least it wasn't raining. The biting air sent a chill through him, but Severus Snape was not one to shiver. Ignoring the urge to wrap his cloak more firmly around himself, the Death Eater turned spy kept his eyes forward, his gaze steady on the shadowy figures before him, missing nothing. The fog made it difficult to see, but it also aided their secrecy, hiding them from those who waited within the large house ahead. For what seemed the hundredth time that evening, Snape attempted to formulate a half decent plan. The moment they had received their orders his mind had been hard at work, but he had not had much time to think. They had been summoned, given their instructions and sent to apparate before the home of their intended victims. His largest obstacle was the fact he was working nearly in the dark. The only information he had was the name of their target. He and the other six Death Eaters had arrived to find their 'lord' already in the company of one of his most trusted. This man, the one they were following now, was the only among them who knew exactly what they were doing.
Surveying the shadowy figures before him, he decided the fog could work to his benefit as well. Perhaps it would cause enough confusion for his 'fellow' Death Eaters to fail to realize just who it was who had cursed them when the need arose. He tightened his grip on his wand, his fingers having gone quite numb from the cold. If he was going to act he would have to do it soon, before they reached the house. He smiled a thin lipped grimace without humor, if he timed it just right he could yell a 'warning' as the curses began to hit, and he thought, black eyes narrowed, perhaps the word auror would help.
The house they stood before was large and very old. The family within were unlike most of their victims, they were purebloods of the oldest kind. The man was however, the son of a former auror. An auror who had been very active in the 'old days' putting several of their ranks in Azkaban and many more in their graves. But this still did not explain why the man was a target. The man in question worked for the Ministry, somewhere in the Mysteries branch, but his position was not of importance, in fact he was under a handful of others and were he to be killed it would not hurt the Ministry in the least. Over the last few years Voldemort had become more quiet, less quick to reveal himself. He seemed to be waiting for something, gathering his strength and acting with more caution. This was why Snape failed to see the reason he would bother with a revenge killing that would not even be felt, after all the man's auror father had been dead these past ten years. There had to be another reason for the attack.
Lifting his eyes to the house, its dark frame looming ahead through the fog, he thought of the occupants. Anyone in the house with their target would be tortured and finally killed as well. Snape knew the man was married and he also knew they had several children. Two of which he was fairly positive attended Hogwarts. Thomas Mar's family was in terrible danger tonight, and they were most likely fast asleep. If the attack had only been planned a month before, he wouldn't have had the children to worry about as well, they would have been safe at school. Images of the children appeared unbidden in his mind. The oldest was in Gryffindor, a fourth year named Crispen. No, he corrected himself, in a month he will be a fifth year. Mar's daughter Holly also attended the school and she would be a second year soon. Banishing the images, Snape hoped he would not be adding their faces to his conscious this night or any other.
"We go in the back," the man's voice was as cold as the night air, perhaps colder, "they'll be upstairs." He turned toward the black cloaked men behind him, "You four will follow me," he gestured toward the closest men, "and you three will continue down the hall and deal with the children." The man's voice held excitement when he said the word children, causing Snape's stomach to churn, "Stun the youngest two," then they have a third child, Severus thought absently, one too young to attend Hogwarts, "however, kill the oldest. But not too quickly, we want to leave a lasting impression."
The speaker was a dangerous man, a dark wizard who called himself Morté, and whom Snape suspected to be slightly mad. Of course nearly all who had returned from Azkaban seemed rather insane in one way or another, why would this wizard be any different. He had turned up at Voldemort's side five years ago when the Dementors had abandoned the prison and joined the Dark Lord. Some whispered he was a Dementor, but the potions master found this highly unlikely. No, it was more likely he was merely a very psychotic wizard. The cruel man was one of Voldemort's closest followers, and had been the Death Eater awaiting them in the dark lord's presence. He alone knew the reason they were there, and he apparently was going to keep it that way.
They were moving toward the house now, and Snape knew that if he was going to stop this with any chance at remaining alive and not giving himself away, he would need to act now. Raising his wand he began, but the curse he was about to utter died upon his lips as a blast of freezing damp air nearly flung him from his feet. The men to his left were not half as lucky, as both were knocked painfully to the ground by the blast. His arm before his face, Snape blocked what he could of the stinging wind. As quickly as it had happened it ended and the air around him stilled. Lowering his arm, he snarled in annoyed anger, 'what now!' he thought. But whatever he had expected was not what he saw.
