It had turned quite late again. The dark corridors were all the more frightening now that curfew hour had passed, but Sirius was not afraid. He did not feel much at all. After the gruesome events of this day, Professor Binns's death, the headmaster's questioning, the fight with Snape ('Yes, another one, Professor Vector. But I can assure you it will be the last' - for a while. If he keeps his big, fat mouth shut, that is.)...
Sirius pulled a grimace.
Things were not at all going the way they were supposed to. Not at all. With effort he tried to recapitulate the events since his bet with the stupid slimeball. Well, not a bet exactly. Sirius remembered, trying not to feel guilty about it, that he had been the one to tell Snape that if he did something stupid, he, Sirius, would be the first to reward it. And, after all, what more was Snape than a stupid child? He had taken him literally. Must have. What else had been the cause of all the tragic events since Christmas time? What else could be the cause for the unexpected death of Professor Binns? Someone must have killed him. Snape must have killed him.
With a shudder, Sirius tried to suppress the immediate thought that crept up his neck at the idea of Professor Binns dead on the floor - or in his armchair, in any case. What had been the cause of his death? Poison? Something else? Another thought, even less pleasant than the first, awoke in his mind.
Sirius kept thinking about death and what it might be like to not be able to walk and breath any longer. He had been thinking about it all year, ever since Malfoy had come up to him, asking him to fulfil his vow. To do his family duty and the whole group a favour. The group... who called themselves "The Knights of Walpurgis"...
Another shudder went down Sirius's spine, and another. What if... but it was impossible. He had given up the thought and poured the poison away. Away? Not quite away, he realised. The book was still soaked with it, even though he had returned it to the library the same night. The book... the poison... meant for Dumbledore...
'Going for a nightly walk?' said a dark voice right behind Sirius and he jumped. When turning he saw, with as much relief as anxiety that it was Lucius Malfoy who had discovered his nightly trespassing. A short grin appeared on the elder boy's face and he lowered his wand, the tip of which was gleaming threateningly in the darkness.
'Malfoy,' he said eventually, realising that he sounded reproachful rather than diplomatic.
'As a sixth-year Prefect, dear cousin,' said Malfoy, 'it is my duty to put all curfew breakers in detention. Especially Gryffindors.'
Sirius shot him a tired look. 'C'mon, you'd never put anyone in detention if it isn't somehow to your personal benefit.'
'Sometimes I do,' replied the Malfoy casually. 'What are you doing out here?'
'Thinking,' said Sirius with a grin, well aware that he sounded as though Malfoy had never heard of such a thing. 'What are you doing?'
'Fixing a problem,' said Malfoy darkly. 'None of your business. You still haven't changed your mind?'
'I cannot take this path,' said Sirius quietly. 'When poisoning that book I realised that the last thing I want with people like Bellatrix out there is Dumbledore dead and gone. So... I put it back.'
'You mentioned it,' said Malfoy coldly. 'Any idea what happened to the book? And the poison?'
'I was just reflecting on that,' replied Sirius glumly. 'Suppose I should get it back. But another night searching the library? I cannot even remember where I put it.'
'You are such a child, Sirius,' hissed Malfoy suddenly. 'Idiots like you are the reason why our influence is decreasing so incessantly. Why didn't you destroy the book?'
'It is a library book,' said Sirius defiantly. 'It shrieks if you try to set fire to it.'
'A library book,' snarled the Malfoy. 'Damn right! Do you know what that entails? That just anyone can take it out of the shelf and open it! Even innocent bystanders. Even a teacher!'
Sirius held his breath. He did not want to think. Did not want to imagine what Malfoy was implying.
'It was you who killed Binns!' hissed Malfoy after a second's silence. 'And if it hadn't been for me, your guilt would be known to the whole school by now. Because I destroyed the book after he got his hands on it, reading until he slept. I have been on your track for a while, Sirius, and so could anyone else have been! How could you be so stupid? This blunder is worse than your disloyalty to our group. Now people will ask questions.'
Sirius shrugged. 'Let them. If that means Bella's finally brought back to her senses...'
'What are you talking about?' snarled the Malfoy. 'Haven't you realised what we are fighting for?'
'I realise that you are prepared to murder,' said Sirius quietly. 'And that I am not. I will not tell on you, because you are still my relative, and I believe I owe you something. Still, keep me out of this matter. I have made my decision.'
Malfoy remained silent for a moment, then put a hand on Sirius's shoulder soothingly.
