Chapter 22
The bobby paused at the street corner. Under a lonely street lamp he lit up a cigarette. This side of Notting Hill seemed quiet. What do you expect, he asked himself, it is the middle of the week everyone's tucked in. He had noticed that there were fewer homeless vagrants than usual. The weather was getting colder maybe they moved on south. He tamped out his cigarette and continued his rounds. Three more hours till dawn and the end of his shift, he hoped the rest of his duty was peaceful. Maybe he could get home at a decent hour and actually have breakfast with the family for a change. He walked on down the street past the window of the block's newest business - New Day Travel.
Six doors down he met up with a street regular who went by the name of Little John. His booming voice complemented his massive six foot three frame. "Evening, Officer Tuckridge."
"Little John, still about at this hour? I'd expected you to be set up snug somewhere by now." Said Tuckridge. He offered Little John a cigarette and a light.
"Yah, I found a bolt hole by the dressmaker's shop. I'm on my way there now." Little John cinched up his thick sleeping bag and canvas satchel bag. A small lantern hung on a strap on the satchel. He traveled from place to place and preferred to travel light. He took a long appreciatively drag on his cigarette.
"Will you be staying around here, John?" Officer Tuckridge knew that Little John took odd jobs usually manual labor. He eyed the new satchel bag that Little John had purchased with his last paycheck. For people such as Little John their pride and dignity were the only things left to them. Tuckridge treated the homeless on his watch as respectfully as he could.
"Well, been thinking of moving on fairly soon like Old Davey. I read in the paper that there was new construction being planned in the south. I might get lucky." Little John replied. "My sister's place is on the way. I'll drop by to see her probably."
"Have a good night then and, if I don't see you again, good luck to you, John." Tuckbridge offered his hand. The giant of a man had a surprisingly soft grip as if afraid of hurting the much smaller man.
The two men parted company one to complete his rounds and the other to find his rest for the night. A few minutes later, Little John positioned his sleeping bag next to a steam grate. The warmth and steam from the grate would keep him cozy through the night. His lit lantern gave off a small pool of light around him. He felt something brush against his neck. He swatted at it absentmindedly like one would to a fly or moth. He whirled around after a hard bump to his back. "Who's there? Show yourself! This is my spot but I'm willing to share."
He looked left and then right. He was alone in the alley. He shook his head and turned back to his task. Busy and tired, he failed to notice the spotty shadows that streaked by against the wall. He stood up as he became aware of a high-pitched murmuring all around him like a dozen indistinguishable voices talking all at once. He looked left and right again with the same result as before. He was alone. He took off his coat laying it neatly over his satchel bag. It was then he felt the hardest blow yet. So hard he pitched forward bumping his head on the wall. He turned around quickly his hands balled into fists with adrenalin heightening his senses. He saw a something, a shadow for sure, dart to his left.
"All right, enough of this nonsense. I said I'd share. Now, I'm just too tired to care." Little John walked a little ways to his left looking earnestly for the pesky miscreant. Two, three, four more steps deeper into the pitch-black alleyway. His temper was getting worse as his skin felt the chill. He could make out a faint red glow all the way at the end of the narrow path between the buildings. He quickened his steps. He was going to make sure that whoever it was learned not to mess about with him ever again.
As he got closer, the red lights seemed to fade into the darkness. But he kept on. Whoever it was probably saw him coming and doused his lights. He got to the end. He felt about with his big hands. It was just a flat wall in front of him. He kicked around and felt his feet hit common street trash like empty boxes and plastic junk. Satisfied that he had scared the bloke away he turned around intent on getting some sleep. As he turned, he realized that he wasn't alone. In front of him were two pairs of red embers peering at him big as pomegranates. To his right and left he heard fluttering sounds. There was one pair of eyes on either side of him hanging just above his head and out of his reach. Little John took a deep breath and steadied himself. He hadn't survived on the streets for as long as he had by being stupid. He saw one pair of the red orbs shut and close. Ah, eyes not flashlights, he thought. His mind quickly catalogued the fact that the eyes were red with a white slit in the middle. "Nice night vision goggles you got there. Look here, I don't want any trouble. I didn't know someone already had this alley marked out. Just let me sleep here tonight and I'll be gone in the morning. All right, eh?!"
The same unintelligible murmuring filled his ears but more shrill this time and so high pitched it blocked any other noise. Before he could cover his ears with his hands he found himself pushed against the wall. He felt and heard his shirt being ripped off. His nostrils flared as he breathed in a strong scent of sulfur and burning coal. He felt the edge of a serrated blade being run against his chest first one blade then two. Panic began to rise in his chest. His throat was parched and constricted. The damn eyes looked right into his soul. He tensed his body and squared his shoulders preparing to give as good as he got. He went to reach for the closest of his tormentors.
His right hand shot out into nothingness. His arm hung motionless for a second before plummeting to the ground with his fingers still moving on one end and a bloody bone protruding out of the other end. Little John was screaming in terror for his life inside but no sound came out of his mouth. Blood gushed from where his tongue and lower lip used to be. His nose and one eye formed a grotesque pair of holes on his face. The twin blades had done their work well. Little John was now vivisected down the middle from throat to crotch. Through all this his one good eye served as witness as head lolled down and he saw the faint outline of movement as his skin was stretched open like a book revealing his still intact inner organs. Mercifully, he lost consciousness as his ribcage was snapped off rib by rib.
Little John had found his rest at last courtesy of Lord Voldemort's pets.
~ * ~
The old man bent over his journal for one last look before closing it. His hand traced the length of the embossed dragon rearing on the journal's worn cover. As he did so, the dragon flicked its tail over the side of the book locking the pages to all save those it recognized. Its scales turned crimson before muting to its customary burgundy. Dumbledore knew he would have to put this aside unfinished. The question was when. Despite all the celestial instruments in his office watching the heavens for signs and portents or his many timepieces that measured more than time, he knew not the hand that Fate truly favored. He only knew his part and the course he hoped was the right one.
"No, no, it is the right course. I know it is. It must be. It's the only path I can see." Dumbledore splayed a hand along his beard. It seems that sometimes even Albus Dumbledore had need of a confessor.
Headmaster Dippet called down from his perch on the south wall. "Trying to redress past wrongs is always right."
"Hear, hear!" added a chorus of voices from the other portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses..
"You are doing fine, Albus, keep going as you are," Dippet continued. "We will answer to history on your behalf if need be."
"Thank you. Do try to keep the slander to a minimum. That reminds me I need to get my portrait done. I must remember to tell Minerva to make sure I have a good commanding view." Dumbledore removed his journal to his private drawer "Armando, tell me again your account of Tom Riddle. You had more dealings with him as headmaster than I did."
Headmaster Dippet looked thoughtful. "Shall I start when first his name appeared on the student list?"
"Yes, please." Dumbledore settled back listening.
It was the same whenever Albus Dumbledore found his resolve faltering or was consumed by a puzzling question. He would consult, confide and listen to his predecessors who like him had valued the school's welfare over their conscience in times of need. This was one of those times. On his desk lay a water globe only half filled. The water would be still for a time and then would undulate from side to side as if in response to some imperceptible movement. Dumbledore looked at it worriedly. The tremors were getting stronger and more frequent. He could only hope that they would continue to go unnoticed until the students were out of Hogwarts.
~ * ~
Professor Sybil Trelawney carried in a carafes of coffee, tea and pumpkin juice. House elves and ghosts were not permitted in certain areas of the castle unless they were under absolute instructions. The sleeping room was one of those forbidden rooms. She set the tray down on a round table and then moved about gently waking the sleepers - Sinistra, Vector and Pince. On the other side of the room, the Tree of Blessings was glowing and several new buds could be seen. Another tree still only a sapling was situated further down in the room.
