AN: I'm going to assume I confused you all so completely that you couldn't think of anything to write in a review. But suffice to say, this chapter should answer all the questions left behind from The Rules of Engagement.
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The Rules of the Consequences
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Rule number one of the consequences: you always get your comeuppances.
"Well, what do we do now?"
Peter was in trouble. With no way out. He couldn't transform. He couldn't run for cover. And there was absolutely no one who would help him.
And right now the werewolf was contemplating murder. Or as his old friend, Remus, was calling it: execution.
"With Fudge dead, the Ministry is in shambles. Even more than it was before! We can't just leave him here," the werewolf continued.
"No, that we cannot do," Dumbledore said in a tired tone. Peter had never heard the like. "But with the death of the Dark Prince, I doubt Voldemort will be prepared to stage any rescue attempts."
What Malfoy had done to the Prince was his problem. Not Peter's. No, Peter only had to worry about the repercussions of the death of the Dark Prince. Such as the chaos that was occurring at this very moment because of the death of the Dark Prince. Which meant no outside aid from 'friendly' sources.
"We don't need him alive, do we?" Remus muttered.
Dumbledore did not answer. This frighten Peter.
"I have made sure he cannot transform and Shacklebolt has been reassigned to Peter's case, seeing as that it is closely related." Peter did note that Dumbledore did not mention the fact that Sirius Black was dead. But that didn't help him now. Perhaps he should have killed Black when he had the chance.
But he hadn't. He couldn't. He may have sold out and framed his schoolboy friends. But, he couldn't kill them. He actually didn't mean to kill all those Muggles. He had no problem with injury. But as usual his spells got out of hand.
And what were the consequences of leaving Black alive? The dog escaped and hunted him down.
"When Madam Bones is released from St. Mungo," Dumbledore was saying, " he will be sentenced accordingly."
"Of course, Professor." The wolf was starring at him. Not pleasant. No, not at all. And Dumbledore wasn't looking. He was in trouble. Deep trouble. And there was absolutely no way out of it this time.
***
Rule number two of the consequences: you asked for it.
Rats.
He really did hate rats. Especially one in particular. But he doubted if that one was here.
He growled. But none ran away. He tried to rise. But his head was spinning. He tried to look around. But everything was black.
Then he tried to remember what happened.
Snape.
He really did hate Snape. Why was it always him anyway? But he was the one the one who walked into the trap. And he was the one who knew it was a trap.
Snape had stunned him. Right when his little Death Eater friends were coming to play. He then woke up some place dark. Definitely not here. At least he didn't think so.
That mask was starting to give him nightmares.
Snape had not said a word. No, the bastard just raised his wand and knocked him out cold. Again.
Oh, he was going to make Snape pay. Just as soon as he could get up.
Snape had said he would thank him for stunning him later. And he most certainly would. A nice fist square in the middle of that smug face of his.
Taking stock of his situation, at long last. He noted, distractedly, that he was in his animagus form. Which would possibly be why he was having trouble making his body move correctly. Well, one problem solved. He transformed.
Scaring the rats.
Just not the one he wanted.
He remembered Wormtail being present when Snape had cursed him for that second time. Oh, he would be sure to kill his old friend Peter as well. Just after he did Snape in. How could he have been stupid enough to walk into that trap. Well, he would just have to repay the man.
Now, to find out where he was.
With rats, obviously.
He looked out the window. It was very dark. But what he could see was familiar. Very familiar.
The Shrieking Shack.
Odd place. Why would Snape bring him here?
Probably because his screams would not be noticed by the community. They still thought the place was haunted even over fifteen years since the "ghost" inhabited it. Damn him!
But where was Snape?
Better not to ask that. Sirius really didn't want to know the answer. He just wanted to get out of here. Once his head stopped spinning wildly.
***
Rule number three of the consequences: when it comes, it comes swiftly and harshly.
"Tell me, Lucius," the Dark Lord hissed dangerously. "Tell me what you expected from your little ... display."