The sight before him gave him pause. The fog was gone, or more accurately it had been pushed back to form a ring around them. Standing at the edge of the fog, between the house and the Death Eaters, were three figures. The man in the middle, for there was no doubt of his gender, was huge. He easily topped Snape's own height and looked the type who could easily snap a man's neck with his bare hands. The figure to his left, although almost as tall as the huge man was nowhere near as broad in the shoulders. Standing with his back straight he held not a wand in his right fist, but a six and a half foot staff. The figure to the right was much smaller than his companions, but perhaps it was an optical illusion because of the giant's height. He was smaller in stature and build than the other men, but something about him caused Snape to suspect this was the person to worry about. The air around him seemed almost charged with magic and the pressure seemed to be building.
There was something definitely worrying about the three, and it was not the fact that they had appeared from nowhere, most wizards could apparate. Nor was it the fact that they had blasted the fog away and were seemingly able to keep it that way. What did bother him was that they stood between the Mar home and the Death Eaters and that could not be coincidence. Were they there to help or hinder? and if they were there to stop them, did they know about him? He doubted it. Not many knew he was working as a spy; it would have been too dangerous otherwise. Gripping his wand he prepared himself, he did not relish the idea of being killed by 'friendly fire' and would defend himself if nothing else. Then another thought came to him, if these three had been sent by the Ministry, he might have to intervene in the end anyway. They would most likely turn out to be another set of inept fools, and he would have to put a stop to the attack after they failed. He had no idea who these people were and saw no reason why he should put any faith in this trio. If not for the mask he wore, his dark expression would have caused even the Death Eaters beside him to step back.
There was something extremely disturbing about the three. They were odd to say the least, and did not look like Aurors or any other normal wizard. All three were dressed in the exact same manner. They did not wear robes, instead they were clothed in what appeared to be bluish-silver tight fitting battle tunics, light gray snug pants for free movement and a dark gray sleeveless coat-cloak. Their outfits however, as unorthodox as they were, was not what made the trio so unsettling. It was their faces. They did not have any, only black gaping holes where features should have been.
"Hold!" the middle figure held out a hand, "come no further," the voice was booming and the accent was...American?
Morté was not still for long, hissing he flung back his cloak and raised an ebony wand. "You think I will be-" But Snape's ears had ceased to hear him as the strange scene began to unfold before him.
For reasons he would probably never understand, the tall staff bearing figure spun backward and to the right, rolling off his huge companion's back to stand on his other side. At the same moment, the smaller figure had slipped easily to the left, beneath the large man's wand, to slide into the staff bearer's vacated place, directly across from Snape himself. Raising his staff, the tall wizard slammed it into the ground, both hands gripping the wood he raised his head and screamed, "Lignum-scipio magia attraho!"
Enraged, the dark wizard nearly attacked the Death Eaters beside him, "What are you waiting for? Kill them!"
Six curses were uttered instantaneously. The spells burst from their castors wands like tendrils of smoke, only to be pulled slowly backward by an invisible force. The dark smoke like curses rolled in on themselves, curling into tight orbs of magic. Pausing before their wands, the curses slowed down dramatically, rolling over themselves until they crept to a halt. They seemed to almost hover before the wizards who had cast them. In that instant, Snape felt as if time had slowed to a crawl. He raised his hand and was momentarily surprised to see his limb move freely. Only the six curses appeared to be affected. He watched in horrid fascination as they began to move once more. Rolling in place all six began to rotate away from their wands. Gaining in speed, the curses suddenly shot outward toward the waiting trio. Flying forward all six spells paused as one and then quickly veered to the right to converge on the staff bearer, or rather the upright staff standing before him.
The moment the six spells were absorbed into the staff, the American flicked his wand, "ligare," the spell hit the Death Eater directly before him. Arms and legs were dragged together by magical bindings, the man struggled and fell to the side.
"Incendio!" "Gelu Ventus!" The Death Eaters on either side of Morté had recovered quick enough to blast another set of spells at the strangers. A writhing flame shot toward the smallest of the trio, while a blast of freezing wind tore its way to the American. Not waiting to see the outcome, the dark wizard hissed his own attack, "Dorcha beithíoch."
