Rather sadly and with more than a touch of frustaition tinted embarasment, I have resently realized that I have been using a very complicated system of 'cues' for the various shifts in time and place as well as perspective that go on in any good fic. Things have gotten too complicated for me to keep to what ever it was that I had been using before I fell. I do hope you do not get lost and that if you feel the all too familiar fog of mixed perception and opacity of point begin to overwhelm you….after checking the time to make sure that you did not just take a sip of that mysterious red liquid you keep in you inner coat (or robe) pocket, please tell me. I really don't know what I'm doing. Well I know what happens next, but not how I'm supposed to say it.
This disclaimer has to go for the previous two chapters as well, I own nothing that some one else has already gotten the patents and or copy rights to.
Gryffindor-160 Points- Frogfoot is awarded 10 points for shameless flattery (I love that!); Ezioku receives 10 points and a refresher course on the various orienteering charms you learned in second and third year may be called for
Slytherin-240 Points- Milee receives 10 points as a reward for endurance
MILEE! I AM ON YOUR SPAM BLOCKER LIST. IF THIS WAS NOT A MISTAKE PLEASE TELL ME! IF IT WAS A MISTAKE PLEASE TELL ME!! You do want chapter 44, right?
Ravenclaw- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.
Huffelpuff- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.
Chapter 43:
"Sleep well," Severa asked, with a nearly teasing smile, while downing a full dose of a headache remedy.
"Why?" Snape scowled at the buttons of his shirt cuff. They were refusing to button properly.
Weary already, she led the way back down the dungeon stairs to their shared classroom. 'Mondays are bad but Fridays are always worse.'
*Potter is only one small adolescent boy. He is not worth this much upset.*
'Be silent,' she growled at her inner, alternate, voice. 'As easily as Snape locked his away, I could cage you. Your freedom is my choice. Remember that.' The inner presence faded some. It had withdrawn to a darker corner where it would, no doubt, sulk and wait for another chance to help as it saw fit. The strange thing about the whole situation was, ever since she had started having these horrible sleeping patterns and nightmares, that inner voice had been getting louder. 'Gaining strength. That's what Snape calls it.'
She shoved the heavy door open and they stepped into the cold poorly lit classroom with perfectly synchronized steps. After nearly a week of laying low and letting his alternate take care of his responsibilities it was more than fair that Snape shoulder one day's schedule by himself. Moody was there only to double-check her shopping list, before heading out to Diagon Alley.
"What did Potter and Weasley find during detention last week?" she asked from a shelf in the back of the room.
Snape glanced up from the scrolls he was sorting. Pathetic attempts by seventh-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to explain the relationship between the active and inactive ingredients in Barminster's Absolute Solvent. "Apparently we're short on Echidna spines and fresh Blind-worm tongue. I think more Parrot Mushroom would be a good idea as well, a variety pack if you can find it.
Adding these to the mental list that the Other already kept for her, Severa Moody paused only to pick up her cloak before leaving the dungeons. Well before the first period students started arriving.
~
Having spent little time in heavily populated places, Severa was being bombarded by her physical awareness of the people around her. Diagon Alley was crowded today.
Durmstrang had a large student body, far larger than Hogwarts. But then she was also nearly three times as large and twice as old as her English counterpart. The massively confusing halls of Durmstrang were patrolled by students traveling in gangs, safety in numbers, and the less friendly things that came out, mostly, at night. Sighing, silently, Hogwarts' new Potions Master's Assistant began scanning signposts for the one she was after. Fruge Alley with its cheep discount wares, O' Casion Alley packed with tiny specialty shops-
There was a man behind her. He was distracted and had a wife three sons and worked in retail broom sales. Though just what all that subliminal information was supposed to be good for, she hadn't a clue.
The man didn't have time to do more than look up before he stepped into the space that Severa had vacated an instant before. Sidestepping to her left she ignored both his gasp of surprise and his nervous quickening of pace as she entered Knock Turn Alley.
'Probably feels lucky he didn't run into some one entering Knock Turn... Really Knock Turn's not that different from Ketch. Well the Ketch exchange at any rate.' She mused with faint poignancy. 'The people here are so…'
*Innocent?*
And just like that it was back.
