Author's Note: Spring Break, and I finally found the time to update! This
chapter is just a bit longer than the previous one. I sort of like some of
the wording in this chapter, although I realize that some of it is sort of
awkward. But I bet you're all surprised, huh? Didn't think I planned on
ever returning. Even I'm surprised; I usually get bored with things I
start. But this story is, I think, a keeper. I enjoy writing it, because
I've people to write it for. I suppose that's the danger of venturing into
fanfiction: the instant gratification factor. It's a lot easier to write a
story for which you can expect real feedback. Well, once again, I strongly
urge you to review this story. And many thanks to those who managed to
stumble across my story in the long stretch of time between this update and
the last. I hope you like this...!
*****
Severus, Rookwood, and Malfoy stood in silence as Karakaroff's form began to flicker, like the shadows cast by a trembling candle flame. The Ravenous Chair's victim squirmed slightly, looking much like a figure in an old muggle moving picture, and shot a fearful look at Rookwood, who did not answer.
Then Karkaroff disappeared. Not a trace of his outline or the faintest impression of a man stained the air above the ravenous chair, and only indentation of Karkaroff's rear end on the cushion allowed the observer to suspect that the three visible Death Eaters were not alone.
Four breathy sighs of relief escaped at once from their respective wizards, and even Malfoy couldn't help but grin at their good fortune.
"It worked, then?" asked Karkaroff with a cautious smile.
"It would seem that way," Lucius smirked, his attention directed at Severus.
"Oh, as though you knew it would! Can't even be bothered to read labels," grumbled Severus. "What kind of a wizard is that stupid—"
"All right, we're this close to getting out of this," Rookwood indicated with his fingers held no more than a centimetre apart, "so let's not start bickering now. Karkaroff, don't move, don't talk—don't do anything, no matter what. Lucius, Severus: we're finished here, yes?" Severus inclined his head in noncommittal agreement, while Malfoy merely narrowed his eyes. "Then we'll be outside waiting for Mr. Borgin." Rookwood strode to the door and held it open for Malfoy—who sailed through it with his nose in the air—and Severus, who hesitated, reluctant to give in to Rookwood's authority completely.
"Thanks for the intervention, mummy," Severus smirked, and he marched through the door with the satisfaction that he had managed to salvage at least a little dignity with that last dig.
"Anything for mummy's pretty baby," Rookwood grinned, unfazed, and patted Severus roughly on the back. So much for dignity.
"Er, Severus? Augustus?" Severus heard Malfoy's voice, ever so tinged with uncertainty, and redirected his attention towards its source. In front of the service desk Lucius stood rigid and falsely smiling; and behind it was an older man, looking bewildered and frightened, with eyes that darted from one Death Eater to the next.
"Mr. Borgin!" cried Rookwood, advancing upon the old man who could be none other than the other shopkeeper. "We hoped you'd be here by now." It was too bad about that soundproof storeroom door, Severus thought with a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach: it worked both ways. They could not have heard anyone in the main shop even if they had marched in with a brass band.
"Who are all of you?" asked Borgin suspiciously, his hand reaching inside his robes for his wand. "And how did you get in?"
"We let ourselves inside," Lucius lied stupidly, glancing at Severus. Malfoy was smooth, but not as smooth as Rookwood. "We're here to pick up the special order?"
"I beg your pardon," said Borgin. "If you're here to rob this place, you are about to regret it!" He drew his wand and pointed it at Malfoy's face with a hand that trembled only slightly.
"We are certainly not here to harm you or your merchandise," said Rookwood diplomatically, drawing Borgin's attention away from Malfoy. "Don't you remember the arrangement?"
"What arrangement?" demanded Borgin, narrowing his eyes. Malfoy took the opportunity to quietly draw his wand, Severus noticed, though he held it at his side very discreetly.
Rookwood sighed. "The arrangement with...the Dark Lord?" he said quietly. Borgin's eyes suddenly grew wide and fearful.
"Don't know nothing about that," he said, his voice rising with every word. "I told him to stay out of that mess! Don't tell me he went and sold his soul to that devil," said Borgin, almost pleading.
"You mean your partner; Burke?" asked Severus curiously.
"He did, then," whispered Borgin. "That rat; how could he! I'll kill him—"
Severus was hardly able to hold back a terrible giggle, at that, and from the way Lucius' mouth was twitching, he too must be having difficulties.
"Malfoy, I thought you said Burke and Borgin knew about this?" said Severus accusingly, recovering nicely.
"I only ever dealt with Mr. Burke! Borgin here was always away on business. I assumed he was party to the deal. And, oh, let's see; where, now, has Borgin been all day? Away on business!" Malfoy hissed.
"Business," said Borgin softly, apparently too preoccupied to wonder how Malfoy knew where he'd been. "No wonder he made me go. Told me he was afraid of travelling too far from home. And this explains the odd collection he was building up in the back. He said we should 'be prepared to provide any item at a moment's notice.' I thought it seemed odd, but I never would have dreamed that you all were the real reasons. I despise being so thoroughly lied to!"
"Now now, Mr. Borgin," Rookwood said, displaying a comforting smile tainted with humor. "No need to fret. This is a mutually advantageous situation. We'll take care of you, Mr. Borgin, if you take care of us—and our Master." The word "master" didn't set right in Severus's stomach. Was it only a couple of nights ago that he'd pledged his undying devotion to the snake- faced thing?
