Author's Notes: This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while. I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others. I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive. If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)
I hope you enjoy. The story outline is pretty much done and although input is appreciated, please keep in mind that I am not going to radically alter the story or line. I have always had full intention of using Harry more, but some of the backplot had to be developed first. I suppose this is one of the downsides of posting a story chapter by chapter.
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Chapter 13 – Date with a DementorThe breakfast session in the Great Hall was more lively than usual. Today was Halloween and aside from the Halloween feast, the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend and first Quidditch match of the season put everyone in a giddy, glorious spirit. The festive mood hit a high pitch as the morning owls swooped down from above, depositing letters, Daily Prophets, and parcels to awaiting students and instructors alike.
"Isn't that Hermes?" Harry nudged Ron and pointed to a fine off gray owl that perched beside Professors Lestrange and Sinistra. Snape was sitting on the other side of the table, but the boys could tell that the wizard was looking at the owl as well, his greasy hair lay limp and partially obscuring his black eyes.
"I don't know," Ron said, looking at the owl. "It does look like him, but Hermes was not very unique. Why would Percy send a message here and to her?"
"Maybe to warn Professor Lestrange that Dumbledore is a 'crackpot'" Harry held up his fingers in a quote context, "and that I am 'dangerous.'"
"Yeah, maybe," Ron laughed. "Hey Mione, there are hayrides tonight..."
"I cannot," Hermione sighed, not looking up, "this Runes homework is killing me."
"I thought you finished it this weekend?" Harry asked, pulling the paper away from her. "This isn't it..."
"No, it's extra credit," Hermione said, her face covered by her long brown hair as she looked down, studying the paper.
"You are passing on a hayride for extra credit?" Ron sulked.
"Face it, bloke," Dean Thomas chimed in, "you are a lousy snogger."
"Well, you better not have perfected your technique!" Ron said, glaring at his classmate and then panning his eyes to his sister. He turned back to Hermione, "So what is so blasted important to skip some Halloween festivities for a few points that you do not need?"
"Are you still working on that crazy thing?" Neville Longbottom said. "I gave up. You should see this Harry, it is about you."
"Oh good," Harry said. "Who dies now or what tragedy do I look forward to?"
"No one, but I guess you are not supposed to exist and should be dead," Neville said offhandedly.
"That's nice," Harry said, stabbing his eggs with a fork, while waving the paper in his other hand, "It is reassuring to know that all this death and destruction that is in my wake should not be occurring. I will start sleeping better, I assure you..."
"Harry," Hermione turned and looked at him, "Did it ever occur to you that everything around here is not about you? What makes you think that this," she grabbed the homework from him and held it up shaking it, "has anything to do with you?"
"Really now, Hermione," Neville scoffed, "it is nice that you are not adding any more to Harry's plate, but the divination was apparently about him."
"THAT IS IT!" Harry shouted, quite annoyed and ruffled. He again grabbed the paper from Hermione and paced purposefully up to the teacher's table. He approached Professor Trelawney, who was talking with the centaur, Firenze, and slammed the paper in front of her. "Is this nonsense?" He demanded. The Great Hall bustle died down as Harry's angry voice echoed.
Trelawney took the paper and held it up so both she and Firenze could see it. She studied it, turning it around and upside down. "Mr. Potter, this indeed appears to be nonsense to me. Obviously the work of some charlatan who is feigning talent to gain some attention and cause an uproar." She let go of the paper as Firenze took hold of it for close inspection.
McGonagall, apparently alerted to Harry's outburst, had since walked over and stood behind Trelawney. "Is there a reason, Mr. Potter, why you see it fit to disturb breakfast and make demands from the faculty?"
"Hermione has this stupid project for ancient Runes, apparently some sort of Divinations that they are supposed to interpret..." He stopped as McGonagall held up her hand.
