Loki was bored.
He'd been wandering around Hogsmeade ever since delivering Malfoy's final message to McKinnon. Not that the red-haired prat told me what it said, Loki thought. He didn't feel like going back to London yet, not while there was a fight brewing nearby. He hated being stuck on the sidelines, unable to join in the fun.
Hell, it didn't matter if it was a simple matter of decking a rowdy wizard in a pub or torturing some hapless Muggle. As far as he was concerned, most people underestimated violence for the sake of it. Even his parents had understood that.
And, in the true spirit of the Lestrange family, Loki was itching for a fight.
Glancing out the window of the Hog's Head, he gave an almighty yawn and stretched his arms above his head. A pretty, if somewhat seedy looking young witch was smiling in his direction. Loki responded with his own sly grin—
A sudden humming noise issued from his satchel. His grin faded into a scowl, as he dug around in his bag for the mirror, and casting a wistful look back at the witch, dashed outside before the picture in the mirror could fully materialize.
Cursing Lucius Malfoy's name even as it appeared before his eyes, Loki did his best not to swear at his employer.
"I take it all is in readiness, Lestrange?" Malfoy asked, his self-satisfied smile even more obvious than usual. His gray eyes were glowing in anticipation.
"Yeah, I gave our boy your info. What did you tell him, anyway?"
"I merely sent him the last bit of evidence he would need. I had to send him along somehow."
Loki raked a hand through his black hair. "Well, you succeeded. He went straight off after he saw it."
"Good, good. It shouldn't be long now, then" Malfoy's smile became even wider.
"Looked pretty unbalanced, if you ask me," Loki said. "This could backfire, y'know—"
"I have considered that already, Lestrange," Malfoy snapped. "Do you naturally assume that others are as foolish as yourself? If he is caught, there will be no direct evidence to connect him to me, and in any case, I doubt his ravings would be taken seriously. They'll send him off to Azkaban at the worst, but it is my belief he won't go willingly."
"You mean he'll get himself killed?"
"Precisely. You have destroyed the papers?"
Loki froze. Damn. I knew I forgot something.
"Lestrange?" Malfoy's voice rose.
"I was just on my way to do that, sir—"
"You mean you were loitering. Yes, go and do that now, while there is still time. I see you are becoming sloppy, Lestrange. I may need to remind you of why loyalty and efficiency are such good qualities among the Dark Lord's servants."
Through firm control over every one of his muscles, Loki succeeded in not trembling. Lucius Malfoy's idea of a 'reminder' made what McKinnon would do to Snape seem like a walk in the park.
The image of his employer disappeared from the mirror, and Loki shoved it back into his satchel. It was time to go back to that blasted inn. He'd had his fill of that place, but there was no choice. Nothing could be left to connect McKinnon to the rest of them—and Malfoy had made it perfectly clear that if he did go down, he was taking Lestrange with him.
Damn, damn, damn!
********************************
"Remus, may I ask you something?"
"Of course," Remus replied, opening the door of the Three Broomsticks so that Mariela could step outside.
They had traveled there by Floo Powder, lent graciously to them by one of the nurses. Most wizarding establishments had a special room set aside for patrons who arrived in that manner. It was slightly less awkward than someone simply appearing in the middle of a crowded room.
And invites far less trouble in the way of accidents, Remus thought wryly.
Mariela stepped out onto the street, and Remus followed.
"Why are we in Hogsmeade?"
"Because that is where my home is," he replied. "And the last place you saw Lestrange. Before we begin to look for him, however, we must stop at my home."
"Why?"
"To get Snuffles."
Mariela stopped dead in the middle of the street, nearly causing an elderly wizard carrying a very stuffed Gladrags bag to run into her.
"The dog?" she demanded. "Severus' life is in danger, and you want to bring your dog along?"
"It's difficult to explain, but Snuffles isn't a normal dog," Remus replied. He wondered how long he'd be able to get away with vague explanations where Mariela Chavez was concerned. It would be a bit difficult to explain, especially with Mariela being an officer of the Ministry, and Sirius being a convict—albeit a wrongly accused one.
"Meaning what?"
"There isn't time to explain it now," Remus said, "But he will be of assistance, I can promise you that."
"Oh, all right. But if you're wrong"
Let's hope I'm not, Remus said, casting a sidelong glance at Mariela. From the look she was giving him, he didn't want to imagine her reaction.