"No," Borgin said with certainty. "I said I wouldn't say anything to the authorities if all of you Deadheads or somesuch would only leave us alone; but I'm telling you right now, I won't have any alliances between my perfectly—well, more-or-less—legal enterprise and your 'organization.' You gentlemen had better leave. I'll talk this over with Burke, and we'll get your order to you by tomorrow, as I, at least, am a man of my word. If you placed an order, you shall receive it. After that, I don't want to see any of you in this shop again."
"Tomorrow is too late," Malfoy cut it.
"How bloody unfortunate!" Borgin was visibly shaking with anger. "If you think I am going to cater to a lot of murdering bastards you are very much mistaken. Get the hell out of my shop!"
"You're a mudblood, aren't you," said Severus, surprised to think that a half-breed would have the nerve to set up a dark magic shop, though he supposed the shady, "don't-ask-don't-tell" Knockturn Alley was the best place for it if one were inclined to do so.
"No I am not!" Borgin cried indignantly. He lowered his wand and came around the counter to confront Severus. "I don't have to be, to know I want nothing to do with any of you and your lunacy."
"So you opt not to help us?" asked Lucius in dangerously soft tones.
"That's right!" snapped Borgin, turning lesiurely and pointing his wand at Malfoy once more. "You have to wait a whole day. I hope you won't die of anticipation in the long interim!"
"We're flattered that you care," said Malfoy, mocking. "But there's no need to worry about us." As he spoke, he raised his left (non-wand) hand and drew a finger across his throat, as if he had a momentary itch, or as though discreetly making a "kill" gesture.
Severus's stomach turned over. He had no doubt what Malfoy meant to indicate, and, strengthening his resolve, he reached into his robe pocket for his wand and withdrew it in swift silence. He wasn't sure if he was ready, and but didn't know how else to find out. And what he was sure of was that Malfoy wasn't going to accept any excuses.
"Then you won't mind leaving," Borgin was hissing into Malfoy's smug face. Severus swallowed hard and raised his wand, the word "Avada" poised on his tongue, when someone—he saw immediately that it was Rookwood—grasped his wrist and halted the Killing spell before Severus could utter the first syllable.
"Imperius," whispered Augustus, nodding towards Borgin, who Malfoy had goaded into arguing a moment longer. This time, Severus didn't hesitate. He was reasonably certain he could pull off the Imperius curse without a problem; it was the killing curse on which he feared to be tested.
"Imperio!" cried Severus, propelling the spell at Borgin's head. It struck him hard, propelling the old man into Malfoy, who pushed him roughly to the floor.
"What are you doing?!" Malfoy demanded.
"What do you mean? That was an excellent move, Severus."
"While it wasn't the worst choice one could have made, neither was it the best. I was trying to signify: 'kill him,' if you were watching. Not this." He poked at Borgin with the toe of his sleek black boot just as the shopkeeper was just sitting up wearing a blank expression. "We don't need this unpleasant man handling our Lord'd affairs. You heard him speaking of the 'authorities,' and you know we cannot have that."
"If he were dead, then how would we have found the spell to release Karkaroff?" Rookwood mused aloud, and Severus realized he had never felt so relieved in his life, despite the pain of his returning headache.
"Right," he said through gritted teeth. "Borgin, retrieve the master spell for the Ravenous Chair, if you would." Severus smiled in spite of all the effort to concentrate on Borgin's thoughts. Truthfully, he was easier to direct than Rookwood, but not to the extent that it could save him from a headache which he was already predisposed to after his adventures with Imperius earlier that same day. The blood pounded painfully through his skull.
Obediently Borgin rose to his feet, and tapped his mouth twice with the tip of his wand. Then, as the three Death Eaters looked on with interest, the shopkeeper shoved a hand down his throat without hesitation. When his arm finally emerged a moment later, there was a piece of dripping wet parchment crumpled in his fist.
"Brilliant," breathed Rookwood with relief. "I still say I'm glad I didn't do the full body cavity search on Burke." Severus smirked and made Mr. Borgin turn a sloppy cartwheel as a sign of Severus' own jubilation at having just escaped a very unpleasant situation. Although, Severus had to admit, handling the damp parchment, straight out of an old man's gut, was not a very appealing prospect in and of itself.
"Well done," said Malfoy, with only a hint of sarcasm.
Snape's smug smile widened slightly, and he muttered a drying spell in the direction of the damp sheet of parchment before ordering Borgin to bring it to him.
"Come on, then," Rookwood encouraged, and with a motion of his arm led the way to the back room. This time, neither Lucius nor Severus was willing to waste any more time with protestations, and Snape willingly followed Malfoy with the Imperius-controlled shopkeeper in tow.
Severus had neglected to shut the door to the storeroom before coming to Malfoy's aid in dealing with the return of Mr. Borgin, so the first sentence with which the thin air above the seat of the Ravenous Chair greeted the returning Death Eaters was, "I heard everything! Say the spell!"
"Why, you're welcome, Karkaroff," said Severus acerbically, "It was no trouble at all." He glared at the place where the invisible Karkaroff's eyeballs might be.
"Oh, please." Malfoy rubbed his temples. "Delay the release of that imbecile for another moment and I think I shall go mad." Severus refrained from adding that Lucius Malfoy seemed to be halfway there already.
"We're begging you," Rookwood assured him, and with a sigh and a role of the eyes that belied his own eagerness to have it all over with, Severus at last went ahead and read the spell for the Ravenous Chair.
Instantly the metal cuffs that supposedly encircled Karkaroff's bony and now invisible wrists and ankles sprang open, and without a sound they vanished seamlessly into the innocuous-looking woodwork of the throne.
