Chapter Thirty: A Vile Plot or Two

"Is the spell ready, Luciuss?"

"Nearly, my Lord. When is it required?"

"Not for many monthsss. Continue. Wormtail, will you be able to do asss you were inssstructed?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Then you will do ssso, this evening."

"Yes, my Lord."

Lucius didn't know what Wormtail's part in the plan was, as Voldemort had become suspicious of spies lately. The snakish Dark Lord turned next to his second most trusted Death Eater.

"Severruss, have you prepared the potion?"

"Which, my Lord?"

"The one of which we ssspoke."

"It is nearly ready, my Lord. A question of necessary ingredients."

"Of courssse. Are you in need of fundss?"

"A little, yes."

"Luciuss, give Severuss the money needed later."

"Yes, my Lord."

About half an hour later, Lucius confronted Severus in the library.

"There is a certain golden object which we both admire and love," he began cryptically. Severus understood perfectly and sighed.

"Golden, yes. An object, however?"

"A dagger, newly unsheathed against our hip." Lucius made a gesture to indicate his side. "Did you know how sharp that dagger has become?"

"Sharper than I care to carry, old friend. I fear it has been on the wheel since last being lent to the female purpose."

"Can I trust you to blunt it without harm to the blade itself?"

"I have just the sheath." Severus smiled. "Leather lined with satin, strong as iron."

"Will it suit the bugs?"

"Admirably."

"Then I place the dagger in your care, old friend." Lucius stopped and drew a fat sack of Galleons from a drawer. "Here's the money I promised you. More than enough for ingredients –get yourself some of the books you love."

"Thanks, Lucius. I also have that which you required earlier." Severus handed a bottle to his friend.

"Dreamless Sleep?" Lucius looked relieved.

"With a few subtle improvements of my own."

"You are a brother among serpents, Severus."

"As are you, my friend."

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Neville was having a bad morning.

It had been a bad night beforehand, with a freakish dream –nearly a nightmare- that he couldn't seem to forget even now, getting on breakfast. He was also dreading American Muggle Studies or 'Yankish' class, considering the main subject of his dream was Professor Cass Tyler. She and Ginny Weasley were now among the people he least wanted to meet today, right behind a pissed-off Snape and a nude Professor Trelawney. There were some things that tested even Neville's gift of keeping a straight face, and last night's dream was one of them.

Normally he looked forward to Yankish and Herbology most of all, since Professor Sprout was letting him develop a new plant, which had healing properties and was started from his grandmother's begonias. He liked Yankish because Professor Cass had started lending him music, selections from a vast Muggle collection, and he was learning to love classic rock even as the oddball professor did. Scarcely a week went by where she didn't give him a chance to make up Snape's deducted housepoints with a paper on some Muggle song or band. His intimately researched thesis on the Beatles' 'Sgt. Pepper' had even earned him an 'A' and a suitably vague note of praise written home to his grandmother. Professor Tyler was almost as sympathetic as Professor Lupin, far cooler than Professor Lockhart, and easily the polar opposite of Snape. And now some dream was making him dread her class.

It had started out like any ordinary dream. He was in the Great Hall, having supper with the other Gryffindors. Very boring, until suddenly the lighting went all freakish and neat, like the time Ron and Harry had taken him to the Weird Sisters concert last summer. Instead of the high table, there was a huge, steel-frame-surrounded stage, with speakers the size of Hagrid's house in back.

From somewhere there came the melodic, shredding sound of an electric guitar and bass dueling it out, and then Ginny Weasley appeared as the guitarist. She was illuminated in a reddish spotlight from above, which combined with the foggy stage to look like something out of a hair band's music video. There was another spotlight turned on, and Professor Tyler was playing the bass. For some reason, Professors Sinistra, Trelawney and McGonagall were dancing in short, sequined dresses in front of microphones, while a drummer who looked a hell of a lot like Dumbledore in sunglasses beat the hell out of a shiny kit in back. It was wild and insane, but Ginny's singing made it all stranger:

"Live long enough you're bound to find
Moonshine'll make a man go blind
Never can tell what the brew will do
But there's times you wind up feeling so fine!"