Lucius was standing, which was not a good way to start a conversation with Lord Voldemort, but the Dark Lord had allowed him do to anything else. "My Lord, he..." no that wasn't a good way to begin, not at all. "I..." Perhaps once he knew for himself he could answer.
Lucius never heard the curse that hit him. He was only aware of what happened after the pain.
"As a result of you childish grievances and petty annoyances, I have lost a valuable player in this war. And you have already proven you could not possibly hope to replace him. As it is, your careless action has cause me to loose the tactical advantage over Dumbledore and the boy."
An advantage given by the Dark Prince.
Lord Voldemort continued. "My Prince saw a weakness and used it. Your blunder," his Lord whispered venomously, "for I refuse to see it any other way, caused nothing but chaos. Now tell me, what did you expect?"
He shouldn't have used the Killing Curse, Lucius thought stupidly. It was a little late to mourn his mistakes.
"Since it is apparent your expectations did not come to be the correct ones, as I judge from you confused silence, I will show you." Here, the Dark Lord tossed the Dark Prince's marred faceless mask. The hairline fracture ran nearly through the center, curving to the left just under the hematite bars of power. "Take it and tell me you feel no difference."
Lucius cautious and painfully lifted the prize from the dusty floor. None of the power that should have resonated from the mask fill him. It felt dead.
"Put it on."
This was not going to be good. He had tried to forget the last time.
"Since you have designs on replacing the Dark Prince, we must treat you as such. Put it on."
Lucius was standing by the time the mask formed ill-fittingly around his face. No sooner was it in place then the bars radiated heat, burning into his eye threatening to bind him. He was screaming in pain, but the heat only increased. Lucius had already collapsed as though under the Cruciatus Curse.
"Let us see what else is working, shall we?"
The flaring pain vanished. Replaced by a tugging sensation. A very painful tugging force. As though a hook had caught his eye socket and the person was pulling inhumanly hard.
"Shall we test the protective wards on the mask?"
The bang of opening doors halted the proceedings.
Lucius fell in the perfect position to view the look of utter shock flit across the Dark Lord's face.
Whoever it was said not a word, only the sound of the click of boots on the marble floor. Then a view of the stranger's black cloaked back kneeling to the left of Voldemort.
"So, you have returned," Lord Voldemort said looking down at his servant. "You are defiant, I wonder why."
The man said nothing. As expected. Lucius felt dread settle like lead in the pit of his stomach. This night had only gotten worse. He knew who the stranger was as soon as the Dark Lord rose and lifted the man's head.
Somehow the Dark Prince was back.
Somehow the Dark Prince had survived.
Somehow the Dark Prince lived.
How?
The red eyes bore holes even through Lucius as Voldemort trained his gaze on the kneeling man before him. "Where have you been?" It was a simple statement, said as flatly as possible. Under different circumstances the phrase could have been used in the classroom setting. Expressing no surprise, the Dark Lord removed his hand and the Prince lowered his head once more. "I won't bother with asking you your excuse," the Dark Lord said as he returned to his throne. "But I will ask you what you have been doing all this time and how you are here." There was a long pause. "Rise."
Snape rose. And walked to his Master's side.
"I believe you made a vow to Lucius."
'Be sure you don't miss. You won't survive the consequences.'
Somehow he had missed.
"Stand up, Lucius." The voice was contemptuous. The visage hateful.
Shakily, on a dead-man's pair of legs, he obeyed. There was nothing else to be done. He wouldn't see his wife tonight. Nor his son. He had said nothing that would prepare them for his death. He was going to die in his own home without seeing either of them.
At least he would die on his feet. He hoped.
"May I have my Lord's permission to proceed as I desire?" The Prince requested.
"You may do as you see fit, my Prince." A careless wave. He knows. He knows what the Dark Prince wants. And he is doing nothing to stop him.
"Avada Kedavra."
On his feet.
***
Rule number four of the consequences: when you gamble, you eventually loose.
The mask cracked. Split along the previous fracture. Two pieces. One of pure sparkling white. One marked with the vertical hematite bars.