"I'm free! Free—praise Jupiter!" sang Karkaroff's voice through the empty air just in front of the chair. The dust kicked up by the scuffling dance of joy accompanied Karkaroff's relieved laughter in a circuit around the storeroom. "I was sure the Dark Lord was going to find me out!"
"At least you kept faith," sighed Severus sourly. He would have smiled, as both Rookwood and Malfoy were now doing as they cordially shook hands on a job well done, but keeping control of Borgin was still something of an effort, and his head throbbed as though his skull were an egg from which a dragonling was attempting to hatch.
"What's the matter now, Severus?" demanded Malfoy.
"Nothing," said Severus defensively.
"What, is Mr. Borgin here giving you any trouble?" Malfoy smirked.
"Not in the least. I've got him well under control, if you can't tell!"
"Relax, Severus!" Malfoy said, his voice more oily than Severus' scalp. "Any good Death Eater knows just how difficult it can be to perform Imperius, especially if you're a beginner in the Art."
"That's right," said Rookwood, seemingly unaware of Malfoy's underlying insult.
"I wouldn't know," said Karkaroff's voice. "Haven't had a chance to try it yet."
"Thanks for your concern," said Severus acidly, "but I'm just anxious to get out of this nasty little hellhole of a shop and away from unpleasant company."
"I think we're all ready to leave." The unpleasantly self-satisfied expression on Malfoy's face made his next words easy to anticipate. "But still something must be done with your charge, there."
That he would be asked to kill the shopkeeper, Severus was certain. But whether or not he was capable of doing so, with his mind already tired with the Imperius and his fellow Death Eaters looking on with harsh judgements at the ready; of this he was uncertain. For one cold moment, Severus stared into Malfoy's glacier eyes before he spoke.
"All right then. Make me do all the work, won't you," Severus said with false indignation. "I will wipe his memory myself." He lifted his wand and experimentally swished it to get the feel for the spell.
"Wipe his memory!" said Malfoy with a small chuckle. "I was going to suggest killing him."
"Very funny," said Severus, feeling his heart beat faster with the brazen deception he was attempting. "I'm not stupid enough to let you lead me astray. I am fully aware of what Vol—the Dark Lord would do to me if he could pin the blame on me for wreaking his business arrangements." He worked for a sardonic smile and displayed it boldly.
"Touché, Severus!" said Rookwood, looking delightedly from Malfoy to Severus and back.
Severus swallowed hard and tried to look smug as he brandished his wand and threw a simple memory charm at Borgin's unresponsive upright form. The spell splashed over his face in a soft wave of light, and as his eyes rolled up into his head, Severus let go of the Imperius spell he had been maintaining up till this point. It felt as though, once more, a heavy weight had been lifted, and as a consequence he was able to concentrate his full strength into what was—if he did think so himself—a nicely executed memory erasure. The last half-an-hour was neatly excised from Borgin's mind, leaving everything else perfectly intact, as far as he could tell, at least.
"You know," Malfoy said at once, "That still doesn't solve the problem of the Dark Lord's business being saved."
"I know that," snapped Severus. "But now all we have to do is pass ourselves off as some sort of legitimate illegal den of the dark arts, and Mr. Borgin is sure to allow us access to the Dark Lord's order."
"That's a lot of bother for no certain outcome," Rookwood warned pensively.
"Yes, what if he doesn't want to help us anyway?" asked Karkaroff from somewhere near Malfoy.
"There's no reason to go through that at all." Rookwood looked like a child with a secret, his face alight and his mouth sealed and smilingly, just waiting for someone to ask what it was he knew.
"Well?" demanded Malfoy impatiently.
"Well," said Rookwood deliberately, "The Ministry of Magic, as I happen to know, teaches its Unspeakables a handy spell that allows the wizard to actually revise a memory; to put new information into the areas cleared by a memory charm. Quite ingenious; would be marvellously popular in all arenas, if the ministry were ever to release it to the public."
"That is fascinating," Malfoy observed sarcastically. "If you wouldn't mind performing the spell instead of describing its most intimate details—"
"I think I can handle it," Severus broke in coldly. He was not going to allow Rookwood to poke his wand into the situation and risk facing the possible necessity of killing Borgin just to make him stop singing, or some such nonsense. After only night and a day with the Death-Eater-slash- Ministry-worker, he was beginning to get an idea of the extent of Rookwood's abilities.
"No problem," said Rookwood, with perhaps a touch of relief. "I'll show you how it's done, if you like."
Rookwood instructed Severus in correct wand movement—a tight, spiralling pattern that Severus had most often seen in transfigurations—and once he had learnt that, Rookwood told him the spellword.
"Rembertis," he annunciated clearly. "Accent on the first syllable."
"Right," said Severus. "I've got it."
A second later, against the backdrop of Malfoy's dramatic sighs and glances at his ancient gold pocketwatch, Severus performed the spell in earnest and was amazed at the ease with which the new memory was implanted in the shopkeeper's head. The caster had only to construct the memory in his own mind and project it into the victim's through the memory-revision charm. And though Severus' imagination was not as vivid as some, it would suffice. Better yet: the spell had a brilliant checking system in that the subject repeated his own impression of the memory at the end of the spell.
"...And I have agreed to assist the 'Dark Lord' and his deputies," Borgin was just finishing as Snape prepared to end the spell, "for as long as they shall require my services."
"Excellent!" said Malfoy with real enthusiasm as Borgin closed his mouth and remained standing in silence. "As much as all of this has tried my nerves, being trapped in here with you lot, I think that escaping this unpleasant predicament warrants a celebration."
"That sounds alright, considering it's only a little after seven o'clock," said Rookwood. "I'll still have time for a good night's rest."