With a natural cool more often seen in the immortal, or undead, she ignored the Hag selling human fingernails of various sizes, made note of a nameless shop that displayed in its front window a collection of used sacrificial knives; most were crusted with a dark brown substance some were still shimmeringly wet, and without noticeable caution entered Froeman's Import and Consignment.
A charm blacked its front window to all but Froeman's Most Valued Customers- and the few who were members of races that illusory charms don't work on. Sidhe and the like.
No one glanced up as she entered. Most of them kept track of her for a few minutes, until they were assured of her indifference to them. In turn Severa Moody ignored everyone else present. The Other was aware enough.
Froeman appeared just at the point where Severa was giving up hope of finding dried King's Foil.
Slightly stooped and of an advanced age impossible to guess Froeman could not have appeared friendly to save his sould. Stringy dark grey hair and bloodshot brown eyes spoke of his selling Potions supplies, only. Using the things on his shelves was something his customers did.
"Ah," he breathed. Turning the sound into something conspiratorial. "The new Potions Master come down from our own dear Hogwarts. Your first time in Diagon, yes my sweet?"
Slanting him a look through her bangs, Moody demurred with ice, "Potions Master's Assistant." Obviously every one had been waiting to see the professor who left Durmstrang to come to Hogwarts, but she didn't have time to give them a proper show. And The Other was making uneasy ripples in their link. "King's Foil?"
With a smile that said he knew a return customer when he saw one, Froeman led her down the next aisle. "Your accent, Miss Moody- it seems rather…local, for some one from such a-"
"Yes that Alastor Moody," she said, anticipating his end point. Picking up, inspecting and rejecting jars of dried yellow flowers she answered the rest of his questions in one sweep. "No I do not resent it. We were colleagues, nothing more. I used to have access to some, and I could get my hands on more, if the percentage were favorable to me… Now, do you have any with the roots intact?" she asked holding up one of the jars.
Several hours and many more dark and most likely not entirely legal establishments later, her shopping was finally done. 'Back to Hogwarts for lunch.' she raked the hair from her eyes and stared blankly ahead for a moment, waiting.
*Raw Bundimun extract…* her Other prodded gently.
With a slight nod Moody made her way toward a decrepit, moldering sort of shop, exactly like all of the other shops on Knock Turn. Except for the fact that the place had weathered grey shingle siding that instead of a sign, was growing lichens mosses and vines. With a wrinkle of her nose she crossed the threshold into the store. Deep inside a sigh echoed out toward her consciousness. It had done something that she had failed to catch. 'No mind, it's not as though it can act against me.' Moody shrugged off her momentary wariness and paid for her jar of the caustic slime.
~
"Did you find everything?" He asked, his voice a gravely purr for her ears only.
She nodded slightly. "It seems a bit warm for this time of year, but I assume I'll get used to the difference." On her other side Albus' eyes rested on her for a moment, she did not turn from her food, or her companion of choice, to acknowledge him.
Lunch appeared shortly and the faculty began their conversations. The pale thin dark haired man on her left was obviously in worse health than he had been when she first came, two months ago. They both were, but she tried not to dwell on things that would rouse her dominant from her sleep.
"Malfoy will be returning to classes this term after all," his softly spoken comment drawing her from her thoughts. "For some reason his mother has decided to move back to Estonia, by herself." Thoughtfully he took a tiny piece of battered fish on the tip of his fork and slid it between his barely parted lips. His vomiting had abated somewhat since he had started trying to eat, so she had begun to nibble at occasional meals as well.
The fact that he knew perfectly well, and in advance, what was happening in the Malfoy house was pouring off him in thick waves of something she could not identify, but could interpret very well nonetheless. Grigory Rasputin, her former Headmaster, had taught her well in the use of the Sidhe form of -mind reading- as Muggles and Wizards had long dubbed it.
But at least it wasn't the disjointed self-warring that she normally sensed from him- er, them. Taking a long sip of her wine, he had arranged for that too. She did her best to watch everything, students and faculty, that he wasn't. Without ever realizing that she was doing so.
