Chapter Fourteen: There Are Lots of Snakes in This Chapter

April, Percy thought, trudging through the rain to Perkins' house, was a miserable month and should be avoided at all costs.

The snowfall had turned into freezing, persistent rain which only partly melted the mounds of slush flanking the sidewalk. The bits of grass poking through all looked worn and yellow; the tiny leaves just beginning to dot the trees weren't enough to brighten the bleak post-winter landscape.

Shivering in the chill, he mounted Perkins' porch and let himself in.

Perkins was in the kitchen, bent over a scale model of the city that he had set up on the kitchen table. "There's some odd magical activity going on in Kensington," he said without preface, pointing at a number of tiny sparks spitting into the air from the model. A large, gold-wire instrument poised like a weird aerial over the area. It hummed discontentedly.

Percy went straight to the closet and started tying on his mask. "Give me the coordinates." He tore off his shoes and began tugging on the Seven-League Boots.

"Half way down Campden Hill Road where it intersects Bedford Gardens."

Percy, standing on one leg, stopped dead to stare at Perkins and toppled right over. He scrambled back to his feet. "Bedford Gardens, did you say?"

Perkins nodded. All the color drained from Percy's face.

"Good lord. That's where Penny lives!"

He snatched up his cloak, whisked out his wand and vanished.

***

The street lights were dim. The dark windows of the Clearwater house reflected their pale light onto the empty street. Percy crept into the back yard. What was going on inside that dead house, behind the blank facade?

He bent his knees and leapt.

Not for nothing had the Seven-League Boots leaked even into Muggle mythology. Percy went soaring over the house and landed neatly on the other side of the roof. He flattened and crawled over to the nearest window, gingerly lowering himself over the storm gutter so that he could peer in through the top of it.

At first he could see nothing. The room was pitch dark. He grappled for the Hand of Glory, lit it, and slid it silently onto the windowsill.

In the vague light, a huddled mass could be seen in the center of the room -- the Clearwater parents, crouching together with their arms around one another. Mr. Clearwater's pipe lay a few feet away, scattered shreds of tobacco still aglow against the carpet. Mrs. Clearwater appeared to be crying. After a few horrified moments, Percy tore his eyes away from the awful sight and finally took a close look at the room around them.

It was teeming with snakes.

Thick, slithering bodies writhed up the walls, swarmed over the furniture. A vast hissing boa hung from the chandelier and snapped its jaws above the Clearwaters' heads. A houseplant in the corner was a nest of wriggling grass snakes. They completely surrounded the couple, yet stayed frighteningly aloof -- none of them were closer than a foot away, Percy noted. Yet in and out they slithered, so that it could never be certain where they would end up next ...

Percy was all ready to climb through the window when he paused.

The moment he showed his face, the tormenters would Disapparate -- instantly gone, with no chance of capture. Better to let the terrible act go on a little longer, and be assured of justice. He heaved himself back up onto the roof.

If the snakes remained, then the criminals were still here. They hadn't seen him arrive, so they must be inside -- in the corners of the living room, Percy guessed, or in the kitchen. Close enough to control the situation, and close enough to watch the fun...

He crept along the roof until he was opposite the living room. Soundlessly, he slid open a window and slipped inside.

He landed on something springy -- a mattress, he realized, and very carefully stepped to the floor. The light from the Hand of Glory flickered on the walls, which were covered with posters and photographs.

Percy's heart gave a funny jolt. This must be Penelope's room.

He'd never actually been inside; neither of them (and none of their parents) thought it was an appropriate place to entertain. Momentarily absorbed, he raised the Hand for a better look. The posters were varied: Albert Einstein, the Hobgoblins, the Holyhead Harpies, the Beatles. He moved closer. Some of the photographs moved, but many of them didn't; Penelope looked quite young in those. A moving photograph near the door caught his eye.

He recognized it as soon as he was close enough to see. It was one that Bill had taken, when Penelope visited the Burrow in the summer before Percy's senior year. She looked breathtaking, perched on the garden fence with her hair flying in the wind, a hint of sunset behind her. Percy sat beside her. They were both laughing.

Two and a half years ago. He couldn't believe that she'd kept that picture. How long since they had been that happy? How long since they had even been together ...?

The sound of shattering glass rocketed through the house and Percy came alert again. He slunk across the room and out of the door.

From here in the hallway he had a clear view of the kitchen. It led into the living room by an arch to the left of the hallway. The arch was filled with shadow -- then it moved, and Percy made out the forms of with two crouching men. They would be invisible from the living room, but from behind it was all too clear what they were up to. Percy rolled up his sleeves. It would take a powerful charm to get both of them at once.

He raised his arm toward them.

