The Fifth Marauder
By Alarun
Part 7
"IMPERIO!" A cold voice shouted over the rising murmur of stymied Muggle citizens. They stopped as one, leaving a silence so heavy that the hoarse chortling of the Death Eaters was clearly audible.
They had gathered at an emergency town meeting about the recent disappearances of many of the citizens. Entire blocks were deserted, the grass growing nearly knee length in some of the rural yards, bicycles and children's toys sitting in the empty streets. Cars parked in the middle of the road, doors opened, keys in the ignition. The front doors of the houses were unlocked, some wide open. People were beginning to panic.
The moderator of the meeting was at the podium, attempting to restore order in the chaotic assemblage. He continuously rapped his gavel on the podium, but nobody heard him for what felt like an hour.
Cursing under his breath, he loudly slammed the gavel down one last time, dropping it onto the stage. The sound of it hitting the floor was unbelievably magnified, echoing off of the walls, and the people immediately silenced, mouths hanging open, eyes turned toward the grey haired moderator.
The moderator, however, was no longer concerned with the attention of the members of the town meeting. He was staring at the entrance doors, which had slammed open against the walls, producing the slamming noise that had surprised so many.
Intimidating figures in flowing black robes entered the town hall, in the form of an extended V. They were led by a taller figure with a white, bald head and slits for nostrils. His eyes were slightly tilted at the outer corners, and contained a burning madness. He carried a stick that was about as long as his forearm and as thick as his finger. The moderator left the stage to meet the men as they halted half-way to the podium.
The cloaked ones turned militaristically to the side, holding their own forearm-length-sticks up vertically in front of their hooded faces. The man in the lead began walking once again, brushing gracefully past the moderator. He walked up the stairs to the stage, and stood at the podium, smirking.
"Ladies and gentlemen," He began in a hissing voice, "you have just been enlisted into my armed forces."
* * *
Lucius Malfoy paused in the doorway, the heavy, iron bound door swinging against the wall on a lower hinge. His wand was unconsciously raised in the proper dueling position.
Severus, yes, Severus was in the room---looking surprisingly young and naive. Wide, dark eyes gazed at Lucius, unblinking. He seemed to be lacking his Slytherin school robes, but that was the only thing that separated the reminiscence from the reality. He looked like he was in his late teen years, before he had joined the Dark Lord's ranks.
"Severus, how good to see you," Malfoy senior looked down his nose at the boy.
"Good to see you, too, Lucius."
"What …are you doing here with these Gryffindors?" He spat Gryffindors like it was a curse.
Severus seemed thoughtful for a flicker of an instant, but answered, sneering, "A potion these Gryffindors were brewing for a detention exploded, turning me physically into a teenager. I was attempting to find a cure, since I am the potions master at this school."
"I see. And them?" Lucius motioned with his eyebrow to Lupin and Black, who were standing together and poised like they were preparing to run from a bull.
"They followed me, as per Headmaster Dumbledore's orders. It seems I am not to be trusted as much as I had previously thought."
"So he is well, then?"
"Of course, why wouldn't he be?"
"I heard ---well, never mind. I am here to discuss Draco's transfiguration grades; they seem to be dropping hazardly as of late. Good evening, Severus." Lucius nodded his head and took his leave, completely ignoring the others.
Pulling out his wand, Remus muttered a quiet repairo to fix the laboratory's door. Sirius closed and locked it.
"Well …that was good acting, Snape," Sirius conceded.
"Thanks." Snape chewed on his lip for a moment before turning back to look at his brother. "You don't believe me, do you? That we're brothers, I mean."
Sirius shrugged. "It's difficult to put false memories in a pensieve, but it has been done before. You'd have to be very powerful, and …er…have a motive. I don't know what you would gain by telling me that we're brothers."
"This is all very confusing." Ron Weasley added in, rubbing his temples.