Chapter 48 Three Letter Word
Spy. The word seemed to hover above the Order of the Phoenix members, humming in the air as plainly as if someone had whispered it.
Nobody said it, of course, but then nobody needed to. It was disturbingly clear that a traitor was in their midst.
Four weeks after the McKinnons' murder, another tragedy had occurred. Edgar Bones, along with his wife Jane and their four children, were murdered in their beds, a glittering green Dark Mark hovering over their house like a signature.
The entire wizarding world mourned the loss; Edgar Bones had been a leading Auror, his wife Jane a highly skilled Unspeakable, and theirs was one of the most prominent pureblood families in wizarding society. The fact that the Death Eaters could murder people like them as easily as unknown Muggle borns brought about a new wave of panic.
The Order members felt this loss keenly as well; Edgar had been well liked and deeply respected for both his courage and his dedication to their cause.
First Marlene, now Edgar. One was a tragedy, two was a sign. The Order of the Phoenix had been compromised.
Suddenly, the Order members were less friendly to each other, less inclined to share personal information or assignments with those they didn't know well. It wasn't overt or obvious, of course; nobody had a shred of proof, just unfounded feelings and prejudices. No one spoke of it openly, but everyone had his or her theory as to who the spy was.
"I think it's Caradoc Dearborn," Alice said quite out of the blue as she and her fellow former Gryffindors sat in the Leaky Cauldron after a particularly grim Order meeting one night.
"You think what's Caradoc Dearborn?" Remus asked carefully. He and the others all exchanged significant looks.
"You know very well what I mean," Alice snapped. "I think he might be the spy."
This statement was met with another round of glances, but nobody met Alice's eye directly or opened their mouths. The subject was too tense, too explosive.
"I don't want to think it's him," Alice went on, speaking quickly now as though some sort of dam had broken. "I don't want to think it's anyone, but the fact of the matter is that it IS someone, and I can't bear to not talk about it anymore."
"Why do you think it's Caradoc Dearborn?" Dorcas asked finally.
"Well," Alice took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself, "he makes the most sense as a spy to me. He's very, very good at keeping secrets, he does it for a living, really. He's used to hiding things from people; none of us would ever know anything he didn't want us to."
"It makes sense," Peter mused. The others remained silent, occasionally casting a furtive glance in Lily's direction. Of all of them, Lily was the only one present who had more than a passing acquaintance with Caradoc Dearborn. He had hired her, and for all they knew, she worked directly with him. But Lily remained silent; she'd been a bit withdrawn since Marlene's death and only James (or Sirius, on occasion) could seem to make her laugh anymore.
"The problem," Alice went on, "is that I can make lists and lists of people who AREN'T probable suspects; I know it isn't any of you, or my brothers."
"Or Sturgis," Sirius volunteered.
"Or Hagrid," Dorcas added.
"Or Moody," James put in decidedly. "And of course it couldn't be Dumbledore. It really is hard to think of someone."
"So we're left with Dedalus Diggle, Emmeline Vance, Benjy Fenwick, Elphias Doge, Dumbledore's brother, and the Weasleys," Frank listed, ticking off each one on his fingers. He shook his head. "Damned if I can figure it out."
"Dedalus Diggle?" Remus was incredulous. "Not likely."
"It can't be Elphias Doge either," Dorcas protested. "He's too old to be a double agent."
"Or Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," James said. "They're really nice, and they have all those children."
"What has that got to do with it?" Sirius scoffed. "People with children can be evil; just look at MY parents!"
"So you suspect Mrs. Weasley then?" James shot back. "What does she do, tell Voldemort who's in the Order, then mend his socks for him?"
"It can't be Dumbledore's brother either," Remus said loudly, drowning out James and Sirius' pointless argument. "Dumbledore would know whether or not he could trust his own brother."
"But what if he's jealous of him or something?" Alice pointed out. "Have you ever actually SEEN him at an Order meeting apart from the time we took that picture? No, I'd say he's a suspect too."
"Maybe Emmeline Vance," Peter piped up. "She's a bit scary."