~
"May I speak with you," Starch smiled softly, from within a deeply shadowed empty room just down from the Great Hall. His eyes flickered from one man to the other. "The both of you, if you have time."
Raising his brows and pulling a smirk, Starch acknowledged that Alastor and Albus covered their shock nicely, all things considered. Seeing a Vampire in the middle of a bright sunny day was not the sort of thing you could really prepare yourself for though.
The curtains had been drawn and the windows had been Opacioed, to further prevent the sun from entering. Wall sconces and a few candelabras were the only light, once Starch shut the door.
"You're probably, no, definitely wondering why I'm here," Starch began speaking before the Wizards had a chance to get their bearings. "The simple answer is, I haven't really left." He started to wander around the room with great energy, but without a definite path. "I have had to go back to my practice every few days, you can't just cancel appointments. Not with my sort of clientele." He flashed a disturbingly toothy smile making his meaning plain. "But I have been here more than away. I trust that you haven't been missing any students of late…?"
"We know you're not a threat to the students," Albus grit his teeth in annoyance.
"You're just not especially welcome here." Alastor edged in.
He paused in his pacing and gave the Headmaster a long look. "Honesty is the best policy," Starch nodded in appreciation, "especially when the person you are speaking with can tell when you lie. He taught me that one too." Turning sharply enough to cause his dark grey lab coat to flare he resumed his pacing.
"You had a point." Alastor barked.
Running a pallid hand through his spiked hair Starch nodded jerkily. "Yes! Yes! I am up here at this unholy hour to warn you." Moody grunted at his use of the word unholy, he ignored it. "I have no idea what is going on, but he- the male," he clarified with an irritated flick of one wrist, "is acting strangely. Agitated. Twitchy. You haven't noticed or you would already be alerted. Something big. Snape is planning something big and what ever it is, it will happen soon…"
"Well, thank you ever so much." Alastor growled. "I'm going to be late for my security conference with Filch now."
"Hold Moody." The retreating Wizard froze, one hand on the doorknob. 'He knows I could have made him stop if I wanted to.' He pushed a hand through his hair again and sighed silently, 'I just hope he's reasonable enough to consider that, before he reacts. This is going to be hard enough as it is, with out having to fight him too.'
The charge in the air did not dissipate when Moody slowly turned away from the door. Keeping his voice as calm as he ever could, Starch tried not to break the tension either. "I know it will happen, it will happen soon and it will be a massive strike. I know no more than that. But it is still more than you know. Even now you do not know this as I do. I am hoping to convince you of the truth. If you will listen."
Albus tried to reenter the conversation. He was thoroughly ignored.
"I'm already late. Make your case." Alastor gruffly allowed.
'He failed to mention that I risked a lot by coming here, at this time of day, to warn them.' Starch jerked his shoulders in something between a shrug and a violent shudder then resumed his wandering around the room.
In the close space the Humans' scent was strong, and he felt a twinge of hunger. "I told you how the male saved me, pulled me into a crypt and sheltered me from the sun. How he cut himself and used a discarded Muggle cup to catch his blood so I wouldn't have to bite him."
Alastor rolled his eyes. "You said all this when you first came here. Uninvited then too."
"Well I failed to mention that before he let me drink, he gave me a warning." Staring Moody down was about as effective as staring down the female. 'I guess that's where she got that sneer she uses to break the standoff and still win.' "He warned me that he was a carrier."
Albus started at that, but regained control smoothly.
"I think you missed that," Starch stepped too close to the Headmaster. "It's a carry over from the time Before. Some how he still knows that his blood infects anyone who encounters it. His blood would live on for a time in a Human, but eventually it would pass from their system, but in me it is still alive and a part of him. You know this is true. Now, you know why I am certain that he is being bothered by something Snape is planning and when I say he is planning something in return, now you believe me."
"How long do we have?" Albus' voice was raw with fear.
'But fear of what? Or for what….he goes to Azkaban if they are caught, but then there is more at stake than his own life.' "Less time than you had when I called you in here."
Positioning himself along the same wall as the door; the only place where light coming through the door could not possibly reach. He raised one hand and focused on the door's lock, clear grey eyes going momentarily yellow as he unlocked it.