"Professor Lestrange," McGonagall called out and motioned with her hand, "Remind me again what you do teach?" She turned back to Harry, "and five points for assessing a faculty's decision as stupid."
"It is simply a homework assignment," Ruedella said as she approached. "The grade will be based on their interpretation of the runes, as I do not expect anyone to successfully perform a clarification reading. It is far more interesting, and challenging of their skills, than some out of the textbook assignment."
"Well, that is good to know," Trelawney said, "as there are many who claim to have divination talents and simply pose to cause chaos and confusion." She waved at the paper as began to laugh. "Throwing a bunch of blocks on a table does not connect one with their inner eye. It takes a true talent, a gift, to have any type of accuracy." She regarded Ruedella over her over-sized bug-like glasses, "So Professor, how many accurate predictions have you made?" Seeing Ruedella's angry face, she added curtly, "I thought so..."
"I do not believe," Dumbledore's voice said with a slight edge, turning everyone's attention, "that Professor Lestrange was intending to unseat you, but rather make for a more interesting homework assignment." With a snap of his fingers, the paper flew over to him. "Let me see," he said as he studied the paper. "You did this Professor?"
"A student wrote a name on a paper and handed it to me," Ruedella explained. "I do not know the name, but the current theory, given it was Miss Granger who offered the paper, is that it was of Mr. Potter." She scowled and frowned, "Which reminds me that I probably should take some time today to figure it out myself. It is so convoluted that I would hardly suggest anyone take it seriously."
Dumbledore studied the paper for a few minutes. "I assume the red circled area has yet to be interpreted?" he asked for clarification. Taking a few more moments, the room watched as the Professor summoned a quill, ink and some paper and began taking notes. "I do enjoy a good puzzle," he said looking up, but the smile that he usually displayed was conspicuously absent. After a few more moments he stopped suddenly and set down his quill. He looked at Harry and then at Ruedella, slowly he folded the paper and put it in his robe pocket. "I will work more on it later," he said. "Kindly give Miss Granger the extra points since I have absconded with her assignment."
"Yes sir," Ruedella said, nodding her head. She could hear an enthusiastic "Yes!" coming from the Gryffindor table. Turning, she smirked as the young Weasley boy looked at Hermione with a triumphant smile on his face.
~***~
Harry lay in the hay and looked up to the starry sky. It was a perfect Halloween evening; crisp and clear although to the east he could see that the bright stars were obscured by what appeared to be a dense bank of clouds. He felt someone sit beside him.
"Beautiful night," Luna said with her normally chipper air. "There is supposed to be a meteor shower at midnight, but it will be obscured by the rain."
"Oh, so it is supposed to rain?" Harry said simply, pointing his finger to a pitch-black part of the night sky where he suspected a front lay.
"Meteors used to be a sign of important news—for the good or for the bad," Luna said.
"I thought meteors were the work of wizards," Harry said. "I used to think they were simply space rock burning in our atmosphere..."
"Most are," Luna said. "But either a very powerful summoning charm or an illusion charm works just as well. Of course, the implication of important news would be invalid."
"If no one can see them," Harry asked, finding the conversation to be somewhat interesting, "then does the 'news' still occur?"
"Is this like the notion if a tree falls in the woods and no one hears it, then does it make a sound?" Luna asked, scooting closer to Harry.
"I guess," Harry shrugged. "Well, I suppose that we have a half-in-half chance of good news," he said wearily. "Could be worse...could be a comet."
"Well, that's unusual," Luna said, pointing to the moon. The full moon occurred several days before and the waning moon, although not in full phase, was still rather larger and bright in the sky.
"Hmmm?" Harry said, distractedly poking the hay with his wand until he heard a loud 'Ow'. He mumbled to the occupants underneath, "Sorry"
"A giant bat," Luna said. "I've seen it around on occasion. Not native to here."
"Probably a pet of one of the Professors," Harry said, sitting up some more. He scanned the sky, but did not see the large animal. It must have flew off into the darkness, he reasoned.
