A/N: I want to thank you all for your nice reviews! Et Voila, here is another chapter. I hope you'll like it and the wait hasn't been too long. I also want to thank Ash Knight for betaing this chapter for me. Please, let me remind you that this story is rated R for a reason. There are mentions of violence in this and probably also in the next chapter. So, that's it for now. Read, enjoy and please don't forget to review.
Chapter 8 – A puzzle piece falls into place
I pick up my quill, dip it into the inkbottle and want to continue my writing, but my hands are shaking too badly, to produce something readable. Spilling tiny dots of wet, black ink all over the parchment. A look at the clock reveals that it is long past dinner time and I haven't eaten anything since breakfast, nor have I taken my potion. No wonder that my hands aren't steady.
With a sigh, I get up and walk the short way to the kitchen to prepare myself a quick meal. After having eaten it and having taken another dose of the Endurement potion, I feel marginally better, at least well enough to write again. But I wonder how much longer it will take, until I have to revert to the unicorn tears. I hope it will take some more time, until my condition will get this bad.
I get back to my desk, crumble the soiled sheet of parchment into a little ball and take out a fresh one. I dip the quill into the inkbottle, satisfied that my hands are steady once more, and begin to write...
After Albus, meddling old fool that he was, had dismissed us to our rooms, I felt restless. The pain in my palm was still prominent and I was oh so angry at the Headmaster, for having stopped me. There were some curses and potions, which I desperately wanted to use on that Dursley. Albus' interference had prevented me from making the damn muggle scream for hours, until he wouldn't have been able to scream anymore. I would have liked to hear him scream, beg, plead. To have shown him exactly, why a muggle should know better than to lay his filthy hands on a wizard.
In the long run, it was probably for the better that Dumbledore hadn't allowed Lupin and me to go out on that night. We surely would have ended up killing Harry's uncle, which would have had dire consequence for both of us, there are laws forbidding such things, after all. But at that time, I did not think about possible consequences, all I could think about was my anger and my wish for revenge.
No muggle should be allowed to get away with harming the child I had sworn to protect.
Well, everything considered, the long years the muggle did suffer in Azkaban, until he finally achieved to put himself out of his misery, were probably worse, than a few hours of torture and afterwards being killed quickly by Lupin and me. In any case Dursley had got what he deserved, even when I would have preferred to punish him for what he did myself, instead of leaving this task to the ministry.
But I am wandering off the point here, I should continue with the further happenings of the night.
If I recall correctly, I spent another hour in my room, until I couldn't stand it any longer to remain there. Skilled at spying and therefore being as stealthy as I was, I sneaked out of it and went to see Harry. Fortunately for me, there was no one, expect for Harry of course, in his room when I silently approached it. I could hear the muffled sounds of a conversation from the kitchen downstairs, probably Albus and Poppy discussing Harry's condition.
The door to Harry's room was not entirely closed, so it didn't make any sound as I quietly pulled it open further, just enough to get in. After I had sneaked inside, I pushed it back into its original position, so that the others wouldn't find out too easily that I was there, when I was supposed to be in my own room.
I sat down on a chair beside the boy's bed, looking worriedly at his still unmoving body. There was the slightest movement of the sheets, as a sign, that he was still breathing, but otherwise he was entirely too quiescent. No thrashing, no turning, just nothing. So unusual to see such stillness from a boy of his age, who were normally so active at all times, even in sleep.
Because the lights were out, I wasn't able see his injuries, which was probably for the better. I didn't want to see him this weak, this broken. It contradicted the whole picture of him, I had built up in my mind for the five school years, during which I did have to see him on a regular basis. I had come to know him quite well during these years, or so I had previously thought.
The Harry Potter that had lived in my mind was strong, insolent, a pain in the arse, but never had I previously pictured him as someone who was not invulnerable, who came not out of any dangerous situation nearly unscathed.