The retired Auror stared at the open door for a moment, weighing his options, then passed through.
Starch snagged the edge of Albus' sleeve centimeters from where the sun fell on it through a window in the opposite room. "Make sure he listens," Starch tried a last plea. "You withdraw but he strikes back, balance each other or you will both loose."
"You can't tell me any more than that?"
It's up to the mortals now.' He released his hold on the other man's robe and took another step back, away from the sunlight. 'How do I explain feelings I have not questioned for twenty years?'
Albus left him. Alone in the empty room Starch avoided the splash of light on the floor, and the few reflections of sun that were tossed about by objects in the room. Searching a few pockets he eventually turned up a handful of Floo-powder. "The Raven," he murmured, just loud enough to get there.
~
Janette's red neon sign was dim. The curtains were drawn in the windows. The doors were locked. No one was there. Naturally. It was overcast, but still bright; most of her regular customers would not be showing up until after the sunset.
Starch was redirected to a quiet hangout where patrons could wait for the moon in safety. The brick and cement décor suggested a forgotten subway platform from a time when the trains still ran on steam. The movie posters featuring Basil Rathbone and a young Hillary Brooke were originals. Largely populated by Fledglings, the alcove style room went silent when he stepped in.
Looking over the room of shocked, mostly young, men and women Starch tried to locate some one from the right clan. 'Of old the Clans have set themselves apart. So they could hold grudges and keep allies or war with each other. Such a waist of time and potential.' His eyes passed over a small group of Vampiresses in deeply red velvet sheathe dresses and their male escorts; Humans who had pledged themselves to service in the hopes of earning immortality. There were jaded Mods and artistic Teddy's, Manic Panic Punks, romantic Medievals even a few loud Flappers (visiting from America,) 'Not that any Vampire can claim to belong to any mortal nation…' All had the classic palely anemic look of their kind. Finally, their attention wandered, and he found one of LaCroix's little ones. 'Most Vampires just look as though they are better than everyone else…LaCroix's just are.' He laughed to himself and moved toward the small table in the back.
The large muscular Vampire had his long blonde hair pulled back and tied with a strip of plastic lacing. He didn't look up at Starch until he had gotten the Leather clad woman on his lap to agree to meet him at the Raven when he was done with his business. When she was gone he indicated the seat at the table opposite his own. Showing still more disrespect to the Ancient before him, he didn't wait for Starch to speak first. "Well, I must be special." He grinned cockily. "The Good Doctor comes all the way out here to see me. What can I do for you then? Or is this a house call?"
"Lo-Jack," Starch paused to pull out his Victorian sunglasses. Smokey, green, eight sided lenses slid over his eyes. "Lo-Jack, Lo-Jack, Lo-Jack for a Fledgling you are remarkably well developed in the area of senseless arrogance. I do not need LaCroix's permission to exact Credit for your little show here." He watched as the other shifted in his seat and sat up a bit straighter. "Now as to why I'm here. I have been asked to represent a party who wishes to acquire something that I feel may fall under your, particular, area of expertise."
"If it's transportation, name it and I can find it and deliver. For the right price. Anything else and I can put you n touch with the right guy."
Tipping his head in a mock bow, Starch thinly smiled. "This is of a sort that has, perhaps, not been in demand for some time. You have your contacts though." The young Vampire was caught. 'Fool! He doesn't even realize that he's going to be willing to loose on this just to prove he can do it, now.' Starch chuckled to himself and continued. "A horse."
Lo-Jack leaned forward and grabbed a pen and flip style notebook from one of his pockets. "A horse? No I haven't had much call for horses lately. Not since the car took hold at least. You have specifications right? Training, size, breed, color, you gonnna want the tack too?"
Starch set out what he knew was needed, keeping in mind that the price had yet to be set. "The color should, preferably be dark, an agile but strong breed. Something part Friesian, a Warlander or the like would do I suppose." Lo-Jack's eyebrows went up at that, but he wrote it down anyway. "I will need it as soon as possible, the party I represent is willing to pay for speed in delivery. Oh," he added with an offhanded air. "It must be Destrier trained, with full Adamantite armor."