The magic flame burst through the cold air, leaving snatches of hot mist in its wake. The gray cloaked figure remained perfectly still as it approached, and when Severus was positive the idiot had frozen in fear, the stranger made his move. No flick of wand, no word of protection, but a well calculated dive at the last second and he rolled smoothly to his feet, the flame hitting something in the mist behind him. His dark eyes darting back to the right, Snape watched the American handle the wind in a far different manner than his smaller companion had dealt with the flame. Bringing his wand down in a slashing motion he growled, "dilamino circumduco." The wind split in half and swept past him on either side, whipping his cloak into a frenzy as it passed.
A dangerous growl and a hard laugh brought all eyes to the dark wizard; before him stood a large dark beast. There was no better way of describing it. Half the size of a man and just as broad, the creature seemed to be made of shifting shadows. Large yellow lamp like eyes turned toward the three strange wizards. Digging its massive paws into the ground it leapt toward them, a shower of earth spraying the Death Eaters as it charged. "Bloody hell!" this from the staff bearer, marking him as most assuredly British. A blur of gray and a glint of silver, and the smallest of the trio met the beast with a cold fury. The creature roared in surprise as the thin silver sword left a large gash in its shoulder. Leaping forward it lashed out with one huge paw, attempting to catch its attacker with savage claws. Stepping lightly to the side, the sword wielder flowed like water as it passed him. The blade flashed in the moonlight, once, twice and then the creature spun back to meet this zealous quarry, bright white slashes standing out on its side.
"Obscurus!" Now that the sword wielder had his back to them, the Death Eater behind him took the initiative and attacked.
Dropping to the ground, sword tucked carefully, he rolled clear of the curse to flow effortlessly to his feet. Realizing he had been holding his breath, Snape exhaled with a sneer, 'Perhaps less theatrics would do,' he thought, 'the fool barely avoided that one.' And then he realized why he had waited to move, the beast had not had enough time to avoid the curse, and had been struck blind by it.
Moving in quickly, he slashed a clean line down the creature's side. Spinning to meet the confused beast, he slipped to one knee as it reared back on its hind legs. The sword met the creature's chest as it descended, and he thrust upward impaling it to the hilt. A howl of pain echoed among them as the beast shattered into a thousand tiny flashes of light.
Snape decided it was time to do something, if he failed to throw a single curse there would be problems later. Pointing his wand at the largest of the strangers, "Stupefy," he spat. 'And if you can't block that,' he thought smugly, 'you don't deserve to.' The man did not disappoint.
Morté was seething, he raised his wand, but whatever awful spell he was about to cast never left his lips. The staff bearer, who had remained still after his initial spell, had moved to action once more. Both hands gripping the staff, its end pointed toward the center of the Death Eaters, he slipped one foot backward as if to brace himself and then screamed, "Lignum-scipio magia eluvies!"
Snape had a brief moment to wonder if the man did anything other than scream, before he found himself under a very deadly assault.
The staff glowed a dark and angry blue gray and then it seemed to explode. The wizard holding the staff slid several feet backward as six curses zipped out from the end pointed toward them. The Death Eaters who had cast the spells had a few seconds to pale in remembrance of what they did. Two of the six sped toward Snape, and he briefly wondered if this counted as 'friendly fire.'
"Umbra gustos," the words sounded as if they had been whispered in his ear. Blinking, Snape watched as a dark shape flowed out of the ground before him to deflect both of the curses. 'Who?' he glanced around trying to find his savior, but a yell brought his eyes back to the trio.
"Dammit!" the staff bearer flew past the American to skid to a halt beside the smallest of their party who was currently lying in a crumpled ball on the ground.
The American threw his hands up quickly, moving his wand in a circle, "Contego!" he swept his arms out wide. He shot the other man a glance, "Damn it Smyth, are you trying to get us killed?"
Three curses were flung toward them, but each sizzled and sparked as they struck an invisible shield protecting the trio. Smyth looked up from where he kneeled beside his fallen companion, "What should I have done, ignored this!" he yelled back angrily, pointing a finger at the shivering form.
Morté growled at the Death Eaters who had been hit by the returned curses, "Fools!" but Snape did not think the man had any right to criticize, having not faired any better with his attack.
Two new figures stepped out from the fog to join the American. "Tis done," a decidedly feminine voice announced happily as they approached they group. The second figure paused at the sight of their fallen member, and then stepped swiftly to his side. Pushing the other man out of the way this new companion bent to lift his fallen comrade.