Shattered.
The traitorous part laugh. Not that it was a pleasant sound. It was more smug than anything else. As though it were taunting him with 'I told you so.' But that was too childish.
Divided in two.
He stooped to reclaim the bars.
His masterpiece destroyed.
"Your actions?"
"A doppleganger, my Lord. Controlled from I stood beside Black."
"And the mutt?"
"As you have seen him, my Lord."
Clever. Neither a lie nor a confession.
His prize snapped in two. Stubbornly, he placed the portion with the bars where it belonged. Covered just less than half his left face. Unsettling.
"You failed to mention this, my Prince. Your reasons?"
The defining question. How to explain why he placed a doppleganger spell on himself without informing his Lord. As faithful as ever, wasn't he. He knew he couldn't very well claim self-preservation, for it was his duty to stand beside his Lord. Yet, he had counted on Lucius doing something stupid and rash. Would that be a good enough reason? He should have informed his Master before he pulled such a stunt.
"I had suspicions, my Lord, that Lucius would attempt a coup." No, he had expected the Gryffindors to react more violently than they had. And earlier. "I had supposed I could take Lucius in the act and surprise him once the act was done."
"And you have evidence?"
"I would show you documents of such, my Lord." He had none.
"Another time." One issue averted. "You perceived Dumbledore?"
Ah, the reason for his absence immediately following the night's event. "I did, my Lord. He was quite distraught. Attempting to wear a brave face for the benefit of his Gryffindors, but visibly shaken. As were Potter and the werewolf. In all likelihood they will be mourning for many weeks."
"Survivors?"
"Dumbledore, Potter, Lupin and Bones, my Lord."
"Bones? She was suppose to be killed. As were them all. Failure of this magnitude cannot be corrected. It must be taken as a battle lost." He could not be hearing correctly. A battle lost? Fallible, haunted his mind. "As the culprit has already suffered the consequences, it is time to reform."
Withdraw and regroup. He was not use to failure. During the first reign of terror he had never experienced failure until that fateful Halloween night, when his Lord and Master failed to return. But now...
"My Prince, I believe a reestablishment of acquaintances with Dumbledore is in order. You will present yourself before him, preferably alone, and dissuade as much as possible from our current state."
"Of course, my Lord."
"Once through, you will return and we will finish this business of you and the doppleganger."
He bowed. He would need answers for that meeting.
***
Rule number five of the consequences: it always begins with your choice.
Walking along the edge of the lake spread before the castle of Hogwarts did little to ease the confusion in his mind. Normally this was not so. But this night held no more answers than it offered questions. Everything had happened just as they had watched, but...
But. But none of what happened seemed logical.
Cornelius Fudge was dead.
Severus Snape was dead.
Peter Pettigrew would likely be dead soon.
Amelia Bones was alive for the moment.
And Sirius Black was dead. Or he had been. Or he never was.
The conflicting actions were too much for him to deal with.
Watching the soft reflection of the waning moon soothed none of his worries. Slowly three silver colored vertical bars shimmered into view, directly above the ghost moon. The image of all his dilemmas. But it was late. The sun was due to rise in the east in a few hours. Even an aging Headmaster required a few hours of sleep.
What he saw behind him cause him to retreat in shock.
Impossible.
Or was it?
Only the left half of the face was visible. Only the hematite bars. The rest was shrouded in the night as black as the shadow surrounding the figure.
"It strikes me that I have not had the opportunity to wish you good evening, Headmaster," the apparition spoke.
Albus could not reply. It was all too surreal. He had seen the curse. He had seen the body. But he had also seen Sirius. "So it appears there are two instead of one," he spoke at long last. "Where one survives so must the other."
"Do elaborate, Headmaster," the Dark Prince sneered. "And prove that you addle old mind has not stumbled over the dubious facts." The Dark Prince was not normally as contemptuous as this. No, the sneer was more usual from Severus Snape.