"Oh, not tonight," said Malfoy immediately. "I have business that needs attending. The work of a Malfoy is never done. Things to administrate tonight; a gala at the Black estate tomorrow evening. You know how it is."
"Funny; I never knew I knew," Rookwood replied, and Snape agreed with a smirk and an inclination of the head.
"Yeah," giggled Karkaroff, who was beginning to reappear as a ghostlike, mostly transparent being. "I haven't been to a fancy dinner for...ever!"
"Really." Malfoy looked down his nose and sniffed. "You don't know what you are missing." It was as though Malfoy were rebuilding his high-bred façade right before the eyes of the other three Death Eaters. The viciousness and nastiness, the cutting personality, were still there. But it was over- painted with a layer of class and a glaze of Old Money that he could, Severus was certain, pass off as gentlemanliness in certain exclusive social circles, or in the minds of the very stupid.
"When did you have in mind, then?" asked Rookwood sourly.
"Saturday after next, at Malfoy Manor, if you can make it." It wasn't quite a question, and it wasn't quite cordial, but it was an invitation to do something more interesting with one's evening than sleep, thought Snape.
"Of course," said Karkaroff, elated.
"Fine," Severus conceded.
"I shall have to check my date book," said Rookwood, unwilling to leave off with antagonising Malfoy. "But off the top of my head, I'd say I can make it."
"Excellent," said Malfoy once again, coldly this time. "Then I shall see all of you then, if not sooner."
"I'd better be going, as well," said Karkarof, smiling nervously. "I want to make it out of this part of town before the invisibility wears off completely."
The two remaining Death Eaters mumbled their goodbyes to Malfoy and Karkaroff as they swept and scuttled (respectively) out of the storage room, through the shop, and into the dark mystery that was Knockturn Alley.
"What about Mr. Borgin, here?" Severus asked momentarily, scrutinizing the silent features of the shopkeeper.
"Leave him be," said Rookwood without concern. "He'll have transformed into just another dead cockroach in a few hours."
"I beg your pardon?" Severus looked at the other Death Eater sharply.
"It was a good idea to wipe his memory and all of that," said Rookwood, "But to tell you that truth it simply isn't possible to rewire a wizard's brain with the spell technology we have now. I know; I'm an Unspeakable, as you might remember." He smiled sadly.
"And how could I forget, with you reminding us every five minutes," Severus wanted to say, as betrayed as he suddenly felt. But he knew it was unwise for every reason he could think of so he revised his response to something more to-the-point.
"What do you mean? You've had me turn him into a dead cockroach?" asked Severus incredulously.
"See, the spell starts out you make the fellow talk by thinking up different things to put in his thoughts, things he'll repeat back to you," explained Rookwood. "It's a simpler version of the idea behind Imperius. Anyway: after that he just stands there for a good few hours. And he gets to take smaller and smaller breaths with every minute that passes, until he finally suffocates and falls to the ground, at which point he turns into a dead cockroach, so there's no body." Rookwood seemed very proud of this.
"Why didn't you just let me kill him!" Severus demanded, appalled.
"You were doing so well, going up against Malfoy like that; and I told you it was a good idea, for the most part."
"What will the 'Dark Lord' do about the merchandise?" thought Severus aloud.
"I don't know." Rookwood shrugged. "I suppose we'll just have to exercise more discretion in dealing with whoever becomes the new owner of Borgin and Burke's."
"I've killed him, then?" asked Severus in a deadpan. He didn't feel as though he had broken any momentous barriers, and yet the fact that he was standing there, watching a man's life run out, and refusing to intervene told him he was doing something propitious in regards to his capacities as a Death Eater, and something abominable in the face of humanity, thought he couldn't see as that he owed them any favors.
"It takes some getting used to," Rookwood said consolingly, clapping a hand on Severus' back. "I thought this way it might be easier."
"Did you make up that spell on your own?" Severus asked suddenly, smiling slightly.
"Yeah. Well; me and another bloke at the ministry. We make all sorts of things down there." He smiled, apparently reminiscing. "You know Severus; you should come to dinner with my wife and me tomorrow night."
Rookwood was still young, but in the wizarding community and especially among purebloods, early marriages were not uncommon. If one found a mate with whom they believed themself either in love or at least compatible, it was best not to delay marriage and chance losing the object if affections to someone else.
"I would be most interested to meet your wife," said Severus truthfully, wondering what sort of a woman someone like Rookwood would have become attached to. And besides; I've no real life to get in the way, he thought harshly.
"Good," said Rookwood warmly. "We'll meet at the Chupacabra, if you know where that is. You like Mexican food alright?"
"I do," agreed Severus. "I've been to that place before." Alone.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow," beamed Rookwood. "I think we've got a lot in common, Severus."
"Really?" Severus said noncommittally, unsure of the truth in this observation but unable to help himself from liking Rookwood at least a little. "Well; until then."
"Till tomorrow," nodded Rookwood, and with an affable, pleasant smile settled on his expression, he made for the door.
"I just wanted to stay and have a last look at the Dark Lord's selection of cauldrons," Snape called as Rookwood retreated into the main shop. "Think I'll stay for a bit, see if there's anything I can use in my potions, too."
"The effects are irreversible, Severus," called Rookwood patiently through the open storeroom door. "No need and no reason to bother with Mr. Borgin."
Severus hesitated, silent a moment, before calling in a "how-dare-you- insult-me" tone, "I hadn't planned on it!" But by this time he had heard the bells on the shop door jangle once and then fall silent. Rookwood had already gone.
