Ig Figg, professional Keeper and captain of the Montrose Magpies Quidditch team, stumbled drunkenly out of the Leaky Cauldron where he and his teammates and fans had been celebrating the Magpies' win against the Caerphilly Catapults. Ig yelled an unintelligible farewell through the door and lurched off. He braced himself on a lamppost and performed a Sobering Spell on himself. Calm and clear-headed, he then Apparated to the front walk of his opulent Devonshire estate.
Ig was entering his forties and was still a bachelor, with a tendency to womanize. Ig's mother and sister disapproved of his high girlfriend-turnover rate, but Ig perferred variety. This month he had picked up Farhana, a beautiful yet phobic Ministry who was still afraid of the dark. For the three weeks she had been living with Ig, Farhana had always kept at least one light on at all times.
And yet- all the upstairs lights were off. In fact, the entire house was dark. Ig's skin prickled. Poor Farhana- she was probably dead. Ig owed her nyctophobia his life.
The drapes in the living room windows fluttered. Alarm bells went off in Ig's head. He had been followed round by fans before, but this was something different, threatening. His skin crawled- he was being watched, he knew. Ig was not normally one to run from problems, but he had a strange sensation that these were not ale-induced suspicions. There was a serious danger here. Ig had never believed he would be running from his own younger sister- for Ig knew this had something to do with Maldora Lestrange- it could be no one else.
But Ig was the son of Arabella Figg, legendary Auror, and if there was anything she had taught him, it was how to think fast and escape tight situations. He mustn't show that he knew they were there. He mustn't panic. His whole thought process had taken less than three seconds. Now he swayed on his feet- let them think he was still inebriated. If whoever was in his house was stalking him, they would probably know he had been in the Leaky Cauldron.
He looked round himself, feigning confusion, and muttered, loud enough for secret listeners to hear, "Now where's my Firebolt gone? Must've left it in the pub- or maybe at the stadium-" Swallowing his fear, he whistled and called, "Here Firebolt! Heel!" He forced a drunken laugh, and staggered sideways, nearly falling over in panic and terror. Then he Apparated out of there as fast as he could, to the Dublin flat of Quentin Trimble, longtime friend of Bella Figg's, and pounded frantically on the door.
Inside the house, Peter Pettigrew drew back his hand from the curtain. "He's gone!"
Maldora Lestrange shrieked in fury. "You fool! I told not to touch anything!"
"I only moved the drapes to see better," Wormtail said pleadingly, quaking.
"You've ruined everything!" raged Maldora.
"He'll be back, my pet," soothed Derrick Lestrange. "He doesn't know we were here. He only went to look for his broom at the Leaky Cauldron."
"That's what he wanted us to think," Maldora said furiously. "He won't be back. I'll bet he's gone to warn that mother of his. We've got to get out of here now."
"Are you certain?" Derrick asked.
"Yes! Go tell the others we're leaving. They're upstairs with that wretch we found when we came in."
Emily Clemens, a dark young witch, quietly descended the staris and slipped into the room. "Maldora- the girl knows nothing. She's only a junior aide to the Minister of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Was introduced to Ignacio Figg at a party- never met his mother though. Unbelievable, these silly girls. She lived with a wizard for weeks but she never even met his bloody mother."
"Did you kill her?" asked Wormtail nervously.
"Of course. I can't stand these rash upstart witches- they give all the rest of us a bad name, don't you think, Maldora?"
Maldora was thinking about her reckless youth, when she had run away with a famous Quidditch player. She shook thoughts of Dangerous Dai Llewellyn out of her head and said, "Isn't anyone listening to me? We must get away from here this instant. Emily, go upstairs and tell the others." Emily ran swiftly upstairs again.
"Darling, I don't think there's anything to worry about," Derrick began. "We could take on any number of Hit Wiza-"
Suddenly the front and back doors were thrown open and Ministry Hit Wizards poured into the house, led by Mundungus Fletcher, who had been contacted by Quentin Trimble.
Maldora grabbed Derrick's hand. "Quick!" They both Disapparated. Wormtail followed suit, but not before Fletch burst into the living room and glimpsed him. Fletch's Stunner was a fraction of a second too late- Wormtail squeaked in fright and vanished.