"How have you been, Severus?" he asked as though he had his Potions Professor before him minus that horrific mask covering his features. "I have heard the strangest tale from a stray dog wandering the grounds. Perhaps you would be interested in hearing it."
"That mutt is here!" Definitely Severus. "It surprises me you took so long to recognize the facts." Yet there was still the Dark Prince overriding.
"The facts were rather obscure, weren't they," he chuckled lightly. "You seem to be loosing your touch, Severus. Though I must say, through your deception not only have we been able to clear a framed man from all charges, that self-same framed man is alive to reap the benefits. I feel obligated to thank you on his behalf. He was however greatly disappointed to hear of your demise. "
"I don't care what that mutt has to say," Severus interrupted sharply. "It was is own fault he put himself in that position. Though it falls back on you for failing to listen to your precious Gryffindor. Tell me, old man, how long were you able to hide your grief."
"Could it be you have gain insecurities?" These attacks were unlike any he had received from the Dark Prince he had known. And the mask was never half hidden.
At his question, the Dark Prince stepped back. Unable to gage the emotion, Albus tried a different approach. One that never failed to gain Severus's attention. "Severus," the Headmaster said sternly. "Come here." And to his mild surprise, the figure bearing the three hematite bars took many steps towards him, before halting mere feet away. The man shifted his head and the moonlight caught what Dumbledore could not see earlier. The other half of his Professor's face.
The sight was wrong.
Terribly out of place.
Completely broken.
"Oh, Severus." He reached a hand out and the face flinched. With eyes closed, the man held steady as Dumbledore allowed the remainder of the mask to fall away. Holding the bars close, the Headmaster felt the vestiges of power. And a more powerful object he had yet to behold. "Not all choices bring out the best."
Severus said nothing. The man was as taunt as a sail in a storm.
"My boy, you know who you are. It is time to let us know."
He allowed the white shard to fall from his grasp. The vacant eye gazed unseeing at the starry night sky, watching the waning moon.
Turning to the castle he left the man with his thoughts. But there was a moment where Dumbledore felt compelled to return his gaze to that location. Only to see the man stoop to recover his lost prize.
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The Rules of the Consequences
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Rule number one of the consequences: you always get your comeuppances.
"Well, what do we do now?"
Peter was in trouble. With no way out. He couldn't transform. He couldn't run for cover. And there was absolutely no one who would help him.
And right now the werewolf was contemplating murder. Or as his old friend, Remus, was calling it: execution.
"With Fudge dead, the Ministry is in shambles. Even more than it was before! We can't just leave him here," the werewolf continued.
"No, that we cannot do," Dumbledore said in a tired tone. Peter had never heard the like. "But with the death of the Dark Prince, I doubt Voldemort will be prepared to stage any rescue attempts."
What Malfoy had done to the Prince was his problem. Not Peter's. No, Peter only had to worry about the repercussions of the death of the Dark Prince. Such as the chaos that was occurring at this very moment because of the death of the Dark Prince. Which meant no outside aid from 'friendly' sources.
"We don't need him alive, do we?" Remus muttered.
Dumbledore did not answer. This frighten Peter.
"I have made sure he cannot transform and Shacklebolt has been reassigned to Peter's case, seeing as that it is closely related." Peter did note that Dumbledore did not mention the fact that Sirius Black was dead. But that didn't help him now. Perhaps he should have killed Black when he had the chance.
But he hadn't. He couldn't. He may have sold out and framed his schoolboy friends. But, he couldn't kill them. He actually didn't mean to kill all those Muggles. He had no problem with injury. But as usual his spells got out of hand.
And what were the consequences of leaving Black alive? The dog escaped and hunted him down.
"When Madam Bones is released from St. Mungo," Dumbledore was saying, " he will be sentenced accordingly."
"Of course, Professor." The wolf was starring at him. Not pleasant. No, not at all. And Dumbledore wasn't looking. He was in trouble. Deep trouble. And there was absolutely no way out of it this time.
***
Rule number two of the consequences: you asked for it.
Rats.