'You are right,' he said eventually, the usual, slippery tone of his voice returning all of a sudden. 'You owe me something. For not turning you in as the murderer of Professor Binns. And I shall tell you now what I want.' He stopped, meaningfully, and glared into Sirius's face. Then he spoke, even more quietly and with the air of a threat about him, 'If ever you get yourself so deeply into trouble that you do not have the choice but to tell the truth... to give away what you have done this term... I want you to swear by all that is sacred to you that you will not give away the people who have been part of this.' He took out his wand, muttered an incantation and pointed it at Sirius's wrist. 'Swear,' he muttered, 'by your blood that you will not mention the name Malfoy or give away anyone you know to be in our organisation, should Dumbledore or his followers ever ask you about it. Swear that, till beyond the veil, you will only talk to a Knight... about the Knights of Walpurgis.'
Sirius stared at him, hesitated, and then, wordlessly, lifted his wrist slightly to touch the Malfoy's wand, ignoring the searing pain that went through his body, and then nodded. Dutifully.
'I swear,' he said, knowing that he would not be able to defend himself convincingly if ever he should get caught over the murder of his own teacher.
Malfoy nodded. 'Good,' he said quietly. 'There is some sense left in you at least. The others have pledged the same, by the way. And remember, a magical oath is nothing to play around with.'
'I know that,' said Sirius harshly. 'Binds you. Worse than Imperio. So... what happens now?'
'The group have given up their plans of just poisoning Dumbledore, seeing as most of us feel that this would require several trustworthy members of our group right in the headmaster's inner circle, rather than a single student who isn't sure of where his loyalties lie. Also, some of us have realised that, while he is the main source of trouble, the headmaster's death will not change enough for our further plans to proceed. Well... and, of course, Rudolphus is having a kind of power struggle with Bellatrix at the moment,' he said, scratching his head. 'That matter's a bit odd. They cannot seem to decide who's having the last say.' He grinned.
Sirius remained silent. He had learned, in many conversations with his family, that listening with a carefully impassive face could be the best way to get your hands on useful information against the person in question.
Malfoy scratched his head again, seeming more like a student than a conspirator by the minute.
'Well then,' he said, 'I suggest you get back to Gryffindor tower. Filch is watching these two corridors tonight, as soon as I have returned to bed. And Robertson is doing the ones further down, of course.'
Sirius nodded. Merely.
Malfoy put his hand on his shoulder, briefly, then turned and walked off, leaving Sirius standing in the middle of a dark, deserted corridor, very pensive, and thoroughly awake all of a sudden. The matter of the second murder seemed solved, of course, if you could call it that at all. But what about Professor McGonagall? He hadn't turned her into some sort of half-ghost. He had not even bought the poison at that time. Deep inside him something screamed that whoever was the owner of that (now-not-so-secret) lab had to be guilty, but not even Dumbledore seemed capable of guessing who had been brewing secret poisons there.
Malfoy?
Impossible. He was sick, but not that careless. Also, Sirius doubted that he knew enough about potions to brew such a difficult one himself. It had been a liquid unknown to even Madame Pomfrey, after all. Not to mention that Professor McGonagall had been transferred to St. Mungo's some time ago - and not healed, as yet.
No, the originator of this scheme had to be intelligent and stupid at the same time. An expert concerning potions, a foreigner to the endless corridors of the castle (or he would not have chosen such an obvious place for the execution of his plan), and an enemy of Professor McGonagall, provided that the poison had been supposed to fall into her hands - which Sirius did not doubt.
And strictly speaking, there was just one person Sirius could think of whom exactly this description applied to...
'A chair each! Don't make such a fuss! There is enough space for all! Quiet, Prewett, I am not saying it again! Gryffindors in this line, Slytherins here, Ravenclaws over here, please. Hufflepuffs to the last table, but mind your heads. This construction has to remain exactly where it is for Professor Sprout's Advanced Herbology class! Prewett, you have just landed yourself in detention! See me after prep-time.'
Professor Robertson's voice was audible all over the Great Hall and students hurried to do his bidding. When Sirius had settled down between James and Peter he realised that staring continuously at the lanky Professor with his unattractive blond goatie would not be the wisest thing to do while he was under his command during homework preparation time. Sirius remembered that Robertson was short-tempered, generally rude, and could not in the least differ between mischief-makers and people having serious problems with their work. Still, the students were used to teachers like him, having endured Professor Jones for the whole of a year and still remembering well what Professor McGonagall's lessons had been like - discipline-wise.
Minutes later, the Great Hall was covered with silence. People were working, Remus was absent, James was doodling with his quill and sometimes scribbling bits and pieces onto his paper. Sirius, on the other hand, sitting in the first row, very close to where Robertson had positioned himself, was lost in thoughts about the Potions teacher and his motives.