"Is it morning already?" asked Sinistra.
"Thank you, Sybil." Said Pince.
"How are Neville and Hermione?" Vector asked.
"Yes, you're welcome and they're fine." Sybil answered. "Minerva checked on them earlier."
"Very good. The leeching gems worked then." Vector rubbed his neck then his eyes.
"It must have worked better than we had hoped. I'm amazed. I don't feel quite so exhausted." Said Pince pouring herself some tea. "And no headache."
"Is it too much to hope that we may be able to sleep in our own beds soon?" Sinistra sipped her coffee.
"Good morning all," Professor Sprout came in and heard Sinistra's question. "Severus said that he had a few last minute things to check first and then he would start making gems for the rest of us. Before you leave here make sure you have your legs under you."
"Pardon?" Pince looked at the herbology professor.
"The castle is experiencing random tremors with varying degrees of severity." Sprout explained. "I've just checked Demos' pod. The cracks are more pronounced than yesterday."
"He's finally coming out then?" Sinistra asked.
"Oh, yes. I think today is the day." Sprout replied. "No doubt about it."
~ * ~
Hogwarts buzzed with activity. Students chattered away about their holiday plans over breakfast that Friday morning. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving for Kings Cross later that afternoon. There were only a handful of morning classes to deal with before their holiday officially began. Ten minutes after seven, Professor Snape made his entrance. He stood there radiating stern disapproval like a gargoyle atop a spire of Notre Dame surveying the undeserving multitude in attendance. His convalescence had changed him little physically. He was still Severus Snape of the dark locks, lanky frame and arresting but not handsome face. Down one length of the Slytherin table, he progressed with hands held behind him looking straight ahead. He moved with the assured grace of a sleek predator aware and satisfied with his place in the world. His form fitting clothes and robes cut to millimeters above the floor added to the perception of his elegant and effective predation. In his wake the chatter at his house table died half due to his surprise appearance and half to the charged intensity evident in his every stride. His fellow teachers eyed him with interest. Dumbledore held his smile in check. He could see that Severus was attempting his best "put the fear of Snape into them" routine.
Instead of taking his seat at the high table as expected, Professor Snape stopped at the head of his house table and glanced at each and every Slytherin saying nothing but noting everything. The Slytherins dared not openly squirm under their head of house's silent scrutiny. To squirm was to show weakness. Outward displays of weakness had no place in Slytherin house. Private weakness was a wholly different thing.
"I see that my house has forgotten the proprieties of a house review." Snape snapped. His voice was ever his instrument and his cadence and diction was employed to predictable effect. All the Slytherin students rose amidst a clatter of dishes and tableware. Tugging and straightening their attire, all stood at attention by their benches eyes on their head of house. Snape began to prowl down one side of the table. He addressed each by name. To some he nodded. Any student so blessed stood even straighter. Several times, he paused to adjust a tie or pat down a robe. He toured around the entire table and addressed them from the head of the table once again. "I have been unable to fulfill all the usual requests due to my sudden but necessary absence. However, I have fulfilled at least one of my usual duties."
As if on cue, school owls swooped down in a phalanx across the length of the Slytherin table. "These are your midterm reports. I expect them returned with at least one parent's signature." With that said, Professor Snape made his leisurely way to his seat at high table not needing to see but hearing the eager ripping of envelopes. A chorus of thank you's fell upon his ears. He answered them with one brief nod before sitting down to his own breakfast. He knew the notices would be result in a good deal of parental approval. His students' holidays would get off to a good start that much he could give them.
The Slytherins sat down. As one they had until now remained standing waiting for their head of house to be seated before taking their own seats again. Strength was the Slytherin way and that was marked by discipline and deportment at all times. They could be rude and uncivil but manners never failed them. The normal hum of conversation resumed in the hall.
"What was that all about?" asked Dean Thomas.
"That's a tradition from the old times. The founders used to do the same thing whenever there was cause for public presentations and such" commented Neville looking up briefly from something he was writing. Though Neville's new study habits had been noticed and remarked upon by his housemates few truly believed his transformation. A few inquisitive looks came his way.
Hermione looked up and down the table at her fellow fifth years and came to Neville's rescue. "It's in Hogwarts a History. You've been here how many years, has any of you read it?"
"Obviously only you and Neville have." Said Ron grinning crookedly. He sat opposite Harry and Hermione. "Say Hermione can you look over my history essay before I turn it in?"
"History essay? Oh, no! The essay on Wizardry in the Renaissance period is due today isn't it?" Hermione pressed her hands to her temples. "I completely forgot!"
Now, if Neville's studiousness raised a few eyebrows, Hermione's forgetfulness caused outright slack-jawed stares. "What's wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked. "You've been forgetting things a lot lately."
"Just had things on my mind, Harry." Hermione rummaged in her huge bag for some parchment. She found her quill first. She hauled up her bag and peered about for the elusive parchment. Seeing her frustrated search, Neville handed her a fresh scroll. She accepted it without a word. "I'll just have to finish it during potions."
"If Snape catches you, you've had it." Said Seamus who was sitting beside her. "I can just see you with books open on the work table writing away madly."
"It's already in my head, Seamus. I won't need reference material." Hermione explained as she started in on her essay.
At this Neville again looked up from his scribbles. "Hermione, you mean you had already planned out what you were going to write so you don't need to look up anything, right?"
"Oh, right you are, Neville. You're absolutely right." Hermione realized her gaffe. She did have hundreds of years worth of reference in her head ready to be recalled at any time thanks to the Eyrie library. She stifled a smile realizing for the first time that for a change the library followed her not the other way around. She would master the memory exercises professor Snape had assigned to her over the holidays. He had briefly demonstrated to her how to mentally browse the library and its contents. The experience had left her wanting more.
"You're aiming for a detention, Hermione." Said Harry on her other side. "If it was Ms. Delacour you wouldn't have a problem."
"Don't worry, Harry, Professor Snape won't mind as long as I finish whatever potions assignment we're having. Besides, if I get detention I get detention." Hermione replied starting her essay between bites of toast and jam. Unfortunately, an owl picked just that moment to come crashing into the table. Errol lay there breathing heavily beside a fallen pitcher of juice. Hermione's parchment was half soaked by the spreading pool of pumpkin juice. "Oh, bother! Look at this!"
"He's old, Hermione," said Harry trying to mop up the spill that was now starting to drip on to the floor and Hermione's robe. "Not his fault."
Ron untied the message on Errol's claw. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Really."
"Well, is there anything you intend to do other than apologize ?!" Hermione stood up wiping her robes. "Get a new owl perhaps?"
"I said I was sorry." Said Ron. "It's just a bit of juice. No need to throw a wobbler about it."
"That's not the point, Ron!" Hermione used a drying spell on the wet parchment. " Oh, never mind, Ron. Sorry. Ignore me. I'm being nettlesome is all."
"And just a bit moody too." Ron read his letter saying the highlights out loud. "Harry, my mum says she's picking us up at Kings Cross then we can stop by Diagon Alley for some last minute shopping. Hermione, you're invited to come over anytime during the holiday."
"Fantastic! I still have a few presents to pick up." Said Harry while he fed bacon strips to Errol. "I don't know what to get for my godfather or Remus for that matter."
"Thank your mum for me. I'll have to let you know. I don't know what plans my parents may have." Hermione put her quill back in her bag and spied the edge of silver and cream envelope tucked into a book. She groaned.
"What is it now?" Ron asked her. He eyed the other letter in his hand marked for the headmaster. It was probably from Bill he thought.
"Nothing. Something else I forgot. I guess I really do need a holiday."