He really did hate rats. Especially one in particular. But he doubted if that one was here.
He growled. But none ran away. He tried to rise. But his head was spinning. He tried to look around. But everything was black.
Then he tried to remember what happened.
Snape.
He really did hate Snape. Why was it always him anyway? But he was the one the one who walked into the trap. And he was the one who knew it was a trap.
Snape had stunned him. Right when his little Death Eater friends were coming to play. He then woke up some place dark. Definitely not here. At least he didn't think so.
That mask was starting to give him nightmares.
Snape had not said a word. No, the bastard just raised his wand and knocked him out cold. Again.
Oh, he was going to make Snape pay. Just as soon as he could get up.
Snape had said he would thank him for stunning him later. And he most certainly would. A nice fist square in the middle of that smug face of his.
Taking stock of his situation, at long last. He noted, distractedly, that he was in his animagus form. Which would possibly be why he was having trouble making his body move correctly. Well, one problem solved. He transformed.
Scaring the rats.
Just not the one he wanted.
He remembered Wormtail being present when Snape had cursed him for that second time. Oh, he would be sure to kill his old friend Peter as well. Just after he did Snape in. How could he have been stupid enough to walk into that trap. Well, he would just have to repay the man.
Now, to find out where he was.
With rats, obviously.
He looked out the window. It was very dark. But what he could see was familiar. Very familiar.
The Shrieking Shack.
Odd place. Why would Snape bring him here?
Probably because his screams would not be noticed by the community. They still thought the place was haunted even over fifteen years since the "ghost" inhabited it. Damn him!
But where was Snape?
Better not to ask that. Sirius really didn't want to know the answer. He just wanted to get out of here. Once his head stopped spinning wildly.
***
Rule number three of the consequences: when it comes, it comes swiftly and harshly.
"Tell me, Lucius," the Dark Lord hissed dangerously. "Tell me what you expected from your little ... display."
Lucius was standing, which was not a good way to start a conversation with Lord Voldemort, but the Dark Lord had allowed him do to anything else. "My Lord, he..." no that wasn't a good way to begin, not at all. "I..." Perhaps once he knew for himself he could answer.
Lucius never heard the curse that hit him. He was only aware of what happened after the pain.
"As a result of you childish grievances and petty annoyances, I have lost a valuable player in this war. And you have already proven you could not possibly hope to replace him. As it is, your careless action has cause me to loose the tactical advantage over Dumbledore and the boy."
An advantage given by the Dark Prince.
Lord Voldemort continued. "My Prince saw a weakness and used it. Your blunder," his Lord whispered venomously, "for I refuse to see it any other way, caused nothing but chaos. Now tell me, what did you expect?"
He shouldn't have used the Killing Curse, Lucius thought stupidly. It was a little late to mourn his mistakes.
"Since it is apparent your expectations did not come to be the correct ones, as I judge from you confused silence, I will show you." Here, the Dark Lord tossed the Dark Prince's marred faceless mask. The hairline fracture ran nearly through the center, curving to the left just under the hematite bars of power. "Take it and tell me you feel no difference."
Lucius cautious and painfully lifted the prize from the dusty floor. None of the power that should have resonated from the mask fill him. It felt dead.
"Put it on."
This was not going to be good. He had tried to forget the last time.
"Since you have designs on replacing the Dark Prince, we must treat you as such. Put it on."
Lucius was standing by the time the mask formed ill-fittingly around his face. No sooner was it in place then the bars radiated heat, burning into his eye threatening to bind him. He was screaming in pain, but the heat only increased. Lucius had already collapsed as though under the Cruciatus Curse.
"Let us see what else is working, shall we?"
The flaring pain vanished. Replaced by a tugging sensation. A very painful tugging force. As though a hook had caught his eye socket and the person was pulling inhumanly hard.
"Shall we test the protective wards on the mask?"
The bang of opening doors halted the proceedings.
Lucius fell in the perfect position to view the look of utter shock flit across the Dark Lord's face.