"So, what was going on during breakfast?" Luna asked.
"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said, grabbing some hay and tossing it. "You know, Luna, I am getting tired. I might go back to the common room and perhaps get some sleep." He started to get up.
"Check in with the chaperones," Luna said, pointing to a small group of professors. "Strange," Luna remarked, "Snape usually volunteers for these."
"Yes he does," Harry said, looking at the group and then the surrounding area. Finally, he said, "Oh, he's here." He pointed down the hill where the moonlight lit up a white cobblestone path. Snape was there and talking to someone—from the gestures and the occasional raised voice that carried through the chilled air, Harry surmised that the wizard in an argument. Grabbing his omnioculars, which he had brought with to study the night sky, as it was easier to carry than a telescope, he looked through them. "Just Snape and Lestrange," Harry said. "Looks like they're arguing."
"Well, that's an improvement," Luna said. "I overheard Madame Hootch and Professor Sprout talking..."
"Using Fred's and George's extendable ears again," Harry asked, grinning.
"I will neither confirm nor deny," Luna folder her arms. "I will say that I have performed some field tests... my father is quite interested in purchasing several sets for his investigative reporters..."
"Oh, of course," Harry snickered. "What did you hear?"
"That Lestrange and Snape haven't talked since, well...when she almost killed you," Luna said with a whisper. "Rumor has it that Snape bribed Fudge to convince him not to take her to Azkaban until everything was sorted out."
"Well, those are valuable," Harry sulked, "what a news headline—'Fudge Takes Bribes.'" He added, "You can have it on the same page as 'You can use Brooms to Fly."
"Next time, I won't tell you anything," Luna said, looking insulted.
"Sorry," Harry said. "I just am getting a little tired of Fudge."
"Don't you find it odd that she isn't talking to him," Luna inquired, "I mean, if I knew someone saved me from Azkaban, then I'd..."
"Sometimes you don't want to be on the receiving end of Snape's good deeds," Harry spat. "It sounds to me like gossip that got out of hand..." He lifted his omnioculars to his face again. "She's pulled away and is storming off." Quickly pulling down the glasses, he hid them in the hay. "Snape's coming back here." The two watched as the Potions Master, in a fouler mood than normal, stormed over to a group of Professors. Snape talked to Flitwick for a second, the smaller Professor nodding most animatedly as the Potions Master barked out a few commands. The Potions Master turned, walked away from the group and into the darkness.
"Well," Luna remarked, "appears that there will be one less chaperone."
~***~
The Hog's Head was alive with festivities and throngs of people rushed in and out. The crowds were reassuring, as Ruedella knew that she could slip in and out virtually unnoticed. She paused by a large signpost, waiting for another crowd to walk by where she would join them and walk into the Inn under their cover. As she waited a large bat swooped around, finally resting on the post beside her. She looked at the animal, whose black eyes surveyed the surroundings. Taking out a box of Bertie Botts from a pocket in her cloak, she fished around for a red jellybean and offered it to the creature.
"I hope it is not cherry," she said. It took it quickly and devoured it down.
"Giant vampire bat," Ruedella pronounced, studying the winged rodent. "Must be a pet," she remarked, "as you seem to be rather tame." She reached up and scratched the bat's ears, smiling as the creature leaned into her touch. After a second, the animal turned and bit her. "Ouch!" she yelped, looking at the thing. "You remind me of a potential lover. One minute his is taking in my affections, the next he bites—not literally mind you, as I suspect Dumbledore would be quite put out if he did." She looked at the thing to see if it had a tag or collar. "Well, off to your Master," she said as she spied a large group of drunken witches and wizards stagger down the street making their way to the inn.
Ruedella managed to get into the establishment unnoticed and fought her way through the crowds to the backside of the inn. There, through a chipped and peeling gray door, she walked down a hallway and stairs to the guest rooms. She made her way to the second floor and to room twelve. Putting her ear to the door, she could hear a faint stirring inside. She held up her hand and knocked. The door immediately flew open, a hand grabbed her wrist, and she was drug inside.