Some of the masked Death Eaters upstairs unwisely came down to investigate, and a battle ensued. Unforgivable Curses escaped the lips of several Death Eaters, but fortunately all of them missed. Many were Stunned by the Hit Wizards. The quicker thinking Death Eaters Disapparated like their leaders, but Emily Clemens was Stunned before she could escape.
In a matter of minutes the Hit Wizards were efficiently shackling their prisoners and carting them off to await questioning and disciplinary action. Someone was assigned the grim task of removing the lifeless body of the witch Farhana. Fletch magically sealed off the premises. He shuddered, thinking of poor Ig Figg, coming home to this ambush. Fletch would die if anything happened to his fiancee Perdita Clemens. The wedding had been originally scheduled for June, but they had both agreed that postponing the wedding until Voldemort was caught was the wisest course of action.
Sweet Perdita, thought Fletch, and couldn't get the lifeless face of Farhana, pale and scared and surprised, out of his head. He worried often about Perdita, roving round the country after Dark witches and wizards, according to her sworn oath to the Order of the Phoenix. Fletch wished he had fallen in love with someone who didn't risk her life daily. Occasionally, he also wished he hadn't chosen this line of work either. But they were both stuck, and simply had to rely on their wits and instincts, and hope for the best.
A Hit Wizard passed by, carrying several captured Death Eaters with his wand. Fletch froze, seeing a familiar face partly covered by her mask. "Stop!" he cried, and the Hit Wizard halted obediently. Fletch stared at the Stunned Emily Clemens. "Merlin's beard!" he breathed. "Emily, a Death Eater! Yes, take them away," he said to the puzzled Hit Wizard. He quickly finished his work and Apparated to Perdita's London flat in a panic.
Ig Figg was secretly placed in a boarding house in Paris. After a week, his sister Phyllida was also brought in from her home in Germany to join him, for security reasons. They were hidden by a Fidelius Charm, their Secret-Keeper being Phoenix Quentin Trimble. Bella Figg was only told her children were safe.
The students heard nothing about this, except that Ig Figg the famous Chaser had been injured and was taking a few weeks off (and because Ig didn't feel right about lying to his fans, his sister Phyllida socked him in the eye).
Many strange things happened to Harry in the following weeks, all unconnected but equally bizarre.
He began to notice tension between the Harry-Ron-Hermione impersonators. Niamh and Darius often argued with Marcus McCabe, in great rows that left all three fuming.
"That's not right," Neville mused after witnessing one such fight. "Isn't Ron usually the one who accidentally starts rows, not Harry? It's supposed to be Darius saying idiotic things and getting Niamh furious at him, instead of Marcus."
Later while hunting for an advanced Potions reference book at the back of the library, Harry came across Darius and Niamh seething behind a bookshelf.
"Where's the other me?" Harry joked.
Darius looked at him cloudily. "If Marcus' opinions are copied from you like his dyed hair and lightning-bolt scar tattoo, then you ought to go away right now."
"That's a fairly pathetic threat, coming from a wizard with one-fifth of my training," Harry remarked. "What happened?"
Unbelievably, it seemed that Marcus had been getting ideas from the Slytherins in their first-year Transfiguration class. He kept trying to convince Darius Diggle that it wouldn't be such a bad thing if admittance to Hogwarts was restricted to purebloods. As a gypsy, Niamh Giffard was not considered pureblood, which was why Marcus irked her so much.
"By the way, this is yours," Darius said, digging out the little Hippogriff figurine that Harry had gotten for his birthday. Harry took the figurine in astonishment. Talonius thrashed wildly in his palm. His beak had been bound shut with Spellotape. "Marcus took him one day, I guess as a souvenir of you. I found him on Marcus' desk."
Some days later Harry and Ron were walking down the corridor when Ron touched his schoolbag and said in surprise, "Where's my Herbology textbook gone?"
"You left it in the Great Hall," growled Argus Filch, stepping out from behind a tapestry with Ron's book in hand. Ron reached for it, but Filch pulled back. "Ah ah ah- first you'll tell me how to do a Levitation Spell."
"Why don't you look it up?" Harry asked.
Filch scowled. "Madam Pince said that library materials are for students and teachers only. But I couldn't find it in my textbook!" His pockmarked cheeks flamed.
Ron and Harry exchanged glances. "Wingardium Leviosa," Ron said.