The blow up at the Gryffindor table did not go unnoticed. Crabbe pointed to Hermione. "Some commotion there with the Potters Three."
"Who cares?! This is important. This is worth a few galleons in my pocket!" crowed Draco. He read aloud the brief note written in Snape's bold handwriting. Perhaps this would make his father forget that he wasn't the top student of his year. "Draco has shown a marked studiousness so far this year. His essays have displayed assured analysis and reasoning. He has, I am told, high marks in Charms and Astronomy. I am looking forward to continued improvement. He is scheduled to complete several extra credit assignments when he returns."
"I've shown some initiative it says here," quoted Gregory Goyle from across the table. "That's good, isn't it?"
Before Draco could form a reply to Goyle's question, the ground beneath began to roll like a ship adrift on a calm sea unsettling but not turbulent. Tea and milk sloshed in their cups. Morning buns tumbled from their piles. The shaking only lasted a minute or two. The headmaster stood up and addressed them all. "You all remember when I said that Hogwarts would be undergoing some renovation over the Christmas holidays. The reasons for these renovations have just been amply demonstrated. The foundation is settling a bit. No one need be alarmed. Ignore these small events as best you can."
Draco grinned upon hearing the announcement. Here was yet another piece of information he could use to his advantage. His Christmas holiday was going to be profitable indeed.
- * -
The note was clear enough the first time Dumbledore had read it. He read it out loud now for the benefit of his audience - Professor McGonagall, Mr. Ollivander, Professor Moody, Professor Flitwick and Nicholas Flamel.
Albus,
I know there's something going on over there. I suspect you're keeping me well away from it. Molly and I fully understand. You have our full support no matter what reason. I have to tell you that Molly and I feel much better knowing that Bill will be under your wing over there instead of off by himself in Egypt.
Things are hopping at the Ministry. Lucius has practically been living in the reference library with that lackey Douglas assisting him. He's asking about a lot of strange things - history of Hogwarts, Azkaban and the Founders. Percy informs me that Fudge is mulling over implementing stronger security measures at Hogwarts. The Department of Magical Measures and Metrics has issued a report citing numerous unexplained surges of magical energy in the vicinity of Hogwarts. Crawford, the head of 3M, says the measures go off the scale. Percy will try to get more information out of them. You'll be getting a summons soon I would think.
Send Errol back with your response. Also, please have Hagrid give him some of that owl tonic like before. He'll be like a new owl when he gets back.
Regards, Arthur
P.S. I've lost track of Moody and Arabella Figg. Know where they could be? And, Mr. Ollivander seems to be leaving the store more and more.
"Good man that Arthur," commented Moody stroking Fawkes feathers and feeding the phoenix some treats. "Nice of him to check on me. What's this about energy surges here?"
"It's our companions, Alastor, despite their size their energy signatures are significant and the spell energy a volunteer now wields is much greater than normal. The castle mask the signatures when inside but outside is another story." Professor McGonagall explained. "That's it then no more practices in the forest."
"So, Malfoy has been tasked with the Lestranges' break out of Azkaban, interesting." Flamel murmured.
"Albus, let us put up dampers around certain areas in the forest. We need to practice and the forest is the only place." Flitwick urged from his perch next to Dumbledore's main telescope.
"Agreed, Filius. Alastor, see to it please." Said Dumbledore.
"There must be a way for us to know more of what they're planning." Said Moody. "How else can we plan a counter strategy?"
"Severus cannot take any more chances. He has left himself far too exposed and vulnerable already." Dumbledore answered. "It has taken a great deal of ingenuity on Severus' part to retain and maintain his position such as it is."
"We need someone else on the inside, Albus, another pair of eyes and ears however indirect." Ollivander volunteered from his seat between Flamel and Minerva. "Lucius Malfoy has asked about an investment interest in the shop. I might sound him out."
"Flavius, Lucius will strongly suspect you to be on our side if he doesn't already," Flitwick said.
"Yes, probably. But he won't know that I know that he knows." Ollivander stood up and moved to sit on one edge of the headmaster's desk. "I've been thinking for a while now that we expend so much care to keep Severus' cover intact that we have overlooked an obvious alternative. Why not keep Lucius and Voldemort busy looking at another direction? Look, I know that they will know or suspect my purpose and motives. Let them. Sometimes the best way is to not hide at all."
"So, you will play along and entice Malfoy to invest in the shop?" Flamel asked.
"That is one way but I have another option in mind which should arouse less suspicion. Minerva told me of the events that occurred after young Mr. Potter was transported to Voldemort. The two brother wands cancelled each other out. Ying and yang. Romulus and Remus. The two faces of Gemini. Voldemort will not be able to do any real damage to Mr. Potter with that particular wand."
"How sure of that are you, Flavius?" asked Dumbledore.
"Very. Those two wands are unique in that both contained feathers from the same phoenix, Fawkes in this case, and were the only two made in that manner embodying the contradiction of the phoenix itself - the cycle of death and rebirth.. If one wand intends death then the other perforce intends life. If one intends to hurt, the other seeks to heal."
"Voldemort will use another wand then." Moody interjected.
"He certainly could, Alastor. However, he is no ordinary wizard not after all his transformations and so no ordinary wand will do. Unless he has mastered spell casting without a wand, he will need an instrument that can harness and focus his energy appropriately. I propose to make it known that I am of a mind to create a staff majestix. I will declare myself open to commission work."
"A custom Ollivander staff?! Excellent tactic, Flavius, and undoubtedly attractive," Dumbledore complimented.
"If it is anything like what you made for me, Flavius, Voldemort will not be able to resist." Said Flamel.
"I expect to be approached indirectly, Albus," Ollivander replied. "If I am, we are in. To make it sweeter I will add that I am retiring and this is the last wand I will ever make. My last will be my best."
"Flavius, he'll have you killed after it's done," Flitwick pointed out.
"That is a possibility that Minerva and I have discussed and planned for." Ollivander answered.
"I can monitor Flavius' activities to a point. If he is ever in absolute danger, I hope to be able to sense it and summon him to me immediately." Professor McGonagall looked at Ollivander. "We are fully aware of the risks."
"Still dangerous. Can you pull him out before the killing curse hits him?" Moody asked.
"We've been practicing." McGonagall replied. Ollivander moved to stand behind her chair. "The summoning is near instantaneous. We're also hoping that being a partner will lessen the effects of Avada Kedavra."
"Albus, Severus keeps to his own counsel on matters between you. I finally realized the true scope of Severus' activities." Ollivander took a deep breath before continuing. "We cannot rest all on his shoulders or on young Mr. Potter or even on you. We must explore alternatives while we have the time. Let me try to get close to them. I can at least keep a closer eye on Lucius. Just let me try, Albus. What can we lose in the trying?"
"Plenty. He won't be easy to fool, Flavius. You are both willing to pursue this no matter the consequences?" said Dumbledore looking directly at his deputy.
"Of the necessity we agree. I can only hope for good favor among pawns, players and petty pretenders." McGonagall gave Ollivander's proffered hand a squeeze.
~ * ~
Potions class that morning was entirely predictable. Hermione finished her potion early. Snape snapped at the littlest thing. The Gryffindors lost points. The Slytherins won points. Hermione tried to finish her history essay. And of course, Professor Snape caught her.
"Ms. Granger, hand it over please," Hermione rolled her parchment and held it out to Professor Snape. Snape unrolled it. "History work during a potions class. Apparently, the prospects of the holidays has addled even your brains and good sense, Ms. Granger. What say you?"
"Yes, sir. Guilty as charged."
"Very well. Get your things and come with me. You will be serving your well-deserved detention now. You will receive no marks for today's class."
