A/N: And here were are, at chapter six. Quite a bit happens here actually. More secrets are revealed, and *dum dum dum* enter Dumbledore. I can't really say much about what happens without flat out giving stuff away.
And on another note, I know there are people reading this story, but are holding out on me review wise. I have a hit counter, so you can't hide from me. Perhaps I need to be more specific when I say I'd like some reviews- I'd like someone besides Moony and Saphire (though she seems to have disappeared) to review. Now onto the fic. _!
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Chapter Six: Ne Fronti Crede (Don't trust to appearances.)
"What." Constance could barely say the word, much less make it sound like a question. Then, finding her voice somehow, she added, "Why have I not heard of this until now?"
"Because you weren't supposed to know," Lucinda replied, as if such a fact were obvious. "But what's done is done, so let's... just forget it happened, shall we?"
"Yes, let's shall," Snape agreed, almost a bit too quickly. "It's a shame, but there isn't a memory charm delicate enough for such a situation as this."
Lucinda was obviously about to suggest something of the like, as her expression fell a bit when he rejected it out of hand. Instead of letting her mind linger on this, she jumped down from where she was perched on her Godfather's desk, and stepped over to where Draco was sitting. Poking him, she inquired, "We haven't lost you, have we?"
Draco stared at her in annoyance for a few seconds before replying. "Look, I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear what I know I heard, ad ask again: What the bloody hell is with all these damn feathers?"
"Ah-" Constance jumped in at hearing that. "That would be- er- my family's dirty little secret, I suppose.."
"I gathered that," Draco told her, sounding a bit bothered. "I'm looking more for an explanation than a pretty label."
"I know that," Constance said, looking a little tense. She fidgeted for a moment, as if not sure what to say next, then began again. "Well, I suppose I ought to just show you."
"Show-?" Draco asked confusedly, as Constance stood up. Lucinda settled herself on the arm of Draco's chair before turning her full attention on Constance. As soon as it began, it was over. Draco felt the same sharp gust of wind as he hard when Dominic had left, and clamped his eyes shut. Opening them, the sight he saw a bit different from when Dominic had performed this little stunt, as Constance was still standing before them. She looked, of course, completely different. Draco stared in amazement; he hadn't expected her to have wings. More feathered littered the floor, and he noticed her eyes had changed to a sharp yellow color.
"Well?" Constance asked them. "Do you get it now?"
"Not at all." Draco shook his head.
"You should have known he wouldn't be familiar with your kind," Lucinda told her. Turning to Draco, she said, "She's a Harpy."
"Why do you insist on always using that word?" Constance glared at her.
"'Cause I like it," Lucinda told, sticking out her tongue. "Its correct enough, isn't it, Uncle?"
"A bit crude, but yes, still correct," he agreed. "But I'm not certain Draco knows what a Harpy is."
"I'm afraid I don't," Draco said meekly.
"How blunt must I be with you before you get it?!" Constance nearly shrieked. "I'm part Harpy! Siren! A harbinger of insanity and death!"
"I knew you brought insanity," Draco said coolly. "I didn't know there was a reason."
Lucinda had to hold Constance back to keep her from taking him from insanity into death. "Down Girl," she said to Constance. Constance growled at her.
Once Lucinda had decided Constance was calm enough to be freed, Constance folded her wings back in, which was significantly less violent of a process than unfolding them had been. She then sat down in the chair she had occupied previously, as though she had nothing more to say. Lucinda, of course, was not one to let things rest without a few more blows to Draco's sanity.
"Surely that can be all you're going to tell him," she urged, pouting a little.
"Is the rest really that important?" Constance asked. "He only knows of my mixed blood because of my cousin's carelessness about his exits."
"Should've known that wouldn't be all," Draco muttered gloomily. "I expect you'll be telling me you're related to me too?"
"Wow, he does catch on quick," Lucinda said brightly.
"You're not serious," Draco said, a touch of doom in his tone.
"Oh of course we're serious." Lucinda purred, then paused to chew on her lower lip. "Ow!" She cried out.
"Huh?" Draco shoved her off of the chair. "What do you mean 'ow'?"
Lucinda did not reply, as there was blood dripping down her chin. Snape looked up from his paperwork.