The room was very dark and the shades and curtains were drawn. There was a single light from a floating candle in the far corner and she could make out a figure of a man sitting in the shadow. She turned her head to the right and saw Rabastan standing next to her.
"Happy Halloween," he said. "You brought the food?"
Ruedella nodded and produced several small boxes. She laid them on the battered bed and enlarged them. "I purchased mainly canned and dry goods, as I did not wish to raid the Hogwarts kitchens and have the elves report it to Dumbledore," she said as Rabastan rummaged through the boxes. He pulled out a bag of jerky and ripped it open, devouring the contents as if he were a starved dog. Taking his share, he threw the remainder to the man in shadow, which when he moved to grab the bag, Ruedella noticed it was Rodolphus.
"Merlin's beard, Rodolphus," Ruedella said. "Not even a hello to your sister?"
The man munched on the jerky and said nothing for a few moments. With a quick movement he took out his wand, shrunk the boxes and placed them in a burlap sack. When he was finished, he asked, "Why did you not tell us?"
"Tell 'us' what?" Ruedella asked. "I am here because of Rabastan's letter. Is there something wrong..."
"About your abilities," Rodolphus said. "You never told us that Grandmother gave you lessons. Lessons that she denied even her favorite Grandson." He said the last with a bit of bitterness in his voice. There were always 'issues' between he and Lucius. Lucius was always the more handsome, the more clever, better at Quidditch, richer... and Rodolphus spent endless nights cursing his cousin's good fortune, normally after an evening of comparisons from insensitive relatives.
"Rabastan knew," Rudella said. "But I do not see how I can assist." She reached into her pocket, digging out a letter. "The message was rather cryptic. Don't tell me that you wish to defect and you want me to smooth things over with Dumbledore..." she shook her head, "Dumbledore is not dense."
"We do not wish to betray our Master!" Rabastan bellowed. "I know that Dumbledore will not take a chance with us like he is with you and Severus... I just wanted to get you here."
"Oh," Ruedella said, realizing that she fell into a trap.
"Lucius told us about your clarification on Potter!" Rodolphus spat. "How you tried to downplay it. Even when you do not try you produce startling results!" He took two quick steps over to her, roughly grabbing her arm, "Then, Karkaroff returns and tells us not only about the extent to which Rabastan profited from your talents, but that you did something that even disturbed Dumbledore himself. He claims you predicted a death!"
"Karkaroff?" Ruedella asked. "Severus said he ran off last year."
"He returned voluntarily," Rabastan clarified.
"Sounds like he is using any half-witted scheme to keep alive," Ruedella said skeptically. She relaxed somewhat when she saw the glitter in Rodolphus's eyes. He believed the same.
"So, what exactly, have you and Severus been doing at Hogwarts?" Rodolphus asked. "All nice and cozy, warm, well fed and probably shagging each night. We heard from a reliable source that you two are 'officially' engaged, but yet Grandfather claims he has not received the contract back."
"Severus lied to Fudge last month," Ruedella said. "I...well...let us say I accidentally demonstrated an Unforgivable curse in front of some students. I thought I saw a werewolf...and...well..." Ruedella shrugged her shoulders, slowly backing towards the door. No doubt, she figured, that Rodolphus would have put anti-apparation charms up in the room, but probably not in the hall. "He told Fudge that we were engaged so the Minister would not throw me in prison while Severus made more Veritaserum."
"Would he not keep a supply of that on hand?" Rabastan asked.
"He normally did, but Umbridge used it all up last year and Severus never had the time to make another batch," Ruedella explained, offering the little that she did know. "With Black's death and all, he focused on the Mansion."