*****************************
What's that blasted Delacour girl gotten up to now? Severus thought as he stalked down the corridor to his dungeon. The door was wide open—perhaps it was Delacour finishing some extra work?
Not likely, of course, but one could always hope. At worst it was probably some idiotic student with the false notion he could steal some ingredients for illicit potions. Although catching him or her (or them) in the act would be quite amusing, especially if it were the combination of Potter, Weasley and Granger.
Slowing his pace deliberately, he attempted to peer through the doorwayhe saw one figure, a tall young man not in Hogwarts uniform, and another man—
Merlin's beard! Several other expletives flashed through his mind, far more colorful examples of his vocabulary skills.
It can't be! Father
But it was.
Septimus Snape was partially blocked by the young man's tall frame, but Severus could see his face. It was perfectly expressionless, as though he were not even aware that someone was facing him.
And then he heard the laugh. The same laugh that had been haunting his dreams was now resounding in his dungeon, his sanctuary. The anger was building within him, white-hot and pure as fire.
In that instant, he knew he was about to face his attacker.
What is Father doing here?
Severus did not take the time to ponder. He dashed into the dungeon, wand at the ready.
"Stupef—"
The young man had been waiting for him, it seemed, for Severus' abrupt entrance had not seemed to startle him. He stepped behind Septimus, using him as a shield between them.
Severus stared in disbelief, his lip curling menacingly. "McKinnon!" he hissed.
"Hello, Professor," McKinnon said conversationally. "I thought you would come here eventually. I was lucky enough to run into your father. He didn't really want to stay for our little meeting, but I was able to persuade him."
Through all of this, Septimus had been staring straight ahead, his mouth set in a firm line. He was still alive, obviously, but he was enchanted.
Imperius Curse, Severus thought grimly.
"If you wanted to speak to me, McKinnon, then do so," he snapped. "My father has nothing to do with us."
"Oh, but he does," McKinnon replied, with a smile that was not altogether sane. "I know you aren't close to your father, but would you die for him? Would he die for you? As mine was willing to die to keep me safe from you?"
"What?" Severus exploded. "What the devil are you on about, boy?"
"Malfoy told me everything I need to know."
Of course. It all hit Severus with painful, blinding clarity. He should have seen it before. Malfoy despised him, there was no length he would not go to. No matter what the casualties were. And Merlin knew he wasn't above getting someone else to do the dirty work for him. Even if it meant misleading someone else.
"You were misinformed," he replied as calmly as he could. "Malfoy—"
"Not another word!" McKinnon shouted, as he seized Septimus roughly about the neck, pointing his wand at the older man's temple. "Or I swear it, the old man dies!"
*************************
Septimus had been floating peacefully, his limbs gone slackno pain, no fear, no worry. Only this young man telling him to stare ahead, not to move or speakhe could hear snatches of someone talkingthey sounded agitated, and he wondered why
This must be the Imperius Curse, he thought idlyfunny, it didn't feel so terrible for an Unforgivable Curse. He'd studied them, as all Healers had to in their training. What had his instructor said? Wait till the opponent let his guard down, and when one felt the curse slacken, break away as though from the tide of the ocean
"Mininformed"
Severus? Severus, is that you?
And then he felt a painful sensation around the middle of his head, and realized that something was pressed against it. The curse was slackening, the McKinnon boy's focus was waning.
Septimus felt himself beginning to break free; it wouldn't be long now
"the old man dies!"
What? Oh, no you don't, boy!
"Who are you calling 'old man'?" Septimus demanded suddenly, turning his head to face his captor.
In response, McKinnon's grip around his throat increased, and he found himself having difficulty breathing.
"Severus," he gasped. "Tried—warn you—run!"
"He won't," McKinnon said. "Will you, Professor? Would you leave your innocent father to me? Hmgiven your track record, I wouldn't be terribly surprised if you did."
"Release him," Severus commanded.
Septimus was still struggling—he was far from weak, but this boy's grip was like a vice. His blue-gray eyes met his son's black ones, and he could stand it no longer.
"Severus, I'm sorry," he choked out.
In his son's face, he could read nothingnot anger, not surprise
Not forgiveness.
"I warn you, don't speak," McKinnon informed him. "Either one of you. Now, we need a quiet place to discuss this. What about that lovely Shrieking Shack?"