"What have you done now?"
Lucinda sniffed. "I don't know, it hurts. Ow!" That was when all noticed her fangs. Snape sighed.
"Now I see what you've done. Come here." He said wearily. Lucinda walked up to him. He cast a quick healing spell and wiped the blood off her chin.
Draco looked disdainfully at the dribbles of blood on the floor. "Couldn't you have at least not dripped on the floor." Lucinda growled at him, Snape grabbed her by the shoulder.
"Be careful not to bite yourself again." She looked up at him.
"What?" She looked confused. "But I always chew on my lower lip."
Constance finally spoke up. "Why wasn't I told you have fangs?"
"Because," Snape said crankily, "she didn't know either."
"Didn't know what?" Draco asked. "Is she some sort of freak?" He peered at Lucinda in a strange manner. "Nice ears." He stated calmly.
"What!!!" Lucinda reached up to feel her ears with a index finger, and realized quickly that they were razor sharp. "OW!" The aforementioned finger was promptly stuck in her mouth. "Like you can talk cousin." Draco frowned.
"Shut up." He said.
"Great comeback." Constance raised her eyebrows.
"Why is this happening to me?" Lucinda whined.
"I'll fix it later." Snape finally said.
"Fix what? You mean I'm supposed to look like this?" She cried.
"Unfortunately, it appears so." Draco said and laughed. Lucinda glared at him.
"Professor, you had best explain." Lucinda said.
Snape sighed. "Its just part of your inheritance."
"Yeah, the less attractive part," Draco said snidely.
"Shut up Draco." Constance said again, though in a rougher tone this time. "So what else does this 'inheritance' include?"
"That is not for you to know," Snape informed her hastily.
"What else is wrong with her?" Draco asked. Snape glared at him.
"Nothing's wrong with me!" Lucinda wailed.
"You have violet eyes and there's nothing wrong with you?" Draco asked portentously.
"What? I do not have purple eyes."
"You do now." Constance said jovially.
Lucinda glared at her. "Professor would you please explain this to me?" Snape sighed.
"If I must, I must;" he said defeatedly. "You've had a Glamourie placed over you since you were born."
"A what? What kind of explanation is that?"
He looked at her in exasperation, but did not continue . Instead, very suddenly he grasped at his forearm, as though it were hurt. Then, just as suddenly, he told them, "All of you… go to bed." His voice shook a little as he spoke.
They all filed out of the office, none speaking, but all knowing that they must, for what had happened was anything but normal. And it seemed none really had any desire to know. But as they continued down the hall. and out of sight, Lucinda realized that he hadn't fixed her "problem".
"He didn't fix it." She ran back to his office, leaving Constance and Draco to continue on alone. When she reached his office, she tried the knob, but found that it was locked. She stepped back and called for him instead.
"Uncle Sev!! You forgot to fix it!!" The door did not open, and she heard no sounds inside. "Uncle Sev? Are you there?"
After waiting far longer than a few seconds, she sniffled a little and left Snape's office doorway. But she didn't head back to Slytherin dormitory.
A few minutes later, Lucinda was at her destination, banging on Dumbledore's office door. It was very late now; perhaps two or even three in the morning. Not that Lucinda seemed to care. She had been told before her first year that she could call on Dumbledore for counsel whenever she needed. And now seemed just as good a time as any to take him up on his offer.
She continued to bang on the door until she heard sounds from inside that weren't coming from the indignant portraits on the other side. When the door finally opened, it revealed a not quite awake Dumbledore wearing a long purple nightshirt. "What is it child?"
"Something's wrong with me." Lucinda whined. "And Uncle Sev won't tell me what it is nor will he fix it."
"Dear me, that is a problem." He motioned for her to enter. "Now, what is this all about?"
"What makes you think I know?" She sniffed, and batted her eyelashes. "All Uncle Sev would tell me was that I had a Glamourie placed on me at birth."
"A Glamourie?" He gave her a thoroughly interested look as he sat down behind his desk. "Why, whatever for? And what is so very different about you that makes it necessary?"
"These," she said, baring her teeth. Pulling her hair away from her ears, she added, "And these."