"And keeping your ungrateful hide out of Azkaban!" Rodolphus sneered. "Severus is greatly favored with the Dark Lord! He does things for him that even we do not know about!" Her eldest brother leaned forward, his skull-like face glowing in the small whisp of moonlight that made its way through the tattered drapes. "I suggest that you not try the wizard and give him what he wants. If he asks, the Dark Lord will force you..."
"We need to go, Rodolphus," Rabastan pointed to the clock on the wall.
"I will go then," Ruedella said, as she felt Rodolphus release her arm. She turned and took a step to the door, but felt Rabastan's hand roughly grab her cloak and then a very odd, but familiar, pull on her mid stomach.
~***~
Severus apparated into the dark, overgrown garden. Orienting himself, he saw a dozen other Death Eaters walk slowly towards a cellar opening in the side of a large house. He rubbed his left forearm, the searing pain subsiding now that he arrived. He swallowed and peered through his mask. Fear, apprehension... he could almost taste the thoughts of the others. "Good," he said to himself as he often relied on the heightened emotional state of the other Death Eaters to use as an additional shield against the Dark Lord. Played right, with a skill he honed over the years, he would live yet another night.
He took several steps and felt a large mass plow into him. He was not a large man, skinny and boney, yet he learned how to carry himself for fullest effect. He quickly regained his step, turned on heel, eyeing up the brawny wizard who accosted him. The gait was unmistakable. "Watch it Flint," Severus growled in a whisper. His former student stopped in mid track, bent his head and immediately swerved out of his way.
He walked down the laddered stairs into large cellar. Judging from the size and height of the ceilings, it had been magically altered from the Muggle house to a more accommodating wizard space. He stood on the far side, edging closer to a door that he suspected led into the Dark Lord's main room. He surveyed the area, watching the movements and actions of those around him. Flint, he recognized earlier, and he earnestly studied the walks and mannerisms of a few others whom he suspected to be former students—not just of Slytherin, he would be quick to point out.
The door squeaked open and he followed the closest Death Eaters into the other room. Like the holding room, it was magically altered and its walls were made from roughly hewn stone walls. At one end was a large roaring fireplace, large enough for three grown men to stand in it. In front of the fireplace was a large chair that Nagini used like an artificial leather tree. In the center of the room was a dark black table, with sidewalls, with Ruedella occupying one of the chairs while another unoccupied one was placed on the opposite side. A stack of parchments, a quill, and ink floated by the table.
A grandfather clock, obscured by the shadow, rang the twelfth hour, the chimes were deep and solemn and reminded the wizard of a death knell. He watched Ruedella, her eyes fixed on the center of the table as she was breathing slowly. A small smile crossed his thin lips as he watched her bury her emotions and clear her mind as he had taught her. Rabastan's plea for help may have fooled her, but the night may yet be saved if she can navigate around the Dark Lord. His job, he knew, was to wait for the right time to intervene. Too soon, and his eagerness would be rightly misinterpreted. Too late was, well, too late.
In a flash of blinding green flames, the Dark Lord disapparated in the center of the circle very near to Ruedella. He calmly pushed his cloak to the side and pulled out the chair that sat across from her. He leaned forward, his bony hands placed flat on the ebony finish and regarded her calmly with his red, snake-like eyes. "Greetings," he said simply as he stared at her.
"Happy Halloween," she said as her gray eyes riveted to his bony, semi-human hands. The surrounding Death Eaters laughed.
"No," Voldemort said, looking around the room, "Not a single one of you gave me such an honorable greeting. Lack of gratitude, would you not agree?"
"I do not know enough to agree or disagree, but to simply concur with your assessment," Ruedella said wisely. She swallowed as the Dark Lord smiled, his think snake-like lips parting to reveal uneven, ragged teeth.
The creature looked around the room. "My most loyal thirteen are to stay," he commanded. "The rest of you go to the adjoining room and await until we are done." About twenty or so Death Eaters slowly, and orderly, filed out of the room."