*****
Author's Note: I hope you found that enjoyable. Once again: please review. It's great motivation, though I have no quotas and will continue to write this no matter what. I am open to stylistic and grammatical suggestions in particular, but any comments that can help me write better are welcome as much as moral-boosters. Tell me who and what you like or don't like; what or who you'd like to see more or less of; I'll see what I can do. Oh; and happy Easter to everyone who celebrates it! Ok; until next time... Thanks for reading!
*****
Severus, Rookwood, and Malfoy stood in silence as Karakaroff's form began to flicker, like the shadows cast by a trembling candle flame. The Ravenous Chair's victim squirmed slightly, looking much like a figure in an old muggle moving picture, and shot a fearful look at Rookwood, who did not answer.
Then Karkaroff disappeared. Not a trace of his outline or the faintest impression of a man stained the air above the ravenous chair, and only indentation of Karkaroff's rear end on the cushion allowed the observer to suspect that the three visible Death Eaters were not alone.
Four breathy sighs of relief escaped at once from their respective wizards, and even Malfoy couldn't help but grin at their good fortune.
"It worked, then?" asked Karkaroff with a cautious smile.
"It would seem that way," Lucius smirked, his attention directed at Severus.
"Oh, as though you knew it would! Can't even be bothered to read labels," grumbled Severus. "What kind of a wizard is that stupid—"
"All right, we're this close to getting out of this," Rookwood indicated with his fingers held no more than a centimetre apart, "so let's not start bickering now. Karkaroff, don't move, don't talk—don't do anything, no matter what. Lucius, Severus: we're finished here, yes?" Severus inclined his head in noncommittal agreement, while Malfoy merely narrowed his eyes. "Then we'll be outside waiting for Mr. Borgin." Rookwood strode to the door and held it open for Malfoy—who sailed through it with his nose in the air—and Severus, who hesitated, reluctant to give in to Rookwood's authority completely.
"Thanks for the intervention, mummy," Severus smirked, and he marched through the door with the satisfaction that he had managed to salvage at least a little dignity with that last dig.
"Anything for mummy's pretty baby," Rookwood grinned, unfazed, and patted Severus roughly on the back. So much for dignity.
"Er, Severus? Augustus?" Severus heard Malfoy's voice, ever so tinged with uncertainty, and redirected his attention towards its source. In front of the service desk Lucius stood rigid and falsely smiling; and behind it was an older man, looking bewildered and frightened, with eyes that darted from one Death Eater to the next.
"Mr. Borgin!" cried Rookwood, advancing upon the old man who could be none other than the other shopkeeper. "We hoped you'd be here by now." It was too bad about that soundproof storeroom door, Severus thought with a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach: it worked both ways. They could not have heard anyone in the main shop even if they had marched in with a brass band.
"Who are all of you?" asked Borgin suspiciously, his hand reaching inside his robes for his wand. "And how did you get in?"
"We let ourselves inside," Lucius lied stupidly, glancing at Severus. Malfoy was smooth, but not as smooth as Rookwood. "We're here to pick up the special order?"
"I beg your pardon," said Borgin. "If you're here to rob this place, you are about to regret it!" He drew his wand and pointed it at Malfoy's face with a hand that trembled only slightly.
"We are certainly not here to harm you or your merchandise," said Rookwood diplomatically, drawing Borgin's attention away from Malfoy. "Don't you remember the arrangement?"
"What arrangement?" demanded Borgin, narrowing his eyes. Malfoy took the opportunity to quietly draw his wand, Severus noticed, though he held it at his side very discreetly.
Rookwood sighed. "The arrangement with...the Dark Lord?" he said quietly. Borgin's eyes suddenly grew wide and fearful.
"Don't know nothing about that," he said, his voice rising with every word. "I told him to stay out of that mess! Don't tell me he went and sold his soul to that devil," said Borgin, almost pleading.
"You mean your partner; Burke?" asked Severus curiously.
"He did, then," whispered Borgin. "That rat; how could he! I'll kill him—"
Severus was hardly able to hold back a terrible giggle, at that, and from the way Lucius' mouth was twitching, he too must be having difficulties.
"Malfoy, I thought you said Burke and Borgin knew about this?" said Severus accusingly, recovering nicely.
"I only ever dealt with Mr. Burke! Borgin here was always away on business. I assumed he was party to the deal. And, oh, let's see; where, now, has Borgin been all day? Away on business!" Malfoy hissed.
"Business," said Borgin softly, apparently too preoccupied to wonder how Malfoy knew where he'd been. "No wonder he made me go. Told me he was afraid of travelling too far from home. And this explains the odd collection he was building up in the back. He said we should 'be prepared to provide any item at a moment's notice.' I thought it seemed odd, but I never would have dreamed that you all were the real reasons. I despise being so thoroughly lied to!"
"Now now, Mr. Borgin," Rookwood said, displaying a comforting smile tainted with humor. "No need to fret. This is a mutually advantageous situation. We'll take care of you, Mr. Borgin, if you take care of us—and our Master." The word "master" didn't set right in Severus's stomach. Was it only a couple of nights ago that he'd pledged his undying devotion to the snake- faced thing?
"No," Borgin said with certainty. "I said I wouldn't say anything to the authorities if all of you Deadheads or somesuch would only leave us alone; but I'm telling you right now, I won't have any alliances between my perfectly—well, more-or-less—legal enterprise and your 'organization.' You gentlemen had better leave. I'll talk this over with Burke, and we'll get your order to you by tomorrow, as I, at least, am a man of my word. If you placed an order, you shall receive it. After that, I don't want to see any of you in this shop again."
"Tomorrow is too late," Malfoy cut it.