"I doubt it," James shook his head. "She knows my parents pretty well, and she's been anti-Voldemort for a long time, almost as long as they have."
"It does seem to come back to Caradoc Dearborn," Alice said ruefully.
"Caradoc Dearborn's not the spy," Seven heads swiveled toward Lily. "Dumbledore's been friends with Mr. Dearborn for years; they know each other really well. Besides, Dearborn's the head of the Department of Mysteries, and there are loads of things in there that Voldemort would love to get his hands on. If Dearborn was spying for him, why wouldn't he just get Voldemort whatever he wanted, or give him access to the department? No, Dearborn's one of the least likely people to be a spy."
"Well, none of us are likely, are we?" Remus pointed out. "We were all selected because Dumbledore felt he could trust us and that we were devoted to the cause. And when is Dumbledore ever wrong?"
"Well, he was wrong once," Sirius said grimly, glancing round the table. "And it just may turn out to be one hell of a mistake."
Peter stretched and shifted in his chair, resisting the impulse to groan as he thought of how many hours were left until he could go home. He still had a good many more envelopes to stuff and Use of Improper Magic Reports to file until then.
Since he'd begun his double life, Peter minded his job in the Improper Use of Magic office a lot less. He no longer felt like he was wasting his life; that was the old Peter who posted letters and filed papers and wondered how he would survive another sixty or so years of it. That Peter was just a cover for the new Peter, who did exciting, daring things and only needed this job to hide those things from people who would not understand.
Of course, spying hadn't always been so exciting. He'd actually been quite scared his first few times, afraid that at any moment the Dark Lord would change his mind and decide to expose Peter's secrets after all, or even just kill him. Eventually he'd realized that he was good at what he did, and valued and appreciated in a way he never had been before. But at first it had been bloody scary.
It had been last January that he'd been recruited. Peter had been going to bed one night; he'd turned round from closing his bedroom door behind him and there she was, waiting for him.
Hundreds of memories crashed into Peter at the sight of her, memories of furtive meetings in corners and cupboards and deserted dormitories, of watching her secretly for hours, both fascinated and repelled and completely unable to look away. He remembered her proud posture and her spine-chilling laugh and her glossy black hair and aristocratic features. Bellatrix.
She straightened from where she'd been lounging on his bed and moved toward him, stepping into the dim light. Peter hadn't seen her since he'd left Hogwarts, but she looked the same. No, not quite, she was different, somehow. More vibrant, as though bubbling over with some secret joy. And knowing Bellatrix, that joy had directly to do with someone else's misfortune.
"Surprised, pet?" Bellatrix's hand stretched out and came to rest lightly on Peter's cheek.
"B-Bellatrix!" Peter squeaked, nervous and secretly delighted at the same time. "What –"
"No doubt you weren't expecting to see me here," Bellatrix cut in, grinning at him gleefully. "I have a proposition for you." Peter opened his mouth eagerly, but Bellatrix cut him off again.
"Not that sort of proposition, poppet," she taunted him knowingly. "I'm engaged now, you know. To Rodolphus."
Bellatrix made her way back to Peter's bed and sprawled on it, deliberately provocative. "Have I ever told you about Rodolphus, pet?" she asked conversationally. "He's jealous, you see. Very, very jealous. And he also knows me very, very well, knows how I get restless and like to play." Bellatrix's grin gave Peter a clear idea of just what sort of play she meant. "He doesn't blame me for it, he loves me too well, but he does tend to become a bit – vexed – with my playmates if he knows who they are."
Slowly, Bellatrix levered herself into a sitting position. "I was always careful that he never knew I was playing with you," she said softly. "I don't mind usually, and Rodolphus' rages are rather amusing. But you'd been staring at me for years, little voyeur that you are, and I grew a bit – attached. It was a bit of an effort to keep him from finding out, I must say, darling. You were always so – clumsy. And so obvious. But I managed it."
Bellatrix's eyes lost their faraway look and began to glitter again. "I really will be just a bit sorry when he kills you," she said softly. And Peter realized that the misfortune that Bellatrix was anticipating so eagerly was his.