He pressed the wand further into Septimus' temple, causing him to wince. "And I do suggest you make your decision quickly, before I grow impatient."
*****************************
I feel like I'm in an old-fashioned Muggle detective novel, Mariela thought, as Remus' dog Snuffles bounded ahead of them, sniffing at the ground and occasionally the air.
Using bloodhounds to find the trailall right, so Snuffles isn't a bloodhound, but it still sounds like those novels that Septimus used to read—Sherlock something or other. I always thought that was such a silly name, and such dull books—he didn't even use magic!
"So," Mariela said as she and Remus continued along the streets of Hogsmeade. "We're going to walk all over the town while your dog sniffs things?"
"Trust me. He can find Lestrange," Remus replied, not meeting her eyes. "His sense of smell is uncanny, he knows every scent here. All we have to do is—"
His arm was suddenly jerked forward, and he had to hold onto the dog's lead for dear life.
"—follow him," he finished blandly, trying to assert his legs to the abrupt change in speed. Mariela jogged alongside him, looking somewhat amused at his predicament even through her frustration.
"We're heading for the inn!" she cried, as straggling shoppers and random witches and wizards were forced to dive out of their way. "And for the record, this isn't the way we usually conduct investigations!"
"No?" Remus grinned, as Snuffles slowed down. "I thought we were remarkably subtle."
"You know, I really ought to hex you" Mariela replied, and she wasn't entirely joking.
"Save that for Mr. Lestrange," Remus cautioned her.
"Believe me, I will," Mariela replied, setting her jaw firmly. "This is where I saw McKinnon before. Do you think—"
"Is that him?" Remus asked, pointing. A tall, dark-haired man was just coming out of the door, looking rather pleased with himself. Snuffles had stopped completely, standing ramrod straight. His pale eyes were fixed on the young man in the doorway.
"Finally," Mariela said, and stepped forward. Remus grabbed her arm just before she charged.
Reaching down, he carefully released Snuffles from the lead, and the Animagus bounded directly into Lestrange's path.
"Move, you stupid mutt!" the young man shouted, drawing his wand. Immediately, Snuffles' paws connected directly with his chest, and he fell to the ground, swearing.
"Move along," Mariela said in her most official tone, turning to the witches and wizards that were beginning to stare. "Nothing to see here."
"So sorry about that," Remus said airily, as he approached Lestrange—who was now effectively pinned beneath Snuffles. "Really, I can't take him anywhere."
"Get your dog off of me!" Lestrange hissed, sounding a bit choked.
"Sure thing," Mariela said, stepping up beside Remus. "Just tell us why your boss wants Severus Snape dead."
"You're just going to interrogate me here? In the middle of the street?"
"Well, that would be entertaining, but not terribly practical," Remus said with a smile. He picked up Lestrange's wand, which had fallen to the ground when Snuffles had knocked him over. "Why don't we have a nice chat instead?"
After dragging Loki Lestrange off the ground (somewhat grudgingly done by Mariela, who looked as though she would rather have stepped on him), they forced him to the back of the inn. As night fell, the shadows made them all but invisible.
"Much more private, don't you think?" she asked pleasantly.
*************************
A few evening stars were just beginning to make their appearance in the sky as Severus lead McKinnon and Septimus across the school grounds, toward the Whomping Willow.
McKinnon still held onto Septimus, keeping the wand leveled at his back. One Stunning Spell in the back of the skull could be fatal, if done at close enough range—and Septimus was more than close enough.
Although Severus resented his father, he hardly wished for him to die. Especially for something that had nothing to do with him.
But that's the way of it, isn't it? I'm surprised that this doesn't happen more often. How many victims come back to avenge their loved ones against the Death Eaters?
Oh, some did, Severus knew. But few lived to tell the tale. And this boy was about to land himself in severe trouble, if Severus knew anything about the workings of Lucius Malfoy's mind.
"McKinnon, you fool—" he began, but the young man was beyond reason. Severus knew that look well, it was the same sort of triumph he had felt the last time he was in the Shrieking Shack.
Oh, how I detest irony.
"I told you, keep moving and keep quiet," McKinnon snapped. "I know that you know the way in—you've been there before, when Sirius Black tried to break into Hogwarts. I read all about it. Fudge has the file—and it's not a very flattering portrayal of you, I must say."