Whoever it was said not a word, only the sound of the click of boots on the marble floor. Then a view of the stranger's black cloaked back kneeling to the left of Voldemort.
"So, you have returned," Lord Voldemort said looking down at his servant. "You are defiant, I wonder why."
The man said nothing. As expected. Lucius felt dread settle like lead in the pit of his stomach. This night had only gotten worse. He knew who the stranger was as soon as the Dark Lord rose and lifted the man's head.
Somehow the Dark Prince was back.
Somehow the Dark Prince had survived.
Somehow the Dark Prince lived.
How?
The red eyes bore holes even through Lucius as Voldemort trained his gaze on the kneeling man before him. "Where have you been?" It was a simple statement, said as flatly as possible. Under different circumstances the phrase could have been used in the classroom setting. Expressing no surprise, the Dark Lord removed his hand and the Prince lowered his head once more. "I won't bother with asking you your excuse," the Dark Lord said as he returned to his throne. "But I will ask you what you have been doing all this time and how you are here." There was a long pause. "Rise."
Snape rose. And walked to his Master's side.
"I believe you made a vow to Lucius."
'Be sure you don't miss. You won't survive the consequences.'
Somehow he had missed.
"Stand up, Lucius." The voice was contemptuous. The visage hateful.
Shakily, on a dead-man's pair of legs, he obeyed. There was nothing else to be done. He wouldn't see his wife tonight. Nor his son. He had said nothing that would prepare them for his death. He was going to die in his own home without seeing either of them.
At least he would die on his feet. He hoped.
"May I have my Lord's permission to proceed as I desire?" The Prince requested.
"You may do as you see fit, my Prince." A careless wave. He knows. He knows what the Dark Prince wants. And he is doing nothing to stop him.
"Avada Kedavra."
On his feet.
***
Rule number four of the consequences: when you gamble, you eventually loose.
The mask cracked. Split along the previous fracture. Two pieces. One of pure sparkling white. One marked with the vertical hematite bars.
Shattered.
The traitorous part laugh. Not that it was a pleasant sound. It was more smug than anything else. As though it were taunting him with 'I told you so.' But that was too childish.
Divided in two.
He stooped to reclaim the bars.
His masterpiece destroyed.
"Your actions?"
"A doppleganger, my Lord. Controlled from I stood beside Black."
"And the mutt?"
"As you have seen him, my Lord."
Clever. Neither a lie nor a confession.
His prize snapped in two. Stubbornly, he placed the portion with the bars where it belonged. Covered just less than half his left face. Unsettling.
"You failed to mention this, my Prince. Your reasons?"
The defining question. How to explain why he placed a doppleganger spell on himself without informing his Lord. As faithful as ever, wasn't he. He knew he couldn't very well claim self-preservation, for it was his duty to stand beside his Lord. Yet, he had counted on Lucius doing something stupid and rash. Would that be a good enough reason? He should have informed his Master before he pulled such a stunt.
"I had suspicions, my Lord, that Lucius would attempt a coup." No, he had expected the Gryffindors to react more violently than they had. And earlier. "I had supposed I could take Lucius in the act and surprise him once the act was done."
"And you have evidence?"
"I would show you documents of such, my Lord." He had none.
"Another time." One issue averted. "You perceived Dumbledore?"
Ah, the reason for his absence immediately following the night's event. "I did, my Lord. He was quite distraught. Attempting to wear a brave face for the benefit of his Gryffindors, but visibly shaken. As were Potter and the werewolf. In all likelihood they will be mourning for many weeks."
"Survivors?"
"Dumbledore, Potter, Lupin and Bones, my Lord."
"Bones? She was suppose to be killed. As were them all. Failure of this magnitude cannot be corrected. It must be taken as a battle lost." He could not be hearing correctly. A battle lost? Fallible, haunted his mind. "As the culprit has already suffered the consequences, it is time to reform."
Withdraw and regroup. He was not use to failure. During the first reign of terror he had never experienced failure until that fateful Halloween night, when his Lord and Master failed to return. But now...