"No!" Peter begged, throwing himself down in front of her. "Please, Bellatrix, please don't tell him! You said you were fond of me, you can't just let Lestrange kill me, you can't!"
"Oh, but I can," Bellatrix singsonged. "It would be too easy, and terribly amusing for me. But I might be persuaded not to, if......"
"If what?" Peter almost sobbed. He had never in all his life been so frightened, nor felt so alone. "I'll do anything!"
"The Dark Lord," Bellatrix began slowly, "wants information about Dumbledore and just what exactly it is that he's up to. I know you're close to Dumbledore, poppet, you and your little coven are his particular pets. All you have to do is get some information about Dumbledore and his activities and share it with me, and nothing happens to you."
Peter gulped in air, his mind spinning in terror. He didn't want to betray Professor Dumbledore and his friends by association. He couldn't spy on them and report back to Bellatrix like some sort of traitor. None of his friends would ever speak to him again, he'd be out of the Order, and his mum would probably skin him alive; his life would be ruined.
"A-and if I d-don't?" Peter asked, trying his best to appear defiant.
Bellatrix smiled lazily at him. "Then, poppet, I tell my beloved fiancé that it wasn't Severus Snape he had cause to be jealous of during my last year at Hogwarts. As I told you, Rodolphus is jealous, and prone to rages; he'll hunt you like a Mudblood and kill you – eventually." Her smile widened. "And that's only the half of it; I'll tell my esteemed cousin and Potter and the rest of your mates just where exactly you were sneaking off to all those years – and just what exactly we were doing when I found out about it."
Peter's blood went cold in his veins. His friends wouldn't, COULDN'T find out about him and Bellatrix, all of the years he'd spent watching her, alone and with Lestrange, or what he had done with her in seventh year. James would never speak to him again, not after what Bellatrix had tried to do to Lily. Remus wouldn't either; he was too perfect to understand Peter's obsession with her. And Sirius would hate him too; he loathed Bellatrix, for all of the things she'd done to other people and for herself alone. That could not be allowed to happen, it simply couldn't. It turned out that there was something worse than being a traitor, after all.
But Peter couldn't let Bellatrix or Lestrange or You Know Who kill him. If he'd been Remus or Sirius or James, he would've faced Bellatrix defiantly and told her what she could do with her proposition and damn the consequences. But Peter had never been as strong as they were; he'd always known that.
"All right," Peter had whispered, torn between hating himself and an odd relief that he had a way out. "What do you want to know?"
Peter started violently as though he could shake the memory out of his head. He glanced round at the other desks, but none of his fellow clerks seemed to have noticed. Coming to a decision, Peter pushed back his chair and stood up; getting a drink of water would kill a bit of time, and he needed something to distract him from his memories anyway.
The water cooler was next to the door that led to the corridor, and Peter glanced idly out as he drank his water. The corridors seemed to have at least a few people in them at nearly any time of day, and of course, there were always loads of owls, carrying post from one office to another. Peter had used to take as many opportunities as possible to glance at or be in the corridor; it had always seemed to him that the people out there were going places and doing things that were far more exciting than his staid job. It felt good in a way to look at the corridor now and know that anything those people were doing were dull in comparison to his double life.
But today as he peered out into the corridor, Peter spotted a familiar face. Kathleen Kirkpatrick was standing a little distance away from his office's door, talking with a witch Peter didn't know.
Throwing caution aside, Peter pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway. He'd always liked talking to Kathleen; she'd always been a great source of news at Hogwarts and continued to be one now, with her job at the Daily Prophet. And there was nothing Peter liked better than to know what was going on. Besides, it was part of his job now to keep tabs on things.
"Hi, Kathleen," Peter said, coming to stand beside her. "What're you doing here?"
"Oh, hi, Peter," Kathleen seemed a bit embarrassed. "Thanks for your help," she said to the witch. "I'll talk to you again later, shall I?"
"All right," the woman stared curiously at Peter, but moved off down the hall without comment.
"So, are you at lunch, or something?" Kathleen asked Peter, rummaging industriously in her handbag. She didn't seem to want to meet Peter's eyes for some reason.