I had always imagined his life at his relatives to be that of a spoiled prat. I had thought, he did live there like a prince, being spoiled rotten, getting everything what he wanted, always the centre of their attention. Never would I have thought that it was actually much different than I had expected it to be.
As bad as my own family had been, my father would have never attempted to murder me. Beat me up, of course, but murder? Children in the wizarding world were too rare and precious too even think about such a thing occurring.
It was disturbing to know the truth; I rather would have had my assumptions and ignorance back. If someone would have asked me, hours before this occurrence, what I think about Potter, I would have told the person that I hate him, because he is exactly like his father, the same snooty, golden Gryffindor boy. But after seeing him like this, nearly dead by the hand of his own uncle, I did start to actually care for him, did start to worry about him. My previous picture of him had been shattered into tiny, little pieces and I did not know what to think anymore.
And then, there was also the scar in my palm, which wouldn't stop hurting, wouldn't let me rest, until the boy was well again. I wanted this pain to stop, to be gone, because that would mean that Harry had survived once more.
I took the boys hand in mine, wanting to lend him some of my strength, wanting to show him that I did not hate him as much anymore, even if I did know that it wasn't possible to reach him. Harry was in a healing stasis and was not aware of his surroundings. I must have eventually fallen asleep, because suddenly I was woken by a clattering noise in the hallway downstairs, followed by screeches and curses from Mrs. Black's portrait.
The old hag had been silent for the weeks prior, both Lupin and me had avoided as much as possible, to make any noises in her presence. But now she was at her best again, insulting everyone present, their ancestors and even their sexual preferences. That woman must have had a quite dirty and imaginative mind, for her portrait to come up with some of the things she accused, whoever the unlucky person to disturb her was, of doing.
I have been a Death Eater for years, was present at some of the more horrible gatherings and also at some orgies, though I tended to avoid the latter, but even I didn't know that you could do such things to another person, like she described so vividly. The piece about the goat was rather interesting too, even if I did not feel compelled to test the viability of her words, myself.
I was still holding Harry's hand, but now I gently laid it down on the covers and went down to look what the whole ruckus was about.
As I ascended the stairs, I saw a tired-looking Arthur and a resigned-looking Tonks. Next to them stood Harry's trunk and an empty owl cage. Since Tonks was present, she was probably the one to have woken up the portrait by stumbling over something. In my entire life I have never met a woman, who was as clumsy as her. I wonder sometimes how she did become an Auror. I somehow never came around to ask her, but I think the best bet would be, that it was only because of her being a Metamorphmagus and therefore extremely useful for spying.
Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey had come out of the kitchen, also having heard the turmoil and united we did manage to finally shut the still screeching Mrs. Black up, sadly not for good.
After that was done, Albus gestured us all to follow him into the kitchen. If he was angry about my presence he did not show it, he just shot a knowing look into my direction, before he turned in a swirl of purple robes with little moons on them, to lead the way.
As soon as we were once more seated at the kitchen table, the Headmaster asked Arthur and Tonks to report what had happened since the floo conversation.
"Let me tell," Tonks said. "I think Arthur has had enough for tonight."
"Very well," the Headmaster said. "Arthur, my boy. You may return to the Burrow if you wish, I know this night has been difficult on you."
"Thank you, Albus. I am really tired and I want to tell Molly as soon as possible what has happened. She will want to be present when Harry wakes up." Arthur said. After that, he slumped out of the room, fatigue evident in his steps. Poppy also excused herself to go check on Harry's condition, so there was only the Headmaster and I left to listen to Tonks report.
"Now that that's settled, could you please continue Nymphadora?" Albus addressed her.
"It's Tonks, how often do I have to tell you this? Anyway, after Kingsley took that horrid muggle away to take him into one of our secret holding cells, Arthur and I collected Harry's things to bring them here. Sadly we couldn't do anything for his owl, she was already too weak to make it," she said quietly. "We buried her in the garden. I thought it would only upset Harry to see her dead body, so I wanted to spare him that." She took a deep breath and absently wiped a tear from her cheek. "Then we apparated here and I accidentally stumbled over the trunk, which caused my dear relative's portrait to wake up. I think you know the rest."