"Yes, sir," said Hermione.
"The rest of you back to your own work!" Snape led Hermione to the storage room and closed the door. He made sure the door was completely locked before turning around. He tipped up her chin and looked at her eyes and face. He did not see any apparent distress. "How do you feel this morning, Ms. Granger?"
"Professor McGonagall and Nurse Pomfrey beat you to us this morning." Hermione explained.
"I know they did. I was asking about your overall state. It's not like you to sneak homework like this. Did you not have enough time? I'll speak with Binns and -"
"No, no, don't bother. My fault. I forgot."
"It looks almost done." Snape placed the scroll on the table.
"It is, maybe, another ten minutes or so."
"All right. Lock this door when I leave and finish this. Come out at the end of class."
"Yes, professor."
"And Ms. Granger well done on the gems. The headmaster is planning to give you both medals for distinguished service to the school."
"I suppose that's all right but who would I show it to?" Hermione rummaged in her bag. "Here, at last. Please take it off my hands!"
Snape took the silver and cream envelope she held out. "Ah, the forgotten letter. Thank you, Ms. Granger."
~ * ~
The workroom's windows were dark glass keeping the room dim even in the brightest parts of the day. Heavy damask curtains were hung to keep out even more light. The only light sources came from two lamps on the opposite ends of the worktable. A trapeze bar hung half the length of the table. On the far end sat a cage of small mice. Peter Pettigrew came in carrying four rabbits in a closed cage. It was time for lunch. His master's pets had a very strict schedule and diet.
"Look at him, Wormtail. It's only been a few hours but see the firm musculature. Look, the wing claws are already grappling. He's already fighting me off." Voldemort chuckled as he tickled the creature mewing softly on his worktable. He traced circles on the soft still hairless underbelly then drifted to examine the membranous wings. In two weeks aided by growth spells, its wingspan would grow to two meters long. In little over a month, the wingspan would nearly triple.
"Yes, yes, quite promising," Wormtail tried to keep himself from fidgeting. The baby on the worktable looked harmless but its enormous sire hanging upside down on the trapeze bar was a different story. Vespasian kept his beady scarlet eyes on Wormtail. Wormtail didn't dare move knowing that the slightest movement could provoke his master's favorite pet into a killing frenzy.
"Eventually, if genetics holds true, this one's offspring will be even stronger. Well done, Vespasian." Voldemort took a squeaking mouse from the cage and held it aloft in front of the giant bat. Despite the name, one could hardly classify Vespasian as a normal bat. Voldemort had mutated and transformed a group of male and female bats. The hapless mouse was swallowed whole. Wormtail tried not to notice the ensuing sounds of bones being crushed like wood kindling. "What shall I name you little one? You look to be the most feisty of the newest pups, aren't you?"
"Another Roman emperor p-per-perhaps," Wormtail offered. His eyes strayed towards the open door of the room vault. Inside were two more gravid females Hera and Livia. They were kept away from the male bats in the greenhouse while they were gestating. Voldemort personally fed and cared for them.
"Yes. This one is going to be a leader. I can feel it." Voldemort turned the baby over and made some quick measurements. He said the measures out loud and an auto quill dutifully transcribed them on to his working notes. "I believe I shall name you after Little Boots or as history knows him best, the emperor Caligula."
Voldemort pricked the index finger of his left hand. He coaxed a stream of blood out. He then tipped his finger over Caligula's mouth. The blood was lapped up quickly Caligula curled his wings and held on to his master's hand with his still immature talons. If one looked closely one could see the telltale serrations on the talon's edges. Voldemort hardly felt the rows of tiny sharp teeth of this newborn. He stroked its belly as it sucked harder and drank greedily. "Yes, drink your fill, my little boots. Grow strong and you shall serve me well."
~ * ~
The heads of houses accompanied the headmaster and headmistress in bidding the students goodbye that afternoon. The last carriage had just gone past the gates when the castle experienced the strongest tremor yet. This was followed by an ear-splitting crack and another longer lasting quake. They rushed as one to Snape's dungeon quarters wands ready. The bedroom was a shambles. One half of the pod lay on the bed. The other half was on the floor. Large shards lay scattered everywhere else. There were small pools of water about the room. Flames engulfed one side of the bed. They choked on the smoky haze whirling about the room.
Snape led them in. "Demos! Demos! Where are you? Are you all right?"
A shape rose in front of him. Behind him, Snape heard the headmaster say "Illuminatus Orde" and the room was bathed in soft almost gentle light. The shape took form and it ran towards Snape. Snape found himself being hugged by his former shadow.
"You got me out just like you said, Severus! Thank you!" Demos' eyes shined. Robbed of speech, Snape could only stare at the near-mirror image of himself standing nude before him. Yes, the shadow had a real face now. Demos was oblivious to the image he presented. He was too busy saying hello to all his friends now crowding around him. "Hello, headmaster, professors. How are you?"
"We should be asking you that question, young man," Dumbledore looked his fill. Demos reminded him of a young Severus fresh out of university and full of promise. The only difference he could see right off was that Demos had hazel eyes instead of black ones like Severus'. Of course, there was the hair, too. Demos' thick wavy hair fell just above his buttocks.
Professor McGonagall conjured a cloak and slipped it around Demos' shoulders. "Let's take you to the infirmary shall we?"
Snape shook himself out of his reverie at last. "Yes, we must do that. Come on."
"All right. I'll race you there!" Demos fairly bounded out of the circle they had formed around him. He nonchalantly passed right through the wall.
Flitwick voiced all their thoughts for them. "He looks human enough but not ."
"Apparently," Professor McGonagall added in a tone drier than sawdust.
~ * ~
Professor McGonagall paused before entering Professor Snape's classroom. She and Albus had drawn lots to see who would have this duty. She found the potions master working behind his desk.
"Severus, what's the matter?" Professor McGonagall stepped around the large desk.
"Nothing, Minerva." Severus peered at a piece of parchment pretending to read but not really making out the words or letters.
Minerva leaned over his shoulder and turned the parchment in front of him right side up and placed it in his hands again. "Really nothing? Since when has it become fashionable to read upside down."
Snape put the parchment down. "I suppose nothing I say will be very convincing."
"Tell Aunt Minerva all about it." Professor McGonagall fluffed up a pillow before sitting down in the chair with the pillow behind her.
"Don't make yourself comfortable on my account," said Snape.
"You were very preoccupied at dinner."
"Surprised you noticed. It looked like Demos was keeping everyone entertained."
"He was delightful. Did you see his face when he bit into his first ice cream? Absolute wonderment."
"Yes, the discovery of his taste buds has quite paralyzed him. I left him with Dobby in the kitchens sampling anything and everything. I predict he'll have a stomach ache before the night is out."
"Yes, let him enjoy himself now. Nicholas can't wait to examine him tomorrow. That takes care of Demos, what about you? What has paralyzed you?" Snape kept silent.
"You may tell Albus that I'm fine. Just a little tired. Demos can be a handful. Now more than ever."
A long silence fell between them. Professor McGonagall stood up. "All right I get the message. You obviously don't want to talk now. But, Severus, promise me we'll talk when you're ready."
Snape nodded. "After the holiday, Minerva. I need time to think."
"Very well. Have a good night, Severus." Snape waited until his colleague was well out of his office. He opened a drawer and took out his mother's letter. He read it again for what seemed like the twentieth time. Still no answers came to him. Instead question after question did. Questions he hadn't thought to ask that now beggared for answers.
~ * ~
Author's Notes - Yes, a bit short where Demos is concerned. But he gets more to do next chapter and a new name besides. I'm debating on his hairstyle. Sorry for the late updating. Real world stuff demanded attention.