"Just what do you bloody think you're doing?" Snape heard Smyth's loud complaint easily.
The response was harder to hear, "What does it look like you stupid git." He lifted the smaller form into his arms, "I'm being useful, now let's go." Turning away, he disapparated with his fallen companion clutched tightly to his chest.
The woman pulled something out of her pocket, "hurry home," she winked and then was gone.
"Can't hold it much longer," the American grunted, as several more curses fizzled against his shield.
Smyth turned but then paused, raising his staff toward the sky he called out, "Signum Draco!" A bright light burst forth and sped toward the sky. The man looked back at them, and by the way he stood, Snape would have sworn there was a smirk hiding beyond the black void of his face.
Looking up as the two disapparated, Snape was greeted with the sight of a golden dragon branded high in the stars, exactly where the dark mark would have been. 'Well,' Severus decided, 'they're definitely not from the Ministry then.'
Part 2: Blood & Dust
Being one of the only members of the party still standing, Snape had the 'honor' of accompanying Morté into the Mar residence. The Death Eater who had been hit by the American's binding spell, the dark wizard released. The four who had been hit by the returned curses however, he left where they had fallen, stepping over a few with what looked like contempt. Severus frowned slightly, whoever had cast the Shadow Guard had saved him that indignity at least. He knew it had not been any of the dark cloaked wizards beside him, which only left the strange trio. This thought was even more disturbing; it meant they had not only known he was spying for the Ministry, but also who he was behind his mask. The question now was, why did these strangers know about him when he had no idea who they were? Mulling this new mystery over in his mind, Severus followed the Dark Wizard into the large house.
It was extremely quiet and dark. Moving quickly to the stair, Morté raced to the top and immediately flung open the first door he came upon. Stepping in behind him, Snape was relieved to see it empty. The Dark Wizard was not. Shoving past Snape, the man stormed down the hallway, throwing doors open as he swept past. Rounding on a room, he paused and then entered. Walking slowly down the hallway, the Potions Master could hear objects smashing in the room ahead. Cursing accompanied the many thuds and smashes. Stopping in the doorway, he watched the dark wizard throw items with a frenzy as he searched a large desk beside the window. Growling in barely suppressed rage Morté placed both hands beneath the top of the desk and flipped it. Smashing into the wall the desk crashed noisily into the ground. His hand shaking the enraged wizard pointed his wand and spit out a string of unintelligible words. The desk exploded. Lowering his arm, Snape looked back to the crazed man.
Morté stood at the edge of a gaping hole to the outside. Spinning back toward Severus he brushed his robes off. Several pieces of splintered wood didn't brush away, and the man pulled them from his flesh with an eerie nonchalance. Dropping a particularly bloody three inch splinter, he rounded on Snape, "Get the ones who are alive and tell the Dark Lord what happened." He stalked the room, "I'll finish here."
Nodding, Snape moved away from the door and strode purposefully back the way he had come until he was standing in the fog once again. Whatever spell the strange trio had cast on the fog seemed to have faded and it took him a few moments to locate the Death Eaters. Sweeping arrogantly toward them, he glanced briefly toward the two unmoving forms on the ground and then turned his attention to the remaining four. One of them stood with his arm dangling at an odd angle and another seemed to be choking quietly beside him. Ignoring them, he fixed his robes, "I hope all of you can still apparate," he did not even try to mask the sneer in his voice, "because I would hate to have to walk back to our 'lord'." The one who was choking let out a little whimper. Kicking the dead men to be sure they were no longer among the living, he turned to the two healthy Death Eaters, "Take care of that rubbish. We have to leave before the aurors get here."
A wand was lifted, "Incendio." A second wand, "Incendio." The spells were repeated on the second corpse, and they stood in the stench of burning flesh, watching the bodies turn black within the magic flames. A morbid curiosity caught Snape as he watched the fire consume the bodies. They had not removed the Death Eater masks, and he wondered just who it was they were burning into unrecognizable piles of ash. The fate of stupidity he thought. Perhaps one day he would not return and Dumbledore would wonder what had become of him. Kicking the ashes he almost laughed, the old fool would probably bury an empty coffin at an almost as vacant funeral.
The four were watching him, he snarled softly, "Let's go then," and disapparated from the Mar's property.