"Thank you, Nymphadora," the Headmaster said, twirling the end of his beard between his fingers, he was obviously thinking about something.
"Will Shacklebolt be questioning the muggle further?" I asked. "There has to be a reason for what he did." I did not believe that Dursley's attack on Harry was just a random occurrence; he must have had an ulterior motive for wanting his nephew dead. "Have you examined, if he was acting under Imperius?" I added as an afterthought, it would have explained his behaviour.
"Snape, do you think we're stupid? We already have checked him for all kinds of spells, but we could not detect anything. Either someone has found a way to make their magic untraceable, which means we are in deep shit or he did it just by himself, as horrible as it is to even think of it. Kings' is questioning him right know, looking if he can get some answers from him," Tonks replied.
After that we fell silent, all of us lost in our own thoughts. I got up to make a pot of tea, needing to do something with my hands, instead of just sitting there. If we would have been at Hogwarts, I would have started to brew a simple potion to keep my hands occupied and my mind free to wander, but as we weren't, I had to content myself with what was at hand.
Neither of us had wanted to go to bed this night, we all were too anxious to hear what news the Auror would bring, so we sat there and waited for Shacklebolt. Mme. Pomfrey had joined us again, sometime around two or three in the morning, she didn't have any updates on Harry's condition, he still hadn't woken up.
It may have been two hours later; the early lights of dawn had just started to lighten the sky outside the kitchen windows, when Shacklebolt arrived.
He immediately slumped down into a chair, grateful for the tea that Albus offered him. He sipped the warm liquid slowly, drawing out the time until he had to give his report. He did not seem very eager to start speaking, but eventually, he put his cup down onto the table and said, obviously distressed: "I questioned Harry's uncle some more, and after I explained some curses and their uses to him and threatened him to give him a little taste of them, if he wouldn't tell me everything I wanted to know, he suddenly started to sing like a bird. I know now, among other things, why he attempted to kill Harry." He paused and took another sip of his tea.
"Please, continue Kingsley," Albus said. "What was his reason for doing such a thing to Harry?"
Shacklebolt fidgeted uncomfortably and drank the rest of his tea down in one big gulp. "Apparently, Death Eaters tortured and killed his son Dudley sometime last week. They left his battered and broken body in front of the backdoor at Privet Drive #4. Harry's aunt found her son when she wanted to take out the garbage, her mind snapped after seeing him there, covered in blood and his own entrails. They had gutted him like a slaughter kettle." He hesitated for a moment, but then he continued speaking. "The muggle doctor they went to said that she would never recover, she will be insane for the rest of her life. Harry's uncle blames Harry for what has happened to his son and wife. He-who-must-not-be-named's followers did leave a message for Harry with his dead cousin, saying that he might be untouchable, but the people around him aren't. Dursley wanted for Harry to go through the same things, his son had endured. If you wouldn't have come in time, he would have succeeded with his plan."
I swore under my breath, his words did lead me to some disturbing thoughts. I was in Voldemort's inner circle so why had I not been informed about any of this? Did the Dark Lord already suspect me of being a spy? No, surely not, he had no reason to be suspicious about me. My behaviour had always been that of an immaculate Death Eater, my true feelings hidden so deep inside of me that not even Voldemort's Leglimency skills could discover them. I would find out the answers to my many questions, the next time Voldemort did summon me to attend a gathering.
"I believe that there is more?" Albus said quietly, interrupting my musings.
"Yes, sadly there are more things, about which I will have to inform you. The muggle did tell me some things, I would be glad to have never heard. In fear of being hexed, he has told me every little detail of what he has done to Harry." the Auror answered. "I'd rather would not have to speak to you about this, but you'll have to know the truth. Where should I start?"