Enjoy!
mavidian
The bobby paused at the street corner. Under a lonely street lamp he lit up a cigarette. This side of Notting Hill seemed quiet. What do you expect, he asked himself, it is the middle of the week everyone's tucked in. He had noticed that there were fewer homeless vagrants than usual. The weather was getting colder maybe they moved on south. He tamped out his cigarette and continued his rounds. Three more hours till dawn and the end of his shift, he hoped the rest of his duty was peaceful. Maybe he could get home at a decent hour and actually have breakfast with the family for a change. He walked on down the street past the window of the block's newest business - New Day Travel.
Six doors down he met up with a street regular who went by the name of Little John. His booming voice complemented his massive six foot three frame. "Evening, Officer Tuckridge."
"Little John, still about at this hour? I'd expected you to be set up snug somewhere by now." Said Tuckridge. He offered Little John a cigarette and a light.
"Yah, I found a bolt hole by the dressmaker's shop. I'm on my way there now." Little John cinched up his thick sleeping bag and canvas satchel bag. A small lantern hung on a strap on the satchel. He traveled from place to place and preferred to travel light. He took a long appreciatively drag on his cigarette.
"Will you be staying around here, John?" Officer Tuckridge knew that Little John took odd jobs usually manual labor. He eyed the new satchel bag that Little John had purchased with his last paycheck. For people such as Little John their pride and dignity were the only things left to them. Tuckridge treated the homeless on his watch as respectfully as he could.
"Well, been thinking of moving on fairly soon like Old Davey. I read in the paper that there was new construction being planned in the south. I might get lucky." Little John replied. "My sister's place is on the way. I'll drop by to see her probably."
"Have a good night then and, if I don't see you again, good luck to you, John." Tuckbridge offered his hand. The giant of a man had a surprisingly soft grip as if afraid of hurting the much smaller man.
The two men parted company one to complete his rounds and the other to find his rest for the night. A few minutes later, Little John positioned his sleeping bag next to a steam grate. The warmth and steam from the grate would keep him cozy through the night. His lit lantern gave off a small pool of light around him. He felt something brush against his neck. He swatted at it absentmindedly like one would to a fly or moth. He whirled around after a hard bump to his back. "Who's there? Show yourself! This is my spot but I'm willing to share."
He looked left and then right. He was alone in the alley. He shook his head and turned back to his task. Busy and tired, he failed to notice the spotty shadows that streaked by against the wall. He stood up as he became aware of a high-pitched murmuring all around him like a dozen indistinguishable voices talking all at once. He looked left and right again with the same result as before. He was alone. He took off his coat laying it neatly over his satchel bag. It was then he felt the hardest blow yet. So hard he pitched forward bumping his head on the wall. He turned around quickly his hands balled into fists with adrenalin heightening his senses. He saw a something, a shadow for sure, dart to his left.
"All right, enough of this nonsense. I said I'd share. Now, I'm just too tired to care." Little John walked a little ways to his left looking earnestly for the pesky miscreant. Two, three, four more steps deeper into the pitch-black alleyway. His temper was getting worse as his skin felt the chill. He could make out a faint red glow all the way at the end of the narrow path between the buildings. He quickened his steps. He was going to make sure that whoever it was learned not to mess about with him ever again.
As he got closer, the red lights seemed to fade into the darkness. But he kept on. Whoever it was probably saw him coming and doused his lights. He got to the end. He felt about with his big hands. It was just a flat wall in front of him. He kicked around and felt his feet hit common street trash like empty boxes and plastic junk. Satisfied that he had scared the bloke away he turned around intent on getting some sleep. As he turned, he realized that he wasn't alone. In front of him were two pairs of red embers peering at him big as pomegranates. To his right and left he heard fluttering sounds. There was one pair of eyes on either side of him hanging just above his head and out of his reach. Little John took a deep breath and steadied himself. He hadn't survived on the streets for as long as he had by being stupid. He saw one pair of the red orbs shut and close. Ah, eyes not flashlights, he thought. His mind quickly catalogued the fact that the eyes were red with a white slit in the middle. "Nice night vision goggles you got there. Look here, I don't want any trouble. I didn't know someone already had this alley marked out. Just let me sleep here tonight and I'll be gone in the morning. All right, eh?!"
The same unintelligible murmuring filled his ears but more shrill this time and so high pitched it blocked any other noise. Before he could cover his ears with his hands he found himself pushed against the wall. He felt and heard his shirt being ripped off. His nostrils flared as he breathed in a strong scent of sulfur and burning coal. He felt the edge of a serrated blade being run against his chest first one blade then two. Panic began to rise in his chest. His throat was parched and constricted. The damn eyes looked right into his soul. He tensed his body and squared his shoulders preparing to give as good as he got. He went to reach for the closest of his tormentors.
His right hand shot out into nothingness. His arm hung motionless for a second before plummeting to the ground with his fingers still moving on one end and a bloody bone protruding out of the other end. Little John was screaming in terror for his life inside but no sound came out of his mouth. Blood gushed from where his tongue and lower lip used to be. His nose and one eye formed a grotesque pair of holes on his face. The twin blades had done their work well. Little John was now vivisected down the middle from throat to crotch. Through all this his one good eye served as witness as head lolled down and he saw the faint outline of movement as his skin was stretched open like a book revealing his still intact inner organs. Mercifully, he lost consciousness as his ribcage was snapped off rib by rib.
Little John had found his rest at last courtesy of Lord Voldemort's pets.
~ * ~
The old man bent over his journal for one last look before closing it. His hand traced the length of the embossed dragon rearing on the journal's worn cover. As he did so, the dragon flicked its tail over the side of the book locking the pages to all save those it recognized. Its scales turned crimson before muting to its customary burgundy. Dumbledore knew he would have to put this aside unfinished. The question was when. Despite all the celestial instruments in his office watching the heavens for signs and portents or his many timepieces that measured more than time, he knew not the hand that Fate truly favored. He only knew his part and the course he hoped was the right one.
"No, no, it is the right course. I know it is. It must be. It's the only path I can see." Dumbledore splayed a hand along his beard. It seems that sometimes even Albus Dumbledore had need of a confessor.
Headmaster Dippet called down from his perch on the south wall. "Trying to redress past wrongs is always right."
"Hear, hear!" added a chorus of voices from the other portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses..
"You are doing fine, Albus, keep going as you are," Dippet continued. "We will answer to history on your behalf if need be."
"Thank you. Do try to keep the slander to a minimum. That reminds me I need to get my portrait done. I must remember to tell Minerva to make sure I have a good commanding view." Dumbledore removed his journal to his private drawer "Armando, tell me again your account of Tom Riddle. You had more dealings with him as headmaster than I did."
Headmaster Dippet looked thoughtful. "Shall I start when first his name appeared on the student list?"
"Yes, please." Dumbledore settled back listening.
It was the same whenever Albus Dumbledore found his resolve faltering or was consumed by a puzzling question. He would consult, confide and listen to his predecessors who like him had valued the school's welfare over their conscience in times of need. This was one of those times. On his desk lay a water globe only half filled. The water would be still for a time and then would undulate from side to side as if in response to some imperceptible movement. Dumbledore looked at it worriedly. The tremors were getting stronger and more frequent. He could only hope that they would continue to go unnoticed until the students were out of Hogwarts.
~ * ~
Professor Sybil Trelawney carried in a carafes of coffee, tea and pumpkin juice. House elves and ghosts were not permitted in certain areas of the castle unless they were under absolute instructions. The sleeping room was one of those forbidden rooms. She set the tray down on a round table and then moved about gently waking the sleepers - Sinistra, Vector and Pince. On the other side of the room, the Tree of Blessings was glowing and several new buds could be seen. Another tree still only a sapling was situated further down in the room.