Filch pulled out a brand-new wand and repeated, "Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron's book flopped onto the floor. Filch's face fell.
"Keep practising," Harry said, drawing his wand. He easily levitated the book into Ron's hand. Filch frowned again and slunk away.
Professor Figg went to London one day to finalize the deal to buy the house in Hogsmeade. Ron was assigned the duty of supervising her five cats. Since it was Tuesday, they followed him to his classes. After lunch Harry and Ron trekked to Charms, on the fifth floor at the furthest end of the castle.
"Couldn't they have given us a closer replacement classroom?" panted Harry.
"Stop, stop! Head count!" wheezed Ron.
Harry leaned on the statue of Boris the Bewildered while Ron counted all present. "Four cats, one Kneazle, two wizards- we're all accounted for. Let's go."
"We're going to be late for Charms if we keep stopping for your stupid head counts," Harry said, pushing aside a tapestry to a shortcut staircase.
"Mind the vanishing step," Ron warned the cats as he hopped over it himself. "Well, I don't want to lose any of them. They're easily distracted- mice, bits of fluff, stray threads, everything."
They came to a fork. "This way," said Ron, pointing to the left.
"No, it's this way," said Harry, pointing to the right.
"I wish the hallways wouldn't change so much!" Ron said, frustrated. "Fine. You, Snowball and Mittens go that way. The rest of us will go this way. We'll see who gets to Charms first."
Harry won the race by a wide margin. The lesson was about Whirlwind Charms, which Harry ruefully thought he could have used before the duel with Malfoy. Ron arrived in Charms ten minutes late, red-faced and fuming.
"Had a run-in with Malfoy," he grumbled, dropping into his seat. "Jelly-Legsed him and ran before he could retaliate- hang on, where's Tibbles?"
They looked round. Four cats, two wizards, no Kneazle. "Tibbles! Tibbles!"
"The magic formula, Mr. Weasley, is Venti Adversi," Professor Flitwick said sternly.
While they were practising the Whirlwind Charm, Ron and Harry held a frantic whispered conference.
"Where could Tibbles have gone?" Harry whispered. "Professor Figg's going to kill you!"
Ron gasped. "Malfoy! He must snatched Tibbles while I was running. I'll bet he's trying to keep me out of the Quidditch finals next week. Probably thinks Professor Figg'll take away the Feather-Light broom if I lose one of her cats. Slimy git."
Professor Figg was unperturbed when Ron confessed that Tibbles II had vanished. "He's a homing Kneazle, Weasley, he'll get home by himself." The days wore on and Tibbles did not return, but Professor Figg affected no concern, confident that she had trained the creature well enough.
Then, during one History of Magic class, Seamus passed Harry the Daily Prophet. "Harry! Isn't this the name of that witch who passed out on the floor at Hallowe'en?"
"What?" Harry grabbed the newspaper and followed Seamus' pointing finger to a paragraph on the third page. "'Emily Clemens, older sister of the Auror Perdita Clemens, is being tried for use of all three of the Unforgivable Curses,' " he read with a sinking heart. He showed it to Ron.
"Yeah, Fletch told my dad about it," Ron confirmed. "A bunch of Hit Wizards captured Emily Clemens in a raid. Apparently Perdita's sister has been a Death Eater since nearly forever and no one noticed. Fletch is furious that he could have been so blind. Now he won't leave Perdita's side for a second."
"What did she say when she found out?" Harry asked.
"Fletch said she looked like she'd been hit with a Full Body-Bind. She wouldn't move or speak for days. Then she said she wouldn't testify for or against her sister. She's washing her hands of the whole thing, Fletch told my dad. Poor Perdita."
"Yeah," murmured Harry. Perdita was having a tragic year: first the incident at Hallowe'en, losing her baby, and now her own sister turning out to be a Death Eater. At least she would be getting married soon- brides were always happy and radiant.
Snape, reading the paper that morning, had choked on his pumpkin juice.
"What's wrong, Snape, did the Wasps lose yesterday?" Professor Flitwick asked.
Snape turned and gave little Professor Flitwick such a cold glare that the Charms teacher's cup of tea froze over.