The familiar cold feeling he associated with Voldemort entered his body as he felt the air being pulled from his lungs. Drawing his breath, he consciously filled his chest with the scathing frost. Fighting the urge to cough, he concentrated on the dark shapes appearing beside him. The air was foul; the pungent aroma of blood left too long filled the room with the scent of death and decay. Dark eyes scanned the room slowly stopping on a crumpled figure in the corner. The source of the smell he decided. The body was small, and child like, Snape averted his gaze before his stomach turned against him. The flickering lights above did little to illuminate the room, causing instead, long shadows to dance menacingly along the walls and floor. At the center of the room, seated in a high backed chair, sat the enemy of the wizarding world. Curled up at his feet, his forehead resting against his master's boot, lay the shivering form of Peter Pettigrew.
Dropping to his knees, Snape prostrated himself before the Dark Wizard. Waiting for the other to speak he crushed any emotion he might have felt with practiced ease. A strengthening calm settled like a comforting aura around him, pushing all other emotion away. His breathing deepened and he became unaware of the freezing air as it stabbed his lungs like tiny needles. His head felt blissfully light and he allowed himself a small smile behind his mask. The dark figures beside him were shaking, they had failed and knew they would be punished. His lips twitched again, they had failed, but he had not. No punishment Voldemort inflicted upon him would ruin his mood now. The entire Mar family was safe, and whatever Morté had been searching so desperately for was missing as well. Severus did not share his dark cloaked companions' fear of returning to Voldemort from a failed mission. He could handle the physical pain; it was a far cry easier than facing himself after a successful Death Eater raid. The days he returned to Hogwarts aching and bloody were well fought for, the times he returned unscathed were dreaded. Facing an enraged Dark Lord was almost a comfort now.
"I thought I sent seven of you with Morté." It was not a question, and Snape knew better than to answer. There was a soft whimper from the chair's direction, and the Potions Master wondered if Wormtail had been kicked or simply pushed to the side. "Tell me then, why you are short two members of your party?"
That had been a question. Preparing to speak, he found the fool to his left had beaten him to it. "M..my l..lo..lord, we were a..attacked," he stammered. Wrong approach, Snape warned silently, he's more likely to punish without even listening if you stutter like an adolescent. "They were waiting for us wh..when we a..arrived."
He could feel what little warmth there had been in the room drain away, that is that then, the ex-Death Eater decided silently. He knew if he lifted his eyes he would see the cold fury on Voldemort's face, his blood red eyes glowing softly, his cruel lips bared to show sharp canines. There was a rustle of robes, and Snape felt the material brush against his wrist, blood and dust filled his nostrils. Breathing through his mouth, he felt rather than saw the Dark Lord standing over him, a damp chill seeping into his bones. There was a low whimper, a loud popping crunch and then a soft anguished cry. "Explain," the command was soft and deadly, it spoke volumes, demanding and threatening at the same time.
As much as he did not want to gain the Dark Wizard's attention, Snape composed himself a second time, "We apparated to the designated place," his voice was calm and he spoke as if he were sharing a cup of tea with a colleague, "however, before we reached the house a group of wizards attacked us. They were dressed strangely, and did not seem like aurors. One fought with a staff which seemed to be able to absorb and discharge spells cast at them, and another used a sword to slay a beast Morté summoned. They were highly adept and informed. Two of our numbers were slain by the staff bearer returning curses we ourselves had cast." Snape paused, there was no reply so he continued, "After one of their number fell they disapparated. We checked the house, it was empty. Morté stayed behind to finish searching, but he sent us back."
There was a long silence through which he could hear himself breathing, the soft cries beside him lowering to ragged moans. The stiff cloth shifted against his wrist, brushing his arm and face. And now my reward, he thought, keeping himself completely still beneath that cold red gaze, refusing to flinch back from the scratchy material on his cheek. "There now," the voice was cold but not entirely angry, "why can't the rest of you answer like that." Not a question, Snape automatically reminded. "If even half of you were anything like Severus we would not be having this conversation." No, the Potions Master agreed, we'd be taking turns spitting on your grave. He felt the robe shifting again, a wet cracking near him and a howl of agony.
The soft footsteps sounded near his head, the robe pooled over his hands and arms. Thin fingers entirely too long touched his head, slipped into his hair. He felt his head jerked back, the Dark Lord was crouched beside him. For one agonizing minute Snape thought he had spoken his thoughts aloud, but the red eyes looked almost lazy as they stared into his black. "I will punish the rest, but not you Severus, not tonight." He held a bloody finger in his free hand, "I will expect answers on these new wizards, I want you to remember every last detail." He let go of his hair, dropping the finger into the dark haired man's hands, "and I expect you to be very forthcoming."