For his part, Septimus himself was silent. It was too dark now to read the expression on his face, but it probably reflected nothing of the feelings within, if there were any.
He tried to apologize beforethe look in his eyes
What did McKinnon have planned? Severus couldn't delude himself. Anthony McKinnon was dangerously unstable. And the fact that he had been blatantly misinformed was not a point in Severus' favor.
McKinnon, if only you knew from whom you were taking advice
But what of his father? Severus might be able to persuade McKinnon to put a Memory Charm on him, and let him go. It was a slim hope, but the only one he had to cling to.
They had reached the Whomping Willow now. There would be no turning back after this point.
Severus heard Fang barking in the distance, and he had to fight the urge to shout for assistance from Hagrid, surprise McKinnon and—
But he couldn't. Not with his father's life at risk. And McKinnon would kill, he knew that madness all too well.
Silently damning his own sentimentality, he seized a large twig from the ground, as the Willow's nearest branch struck the ground less than a foot from him.
Squinting in the light from his own wand, he prodded that familiar knot with the twig, and the Willow stopped abruptly.
"This way," he said gravely.
*****************************
The deep red wine sparkled in the firelight, and Lucius Malfoy swirled his glass about, watching the light dance on the surface of the shining liquid.
It was nearly time. He could feel it. McKinnon would do his part, Malfoy had seen to that. It was rather a shame. The boy was, after all, otherwise intelligent. But he was very, very unstable, and had been long before he had fallen into the designs of Lucius Malfoy.
Severus Snape was not loyal to their cause. And soon, he would be beyond the protection of even Albus Dumbledore.
To the rest of the world, he pretended that Snape was someone to be highly thought of, a true Slytherin. And he had been, once. Malfoy had rather liked the man, much as he had ever liked anyone, when Snape had first joined their cause. But there came a point when he realized that Snape was no longer truly one of themhis loyalties had shifted. And the Dark Lord himself did not believe Malfoy's warnings.
It hardly mattered now. Snape would be gone forever from this realm in a few hours, and damn McKinnon.
As long as that idiot Lestrange doesn't make a mess of things.
One could only hope things went according to plan.
*****************************
Everything was going according to plan.
Anthony held tight to Dr. Snape's sleeve, while pressing his wand into the older wizard's back. Ahead of them, Professor Snape suddenly made a motion with his hand, and led them into a dusty living room that looked as though it hadn't been used since it was built.
They were inside the Shrieking Shack.
All of the furniture was covered in drop cloths and a thin layer of dust, and most of the woodwork seemed somewhat less than stable. The windows were boarded, blocking out even the starlight in the night sky.
"Upstairs," Anthony ordered. Soon it would be over.and his parents could rest. He could rest.
Soon
"It isn't too late," Dr. Snape said, without turning around to look at Anthony. "Whatever wrong has been done to you can be amended, but not like this."
Anthony shoved Dr. Snape to the ground violently. Professor Snape started to charge toward him, but he held his wand firmly in the professor's direction.
"You know nothing of the wrongs that have been done!" he roared. "Your pathetic attempt at intervention has been heard and noted, Healer. Now get up, and keep moving. I want to get this over with."
"Get what over with, precisely?" Professor Snape asked icily, as he led the way upstairs. "You have been remarkably vague on that subject."
"Patience, Professor," Anthony said with a wide grin. "You'll find out soon enough."
Professor Snape led them into a bedroom at the back of the house, or rather what was once a bedroom. Now the furniture was little more than splinters.
Perfect.
"Now," Anthony said brightly, as the three wizards entered the room. "Shall we have a bit of mood lighting?"
"Lumos Incendium."
Instantly, the torches in the walls glowed dimly, but they were enough to see by—and an improvement over wandlight.
"Now," Anthony continued, "For some proper accommodations."
With that, he snapped his fingers, and chains dropped down from the ceiling, entwining themselves around Professor Snape's wrists.
"No! Are you mad?!" Dr. Snape cried out. Anthony turned to him, chuckling.
"Mad? No, of course not, Healerthis was all very rationally planned out. Except for you, I must confess. You have served your purpose in getting your son herebut your usefulness is somewhat outlived."
Dr. Snape made a move toward his son, but Anthony stopped him with a spell, the older wizard's feet stopped in their tracks.