"Not exactly..." Peter hedged. "What about you?" he asked pointedly. "Are you here for the Prophet?"
"Not exactly..." It was Kathleen's turn to hedge.
"Come on," Peter leaned forward eagerly. "You can tell me."
"Erm...." Kathleen glanced round the corridor pointedly.
"Oh, right!" Peter led the way back into the Improper Use of Magic office and to his cubicle. Kathleen stepped in after him and cast a soundproofing charm on it. Peter could scarcely contain his eagerness; this must be REALLY good.
"Are you doing some sort of secret expose?" he asked breathlessly.
"No," Kathleen still seemed reluctant. "Well, I am in a way, but it's not for the paper. Not yet, at least. Not officially...."
"What do you mean 'officially?'" Peter waited with bated breath.
Kathleen glanced over her shoulder. "I suppose I can tell you," she unbent a bit, smiling at Peter affectionately. "Do you remember me mentioning Mad Eye Moody's theories about Death Eater spies in the Ministry? It was at Frank and Alice's party, almost a year ago."
Peter suddenly felt something cold and hard settle in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah, I remember," he managed to say, striving for a casual tone. "What about it?"
"Well," Kathleen lowered her voice, even though no one could hear them, "I haven't been able to stop thinking of it since. I've been looking into it a bit, and I think Moody may be right; the Death Eaters have known about a few too many things for it to be a coincidence. I think You Know Who has a spy in the Ministry, and I think it's someone with a fair amount of influence."
"You know Moody's half mad, Kathleen," Peter protested, knowing it to be a feeble effort even as he said it. "He's paranoid, from what James and Sirius say."
"And he's been an Auror for a very long time because of it," Kathleen retorted. "And I think his 'paranoia', as you call it, is spot on in this case."
Peter swallowed with an effort and tried to calm his frantic insides. "Do you know who it is?" he asked a moment later, trying to sound as though he were just interested in a good piece of gossip. "The s-spy?"
"No," Kathleen admitted. "I'm still investigating. But it's a bit hard since I can't use any of my usual Ministry contacts, as it isn't officially for the paper. And I can't really use my personal contacts like Alice and Dorcas and everyone because the spy probably isn't an Auror; they're trained to catch Dark wizards, after all. I do want to talk to Lily, though; the Department of Mysteries would be ideal for a spy, and Remus knows some useful people, then of course there's the Order – "
"Er, Kathleen?" Peter cut her off.
"Yeah?" Kathleen looked at him oddly, and Peter tried to arrange his face into more casual lines. He had to play this just right, or it would quite literally be his head.
"Have – have you talked to any of these people yet?" he asked as mildly as he could, playing idly with a paper clip as he spoke.
"No, not yet," Kathleen seemed slightly defensive. "Why do you ask?"
"Well," Peter took a deep breath, his head spinning. "D'you think that's the best thing? To tell a load of people that you're looking for a spy, I mean. There IS a spy in the Order; what if it got back to the Ministry spy that you knew about him? Or what if it's even the same person?"
Peter glanced up at Kathleen; she seemed impressed by this reasoning.
"And," Peter continued to twist his paper clip, "d'you really think the others would be keen about you doing something so dangerous, especially Remus?"
"I know Remus wouldn't be happy about it," Kathleen said dryly. "But I can't do it all on my own; I don't have enough Ministry clearance or the right contacts to do the sort of investigating I need to do."
Peter let out the breath he'd been holding and finally abandoned his paper clip. "I'll help you, Kathleen," he offered shyly. "I don't have the highest clearance, but I do talk to people and hear things. I'll help you get started, and when we've found something we can tell the others."
"People don't give you enough credit, Peter," Kathleen smiled warmly at him. "I'd be honoured if you'd help me."
"It'll be great," Peter managed a grin and held out his hand. "Just between us?"
"Just between us," Kathleen answered, shaking the hand Peter had extended. "Thanks so much, Peter."
"It's nothing," Peter felt the guilt churning round in his stomach. "Look, I ought to get back to work now, but maybe you can tell me more about this tomorrow? Over lunch or something?"