"How bloody unfortunate!" Borgin was visibly shaking with anger. "If you think I am going to cater to a lot of murdering bastards you are very much mistaken. Get the hell out of my shop!"
"You're a mudblood, aren't you," said Severus, surprised to think that a half-breed would have the nerve to set up a dark magic shop, though he supposed the shady, "don't-ask-don't-tell" Knockturn Alley was the best place for it if one were inclined to do so.
"No I am not!" Borgin cried indignantly. He lowered his wand and came around the counter to confront Severus. "I don't have to be, to know I want nothing to do with any of you and your lunacy."
"So you opt not to help us?" asked Lucius in dangerously soft tones.
"That's right!" snapped Borgin, turning lesiurely and pointing his wand at Malfoy once more. "You have to wait a whole day. I hope you won't die of anticipation in the long interim!"
"We're flattered that you care," said Malfoy, mocking. "But there's no need to worry about us." As he spoke, he raised his left (non-wand) hand and drew a finger across his throat, as if he had a momentary itch, or as though discreetly making a "kill" gesture.
Severus's stomach turned over. He had no doubt what Malfoy meant to indicate, and, strengthening his resolve, he reached into his robe pocket for his wand and withdrew it in swift silence. He wasn't sure if he was ready, and but didn't know how else to find out. And what he was sure of was that Malfoy wasn't going to accept any excuses.
"Then you won't mind leaving," Borgin was hissing into Malfoy's smug face. Severus swallowed hard and raised his wand, the word "Avada" poised on his tongue, when someone—he saw immediately that it was Rookwood—grasped his wrist and halted the Killing spell before Severus could utter the first syllable.
"Imperius," whispered Augustus, nodding towards Borgin, who Malfoy had goaded into arguing a moment longer. This time, Severus didn't hesitate. He was reasonably certain he could pull off the Imperius curse without a problem; it was the killing curse on which he feared to be tested.
"Imperio!" cried Severus, propelling the spell at Borgin's head. It struck him hard, propelling the old man into Malfoy, who pushed him roughly to the floor.
"What are you doing?!" Malfoy demanded.
"What do you mean? That was an excellent move, Severus."
"While it wasn't the worst choice one could have made, neither was it the best. I was trying to signify: 'kill him,' if you were watching. Not this." He poked at Borgin with the toe of his sleek black boot just as the shopkeeper was just sitting up wearing a blank expression. "We don't need this unpleasant man handling our Lord'd affairs. You heard him speaking of the 'authorities,' and you know we cannot have that."
"If he were dead, then how would we have found the spell to release Karkaroff?" Rookwood mused aloud, and Severus realized he had never felt so relieved in his life, despite the pain of his returning headache.
"Right," he said through gritted teeth. "Borgin, retrieve the master spell for the Ravenous Chair, if you would." Severus smiled in spite of all the effort to concentrate on Borgin's thoughts. Truthfully, he was easier to direct than Rookwood, but not to the extent that it could save him from a headache which he was already predisposed to after his adventures with Imperius earlier that same day. The blood pounded painfully through his skull.
Obediently Borgin rose to his feet, and tapped his mouth twice with the tip of his wand. Then, as the three Death Eaters looked on with interest, the shopkeeper shoved a hand down his throat without hesitation. When his arm finally emerged a moment later, there was a piece of dripping wet parchment crumpled in his fist.
"Brilliant," breathed Rookwood with relief. "I still say I'm glad I didn't do the full body cavity search on Burke." Severus smirked and made Mr. Borgin turn a sloppy cartwheel as a sign of Severus' own jubilation at having just escaped a very unpleasant situation. Although, Severus had to admit, handling the damp parchment, straight out of an old man's gut, was not a very appealing prospect in and of itself.
"Well done," said Malfoy, with only a hint of sarcasm.
Snape's smug smile widened slightly, and he muttered a drying spell in the direction of the damp sheet of parchment before ordering Borgin to bring it to him.
"Come on, then," Rookwood encouraged, and with a motion of his arm led the way to the back room. This time, neither Lucius nor Severus was willing to waste any more time with protestations, and Snape willingly followed Malfoy with the Imperius-controlled shopkeeper in tow.
Severus had neglected to shut the door to the storeroom before coming to Malfoy's aid in dealing with the return of Mr. Borgin, so the first sentence with which the thin air above the seat of the Ravenous Chair greeted the returning Death Eaters was, "I heard everything! Say the spell!"
"Why, you're welcome, Karkaroff," said Severus acerbically, "It was no trouble at all." He glared at the place where the invisible Karkaroff's eyeballs might be.
"Oh, please." Malfoy rubbed his temples. "Delay the release of that imbecile for another moment and I think I shall go mad." Severus refrained from adding that Lucius Malfoy seemed to be halfway there already.
"We're begging you," Rookwood assured him, and with a sigh and a role of the eyes that belied his own eagerness to have it all over with, Severus at last went ahead and read the spell for the Ravenous Chair.
Instantly the metal cuffs that supposedly encircled Karkaroff's bony and now invisible wrists and ankles sprang open, and without a sound they vanished seamlessly into the innocuous-looking woodwork of the throne.
"I'm free! Free—praise Jupiter!" sang Karkaroff's voice through the empty air just in front of the chair. The dust kicked up by the scuffling dance of joy accompanied Karkaroff's relieved laughter in a circuit around the storeroom. "I was sure the Dark Lord was going to find me out!"
"At least you kept faith," sighed Severus sourly. He would have smiled, as both Rookwood and Malfoy were now doing as they cordially shook hands on a job well done, but keeping control of Borgin was still something of an effort, and his head throbbed as though his skull were an egg from which a dragonling was attempting to hatch.