When the lower tier of Death Eaters were out of earshot, Voldemort shouted, "Wormtail, get the prisoner!"
Severus watched as the short chunky man waddled over to a side door, unlocked it and levitated out a disheveled wizard with white-gray hair. The man was pulled next to Ruedealla's table and as they unbound him, Severus caught another door opening. Severus held his breath as three Dementors glided into the room.
"A precaution," Voldemort explained, "to ensure proper behavior and a motivator." Two Dementors slid into place beside Karkaroff and the third stood behind the witch. He took out a parchment and laid it on the table. "Quite extraordinary. Done, I understand with out knowing the person, lack of ideal conditions and using silver runes. It says that the boy should be dead, should not even exist and that his existence has thrown our entire time line out of kilter." Voldemort showed Ruedella the parchment, pointing to a few key areas, his own notes written with precise handwriting in the margins. "Let us say that I like what I see."
"We have no real idea that it was, indeed, about Potter," Ruedella said, her eyes darting to the parchment for a second and then back to the center of the table.
"Dumbledore's reaction today confirmed that, did it not?" Voldemort cocked his head, turning it so he looked squarely at Severus, nodding at the Potions Master. Taking the cue, Severus removed his hood and mask, knowing full well that the circle of thirteen knew whom each other were. The Dark Lord continued, "Severus is quite keen on getting details that Lucius's son either misses or entirely misinterprets."
"Apparently everyone knows more than I," Ruedella said, "which is hardly a first." Another dark-clad figure, a witch from first appearances, approached the table and handed Voldemort a small green bag. The Dark Lord tossed it to Ruedella who opened it, revealing fine gold runes.
"Indulge us, if you will, in a test," Voldemort requested to Ruedella, his voice too kind to be sincere. "I mentioned to Bellatrix and Lucius what Karkaroff's fate would be. Throw the runes and tell us what I said." He added, when Ruedella balked, "I know that you cannot answer something so specific, but I think you can tell us a bit about what we have in mind."
Ruedella nodded and pulled out her wand. In a quick move, the Dementor behind her reacted, putting a rotting skeletal claw around her throat. She stopped and dropped the bag of runes and her wand on the table.
"My pet," Voldemort shook his head, admonishing the Dementor, "she cannot escape nor can she defeat us. The wand is a required tool for the task I have given her. Let her go." At its master's words the Dementor let go of its chokehold and gently traced a finger up her cheek. "Looks like it is fond of you, Ruedella," Voldemort said mockingly.
Ruedella palmed the runes and waved her wand over them. Focusing on the query, she tossed the runes and with a few more flicks, they rearranged into a pattern. Studying them, she glanced up to Voldemort who was nearly smiling. Karkaroff was viewing the runes himself, but it appeared that his training in the area was lacking. "It appears, that if it was found that I lacked the talent, Karkaroff would be killed." She looked at the runes tapping on five and noting a specific pattern. "If I had a talent he would live, but the fate would be worse than death. You would spare his life but..."
"Close enough," Voldemort said and then turned to Karkaroff. "It appears you will live." He looked at Ruedella and held up a long finger, knocking it back and forth, playfully admonishing her, "Remember there is no fate worse than death."
"Oh, thank you my Lord," Karkaroff groveled, his blue eye reflecting immense relief. "You will not...regret...NOOOOOO!" The former Headmaster's eyes opened wide as one of the Dementors bent over, pulling back its hood and revealing it's rotten, skeletal face. He screamed as the Dementor took him, his blue eyes transfixed on the sparkling light that was exiting his mouth. The wizard struggled, but in a few moments his body laxed and his screams hushed to a terrible silence. Severus stood, carefully watching the scene as Ruedella, apparently too terrified to scream or move, sat transfixed on the scene as the Dark Lord and other Death Eaters laughed.