"Definitely," Kathleen flicked her wand to dispel the soundproofing charm and made her way to the door. "See you!"
"See you," Peter echoed weakly. The moment Kathleen rounded the corner, he collapsed in his chair. This was a problem, a very big problem.
Though Peter was a spy and did work for the Ministry, he was not the Ministry spy; his job was too junior to be of any use to the Dark Lord's cause, and his real value was in the Order of the Phoenix. But Peter did know who the Ministry spy was. He'd been given his name in case he ever did have something of value to report.
And he did have to report it. Peter didn't like the idea of endangering Kathleen; she'd always been nice to him at school ,and he considered her to be a friend. But in this case it was her or him; if he didn't report it, they'd find out anyway and he'd be disposed of for knowing something so important and failing to mention it.
It wasn't like Kathleen was going to be in any real danger, Peter argued to himself. He'd mislead her as much as possible; she'd never come anywhere near the truth. And the Dark Lord wouldn't have her killed unless she did; it was risky to kill reporters.
Peter didn't really like it, but he would tell the Dark Lord about Kathleen when he met with him tonight. It might be a danger to Kathleen, but Peter had learned by now that it was even more dangerous to keep secrets from the Dark Lord.
Frank and Alice's first wedding anniversary was in July, and this time they threw themselves a party. It was as different from Mrs. Longbottom's perfect garden gala as a party could be; they rented a private room in the Leaky Cauldron and invited more than a hundred friends for a night of food, drink, and dancing.
The mood at the party was lighter than it had been for months; the Order members were beginning to get over the staggering tragedies that had confronted them so close together and were able to forget about spies and Death Eaters and saving the wizarding world for a little while, at least.
Everyone clapped and cheered for Frank and Alice as they cut the cake and began the dancing, pleased to finally have an occasion to celebrate. Their one wedding picture was proudly on display, a sunburned Alice and beaming Frank waving at everyone from the steps of a Florentine cathedral, both of them clad in Muggle holiday clothes.
Lily was more like her old self than she had been since Marlene had died, James was ecstatic to note, talking and smiling more readily than she had in months. James made every effort to help her have fun at the party, spinning her round and round on the dance floor till she was dizzy, telling every outrageous or dirty joke he could remember (which was a good many) and just generally putting himself out to be as charming and arrogant as possible. And his efforts seemed to pay off; Lily had a marvelous time, and consequently James was walking on air.
Lily and James' lightheartedness was contagious, and the party was a resounding success, with all of the guests staying till the wee hours of the morning, high on life and fun and laughter as much as the butterbeer.
Unfortunately, the Order's high spirits didn't last for long. Three weeks later, Caradoc Dearborn didn't show up at work, the first time he'd ever failed to do so in his long career. Though this was definitely cause for some concern, no one was truly alarmed until his family reported that he hadn't been home, either.
A very thorough search began in earnest, but there was nothing to find: Caradoc Dearborn had disappeared without a trace. After more than a month of searching, the official verdict given was "Whereabouts Unknown – Presumed Dead," but few people doubted that the Death Eaters could have offered a clue as to Dearborn's whereabouts.
"I just don't understand it," James mused aloud. He and Sirius were sprawled in the lounge area of Lily and James' flat, completely done in after a long day of training. To top it off, the Ministry had given the official verdict on Caradoc Dearborn earlier that day, and despite the fact that James and Sirius knew as well as the next person that the search for Dearborn was futile at this point, it was still quite depressing to give it up.
"What's not to understand?" Sirius asked reasonably, not bothering to ask James what he was on about. "It's true, as far as it goes: we don't know what Dearborn's whereabouts are and we do presume that he's dead. We just also presume that we know the cause, but bureaucrats can't put that in their report without proof."
"I understand THAT," James snapped. "What I don't get is why the Death Eaters wouldn't want it known that they got Dearborn – he is a pretty significant prize, after all."
Sirius shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, mate." Sirius paused, and James regarded him curiously. It was unlike Sirius to be hesitant about anything. "Does Lily know?" he asked finally.