"What's the matter now, Severus?" demanded Malfoy.
"Nothing," said Severus defensively.
"What, is Mr. Borgin here giving you any trouble?" Malfoy smirked.
"Not in the least. I've got him well under control, if you can't tell!"
"Relax, Severus!" Malfoy said, his voice more oily than Severus' scalp. "Any good Death Eater knows just how difficult it can be to perform Imperius, especially if you're a beginner in the Art."
"That's right," said Rookwood, seemingly unaware of Malfoy's underlying insult.
"I wouldn't know," said Karkaroff's voice. "Haven't had a chance to try it yet."
"Thanks for your concern," said Severus acidly, "but I'm just anxious to get out of this nasty little hellhole of a shop and away from unpleasant company."
"I think we're all ready to leave." The unpleasantly self-satisfied expression on Malfoy's face made his next words easy to anticipate. "But still something must be done with your charge, there."
That he would be asked to kill the shopkeeper, Severus was certain. But whether or not he was capable of doing so, with his mind already tired with the Imperius and his fellow Death Eaters looking on with harsh judgements at the ready; of this he was uncertain. For one cold moment, Severus stared into Malfoy's glacier eyes before he spoke.
"All right then. Make me do all the work, won't you," Severus said with false indignation. "I will wipe his memory myself." He lifted his wand and experimentally swished it to get the feel for the spell.
"Wipe his memory!" said Malfoy with a small chuckle. "I was going to suggest killing him."
"Very funny," said Severus, feeling his heart beat faster with the brazen deception he was attempting. "I'm not stupid enough to let you lead me astray. I am fully aware of what Vol—the Dark Lord would do to me if he could pin the blame on me for wreaking his business arrangements." He worked for a sardonic smile and displayed it boldly.
"Touché, Severus!" said Rookwood, looking delightedly from Malfoy to Severus and back.
Severus swallowed hard and tried to look smug as he brandished his wand and threw a simple memory charm at Borgin's unresponsive upright form. The spell splashed over his face in a soft wave of light, and as his eyes rolled up into his head, Severus let go of the Imperius spell he had been maintaining up till this point. It felt as though, once more, a heavy weight had been lifted, and as a consequence he was able to concentrate his full strength into what was—if he did think so himself—a nicely executed memory erasure. The last half-an-hour was neatly excised from Borgin's mind, leaving everything else perfectly intact, as far as he could tell, at least.
"You know," Malfoy said at once, "That still doesn't solve the problem of the Dark Lord's business being saved."
"I know that," snapped Severus. "But now all we have to do is pass ourselves off as some sort of legitimate illegal den of the dark arts, and Mr. Borgin is sure to allow us access to the Dark Lord's order."
"That's a lot of bother for no certain outcome," Rookwood warned pensively.
"Yes, what if he doesn't want to help us anyway?" asked Karkaroff from somewhere near Malfoy.
"There's no reason to go through that at all." Rookwood looked like a child with a secret, his face alight and his mouth sealed and smilingly, just waiting for someone to ask what it was he knew.
"Well?" demanded Malfoy impatiently.
"Well," said Rookwood deliberately, "The Ministry of Magic, as I happen to know, teaches its Unspeakables a handy spell that allows the wizard to actually revise a memory; to put new information into the areas cleared by a memory charm. Quite ingenious; would be marvellously popular in all arenas, if the ministry were ever to release it to the public."
"That is fascinating," Malfoy observed sarcastically. "If you wouldn't mind performing the spell instead of describing its most intimate details—"
"I think I can handle it," Severus broke in coldly. He was not going to allow Rookwood to poke his wand into the situation and risk facing the possible necessity of killing Borgin just to make him stop singing, or some such nonsense. After only night and a day with the Death-Eater-slash- Ministry-worker, he was beginning to get an idea of the extent of Rookwood's abilities.
"No problem," said Rookwood, with perhaps a touch of relief. "I'll show you how it's done, if you like."
Rookwood instructed Severus in correct wand movement—a tight, spiralling pattern that Severus had most often seen in transfigurations—and once he had learnt that, Rookwood told him the spellword.
"Rembertis," he annunciated clearly. "Accent on the first syllable."
"Right," said Severus. "I've got it."
A second later, against the backdrop of Malfoy's dramatic sighs and glances at his ancient gold pocketwatch, Severus performed the spell in earnest and was amazed at the ease with which the new memory was implanted in the shopkeeper's head. The caster had only to construct the memory in his own mind and project it into the victim's through the memory-revision charm. And though Severus' imagination was not as vivid as some, it would suffice. Better yet: the spell had a brilliant checking system in that the subject repeated his own impression of the memory at the end of the spell.
"...And I have agreed to assist the 'Dark Lord' and his deputies," Borgin was just finishing as Snape prepared to end the spell, "for as long as they shall require my services."
"Excellent!" said Malfoy with real enthusiasm as Borgin closed his mouth and remained standing in silence. "As much as all of this has tried my nerves, being trapped in here with you lot, I think that escaping this unpleasant predicament warrants a celebration."
"That sounds alright, considering it's only a little after seven o'clock," said Rookwood. "I'll still have time for a good night's rest."
"Oh, not tonight," said Malfoy immediately. "I have business that needs attending. The work of a Malfoy is never done. Things to administrate tonight; a gala at the Black estate tomorrow evening. You know how it is."
"Funny; I never knew I knew," Rookwood replied, and Snape agreed with a smirk and an inclination of the head.