Something blunt and silver swished down in the moonlight and Percy was aware of blinding pain in his right shoulder. He dropped like a stone; the wand fell from his numb fingers. Flat on his back, he stared up into the round and grizzled face that loomed above him. It raised its head and whistled.

The two in the doorway turned sharply. Together they stood straight and came down the hall -- one of them small and skinny, the other looming and massive across the shoulders. Percy's shoulder throbbed. The Hand of Glory had been extinguished in the fall; it lay palm-down several feet away, far out of reach. His wand was nowhere to be seen. He shifted, tried to roll over, but the first man brought his foot down onto Percy's chest and held it there. His uninjured arm began groping for his wand.

The three gathered around him. The skinny one let out a delighted snivel. "Wot do we 'ave 'ere?" he crooned, bending toward Percy like a woman over a baby carriage. "An intruder ..."

Percy swung his foot up and into the skinny man's chin.

The fellow arched backward and bounced off the large one, who shoved him aside and reached down toward Percy's throat. Reaching up with his good arm, Percy hooked his elbow around the first man's ankle and jerked.

The round-faced man collapsed on top of him; the large one lost his footing and followed. Percy couldn't hold back a howl of pain as someone's foot came down on his hurt shoulder. With a strength born of desperation, he shot his good hand into the pile of bodies. He brushed against a set of enormous fingers -- and a wand clutched within them. He grabbed hold of the wand and tugged with all his strength. The wand came free in his hand.

By now the skinny man was on his feet, staggering toward the pile-up with a hand on his jaw. He saw the wand in Percy's hand and lunged toward it. "Can't 'ave that --" he snarled.

There was an extremely loud clunk. The skinny man's eyes rolled up in his head and swooned onto the pile of bodies. A vase rolled down his back and shattered when it hit the floor.

"Ligare!" Percy gasped, completely winded. All three squirming criminals were instantly trussed up. "Mobilicorpus --"

He crab-crawled out from under the floating bodies and let them fall to the ground again. He looked up. Mr. and Mrs. Clearwater stood in the hallway; he had a candlestick, she had clearly just used up her weapon. Both looked shell-shocked but determined. "Who are they?" Mrs. Clearwater demanded, her voice shrill. "Why would they do this to us?"

Percy scrambled to his feet. "Don't worry," he said, hoping that his voice wouldn't be recognized, "I assure you, they'll get the full extent of justice --"

There was a flash of light from behind them.

Percy whirled around and swore loudly. The round-faced man was gone -- and the skinny man was sliding from the ropes that were now far too loose. Snatching his wand from the ground, the skinny fellow disappeared with a crack before Percy could even raise his wand.

"Petrificus totalus!" The giant of a man, who had been struggling, stiffened and froze. "Confound it all --"

A wave of dizzying pain poured from his hurt shoulder and he sagged against the wall. Mrs. Clearwater started forward, her eyes worried. Percy forced himself to stand. Gritting his teeth, he collected his wand and the Hand of Glory from the hallway floor, making sure to stomp on the bound man whenever possible. He pointed his wand at the large fellow and he disappeared. Drawing a deep breath, he looked back up at the Clearwaters.

"I'm sorry ... I need to erase your memory. Please hold --"

A voice broke over his own.

"Mum? Da? Are you here? The lights are off --"

Percy froze. Penelope's face came into view at the end of the hall -- luminous and pale, beautiful in the moonlight. For a moment their eyes locked. Then Mr. Clearwater took her arm and drew her close. "Penny! Thank goodness -- you weren't here --"

Percy took a step backward and Disapparated.

"There were men --" Mrs. Clearwater was saying hysterically. "With -- wands, they were wizards -- snakes -- and then this man --" She gestured to the hallway, and grew abruptly quiet when she saw that he was gone.

Penelope gripped her father's hand, not knowing what to say. "That man -- saved you?"

"He helped," said Mr. Clearwater gruffly.

Mrs. Clearwater looked pleadingly at her daughter. "Who was that?"

Penelope stared at the empty hallway. "I thought he wasn't real," she said to herself.

"Penny, who was that?" Mrs. Clearwater's voice rose and trembled.

"The Scarlet Raven."

***

"What do you mean, he's been captured?"

The skinny man cowered from Lucius Malfoy's wrath. "Well, I mean 'ee's -- it wasn't us, we was hidden an' cunning --"

"How," Lucius hissed, "did this happen?"

"It was that scarlet chap," the skinny fellow whimpered, "the Scarlet Raven, the one wot I read about in the Quibbler. 'Ee ambushed us, wasn't nowhere for Goyle t' go, us two was lucky t' get out wi' our lives --"

Lucius paced in front of the fire restlessly. "I don't need to tell you that Goyle was one of my best operatives," he said through his teeth. "I expected better." He crossed the room and threw himself into an enormous winged armchair. He sank into thought. The tips of his steepled fingers brushed his mouth. "The Scarlet Raven has deprived me of half a dozen valuable subordinates," he said. "We need to find him. This ... irritation ... must be dealt with."