"Yeah," James ran a hand distractedly through his hair. "'Course she does – he was head of her department."
"What did she say?" Sirius wanted to know.
It was James' turn to shrug. "Not much. You know Lily," he said simply, exchanging a significant glance with Sirius.
"Well, the Order won't give up on him," Sirius changed subjects abruptly, trying to be a bit more hopeful. "And we're a damned lot more effective than the bloody Ministry any day."
Before James could respond to this, the key turned in the latch and Lily stood in the doorway, wearing an odd expression as though she smelled something terrible but couldn't quite place the stench.
Swiftly, James and Sirius swapped glances. "Hi," James offered warily.
"Hi," Lily sounded a bit dazed.
James pulled himself off of the sofa and made his way toward her. "How were your mum and dad?" he asked cautiously. Lily had gone to visit her parents after work at their request; maybe the Dursleys had been there and Lily was still recovering from the combined powers of Petunia and Vernon.
"They were all right," Lily replied in the same odd monotone. She tossed her handbag on the table and went over to the sofa, James trailing in her wake.
"Would you – er – would you like a drink?" James ventured, looking helplessly at Sirius.
"Merlin, yes," Lily kicked off her shoes and made to stand up.
"You stay there, I'll get it," James dashed toward the kitchen, anxious to make things better in any way possible. He emerged a mere thirty seconds later, brandishing three butterbeers triumphantly.
Lily, James, and Sirius sat sipping their butterbeers in silence for a few moments, Sirius and James wondering how to deal with this odd behaviour.
"Mum and Dad had some – news," Lily said finally. James and Sirius whipped round in perfect unison to stare at her. "Apparently Petunia's – "Lily took a fortifying breath, "pregnant."
"Eurgh!" James and Sirius exclaimed in perfect unison.
"That's exactly what I said," Lily commented. "Mum wasn't very pleased with me."
"But that's disgusting!" James exclaimed, appalled. "Petunia CAN'T be pregnant! That would mean that she and Vernon would have to – that is, they would have – "
"The possibility occurred to me too," Lily assured him dryly."In fact, I couldn't get it out of my head the whole time I was in the Tube."
"Why was Lily in a tube?" Sirius whispered to James.
"Never mind, I'll explain later," James waved him off distractedly, still trying to absorb this disturbing new reality. "What about your parents? How did they TELL you? I don't think I'd be able to get the words out if I had to tell someone something like that."
"They're very happy about it," Lily wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Mum kept going on and on about how wonderful it'll be to have a baby about again, and Dad's all excited to have a grandson."
"Wonderful? Excited?" Sirius snorted. "By all accounts, your sister and her husband are two of the worst people in the world. Why would anyone be HAPPY that they got together and decided to reproduce?"
Lily grinned; Sirius definitely did have a way with words. "Damned if I know," she replied, leaning back against James.
"Maybe it isn't Vernon's baby," James said hopefully. "It wouldn't be quite as bad if this baby was only one of theirs. Maybe Petunia shagged a store clerk!"
"Or a lift operator," Sirius put in.
"Or the postman," Lily suggested
James and Sirius glared at her, irked. "Crush our hopes, why don't you?" James scowled. "You couldn't even come up with a real person?!"
"Next I suppose you'll tell us she shagged him in that tube they put you in," Sirius snorted.
Lily rolled her eyes, not even bothering to dignify either of them with a response.
Author's Note:
There it is: the reason Peter started spying for Voldemort, as I imagine it, anyway. As I was saying to a friend earlier, the more I write about Peter, the more I wish I could just have him get hit by a bus. It would definitely save everyone a lot of grief; too bad that would ruin a rather major plot point...
As always, I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and thanks especially to parvati-15, Nadia 118, James Potter09, and Cecilia Orechio. I'm really lucky to have such amazing reviewers.
Also, I wanted to mention that yesterday was the one year anniversary of the day I first posted Priori Incantatem, and if you'd told me at the time that I'd still be writing it a year later, I'd never have believed it (mostly because I thought I would have finished by now). Thanks for all of the encouragement, everyone; it's been quite a year. The next chapter should be up in about a week; enjoy!