Then Cass stepped a bit closer to her mike.

"Some women seem to have the knack
They'll tell you want to leave you black
Never can tell who's playing for keeps
Since everyone's a-holding you back!"

"I know your heart can take it!" Ginny half-sang, half shouted. The chorus was in strident rock n' roll unison between the smooth alto Gryffindor and the sharp, Chrissie Hynde-ish professor:

"Don't fight it!
Don't fight it!"

"It'll do your heart so good!" Ginny sang like Grace Slick with a wand.

"Don't fight it!

Don't fight it!"

"It'll do your heart so good!" Cass thumped the bass strings like hammers. When they sang together, it was Heart turned English and wizarding.

"Don't fight it!
Don't fight it!
It'll only do you good!"

As the rock n' roll orgy that was this dream progressed, Neville got the distinct impression that each of the females was singing to someone in particular. They were offering the advice of a friend, in sort of a 'Hey, Jude' vein, which was to stop fearing love. Maybe it was also an admonition to welcome someone close into their heart, as sappy as that sounded. Maybe there was something the dream meant to him personally, although Neville doubted it.

Then a new idea occurred to him. There was a chapter in Unfogging the Future about dreams. He consulted his Divination text and, sure enough, made the discovery that this dream was what the book called lesser prophecy. There were a few other books mentioned in the bibliography, and with a studious air reminiscent of Hermione, Neville headed off to the library for the remainder of breakfast.

The idea that it could be indigestion never occurred to him.

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"Damn!"

This loud exclamation startled the two students who were still at work on a sanguinide potion. Cass was just as startled as Draco and Hermione, considering John almost never swore.

"Dear, what is it?"

"Narcissa's cover's blown. Severus has to get her out."

"Shit!" Cass came over to the video terminal and looked over her husband's shoulder. He in turn pulled out the headphones he was wearing and flipped the speakers on.

"I have just the sheath." Severus' voice echoed through the Shrieking Shack. "Leather lined with satin, strong as iron."

"Will it suit the bugs?" Lucius voice inquired.

"Admirably."

"Then I place the dagger in your care, old friend."

"That's my father's library!" Drac had come over with Hermione and was now looking, amazed, at the screen. "It's the most private place in our manor!"

"Well, it was," Hermione remarked with a little smirk.

"Dragon-boy, we've buggered your house like a prison film. There's not a private place left in there." Cass grinned.

"But the wards-?"

"Never covered Muggle-made mikes or microcams," John explained, tapping the keyboard of the computer control deck. Instantly, they were treated to a flash-by view of nearly every room in all of Malfoy Manor. "I really do like that one Quidditch poster in your room."

"My father never thought Muggles might get in?" Draco seemed a little disappointed in his dad. John smiled.

"Being colorblind isn't a bad thing, Draco. At least until somebody who happens to be green decides to take you out, that is."

"Where do you keep getting all of these electronic things?" Hermione asked. The Tylers certainly didn't seem wealthy, and there was no way the Ministry would pay for all of it. "My god, you haven't been-"

"Courtesy of our old friend Melanie Watling," Cass grinned happily. "She also supplied us with floorplans of every Death Eater's house in Christendom, let alone Britain."

"Well, that's humbling," Draco observed calmly. "Not only does every room in my house play directly on Yank TV here, you bought the parts from a hooker."

"Not all of them." John held up a small Circuit City bag. "Some of it's gotten on the legit."

"Some of it!" Cass giggled mischievously. "You don't mind, do you, coz?"

"Well…I'd feel more comfortable if there weren't a camera in my room."