"Yeah," giggled Karkaroff, who was beginning to reappear as a ghostlike, mostly transparent being. "I haven't been to a fancy dinner for...ever!"
"Really." Malfoy looked down his nose and sniffed. "You don't know what you are missing." It was as though Malfoy were rebuilding his high-bred façade right before the eyes of the other three Death Eaters. The viciousness and nastiness, the cutting personality, were still there. But it was over- painted with a layer of class and a glaze of Old Money that he could, Severus was certain, pass off as gentlemanliness in certain exclusive social circles, or in the minds of the very stupid.
"When did you have in mind, then?" asked Rookwood sourly.
"Saturday after next, at Malfoy Manor, if you can make it." It wasn't quite a question, and it wasn't quite cordial, but it was an invitation to do something more interesting with one's evening than sleep, thought Snape.
"Of course," said Karkaroff, elated.
"Fine," Severus conceded.
"I shall have to check my date book," said Rookwood, unwilling to leave off with antagonising Malfoy. "But off the top of my head, I'd say I can make it."
"Excellent," said Malfoy once again, coldly this time. "Then I shall see all of you then, if not sooner."
"I'd better be going, as well," said Karkarof, smiling nervously. "I want to make it out of this part of town before the invisibility wears off completely."
The two remaining Death Eaters mumbled their goodbyes to Malfoy and Karkaroff as they swept and scuttled (respectively) out of the storage room, through the shop, and into the dark mystery that was Knockturn Alley.
"What about Mr. Borgin, here?" Severus asked momentarily, scrutinizing the silent features of the shopkeeper.
"Leave him be," said Rookwood without concern. "He'll have transformed into just another dead cockroach in a few hours."
"I beg your pardon?" Severus looked at the other Death Eater sharply.
"It was a good idea to wipe his memory and all of that," said Rookwood, "But to tell you that truth it simply isn't possible to rewire a wizard's brain with the spell technology we have now. I know; I'm an Unspeakable, as you might remember." He smiled sadly.
"And how could I forget, with you reminding us every five minutes," Severus wanted to say, as betrayed as he suddenly felt. But he knew it was unwise for every reason he could think of so he revised his response to something more to-the-point.
"What do you mean? You've had me turn him into a dead cockroach?" asked Severus incredulously.
"See, the spell starts out you make the fellow talk by thinking up different things to put in his thoughts, things he'll repeat back to you," explained Rookwood. "It's a simpler version of the idea behind Imperius. Anyway: after that he just stands there for a good few hours. And he gets to take smaller and smaller breaths with every minute that passes, until he finally suffocates and falls to the ground, at which point he turns into a dead cockroach, so there's no body." Rookwood seemed very proud of this.
"Why didn't you just let me kill him!" Severus demanded, appalled.
"You were doing so well, going up against Malfoy like that; and I told you it was a good idea, for the most part."
"What will the 'Dark Lord' do about the merchandise?" thought Severus aloud.
"I don't know." Rookwood shrugged. "I suppose we'll just have to exercise more discretion in dealing with whoever becomes the new owner of Borgin and Burke's."
"I've killed him, then?" asked Severus in a deadpan. He didn't feel as though he had broken any momentous barriers, and yet the fact that he was standing there, watching a man's life run out, and refusing to intervene told him he was doing something propitious in regards to his capacities as a Death Eater, and something abominable in the face of humanity, thought he couldn't see as that he owed them any favors.
"It takes some getting used to," Rookwood said consolingly, clapping a hand on Severus' back. "I thought this way it might be easier."
"Did you make up that spell on your own?" Severus asked suddenly, smiling slightly.
"Yeah. Well; me and another bloke at the ministry. We make all sorts of things down there." He smiled, apparently reminiscing. "You know Severus; you should come to dinner with my wife and me tomorrow night."
Rookwood was still young, but in the wizarding community and especially among purebloods, early marriages were not uncommon. If one found a mate with whom they believed themself either in love or at least compatible, it was best not to delay marriage and chance losing the object if affections to someone else.
"I would be most interested to meet your wife," said Severus truthfully, wondering what sort of a woman someone like Rookwood would have become attached to. And besides; I've no real life to get in the way, he thought harshly.
"Good," said Rookwood warmly. "We'll meet at the Chupacabra, if you know where that is. You like Mexican food alright?"
"I do," agreed Severus. "I've been to that place before." Alone.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow," beamed Rookwood. "I think we've got a lot in common, Severus."
"Really?" Severus said noncommittally, unsure of the truth in this observation but unable to help himself from liking Rookwood at least a little. "Well; until then."
"Till tomorrow," nodded Rookwood, and with an affable, pleasant smile settled on his expression, he made for the door.
"I just wanted to stay and have a last look at the Dark Lord's selection of cauldrons," Snape called as Rookwood retreated into the main shop. "Think I'll stay for a bit, see if there's anything I can use in my potions, too."
"The effects are irreversible, Severus," called Rookwood patiently through the open storeroom door. "No need and no reason to bother with Mr. Borgin."
Severus hesitated, silent a moment, before calling in a "how-dare-you- insult-me" tone, "I hadn't planned on it!" But by this time he had heard the bells on the shop door jangle once and then fall silent. Rookwood had already gone.
*****
Author's Note: I hope you found that enjoyable. Once again: please review. It's great motivation, though I have no quotas and will continue to write this no matter what. I am open to stylistic and grammatical suggestions in particular, but any comments that can help me write better are welcome as much as moral-boosters. Tell me who and what you like or don't like; what or who you'd like to see more or less of; I'll see what I can do. Oh; and happy Easter to everyone who celebrates it! Ok; until next time... Thanks for reading!