Part 3: No Answers, just more questions
Walking up the flight of stone steps, Snape threw open the heavy oak doors and entered Hogwarts. There was no doubt in his mind that the Headmaster would be waiting for him, refusing to sleep until he had returned. Moving briskly through the entrance hall, he made his way to the second floor where a stone gargoyle waited down an empty corridor. His long stride brought him before the gargoyle, "Pepper Imps," he made a face at the ridiculous password, slipping past the still sliding gargoyle to climb the curved staircase behind it. Pausing at the door, he lifted a fist to knock, but was greeted by the soft words of the Headmaster, "Come in Severus, I'm glad you have returned."
Entering the warm atmosphere of the office, Snape lowered himself into the chair opposite the older wizard. The Headmaster placed a cup of tea before him and waited patiently. Accepting the offering, Snape drank deeply, letting the tea warm him. Leaning back he held the cup in his hands, and allowed himself to simply breathe in the scent of Earl Grey. Pushing away the remnants of blood and dust he inhaled a second time, banishing the smells completely. Dumbledore smiled, "I take it everything went well?"
He set the cup down, time to get back to work. "He sent us to kill a family." The Headmaster's eyebrows shot up, the younger wizard held up a hand to forestall any comments, "The Mars," Snape frowned, he still had no clue as to why, "Albus do you know what Thomas Mar has been working on?"
"I am afraid I do not."
He nodded his dark head absently, "Hmm, well see if you can find out, I'm sure it has everything to do with why the Dark Lord wants him dead. Morte was searching for something in his desk." The Potions Master turned his thoughts back to the night's events, "You'll be pleased to know the attack was unsuccessful." He steepled his fingers together absently, "We apparated onto the Mar residence, but before we reached the house a group of strange wizards stopped us. I have never seen them before Albus, they did not appear to be Aurors and they were dressed oddly." He paused, "And they did not seem to have faces, only a black void where their faces should have been. I assume some sort of spell. There were three to begin with, a large American, a tall man who used a staff instead of a wand, I believe they called him Smyth, and one who used a sword." He turned his mind backward, "The staff was able to absorb the curses the Death Eaters cast and then send them back upon command." Black eyes met cool blue, "Do you know anything about them?"
Dumbledore shook his head, "I have not heard news of a new group opposing Voldemort, perhaps the Ministry-" Snape snorted, "-is involved."
"Excuse me for being blunt Headmaster," he picked up his cup and frowned at the absence of tea, "but the Ministry is filled with fools and dreamers who wish they could still pretend the Dark Lord never returned." He placed the empty cup back angrily.
Blue eyes twinkled merrily, "Ah Severus, they are not that bad I think."
A raised eyebrow, "Four years ago you would have agreed."
"But that was four years ago, things are different in the Ministry now."
Long fingers toyed with the rim of the tea cup, turning it slightly on the desk, "Hardly," he released the cup, scowling, "Weasley and Moody maybe, but that still leaves the rest of the Ministry to muck up everything they've done." He glared at the traitorous cup as if he could frighten tea into it. "And they aren't all as stupid as they seem, I would bet several officials are sporting dark marks under those robes."
Dumbledore leaned forward and poured more tea into the empty cup, "Now now, that is for another day."
He held the cup, reveling in the warmth, "Yes," he nodded, returning to his story as if he had never interrupted it, "I believe the three we fought were just a distraction. They held us up long enough to remove the Mars from their home. When they were joined by two more, they left promptly. I heard a woman with an Irish accent say something about it being done. When we checked the house it was empty."
"Then perhaps they have taken the family somewhere safe?"
Snape nodded absently, then another thought occurred to him, "Also, before the wizards disapparated, one of them cast a spell on the sky. Like the dark mark only a dragon." He pursed his lips, "It was a statement given mockingly." He tapped a finger against the hot cup in his hands, "We'll have to remember that, it may be important."
The Headmaster leaned back, "You sound as if you are as worried about these new allies as you are about Voldemort's plans."
He sighed, deciding to tell the older wizard the rest of it, "At one point two of the returned curses were flung back at me. Before I could do anything someone cast a Shadow Guardian to protect me." Dumbledore was listening intently, his eyebrows raised, "It had to have been one of the three, which means they knew who I was and what I was doing there." Snape set his cup down, "How many people have you told about my spying?" it was not an accusation, merely a question.