Lo-Jack choked. His head shot up and he scrutinized the Ancient's face, hoping for a trace of humor that would indicate that the last had been a joke. "You want a pretrained preoutfitted war horse capable of going into combat against Wizards? Even if I could get it for you…" he faltered at the prospect of what he could charge for such an order. "Can your, who ever the hell it is, afford something like this?!" He frantically looked around the room for wherever the Ancient's sanity had fled. "Even LaCroix would be hard pressed to pay a reasonable rate for it. And I do not charge reasonably," he hissed back.
"What would you start the negotiating at?" Starch calmly waved over one of the Raven's employees and ordered himself a light A positive.
Lo-Jack reread the list he had made, adding a few notes to certain items. "I could do it for rights to my own Clan."
His drink was delivered and Starch gave a dismissive shake of his head to the Human carrying the tray. "That would have to be arranged through LaCroix." He took a sip and thought. "If he, or she, were able to arrange this with LaCroix for you, you would still not be an Ancient. You would not have a recognized Clan, with Clan's rights, until you had earned the rank of Ancient. If you ever do earn it. Not all do."
"Get me my rights and I'll worry about my personal development."
'Talk LaCroix into releasing the Fledgling? How in smeg am I supposed to do that?!' "Two horses, plus armor and the training."
"If your represented party has the power to get me my freedom from LaCroix, it's a deal." Lo-Jack quirked one thin brow in challenge and waited.
@---'---,---------------
After Starch had made his final plea and released his sleeve Albus had intended to return to his office and finish replying to some rather annoying messages from the various officials who insisted on occupying their time with writing him inane scrolls.
He had stared out the window for nearly half an hour before he drew his wand and returned the paper work to the appropriate files to be attended to later. A soft, musical, coo sounded from beside the office door.
"Yes, Fawkes," he murmured, rising to pet the concerned Phoenix. Iridescent gold red and bronze feathers settled back into place, with a little attention. "You know," he continued to stroke the great bird as he spoke, half to himself, half to Fawkes. "You know, I just can't focus right now. Maybe I'll take a bit of a break, hm?"
with a slight twinkle returning to his eyes, the Headmaster accioed his cloak from the sitting room and made his way down to the kitchens. If the company of a hundred, overly cheerful, House Elves did not lighten his mood, perhaps a snack would…
~
Several sweet cakes and a few dancing gingerbread men later Albus was able to finish the truly important work of the day, before dinner.
'He has been doing so much better since he started eating regularly,' The Headmaster continued the conversation he had been having with himself all day. 'He has not been throwing up as often…' he gave a mental sigh of resignation. 'I know he was becoming sick more often around the times he is supposed to take the Plasti-juice. But now he's doing better…or he's in remission.'
"Stupid Gryffindor!"
The shout brought him out of his own thoughts in an instant. Immediately he recognized the voice of his Potions Master. As he expected Severa was standing to the side, but adding her glare to the situation.
In the busy hall it seemed one of the students had bumped into Severus as he was carrying something hot in a large cauldron. It had spilt on him and was running in a winding puddle toward the main doors.
Albus could see that the student was uninjured and so turned his attention to Snape. "Are you injured Severus?"
"Fifty points from Gryffindor!" The irate man was seething.
"Severus." He wasn;t entirely sure what he had intended to do, but grabbing the Head of Slytherin by the shoulder turned out to be a bad idea.
The speed with which Snape turned was amazing. Suddenly Albus went from trying to get the attention of the angry man, to having his arm held close to the wrist, his hand bent forward, and with what looked like a small amount of pressure exerted a great deal of pain was shooting through his shoulder. None of that registered for a moment though. The eyes that glared at him were wild and so stained the their blue was almost lost in the PMR like shadows. 'He could kill me right now.' Suddenly, like never before, he realized that he and Alastor had taken a great risk in saving the two Garoms.
Out of the tableau he just caught the slight movement, Severa reaching for something tucked in her robe. 'But it's the wrong side for her wand.'
Severus released him and backed a step away. "I- Headmaster-" mouth open slightly he just shook his head.