"Is it morning already?" asked Sinistra.
"Thank you, Sybil." Said Pince.
"How are Neville and Hermione?" Vector asked.
"Yes, you're welcome and they're fine." Sybil answered. "Minerva checked on them earlier."
"Very good. The leeching gems worked then." Vector rubbed his neck then his eyes.
"It must have worked better than we had hoped. I'm amazed. I don't feel quite so exhausted." Said Pince pouring herself some tea. "And no headache."
"Is it too much to hope that we may be able to sleep in our own beds soon?" Sinistra sipped her coffee.
"Good morning all," Professor Sprout came in and heard Sinistra's question. "Severus said that he had a few last minute things to check first and then he would start making gems for the rest of us. Before you leave here make sure you have your legs under you."
"Pardon?" Pince looked at the herbology professor.
"The castle is experiencing random tremors with varying degrees of severity." Sprout explained. "I've just checked Demos' pod. The cracks are more pronounced than yesterday."
"He's finally coming out then?" Sinistra asked.
"Oh, yes. I think today is the day." Sprout replied. "No doubt about it."
~ * ~
Hogwarts buzzed with activity. Students chattered away about their holiday plans over breakfast that Friday morning. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving for Kings Cross later that afternoon. There were only a handful of morning classes to deal with before their holiday officially began. Ten minutes after seven, Professor Snape made his entrance. He stood there radiating stern disapproval like a gargoyle atop a spire of Notre Dame surveying the undeserving multitude in attendance. His convalescence had changed him little physically. He was still Severus Snape of the dark locks, lanky frame and arresting but not handsome face. Down one length of the Slytherin table, he progressed with hands held behind him looking straight ahead. He moved with the assured grace of a sleek predator aware and satisfied with his place in the world. His form fitting clothes and robes cut to millimeters above the floor added to the perception of his elegant and effective predation. In his wake the chatter at his house table died half due to his surprise appearance and half to the charged intensity evident in his every stride. His fellow teachers eyed him with interest. Dumbledore held his smile in check. He could see that Severus was attempting his best "put the fear of Snape into them" routine.
Instead of taking his seat at the high table as expected, Professor Snape stopped at the head of his house table and glanced at each and every Slytherin saying nothing but noting everything. The Slytherins dared not openly squirm under their head of house's silent scrutiny. To squirm was to show weakness. Outward displays of weakness had no place in Slytherin house. Private weakness was a wholly different thing.
"I see that my house has forgotten the proprieties of a house review." Snape snapped. His voice was ever his instrument and his cadence and diction was employed to predictable effect. All the Slytherin students rose amidst a clatter of dishes and tableware. Tugging and straightening their attire, all stood at attention by their benches eyes on their head of house. Snape began to prowl down one side of the table. He addressed each by name. To some he nodded. Any student so blessed stood even straighter. Several times, he paused to adjust a tie or pat down a robe. He toured around the entire table and addressed them from the head of the table once again. "I have been unable to fulfill all the usual requests due to my sudden but necessary absence. However, I have fulfilled at least one of my usual duties."
As if on cue, school owls swooped down in a phalanx across the length of the Slytherin table. "These are your midterm reports. I expect them returned with at least one parent's signature." With that said, Professor Snape made his leisurely way to his seat at high table not needing to see but hearing the eager ripping of envelopes. A chorus of thank you's fell upon his ears. He answered them with one brief nod before sitting down to his own breakfast. He knew the notices would be result in a good deal of parental approval. His students' holidays would get off to a good start that much he could give them.
The Slytherins sat down. As one they had until now remained standing waiting for their head of house to be seated before taking their own seats again. Strength was the Slytherin way and that was marked by discipline and deportment at all times. They could be rude and uncivil but manners never failed them. The normal hum of conversation resumed in the hall.
"What was that all about?" asked Dean Thomas.
"That's a tradition from the old times. The founders used to do the same thing whenever there was cause for public presentations and such" commented Neville looking up briefly from something he was writing. Though Neville's new study habits had been noticed and remarked upon by his housemates few truly believed his transformation. A few inquisitive looks came his way.
Hermione looked up and down the table at her fellow fifth years and came to Neville's rescue. "It's in Hogwarts a History. You've been here how many years, has any of you read it?"
"Obviously only you and Neville have." Said Ron grinning crookedly. He sat opposite Harry and Hermione. "Say Hermione can you look over my history essay before I turn it in?"
"History essay? Oh, no! The essay on Wizardry in the Renaissance period is due today isn't it?" Hermione pressed her hands to her temples. "I completely forgot!"
Now, if Neville's studiousness raised a few eyebrows, Hermione's forgetfulness caused outright slack-jawed stares. "What's wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked. "You've been forgetting things a lot lately."
"Just had things on my mind, Harry." Hermione rummaged in her huge bag for some parchment. She found her quill first. She hauled up her bag and peered about for the elusive parchment. Seeing her frustrated search, Neville handed her a fresh scroll. She accepted it without a word. "I'll just have to finish it during potions."
"If Snape catches you, you've had it." Said Seamus who was sitting beside her. "I can just see you with books open on the work table writing away madly."
"It's already in my head, Seamus. I won't need reference material." Hermione explained as she started in on her essay.
At this Neville again looked up from his scribbles. "Hermione, you mean you had already planned out what you were going to write so you don't need to look up anything, right?"
"Oh, right you are, Neville. You're absolutely right." Hermione realized her gaffe. She did have hundreds of years worth of reference in her head ready to be recalled at any time thanks to the Eyrie library. She stifled a smile realizing for the first time that for a change the library followed her not the other way around. She would master the memory exercises professor Snape had assigned to her over the holidays. He had briefly demonstrated to her how to mentally browse the library and its contents. The experience had left her wanting more.
"You're aiming for a detention, Hermione." Said Harry on her other side. "If it was Ms. Delacour you wouldn't have a problem."
"Don't worry, Harry, Professor Snape won't mind as long as I finish whatever potions assignment we're having. Besides, if I get detention I get detention." Hermione replied starting her essay between bites of toast and jam. Unfortunately, an owl picked just that moment to come crashing into the table. Errol lay there breathing heavily beside a fallen pitcher of juice. Hermione's parchment was half soaked by the spreading pool of pumpkin juice. "Oh, bother! Look at this!"
"He's old, Hermione," said Harry trying to mop up the spill that was now starting to drip on to the floor and Hermione's robe. "Not his fault."
Ron untied the message on Errol's claw. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Really."
"Well, is there anything you intend to do other than apologize ?!" Hermione stood up wiping her robes. "Get a new owl perhaps?"
"I said I was sorry." Said Ron. "It's just a bit of juice. No need to throw a wobbler about it."
"That's not the point, Ron!" Hermione used a drying spell on the wet parchment. " Oh, never mind, Ron. Sorry. Ignore me. I'm being nettlesome is all."
"And just a bit moody too." Ron read his letter saying the highlights out loud. "Harry, my mum says she's picking us up at Kings Cross then we can stop by Diagon Alley for some last minute shopping. Hermione, you're invited to come over anytime during the holiday."
"Fantastic! I still have a few presents to pick up." Said Harry while he fed bacon strips to Errol. "I don't know what to get for my godfather or Remus for that matter."
"Thank your mum for me. I'll have to let you know. I don't know what plans my parents may have." Hermione put her quill back in her bag and spied the edge of silver and cream envelope tucked into a book. She groaned.
"What is it now?" Ron asked her. He eyed the other letter in his hand marked for the headmaster. It was probably from Bill he thought.
"Nothing. Something else I forgot. I guess I really do need a holiday."