Caught in the pace of the feeding frenzy, the Dementor behind Ruedella grabbed her by the face and bent over, she started to scream as the creature pulled back its hood as its face hovered over her. She looked over frantically to Voldemort and flailed with her hand to grab her wand. Severus reacted quickly, sending a searing spell of white-hot flame at the creature. The Dementor was knocked back, but its vice-like grip tore several gashes in her cheek from the force of the spell. The Dark Lord, taking notice that his prized diviner was about to be a snack, violently slashed his wand at the Dementor, engulfing the it in flames.
"That will teach you to not feed without permission," the Dark Lord said as he watched the Dementor flail around the room, like tall, animated torch. Turning to Ruedella, he said, "Well enough for the festivities. It is now time to get to work, yes?" He motioned with his hand to another Death Eater, who quickly left the room. "I understand," he continued, "that your abilities are the strongest over the full moon and weakest during the new moon and I can only expect a strong future divination once per quarter. Although the situation is not ideal, I am quite keen on tapping into your talents."
The door opened and the Death Eater he had sent off returned with a deep ebony box. Handing it to the Dark Lord he backed away and retreated to his position. With a snap, Voldemort magically summoned the gold runes into it bag. Seeing Karkaroff's hand resting on the board, Voldemort kicked the wizard off his chair, not phased as Karkaroff de-souled, yet living, body fell like a child's doll to the floor. "Rabastan," he called out. "Could you kindly remove Karkaroff? Have one of the others," he motioned to the room where the remaining Death Eaters were sequestered, "...take him to St. Mungo's. Have them request that he take a room next to the Longbottoms." His flippant remark caused Bellatrix to laugh out loud. Voldemort turned to Bellatrix and said, "There is nothing more satisfying than someone who takes pride in their work."
Placing the ebony box in the center of the table, he clicked open the latches. Inside the black velvet casing was a deep black sack and a solid silver dagger. "I can only expect the best only if I provide the best tools." He picked up the small sack, untied it and carefully emptied the bright white runes on the table. "A gift from Grindelwold," he said with a hint of satisfaction. "He told me that these are ancient, thousands of years old and made from the bones of an infant wizard ripped from his mother's womb." He held up the dagger, caressing it gently in his hand. "Pure silver, no contamination, and made from a single mold...sharpened," he cut his finger on it with ease, "to perfection." He nodded to Ruedella, "I trust you know what to do?"
She picked up the runes, carefully placing them in the bag. Folding down the edge of the bag, so the opening was wide she took the dagger in her right hand. She looked at Voldemort and said, "What do you wish to know." Severus held his eyes to the witch. So she had lied to him, she had learned the rituals and by being allowed to share in the knowledge, she knew very well what her abilities were. But why, he considered, why did she keep them hidden. Was it a promise, Severus wondered, that she made to Dumbledore? He recalled the image of her as teen placing her wand on Dumbledore's desk. Was that event connected?
"I wish to know," Voldemort voice snapped Severus back to the situation, "the entire prophecy made regarding myself and Harry Potter."
Ruedella nodded, concentrating on the request. Severus watched patiently as the witch engaged in a few minutes of meditation, which the Dark Lord seemed to understand was part of her ritual and was not otherwise pushing her. Slowly, the witch held her left hand over the opened bag and slit the palm of her hand. Blood oozed from the open cut as she carefully placed thirteen large drops of blood into the bag. The contents of the bag howled and cried, the room filled with the sound of the screams of the mother as she was cut open and the cries of the infant as he was sacrificed; the wails haunted the dungeon and echoed off the walls. Severus' skin prickled at the sound; he had witnessed many things in his life, but few moved him in such a manner. In a quick move, Ruedella palmed the contents of the bag onto her cut hand, the room filled with a searing sound as her cut magically cauterized. Slamming the runes on the table, the witch rearranged the runes with a few flicks of her wand. She then levitated the silver knife over the runes and watched it drop.