"Ah. So you are endowed with some very, how shall I say, curious features." He smiled, looking strangely amused. It was almost as though he had been expecting to have this conversation. "I'm surprised you yourself hadn't seen this coming, what with the rather inhuman blood which flows through your veins."
She gave a start, but quickly relaxed after realizing her mother had told him specifically of her heritage upon receiving her first Hogwarts letter. "Actually, I had been wondering why I didn't look different. I just don't understand why no one told me anything."
"It was just as well that you did not know. At least, that is what your mother told me," he paused, the look on his face gave her the impression he did not fully believe that. "The Glamourie was necessary, however- it masks much more than just your physical features."
Lucinda only looked more puzzled at that. Dumbledore smiled at her, quietly realizing just how little she knew of what being a half-breed meant. "Why does it seem to me that you have no idea what a Glamourie even is?"
"Because I don't," she stated flatly.
"Ah. Well, I should explain it then, shouldn't I?" He smiled cheerfully. "A Glamourie is a special type of spell that can only be cast by wizards who possess blood that is, shall we say, a little less than human. It hides not only what makes you physically different, but also those things which might draw attention from less than desirable parties."
"If wizards who not fully human have this ability, then why do werewolves not use it to better hide themselves?" Lucinda asked. "There must be some kind of catch. Or specific circumstances, or-"
"No catch, child. Werewolves are unfortunate in that, while they are half-breeds, they are still human insofar as the blood than run through them," Dumbledore informed her, though it seemed to be with just a touch of bitterness. "But you are right, in that the situation must be a special one- such that not casting Glamourie would be dangerous not just for the afflicted party, but for those around them as well."
"So why bother putting one on me? There isn't anything immediately noticeable about me," Lucinda said, frowning uncertainly. "And besides, what value is there to anyone in someone who is only a fourth Incubus? I can't do anything very special."
"It is true that you possess none of the- er- special talents of said creature," he gave her a surprisingly serious look. "However, that does not mean you can act as a link to the dark power that lives in all night creatures- the power to not only create, but to control and destroy life."
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Professor Severus Snape was not a happy man just then. Of course, he isn't often happy. But at that particular moment, he was more unhappy than was usual for him. He was in pain. But not just any pain. A fire had begun in his left arm; it started near his wrist and had been working its way up his arm and through his shoulder for the last fifteen minutes.
He grimaced, more in disgust than pain, at the mark on his arm. It was testament to the stupidity of youth; it was a physical reminder to him that as far as he had run from it, and as much as he had been able to repent, his past would always haunt him. And now it was calling him once more to a master he no longer was loyal to.
Voldemort, of course, had no idea of this. As far as the Dark Lord knew, Snape was a double agent for him. That it was Dumbledore that Severus was double crossing, not his dear dark master. It was, after all, the only way to continue as Dumbledore's spy, while at the same time giving an explanation for Dumbledore's public defense of Severus. And naturally, Dumbledore had no idea that Severus Snape had implemented such a plan until it was already in motion. At that, the older man was deeply aggrieved, though he had also found himself praising what his spy had gone and done without approval.
Severus sighed, no longer able to ignore the pain in his arm, and put away the paperwork he had been working on before being interrupted by children up far past their bed times. Closing one last drawer, he stood up and cast a security spell. He took his heaviest cloak off its hook by the office's door; wrapping it tightly around himself, he silently opened the door. He slipped through and locked with another security spell.
Rather than leave the school on foot, he apparated to his first destination- a special stable that Hagrid had built for him, just outside of the Forbidden Forest. It held Severus preferred mode of transportation when being called to the Dark Lord. He stole inside it quietly, as to not startle its occupant, a dark brown stead of no particular breeding. Severus had decided it was better to ride than to fly when Voldemort was located so far away that apparating would require several in between stops. He was not fond of apparating to places he was unfamiliar with; he preferred not taking the chance that he might suddenly appear amidst a crowd of muggles.
The horse whinnied softly as Severus secured the saddle to it'to its back. Patting his neck, he whispered to the stead.
"Let us go without a sound, Aiolos."
The horse snorted his reply. Aiolos was not found of silence, but Severus could see that he understood the meaning behind what he had been told. Severus mounted Aiolos almost effortlessly, and with a small kick, they were off; the open stable doors were closed with a flick of a wand.