"But that's where your dad does most of the nifty stuff," John protested. He tapped the keyboard and called up a tape of Lucius casting an intricate spell in the middle of Draco's room. "I think it's because you soundproofed it already. That way, your mom wouldn't suspect, were he to soundproof another room, not to mention she'd never go there with you at school."

"Jeez!" Draco walked back to the lab table where he was helping Hermione. "I think I'd rather be a Weasley, after all!"

They were nearly done with the second in a series of sanguinide potions. The first had produced some very interesting results when Hermione had tested the blood of Cass and Draco. They both had an allergy to the exact same subspecies of Atlantic kelp, which explained in part why yogurt made both of them kind of sick. The allergy test potion had found several other matches besides the kelp, which Hermione had only chosen as a test because of its abundance. They both got rashes from wool, swelling from bee stings, and neither tolerated the Vidalia onion well.

Normally, three allergic matches indicated the two subjects were what the textbook called 'of brother race." Hermione wasn't sure whether that meant they were both partly British or German or something, or whether they were distantly related. Cass had merely smirked at this news and begun jokingly calling Draco 'coz,' while Draco frowned thoughtfully and then shrugged. After all, it was about as likely as the Pope on a pogo stick (direct quote from Cass,) that they were anything but cousins. Cass was, after all, in spite of everything, a Yank.

Or so the werewolf believed. John had informed Hermione of the fact that Cass's mother had been attacked in Britain. Since the potion results of yesterday, she had been suspicious. While she and Draco were openly working on a potion to test, simply enough, hair color, she was also working on the Sanguinus Veritas potion –the Truth of Blood. The textbook described it thus:

'Sanguinus Veritas, the 'Truth of Blood,' more commonly called the Proof-Of-Blood potion, is most commonly used in tests of paternity. It can also determine magical heritage, degree of magical ability, presence of lycanthropy or other gene-altering diseases, or a host of other conditions, merely by including an ink antigen of a specific kind. (Refer to Table 4-IIB, page 206.)'

It was a tricky potion, but she dared not include Draco in her endeavor. Who knew what the results would show, and whether Cass would want anyone to know who she really might be?

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"Ginny?"

"Yeah, Bill?"

"I need your advice on something."

The petite redhead didn't even look up from her book.

"Transfiguration or girl trouble?"

"You remind me of Mom." Bill frowned and sat down by his sister with a sigh. "Alright, it's girl trouble. But not just with any girl."

"An exceptionally ugly one who won't stop grabbing you on the arse?"

"Gods, no! She's beautiful and clever and witty and-" Bill stopped short as he noticed his sister's mischievous smile. "Well, I like her a lot."

"And yet she grabs you on the arse. Paging Doctor Freud."

"Ginny!" Bill frowned in frustration, despite a smile sneaking onto his face at the joke. "I like this girl very much."

"Like-like or like-like?"

"I'm afraid I've lost touch with primary-school terminology," Bill replied acidly. Ginny sighed and put down the book.

"Alright, do you enjoy spending time with her?"

"Yes."

"Do you like her conversation?"

"Yes."

"Is she intelligent?"

"Yes, very."

"Is she pretty?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel your loins burn with passion at the though of embracing her womanhood?"

"Virginia Weasley!" Bill went violently red. "What the sod have you been reading to learn such terms?"

"Bodice-rippers. I can write 'em, too."

"Merlin's arse!" Ginny smirked at her brother's discomfort and then smiled gently.

"Is she the best-friend type or the fiancee type?"

"I'd love for her to be fiancee."

"Alright. You like-like her." Ginny pulled a bit of string from her pocket and began to play cat's-cradle absently. Bill knew that she thought better when her hands were occupied. "So on what endeavor do you require my august counsel to aid you in?"

"For chrissakes, Ginny…" Bill finally wound up grinning. "Alright. I want to tell her I love her –because I do."

"Okay. Have fun doing it." Ginny turned the string design around as if that were that. Bill scowled at her. "Oh, you want my advice on how to do it? How fascinating." Another scowl. "Okay, big brother, little sister's here to help."