The blow up at the Gryffindor table did not go unnoticed. Crabbe pointed to Hermione. "Some commotion there with the Potters Three."
"Who cares?! This is important. This is worth a few galleons in my pocket!" crowed Draco. He read aloud the brief note written in Snape's bold handwriting. Perhaps this would make his father forget that he wasn't the top student of his year. "Draco has shown a marked studiousness so far this year. His essays have displayed assured analysis and reasoning. He has, I am told, high marks in Charms and Astronomy. I am looking forward to continued improvement. He is scheduled to complete several extra credit assignments when he returns."
"I've shown some initiative it says here," quoted Gregory Goyle from across the table. "That's good, isn't it?"
Before Draco could form a reply to Goyle's question, the ground beneath began to roll like a ship adrift on a calm sea unsettling but not turbulent. Tea and milk sloshed in their cups. Morning buns tumbled from their piles. The shaking only lasted a minute or two. The headmaster stood up and addressed them all. "You all remember when I said that Hogwarts would be undergoing some renovation over the Christmas holidays. The reasons for these renovations have just been amply demonstrated. The foundation is settling a bit. No one need be alarmed. Ignore these small events as best you can."
Draco grinned upon hearing the announcement. Here was yet another piece of information he could use to his advantage. His Christmas holiday was going to be profitable indeed.
- * -
The note was clear enough the first time Dumbledore had read it. He read it out loud now for the benefit of his audience - Professor McGonagall, Mr. Ollivander, Professor Moody, Professor Flitwick and Nicholas Flamel.
Albus,
I know there's something going on over there. I suspect you're keeping me well away from it. Molly and I fully understand. You have our full support no matter what reason. I have to tell you that Molly and I feel much better knowing that Bill will be under your wing over there instead of off by himself in Egypt.
Things are hopping at the Ministry. Lucius has practically been living in the reference library with that lackey Douglas assisting him. He's asking about a lot of strange things - history of Hogwarts, Azkaban and the Founders. Percy informs me that Fudge is mulling over implementing stronger security measures at Hogwarts. The Department of Magical Measures and Metrics has issued a report citing numerous unexplained surges of magical energy in the vicinity of Hogwarts. Crawford, the head of 3M, says the measures go off the scale. Percy will try to get more information out of them. You'll be getting a summons soon I would think.
Send Errol back with your response. Also, please have Hagrid give him some of that owl tonic like before. He'll be like a new owl when he gets back.
Regards, Arthur
P.S. I've lost track of Moody and Arabella Figg. Know where they could be? And, Mr. Ollivander seems to be leaving the store more and more.
"Good man that Arthur," commented Moody stroking Fawkes feathers and feeding the phoenix some treats. "Nice of him to check on me. What's this about energy surges here?"
"It's our companions, Alastor, despite their size their energy signatures are significant and the spell energy a volunteer now wields is much greater than normal. The castle mask the signatures when inside but outside is another story." Professor McGonagall explained. "That's it then no more practices in the forest."
"So, Malfoy has been tasked with the Lestranges' break out of Azkaban, interesting." Flamel murmured.
"Albus, let us put up dampers around certain areas in the forest. We need to practice and the forest is the only place." Flitwick urged from his perch next to Dumbledore's main telescope.
"Agreed, Filius. Alastor, see to it please." Said Dumbledore.
"There must be a way for us to know more of what they're planning." Said Moody. "How else can we plan a counter strategy?"
"Severus cannot take any more chances. He has left himself far too exposed and vulnerable already." Dumbledore answered. "It has taken a great deal of ingenuity on Severus' part to retain and maintain his position such as it is."
"We need someone else on the inside, Albus, another pair of eyes and ears however indirect." Ollivander volunteered from his seat between Flamel and Minerva. "Lucius Malfoy has asked about an investment interest in the shop. I might sound him out."
"Flavius, Lucius will strongly suspect you to be on our side if he doesn't already," Flitwick said.
"Yes, probably. But he won't know that I know that he knows." Ollivander stood up and moved to sit on one edge of the headmaster's desk. "I've been thinking for a while now that we expend so much care to keep Severus' cover intact that we have overlooked an obvious alternative. Why not keep Lucius and Voldemort busy looking at another direction? Look, I know that they will know or suspect my purpose and motives. Let them. Sometimes the best way is to not hide at all."
"So, you will play along and entice Malfoy to invest in the shop?" Flamel asked.
"That is one way but I have another option in mind which should arouse less suspicion. Minerva told me of the events that occurred after young Mr. Potter was transported to Voldemort. The two brother wands cancelled each other out. Ying and yang. Romulus and Remus. The two faces of Gemini. Voldemort will not be able to do any real damage to Mr. Potter with that particular wand."
"How sure of that are you, Flavius?" asked Dumbledore.
"Very. Those two wands are unique in that both contained feathers from the same phoenix, Fawkes in this case, and were the only two made in that manner embodying the contradiction of the phoenix itself - the cycle of death and rebirth.. If one wand intends death then the other perforce intends life. If one intends to hurt, the other seeks to heal."
"Voldemort will use another wand then." Moody interjected.
"He certainly could, Alastor. However, he is no ordinary wizard not after all his transformations and so no ordinary wand will do. Unless he has mastered spell casting without a wand, he will need an instrument that can harness and focus his energy appropriately. I propose to make it known that I am of a mind to create a staff majestix. I will declare myself open to commission work."
"A custom Ollivander staff?! Excellent tactic, Flavius, and undoubtedly attractive," Dumbledore complimented.
"If it is anything like what you made for me, Flavius, Voldemort will not be able to resist." Said Flamel.
"I expect to be approached indirectly, Albus," Ollivander replied. "If I am, we are in. To make it sweeter I will add that I am retiring and this is the last wand I will ever make. My last will be my best."
"Flavius, he'll have you killed after it's done," Flitwick pointed out.
"That is a possibility that Minerva and I have discussed and planned for." Ollivander answered.
"I can monitor Flavius' activities to a point. If he is ever in absolute danger, I hope to be able to sense it and summon him to me immediately." Professor McGonagall looked at Ollivander. "We are fully aware of the risks."
"Still dangerous. Can you pull him out before the killing curse hits him?" Moody asked.
"We've been practicing." McGonagall replied. Ollivander moved to stand behind her chair. "The summoning is near instantaneous. We're also hoping that being a partner will lessen the effects of Avada Kedavra."
"Albus, Severus keeps to his own counsel on matters between you. I finally realized the true scope of Severus' activities." Ollivander took a deep breath before continuing. "We cannot rest all on his shoulders or on young Mr. Potter or even on you. We must explore alternatives while we have the time. Let me try to get close to them. I can at least keep a closer eye on Lucius. Just let me try, Albus. What can we lose in the trying?"
"Plenty. He won't be easy to fool, Flavius. You are both willing to pursue this no matter the consequences?" said Dumbledore looking directly at his deputy.
"Of the necessity we agree. I can only hope for good favor among pawns, players and petty pretenders." McGonagall gave Ollivander's proffered hand a squeeze.
~ * ~
Potions class that morning was entirely predictable. Hermione finished her potion early. Snape snapped at the littlest thing. The Gryffindors lost points. The Slytherins won points. Hermione tried to finish her history essay. And of course, Professor Snape caught her.
"Ms. Granger, hand it over please," Hermione rolled her parchment and held it out to Professor Snape. Snape unrolled it. "History work during a potions class. Apparently, the prospects of the holidays has addled even your brains and good sense, Ms. Granger. What say you?"
"Yes, sir. Guilty as charged."
"Very well. Get your things and come with me. You will be serving your well-deserved detention now. You will receive no marks for today's class."
"Yes, sir," said Hermione.