Suddenly, however, in the back row of the Slytherin area a small hand raised itself into the air, shyly, waiting for Robertson to acknowledge it, earning itself various funny looks from its owner's classmates. It was not common to start conversations during prep time. In fact, it was not common to start conversations at any time when Robertson was in charge. Sirius considered for a while and decided that Robertson's authority probably had something to do with his being a member of the army. Hogwarts students were not stupid. You did not start power struggles with someone who could be entitled to take you into custody in years to come. The next conclusion Sirius drew was that Snape was probably in an utterly desperate situation if he decided to take the risk of enraging the Potions master. And a risk he was taking by raising his hand in the middle of prep time hour, Sirius decided. Definitely.
Professor Robertson took a full thirty seconds of glaring at his sacred silence's insolent intruder before raising his hand, simply, motioning Snape to come forth all the way to the teacher's desk.
The boy did not seem happy. He got up, half stumbled over his chair and, eventually, passing James and Peter on the way, reached Robertson's desk, both hands hidden behind his back while walking.
The age difference between him and the other second-years, Sirius noted, became more and more visible as the year proceeded. Most people were turning thirteen this year, and were thus going through various changes in appearance and voice (the latter applying to boys rather than girls), whereas Snape, it seemed, had entered Hogwarts a year early and was just still being his usual childish self. Sirius actually acknowledged that, for someone that small, Robertson had to appear quite scary on his large desk with his mouth constantly looking as though he was chewing an onion.
Then again, Sirius realised after a moment's consideration, no person of their right mind could possibly be afraid of someone like Robertson. Not actually. Not like that. You did not come across him, but... actual fear? At present, the thin soldier with his lanky stature and gaunt face was just a teacher after all - and a bad one at that.
'I'm very sorry, sir... per-permission to go to the to-toilet... sir?'
Snape's small voice was audible only to Robertson and the people sitting in the front row near him, but these words alone were enough to make Sirius have to suppress a snort of laughter, wondering how on earth Snape had come up with that way of putting it.
Robertson's gaze darkened.
'Who do you think you are?' he hissed, almost as quietly as the Snape, but more dangerously. 'Prep-time's not to be interrupted for things like that. You could have gone beforehand.'
'But... I need to go - now,' said Snape unhappily. 'Please, Rod-... s-sir.'
He looked rather subdued. Sirius, on the other hand, could not help noting the way Snape had almost called Robertson by his first name. Why... he had not realised there was more to those two than a healthy student-teacher enmity. Had he, perhaps, missed a crucial point in finding the person setting up secret labs in the Hogwarts dungeons after all? With interest, he went on listening.
'You will return to your seat immediately,' hissed Robertson, as quietly as before. 'And you are not going to get up, or make a sound before I say so. Is that clear?'
'But I really have to -...'
'Quiet!' snarled Robertson. 'Not a word.'
'You let Lucius off the other day,' said Snape angrily.
'Mr. Malfoy is a Hogwarts prefect,' replied Robertson coldly. 'You, on the other hand, are just a troublesome little bugger needing to be shown where your place is.'
Sirius frowned. Snape's expression, he noticed, had become one of desperate fury.
'That isn't fair!' he said, so loudly that some people looked up from their papers. 'You just won't let me go cause you have it in for me!'
'Silence!' said Robertson icily. 'I will not be spoken to like that. Go back to your place, Se-nape, or I shall have to apply more drastic methods to make you obey.' He leaned forward just slightly and glared challengingly at the much smaller boy.
Snape's gaze darkened.
'Git,' he muttered, in what Sirius thought was an attempt of suicide, and turned to go. He had not come further than two or three steps, however, when Robertson raised from his seat and put both hands on the desk before him.
'Office, Severus,' he said in a voice of full authority, which took even Sirius by surprise. 'Tonight at eight.'
Snape lost control over his legs (apparently in consequence of the Potions teacher's words) stumbled, and fell flatly on his stomach. Sirius saw the boy's hands curl and glittery sweat appearing on his neck, next to his greasy ponytail. He quickly turned and stared back at Robertson, who had not moved, but was glaring down with the faintest air of a threat about him, ignoring the restrained giggling of the students surrounding his victim.
Snape was back on his feet quicker than anyone had expected. His face had assumed an odd colour as if unable to decide whether to turn red or white. With a brief glance at Robertson's face he made to retort something, but not a sound was coming out of his mouth. He seemed bound by an invisible spell (the Potions master's work?) to oblige and nod. Sirius saw him clench his fists, lower his gaze and eventually walk back to his desk, unsteadily, very visibly trying to get himself under control again. He was even muttering to himself in a serious effort of self-control. Sirius was impressed.
'And I am not hearing another word from you till then!' added Robertson indignantly, which Sirius thought was an unwise move, seeing as the Slytherins had Double Potions this afternoon. The Potions master would have to take back this statement within the next two hours. But that was genuine Robertson logic, of course.