Snape owled Perdita Clemens several times to find out a) how she was reacting, and b) what would happen to Emily. He interrogated Professor Dumbledore, who admitted that he had questioned Emily, but that even with Veritaserum she had confessed little about her colleagues, only about the use of the Unforgivable Curses and her victims. I had to conclude that she was not very well-informed, like most of the others we arrested."
"But she should have had more information than that," Snape argued. "She knows plenty- I've seen evidence that she's perceptive and very close to Voldemort."
Dumbledore peered at him piercingly over his half-moon spectacles. Snape, who felt very strongly on the subject, did not waver. Dumbledore said slowly, "If you are certain... Then we are faced with an ominous possibility: Voldemort, whom we know has been dabbling in experimental magic, may have devised a potion that would make captured Death Eaters immune to the effects of Veritaserum." He looked thoughtful. "The plot thickens. I will try to find out what I can about Emily Clemens' fate for you, Severus. Please keep trying to contact Perdita. She won't answer Bella's or my owls."
Severus frowned deeply. Poor Perdita, he thought to himself. She must be mortified.
In addition, Harry's bad dreams were getting hazier and less frequent. But that very night he dreamt that he was riding his shiny red motorcycle. He was speeding down an empty street at dusk, at an impossible speed that made the passing scenery look like grey and green blurs. A whirl of angry, hissing voices swept through his head: "Kill her!" "Get it over with!" "Do it!" The roar of the engine filled Harry's ears, and a woman whispered, "I want to stop." Then a brick wall rushed straight at Harry and he crashed.
Harry sat up fast in his four-poster bed, breathing hard. His scar seared. Tibbles was not sleeping on his pillow as usual- God knew where that Kneazle had gone. It was one o'clock in the morning. And several hundred miles away, at the precise moment of impact in Harry's dream, Frank Longbottom bolted upright in his bed at St. Mungo's Hospital and shouted, "Lily Potter!"
Louisa Longbottom instantly awoke. "Frank? What is it"
"Green eyes- Lily Potter!" Frank said excitedly, grabbing his wife by the shoulders. "She had the green eyes. She was the mother of that boy who visited us a few weeks ago- Harry Potter! Louisa, I remember! I remember everything!"
Louisa clasped her hands together. "Oh, Frank! Everything?"
"Every moment," cried Frank, leaping out of bed and running out. "Call the nurse! Call the doctors! Owl my son- my son Neville! And owl that blessed Harry Potter! I've gotten my memory back!"
But Harry would know none of this until morning, when all the owls arrived with the good tidings. For now his immediate concern was his dream, which had been the clearest of any of his dreams for months, and the pain in his scar, which was blinding. He clamped his hands on his forehead and lay down, but sleep did not come. After a while he slipped out of his dorm and through the portrait, still clutching his forehead, and went to Professor McGonagall's private quarters.
Harry's knock interrupted a secret conference between Minerva McGonagall, Bella Figg, Quentin Trimble, and Mundungus Fletcher, who only since yesterday had been persuaded to leave Perdita's side. As Harry recounted his tale and showed them his livid-red scar, the Phoenixes exchanged worried looks, for less than an hour earlier Severus Snape had been called away to a Death Eaters meeting.
After leaving Hogwarts property, Snape Apparated to a quaint Muggle district south of London. When Death Eaters felt their tattoos burn red, they Apparated directly to their master's side; but as Lord Voldemort's location was top secret, the system was amended, and exceptions were made for Snape, the twice-double agent. Normally Snape would be met at the first Apparition site and taken to the real meeting place, so that he would be confused as to the actual location; but this time the door to one cozy Muggle-looking flat opened, and Derrick Lestrange beckoned to him. "This way, Snape. There's a surprise for you in the drawing room."
Snape walked up slowly, dreading what he would find.
The Death Eaters were waiting in the hall, clustered round the front door. Snape entered and stopped, finding himself surrounded. "What is this?" he growled.
"We heard you'd made a new friend, Snape," said Derrick Lestrange. "A brilliant, beautiful young witch."
"But there is a rather egregious obstacle," Maldora Lestrange said. "She's an Auror, and her name is Perdita Clemens."
"Where is she?" demanded Snape. "And where is Voldemort?"
"His Lordship's very displeased with you, Snape," drawled Lucius Malfoy. "He's disappointed that you would deceive him like this."
"She's Emily's sister," Snape said.