"The rest of you back to your own work!" Snape led Hermione to the storage room and closed the door. He made sure the door was completely locked before turning around. He tipped up her chin and looked at her eyes and face. He did not see any apparent distress. "How do you feel this morning, Ms. Granger?"
"Professor McGonagall and Nurse Pomfrey beat you to us this morning." Hermione explained.
"I know they did. I was asking about your overall state. It's not like you to sneak homework like this. Did you not have enough time? I'll speak with Binns and -"
"No, no, don't bother. My fault. I forgot."
"It looks almost done." Snape placed the scroll on the table.
"It is, maybe, another ten minutes or so."
"All right. Lock this door when I leave and finish this. Come out at the end of class."
"Yes, professor."
"And Ms. Granger well done on the gems. The headmaster is planning to give you both medals for distinguished service to the school."
"I suppose that's all right but who would I show it to?" Hermione rummaged in her bag. "Here, at last. Please take it off my hands!"
Snape took the silver and cream envelope she held out. "Ah, the forgotten letter. Thank you, Ms. Granger."
~ * ~
The workroom's windows were dark glass keeping the room dim even in the brightest parts of the day. Heavy damask curtains were hung to keep out even more light. The only light sources came from two lamps on the opposite ends of the worktable. A trapeze bar hung half the length of the table. On the far end sat a cage of small mice. Peter Pettigrew came in carrying four rabbits in a closed cage. It was time for lunch. His master's pets had a very strict schedule and diet.
"Look at him, Wormtail. It's only been a few hours but see the firm musculature. Look, the wing claws are already grappling. He's already fighting me off." Voldemort chuckled as he tickled the creature mewing softly on his worktable. He traced circles on the soft still hairless underbelly then drifted to examine the membranous wings. In two weeks aided by growth spells, its wingspan would grow to two meters long. In little over a month, the wingspan would nearly triple.
"Yes, yes, quite promising," Wormtail tried to keep himself from fidgeting. The baby on the worktable looked harmless but its enormous sire hanging upside down on the trapeze bar was a different story. Vespasian kept his beady scarlet eyes on Wormtail. Wormtail didn't dare move knowing that the slightest movement could provoke his master's favorite pet into a killing frenzy.
"Eventually, if genetics holds true, this one's offspring will be even stronger. Well done, Vespasian." Voldemort took a squeaking mouse from the cage and held it aloft in front of the giant bat. Despite the name, one could hardly classify Vespasian as a normal bat. Voldemort had mutated and transformed a group of male and female bats. The hapless mouse was swallowed whole. Wormtail tried not to notice the ensuing sounds of bones being crushed like wood kindling. "What shall I name you little one? You look to be the most feisty of the newest pups, aren't you?"
"Another Roman emperor p-per-perhaps," Wormtail offered. His eyes strayed towards the open door of the room vault. Inside were two more gravid females Hera and Livia. They were kept away from the male bats in the greenhouse while they were gestating. Voldemort personally fed and cared for them.
"Yes. This one is going to be a leader. I can feel it." Voldemort turned the baby over and made some quick measurements. He said the measures out loud and an auto quill dutifully transcribed them on to his working notes. "I believe I shall name you after Little Boots or as history knows him best, the emperor Caligula."
Voldemort pricked the index finger of his left hand. He coaxed a stream of blood out. He then tipped his finger over Caligula's mouth. The blood was lapped up quickly Caligula curled his wings and held on to his master's hand with his still immature talons. If one looked closely one could see the telltale serrations on the talon's edges. Voldemort hardly felt the rows of tiny sharp teeth of this newborn. He stroked its belly as it sucked harder and drank greedily. "Yes, drink your fill, my little boots. Grow strong and you shall serve me well."
~ * ~
The heads of houses accompanied the headmaster and headmistress in bidding the students goodbye that afternoon. The last carriage had just gone past the gates when the castle experienced the strongest tremor yet. This was followed by an ear-splitting crack and another longer lasting quake. They rushed as one to Snape's dungeon quarters wands ready. The bedroom was a shambles. One half of the pod lay on the bed. The other half was on the floor. Large shards lay scattered everywhere else. There were small pools of water about the room. Flames engulfed one side of the bed. They choked on the smoky haze whirling about the room.
Snape led them in. "Demos! Demos! Where are you? Are you all right?"
A shape rose in front of him. Behind him, Snape heard the headmaster say "Illuminatus Orde" and the room was bathed in soft almost gentle light. The shape took form and it ran towards Snape. Snape found himself being hugged by his former shadow.
"You got me out just like you said, Severus! Thank you!" Demos' eyes shined. Robbed of speech, Snape could only stare at the near-mirror image of himself standing nude before him. Yes, the shadow had a real face now. Demos was oblivious to the image he presented. He was too busy saying hello to all his friends now crowding around him. "Hello, headmaster, professors. How are you?"
"We should be asking you that question, young man," Dumbledore looked his fill. Demos reminded him of a young Severus fresh out of university and full of promise. The only difference he could see right off was that Demos had hazel eyes instead of black ones like Severus'. Of course, there was the hair, too. Demos' thick wavy hair fell just above his buttocks.
Professor McGonagall conjured a cloak and slipped it around Demos' shoulders. "Let's take you to the infirmary shall we?"
Snape shook himself out of his reverie at last. "Yes, we must do that. Come on."
"All right. I'll race you there!" Demos fairly bounded out of the circle they had formed around him. He nonchalantly passed right through the wall.
Flitwick voiced all their thoughts for them. "He looks human enough but not ."
"Apparently," Professor McGonagall added in a tone drier than sawdust.
~ * ~
Professor McGonagall paused before entering Professor Snape's classroom. She and Albus had drawn lots to see who would have this duty. She found the potions master working behind his desk.
"Severus, what's the matter?" Professor McGonagall stepped around the large desk.
"Nothing, Minerva." Severus peered at a piece of parchment pretending to read but not really making out the words or letters.
Minerva leaned over his shoulder and turned the parchment in front of him right side up and placed it in his hands again. "Really nothing? Since when has it become fashionable to read upside down."
Snape put the parchment down. "I suppose nothing I say will be very convincing."
"Tell Aunt Minerva all about it." Professor McGonagall fluffed up a pillow before sitting down in the chair with the pillow behind her.
"Don't make yourself comfortable on my account," said Snape.
"You were very preoccupied at dinner."
"Surprised you noticed. It looked like Demos was keeping everyone entertained."
"He was delightful. Did you see his face when he bit into his first ice cream? Absolute wonderment."
"Yes, the discovery of his taste buds has quite paralyzed him. I left him with Dobby in the kitchens sampling anything and everything. I predict he'll have a stomach ache before the night is out."
"Yes, let him enjoy himself now. Nicholas can't wait to examine him tomorrow. That takes care of Demos, what about you? What has paralyzed you?" Snape kept silent.
"You may tell Albus that I'm fine. Just a little tired. Demos can be a handful. Now more than ever."
A long silence fell between them. Professor McGonagall stood up. "All right I get the message. You obviously don't want to talk now. But, Severus, promise me we'll talk when you're ready."
Snape nodded. "After the holiday, Minerva. I need time to think."
"Very well. Have a good night, Severus." Snape waited until his colleague was well out of his office. He opened a drawer and took out his mother's letter. He read it again for what seemed like the twentieth time. Still no answers came to him. Instead question after question did. Questions he hadn't thought to ask that now beggared for answers.
~ * ~
Author's Notes - Yes, a bit short where Demos is concerned. But he gets more to do next chapter and a new name besides. I'm debating on his hairstyle. Sorry for the late updating. Real world stuff demanded attention.
Enjoy!
mavidian