"The knife serves as the starting point," Ruedella said. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, exhausted.
The Dark Lord stood up and walked behind her, from what Severus could tell, he was reading the runes and doing his own interpretation. Anyone, Severus thought as he watched Ruedella rest, with the right training could interpret the runes; only a very few could actually cast the runes for any specific purpose or insight.
"Did Snape tell you of the prophecy?" the Dark Lord's voice cut through the room. The voice had an edge, a very dangerous edge, Severus noted.
"No my Lord," Ruedella said softly, her eyes still closed and she was shaking slightly from the exhaustion.
"Look at me, girl!" the Dark Lord demanded and grabbed her by the shoulder. He grabbed her face, and Ruedella whined as his finger dug into the cuts the Dementor had made earlier. "LOOK AT ME!" he commanded. After a second, he said, "No," and let her go. "He did not." There was an element of satisfaction in his voice. "So," he said, turning to his most loyal followers, "Let us see what we have learned." The Dark Lord began, a nearby parchment and quill scribbling frantically as it recorded notes. "A child born in the seventh month powerful enough to kill me will be born. Born to those who have escaped..." he nodded, "That much does agree with what I was so far told." He turned to Severus, "I do hope that your hearing was not impaired that night." He circled a few more runes with his finger, a bright ring of flame highlighted where he was pointing. "These, however, I do not know. Without that information, even a partial interpretation cannot be trusted."
Ruedella opened her eyes and leaned over the cast runes. She studied them for a few minutes, her mouth moving and her brow furrowing as she was making a serious effort to recall some information. Shaking, she said, "The runes are ancient. Some of the marking have not been used for over seven hundred to a thousand years." She looked again, taking some notes, her hand trembling as she gripped the quill. "Something to the effect that he is marked and that your lives are interconnected." She turned to Voldemort who was nodding, "I am afraid that I cannot interpret these without consulting some reference tombs. Even at Gringotts we often made copies and took days or even weeks..." she trailed off, "...to interpret..."
"FINE!" Voldemort said, apparently disappointed, but not willing, yet to take it out on her. "I will advise you, however, that Dumbledore shall not know of this." He turned to Severus, "Later you and I shall discuss...privately...on how to use this information to our greatest advantage." Turning back to the runes, he waved his fingers, a parchment flew into the air and landed on the runes, the pattern burning into the paper. "Take it!" he commanded Ruedella. "Report back what you find!" He paced the room as Ruedella cleaned up the table and placed the neatly rolled parchment into her cloak. Severus noted that she looked ill and weak, her white flesh sallow and greenish.
"Ah, yes..." Voldemort said in mid-turn, addressing Ruedella once more. "Just one other minor request and you shall be free to leave." He held up his hand, panning each Death Eater in turn. "I prefer thirteen as my choice number of those in my inner circle. However, Ruedella, I wish to extend the invitation to you." Throwing the bag of gold runes to her, he asked, "You can tell me if thirteen is my choice number of if fourteen will work?" He looked at the witch, "I assume this is a clarification, not a true divination, so although after your exertion tonight, you should be able to do this request easily."
Ruedella nodded as she quickly took the runes and threw them down. "Thirteen is your best number," she said.
"Yes, so it is," Voldemort replied, looking at the runes himself. "Well, that does present a bit of a problem, does it not?" He tapped his long skeletal finger on his pointed chin. "Ah," he said, coming to some conclusion. "Avery, do step forward." The Death Eater stepped forward, his eyes respectfully diverted down until, Voldemort yelled out 'Avada Kedavra' and Avery looked up, his eyes bathed in panic. Avery fell as the green light consumed his body. "Was not recently pleased with his performance," the Dark Lord said dismissively, summoning over Avery's cloak and mask and handing them to Ruedella who appeared that she was going to pass out. "But," the Dark Lord turned to Rodolphus and then to Severus, "there is one other minor detail that we should attend before you receive your Mark."
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