"Only the Order Severus, you know that." He looked closely at the younger wizard, "How did Voldemort react to the news of your failure?"
Snape blinked, picking up the cup, "Better than I thought." He drank silently, "He wants a detailed description of the wizards we fought, sent me away without punishment."
The Headmaster seemed to relax at the news. The Potions Professor watched him carefully, he had changed the subject rather quickly, what was he hiding? "If you find anything out about Mar or these strange wizards you will let me know then?"
"Yes of course," Dumbledore assured, "I will make the proper inquiries and see what develops." Knowing their conversation was over, Snape stood and turned to leave, but was stopped at the door, "Severus."
His hand paused on the door handle, "Yes Albus."
"Try and get some sleep." He nodded and then swept out the door and down the stair. Heading toward the dungeons he glanced outside and was slightly startled to find the beginnings of soft morning light in the sky. He rubbed his eyes, and decided it was at times like these he was glad for the Summer Holiday.
Part 4: And my soul is damned...
The floor was hard and cold, but he lay on it without complaint. Curled in upon himself, his arms wrapped tightly around his sides, his legs drawn up to his chest, he shivered uncontrollably. Not from the cold, no he had become accustomed to the cold, it was from the scene which replayed itself over and over again in his head.
He had been called, he was never far away, a few rooms at the most, so he found his Master's side quickly. Joining him in the apparition chamber he was greeted by a strange sight. His Lord sat in his usual seat, Morté standing before him, but that was not what was odd. The insane wizard was often found standing beside their Lord, his hoarse whisper echoing hollowly throughout the chamber as he spoke of dark things to come. No, what Peter found strange were the small figures sitting behind them. They were slumped forward, heads bent toward the ground, arms lying limply at their sides. He had hurried to his Master, eyes darting back to the small figures sitting like strange dolls on the cold floor. Kneeling before his Lord he placed his forehead against the ground and waited. Inhumanly long fingers touched his shoulder applying pressure. Sharp pain gripped him as bony fingers dug into his flesh. Whimpering slightly, he felt the pressure lessen. He likes it when I cry, the man thought shivering slightly.
"Get up," he obeyed, "you will help Morté prepare a spell." He turned to the other wizard. "Do exactly as he says." He nodded wordlessly.
Blue eyes as cold as ice seemed to glow in excitement, "Pick one," he pointed to the doll like figures. Blinking, he moved toward the small forms, stopping before one randomly. The Dark Wizard was beside him in four strides, reaching down he grabbed the limp form. Lifting him by the scruff of the neck he beckoned Peter to follow him. Leading him to a corner of the room he placed his prize on a stone bench. Handing him a bowl, Morté yanked the small form's head back by his hair. Peter nearly dropped the bowl. The Dark Wizard held a child no older than five. He placed a thin bladed dirk against the child's throat, "Try and catch as much as you can," he hissed and then drew it across.
As Morté prepared the blood, Peter moved the rest of the children. There were seven left. They were all Muggle children, all under ten and all fated to become part of the Dark Wizard's spell. He did not know what Morté was doing with the blood and he failed to see how the Dark Lord used it. He did not return to his Master until after the Death Eaters he had summoned had departed with Morté. Moving back into the cold chamber, he fell to the ground beside the chair his Lord occupied. "I am pleased Wormtail, I will leave my children in your care."
He lay on the cold floor, his eyes watching the still body left forgotten in the corner. His forehead rested against his Master's boot, a drop of scarlet glinting wetly on the black surface. He never moved, not even when the Death Eaters apparated back in failure. Not even when his Master stood, his head slipping to the floor to lay in a sticky wet puddle. A low whimper escaped his throat, but he never moved.
TBC
Who are those mysterious wizards?Just what was Morte looking for?Is Dumbledore hiding something?And just where is Harry?
Read the next thrilling installment of Blood & Dust, where the answers to these and many other questions will NOT be found!
Up Next: Chapter 2 "Of Tea & Nauseating Sweets"
Authors Notes:
Morté: the é is pronounced "ay" -- But you already knew that!And please excuse the bad latin & Gaelic in the spells: But if you can't, feel free to pretend Merlin was smoking crack when he wrote them.
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and I hope you'll come back to read the next.