"My Prince, I believe a reestablishment of acquaintances with Dumbledore is in order. You will present yourself before him, preferably alone, and dissuade as much as possible from our current state."
"Of course, my Lord."
"Once through, you will return and we will finish this business of you and the doppleganger."
He bowed. He would need answers for that meeting.
***
Rule number five of the consequences: it always begins with your choice.
Walking along the edge of the lake spread before the castle of Hogwarts did little to ease the confusion in his mind. Normally this was not so. But this night held no more answers than it offered questions. Everything had happened just as they had watched, but...
But. But none of what happened seemed logical.
Cornelius Fudge was dead.
Severus Snape was dead.
Peter Pettigrew would likely be dead soon.
Amelia Bones was alive for the moment.
And Sirius Black was dead. Or he had been. Or he never was.
The conflicting actions were too much for him to deal with.
Watching the soft reflection of the waning moon soothed none of his worries. Slowly three silver colored vertical bars shimmered into view, directly above the ghost moon. The image of all his dilemmas. But it was late. The sun was due to rise in the east in a few hours. Even an aging Headmaster required a few hours of sleep.
What he saw behind him cause him to retreat in shock.
Impossible.
Or was it?
Only the left half of the face was visible. Only the hematite bars. The rest was shrouded in the night as black as the shadow surrounding the figure.
"It strikes me that I have not had the opportunity to wish you good evening, Headmaster," the apparition spoke.
Albus could not reply. It was all too surreal. He had seen the curse. He had seen the body. But he had also seen Sirius. "So it appears there are two instead of one," he spoke at long last. "Where one survives so must the other."
"Do elaborate, Headmaster," the Dark Prince sneered. "And prove that you addle old mind has not stumbled over the dubious facts." The Dark Prince was not normally as contemptuous as this. No, the sneer was more usual from Severus Snape.
"How have you been, Severus?" he asked as though he had his Potions Professor before him minus that horrific mask covering his features. "I have heard the strangest tale from a stray dog wandering the grounds. Perhaps you would be interested in hearing it."
"That mutt is here!" Definitely Severus. "It surprises me you took so long to recognize the facts." Yet there was still the Dark Prince overriding.
"The facts were rather obscure, weren't they," he chuckled lightly. "You seem to be loosing your touch, Severus. Though I must say, through your deception not only have we been able to clear a framed man from all charges, that self-same framed man is alive to reap the benefits. I feel obligated to thank you on his behalf. He was however greatly disappointed to hear of your demise. "
"I don't care what that mutt has to say," Severus interrupted sharply. "It was is own fault he put himself in that position. Though it falls back on you for failing to listen to your precious Gryffindor. Tell me, old man, how long were you able to hide your grief."
"Could it be you have gain insecurities?" These attacks were unlike any he had received from the Dark Prince he had known. And the mask was never half hidden.
At his question, the Dark Prince stepped back. Unable to gage the emotion, Albus tried a different approach. One that never failed to gain Severus's attention. "Severus," the Headmaster said sternly. "Come here." And to his mild surprise, the figure bearing the three hematite bars took many steps towards him, before halting mere feet away. The man shifted his head and the moonlight caught what Dumbledore could not see earlier. The other half of his Professor's face.
The sight was wrong.
Terribly out of place.
Completely broken.
"Oh, Severus." He reached a hand out and the face flinched. With eyes closed, the man held steady as Dumbledore allowed the remainder of the mask to fall away. Holding the bars close, the Headmaster felt the vestiges of power. And a more powerful object he had yet to behold. "Not all choices bring out the best."
Severus said nothing. The man was as taunt as a sail in a storm.
"My boy, you know who you are. It is time to let us know."
He allowed the white shard to fall from his grasp. The vacant eye gazed unseeing at the starry night sky, watching the waning moon.
Turning to the castle he left the man with his thoughts. But there was a moment where Dumbledore felt compelled to return his gaze to that location. Only to see the man stoop to recover his lost prize.