A timid voice spoke up from the corner.

"I know him."

Lucius spun toward the speaker, disdain on his lips. "Ridiculous. You haven't been in public for fifteen years."

"I know him." A shimmering silver hand clenched itself into a fist. "I watched him grow up."

Lucius raised his eyebrows.

***

"I don't understand," Percy said, staring blankly at the flower-print wall. "Why the Clearwaters? Is it just some horrible coincidence ...?"

Perkins snorted and put another strip of medicated gauze on Percy's bare shoulder. "Or is someone onto you?" he finished.

Percy winced. "Careful --" He looked down at his hands. "If they're onto me, they're a little behind on their surveillance," he said, with a weak laugh. "I haven't seen Penny since Christmas. I don't see why they wouldn't attack me at home -- or try to draw me out by, say, attacking you."

"Hold still," Perkins ordered. He tapped the shoulder wrappings and they stiffened into a cast. "Don't sleep on that side and you'll be good as new in the morning."

He came around and lowered himself into the armchair across from Percy. For a few minutes he watched his injured protégé, who sat hunched over on the sofa, head down. Since Christmas, he hadn't even mentioned Penelope's name. It must have been wrenching to see her again. Perkins cleared his throat loudly. It didn't do to brood.

"We'll put sensors around the Clearwater house," he said, and Percy looked up. "We'll know if they're targeted again. I don't know if it was intentional or sheer dumb luck ..." Percy grunted and settled back into the sofa. "... but from now on, Raven, we need to be more careful than ever."

***

The weather was astonishingly sunny and clear for so early in the spring.

Not a breath of wind licked the goals at the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. The still-feeble sun did its best against the lingering chill, and a brilliant blue sky betrayed the crisp temperatures.

If the Gryffindor/Slytherin game was the most emotionally charged, then the Slytherin/Ravenclaw game was surely the most artfully played. Tactics, formations, cunning and stealth from both sides of the pitch -- at times it was chess or ballet, at least during the parts where the Beaters weren't involved.

It was a joy to watch, thought Minister Fudge, seated pleasantly in the teachers' box. Young people striving to achieve. It did one's heart good.

Lucius Malfoy leaned over to his friend. "Enjoying yourself, Minister?"

"Yes, quite!" Fudge chuckled. "Wonderful sport. Reminds me of the World Cup -- the game, of course, not all the you-know-what afterwards."

Lucius's face was all serious concern. "Of course."

"And it's splendid to see your son in action," Fudge went on quickly. "I admit, he's quite the flyer!"

"He does enjoy ... competition," said Lucius. He let his gaze drift to the field. "Much like the young Junior Assistant of yours. He was quite an achiever at Hogwarts, I believe."

"Yes, yes," said Minister Fudge, chuckling. "Excellent résumé. Head Boy, in fact."

"Mm hmm." The Slytherin Keeper made a smooth save and Lucius paused to clap politely. Then he turned his attention back to the Minister. "He must have been in with Dumbledore very well, to earn a position like that."

"Oh -- yes, I suppose so." Minister Fudge looked a bit surprised at the revelation. "I hadn't thought of that, I admit."

"Never mind, Minister, it would never have crossed many a mind." He paused again. "It does seem strange ..."

"What? Strange?"

Lucius thinned his lips. "May I be perfectly frank with you, Cornelius?"

"Certainly, Lucius! What ever --"

"Then I must tell you of a suspicion that has been growing in my mind. Young Weasley. Are you entirely certain of where his loyalty lies?"

"Why, of course!" said Minister Fudge, but his eyebrows contracted in worry. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing serious, Cornelius," said Lucius quietly, watching both teams dart around the field. "It merely seems to me that a split from such a large family is quite an extreme measure to take. Almost ... too extreme?"

"Young Weasley had his reasons," said Minister Fudge. "He was quite adamant."

"It is a credit to you, Minister," said Lucius, "that you would trust the son of a man who so persistently and so publicly disagrees with your actions."

They watched the game in silence for a few moments.

"Do you think --"

"It's possible, Minister."

Many more seconds passed. Slytherin scored.

"Could he --"

"I see no reason why not."

One of the Ravenclaw Chasers was mauled by a Bludger and time-out was called.

"Should I --"

"No, no, Minister, there's no need to remove the boy from his position." Lucius smiled. "But you should perhaps keep a closer eye on him. In fact, I will do the same."

"Lucius, you are a true friend," said Minister Fudge with relief, as the Quaffle went back into play.

Mr. Malfoy, former school governor, philanthropist, and confidante of the Minister of Magic, was serene.

"Thank you, Minister."