"You are deeply disturbed."

"And you have a ponytail. What House was she in?"

"Was?" Bill went a little red. "Er…"

"Bilius Arthur!" Ginny sat up excitedly, shooting the cat's-cradle across the room. "Tell me that you've grown a spine at last? Dating a student? Fancy what Mum and Dad would think!"

"Oh, they're a great pair to talk!" Ginny began almost to chirp with laughter.

"So, what House is she? Do I know her?"

"Not likely." Bill frowned darkly. "She's a Slytherin."

"Oh, holy fuck." Ginny's expression dropped like a name at a Ministry party. "You're the handsome redheaded gallant. We all though it would be Ron or one of the twins." She grinned again excitedly. "Won't Lavender be pleased!"

"It isn't Lavender!"

"I know. It's Maria Elaine Catesby, born February twelfth, 1978, at Blodgershire, England. Favorite sports are Quidditch and equestrienne, favorite subjects are Muggle Studies and Arithmancy, favorite foods are broccoli soup and fish n' chips. She has a scar on the bottom of her left foot from a shell she stepped on during a visit to the seaside in August 1984, as well as a slight burn on her right arm from a cooking accident in June 1986. She is a member of Slytherin House and her best friends are her second cousin Blaise Zabini, her studying partner, Hermione Granger, and myself, fellow lover of smutty books. Do you want to know her vital statistics or do you already?"

Bill was floored.

"And you've suspected this for how long?"

"A month, since Lavender predicted a redheaded gallant and she got all blushy. Normally Lavender's about as effective as Mom an' Dad's birth control, but the 'handsome redhead' comment really shook Maria up. Ron is at the Quidditch Cro-Magnon stage, Fred an' George really aren't her type, Percy's engaged to that other pole-up-arse ex-prefect, and Charlie's in Romania, plus I'm not a lesbian this week. That left you." Ginny smiled and started to buff her nails. "If it makes you feel any better, she loves you back. You could even take her to a Quidditch game and she'd still feel that way."

"How do you know?" Bill asked. Ginny looked at him like she might a slug.

"Because, dear brother, she is a female. I am also a female and we are friends. Haven't you heard of the lioness theory?"

"Girlfriends know these things?" Bill asked lamely.

"Per'cisely. She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't make me get all Paul McCartney on your ass." Ginny smiled encouragingly and lightly punched Bill's shoulder. "Come on."

"So what do you suggest, oh Sacred Presence?" Bill inquired with a grin.

"I suggest you get yourself down to the Tylers' and get them to explain what a chick-flick is." Ginny could be very sarcastic. "Apart from that, I'd suggest a gift. Something that sparks her interest. Don't make me put a candle on my head and dance with the teapot here."

"A book of some kind?"

"That'd be Hermione."

"Quidditch stuff?"

"That'd be Ron."

"A pet cat?"

"You've already got one and she has an owl."

"Fancy clothes?"

"That'd be me."

"How about a movie and something neat, like a Muggle thing, that she's never seen before?"

"Perfect. Go seek out Professor Cass and enlist her aid."

"Thank you, sis."

"Any time, big dishy brother." Ginny kissed Bill on the cheek with a mischievous smile. "Go seek out and win your lady's heart."

Bill left the deserted classroom with a big grin on his face, and Ginny went back to 'Nights of Passion' by Esmerelda Sinn. She had just flipped to the best of the smutty bits when a wardrobe abruptly opened of itself and Professor Snape stepped out. She was, to put it mildly, startled.

"Gaah!"

"Don't mind me, Miss Weasley." Snape tucked his wand back into a sleeve. "I was just trying to get to Narnia."

"A little Dumbledorish of you," the fifth-year retorted.

"However, I do appreciate your advice." The fearsome professor walked over and looked carefully at the girl. "Only one question. What sort of book?"

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