"But Emily was perfectly straightforward. She already told us that," said Walden Macnair. "She was a valued member of our association. She's the one who left us directions to this address, actually."
"Come into the drawing room," said Maldora. The Death Eaters parted and Snape was pushed through a door.
Perdita Clemens was standing by the window. Her eyes were puffy and red; but her crying was finished, and now she was quietly seething. She wheeled when Snape was ushered in. "Severus!" she gasped, and started forward, but Malfoy moved into the room and swiftly froze her in her tracks with a flick of his wand. She stared in terror at Snape.
"What are you going to do to her?" whispered Snape.
"We're not going to do anything," said Maldora. "You are."
It took a moment for this to register in Snape's head. Then- it became clear. "No."
"Yes," said the Death Eaters.
"I haven't killed in years," Snape said in a low voice. Perdita gasped.
"This is a test of your fidelity, Severus," said Malfoy. "Don't make us use the Imperius Curse."
Maldora extended her hand and Snape's wand rose out of his pocket and hovered in the air before him. The Death Eaters watched as he slowly took it. Perdita stared in horror as Snape was pushed forward. He faced her and the world seemed to slow down.
"Severus," she whispered. "Do it if you have to."
"I- I-" croaked Snape. "I can't-"
"Kill her!" hissed the Death Eaters.
"Kill me, Severus," Perdita said softly. "Save yourself."
"I can't- I can't!" Snape whispered. It seemed to Snape that his heart was going to burst as he gazed miserably at his doomed and tragic friend.
"Get it over with! Kill her!" pressed the Death Eaters.
"Do it, Severus!" Perdita said, tears welling up in her dark eyes. "Please, just do it quickly."
"Kill the girl!" the Death Eaters cried.
"I can't!" Snape said desperately.
"Do it!" screamed Perdita.
"Avada Kedavra!" There was a flash of green light and Perdita Clemens collapsed, lifeless.
The Death Eaters slowly turned to stare at Maldora Lestrange, who had shouted the Killing Curse. Her wand was still raised aloft. She was breathing hard.
"Maldora," said Derrick Lestrange.
"He was taking too long!" shouted Maldora. There was a shocked silence. Maldora looked at Snape. He was gaping at her, the dead Auror witch forgotten for the moment. She lowered her wand and looked round at the stunned faces. "I couldn't wait that long," she said weakly. Then she turned and fled the house. Derrick was too bewildered to run after her. They all stood motionless in the drawing room for a long time after the front door had slammed.
Maldora was too upset to Apparate. She ran and ran until her legs ached, and when she stopped she found her feet had taken her to a little playground for Muggle children. She fell into a swing and cried into her hands. Then she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and said aloud, "I'm sick of this!
"I'm sick of running and sick of hiding. I don't want these secret meetings, these hidden messages and veiled threats. I'm sick of killing, I'm sick of it all! I'm so desperately tired."
The next logical thought popped into her head. She tried it out carefully. "I want- I want to stop."
The moment she said it she knew it was true. This life had to come to an end. It was simply too hard for her. She was a jaded woman. Fifteen years in a dank, slimy Azkaban prison cell had forced her to rethink her life's direction.
She had always felt she was leading a double life: Solange Figg, the girl she showed to her parents, a good, obedient girl who sometimes got into trouble, and Maldora, the girl who frequently escaped from deep inside, the innately evil one whose quick wit and ruthless cruelty often got Solange out of her troubles. Solange Figg had had a hard life of lying, to her friends, her mother, and herself, but that labyrinth of pretense had ended when Solange had died to give life to Maldora.
In the end Maldora had escaped her good counterpart. But now Solange turned out not to be dead after all- she was here tonight, turning Maldora's heartlessness back against her. Solange and Maldora, she understood now, had only switched places, one on the outside, the other inside; and now Solange was threatening to emerge. She was ruining everything! Solange had raised Maldora's wand, forced the curse from her lips, stirred those feelings of misery in her. Solange was tired of killing and her exhaustion was a contagion, spreading to her other self. She could not continue- neither of her selves could. It was simply- too hard.
"One last bout of glory, then," she said out loud. "One final task. At last I shall exact my revenge! I have bided my time long enough. I shall kill the witch who brought me into this cruel and merciless world. Arabella Figg will die before I do."