"Don't hurt him," Professor Snape hissed, from his place behind Anthony.
Anthony laughed outright. "Can that be compassion I'm hearing from you, Professor? For your dear Father? I loved my father, too, you know. And it's because of you—and your kind—that he is no more."
"Your father—" Professor Snape began, but that was as far as he got.
"ENOUGH!" he screamed. He turned to Dr. Snape, his eyes wild. "If you have anything to say to each other, I suggest you do so now."
"Severus, I—" Dr. Snape said.
"I know," Professor Snape replied, looking at his father solemnly.
"Time's up," Anthony interrupted cheerfully.
A blast of yellow light shot from his wand, catching Dr. Snape directly in the chest. The force of the blow carried him backward, and sent him crashing through the railing at the top of the stairs to the dusty floor below.
When he turned back to his victim, he was pleased to see that Professor Snape was white with rage—or fear.
"Now," he said casually. "Where were we?"
****************************
Loki stared a little cross-eyed at the witch's wand, which was pointed directly between his eyes.
"Tell us everything you know or I'll hex you until you can talk out of your—"
"Calm down, Mariela," the werewolf, Remus Lupin replied. Loki stared in disbelief, as well as a healthy amount of disgust. It was bad enough to be cornered like this, even worse to have a werewolf intervening.
"I am calm," Mariela replied. "He'd deserve it. Start talking, Lestrange."
"About what?" Loki asked, affecting innocence. "The weather? The prospects of England's Quidditch team?"
Mariela lunged at him, but Lupin held her back. The dog—he'd heard Lupin refer to it as 'Snuffles', looked almost as though he were laughing.
I wonder if dogs do laugh? With that one, I wouldn't be surprised.
"Let's save the violence for the moment," he said, as he turned to Loki.
"This is how the arrangement works," Lupin said coolly. "You tell us what dealings you have with a young wizard named Anthony McKinnon, and what those dealings have to do with Severus Snape. And you tell us now."
"And if I don't?" Loki asked, arching one dark eyebrow.
"If you don't," Lupin echoed harshly, "then I let Mariela and Snuffles do whatever they please to you. And I can assure you that you won't like that."
Both Mariela and Snuffles were glaring at him now, and Loki swallowed hard. Malfoy was going to kill him.
"My employer wouldn't like that, I should think."
"Lucius Malfoy? No, he wouldn't," Mariela replied, sounding as though she had to pry her teeth apart to talk. "Of course, we could just go and ask him—with you as your escort, of course."
"He'd have my life," Loki replied quietly, serious for possibly the first instance in his entire existence. "To say nothing of what he'd do before it was over."
"How can I put this delicately?" Mariela wondered aloud. Then her brown eyes narrowed. "I don't give a damn."
Loki's eyes darted aroundhe couldn't overpower both of them without his wandespecially not the dogno one was nearby
Oh, hell
"McKinnon's not here anymore," he snapped. "Why aren't you after him?"
"We are," Lupin replied. "You're just the easiest route."
Loki smirked. "I'd watch what you say, werewolf."
"Werewolf?" Mariela asked incredulously.
Lupin suddenly seized Loki by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.
"That's right, Lestrange, I am a werewolf," he snarled. "And I will bite you if you don't tell us everything we need to know. I have precious little time for your games. Talk now."
"All right, all right!" Loki could only imagine what Malfoy would do to him if he were turned into a werewolfbut he had a feeling it would culminate with his pelt decorating the Malfoy Manor.
He exhaled furiously. "I was sort of a go-between for McKinnon and Mr. Malfoy. See, Malfoy was feeding McKinnon information about the death of his parents. They were—"
"Killed by Death Eaters," Lupin finished quietly, still holding Loki to the wall. "Keep talking."
"Well, anyway, Malfoy had McKinnon convinced that it was Snape who did the actual killing."
"Why would he do that?" Mariela asked from behind Lupin.
"Doesn't care for the bloke," Loki replied. "Actually, he hates himthinks he's not really on their side, but he can't prove it. So he convinced McKinnon that Snape killed his parentswasn't that hard, the lad wasn't exactly stable when he came to us in the first place. And now he's gone off on the rampage, or something."
"Gone where?" Lupin asked.
Loki sighed. "Hogwarts, where else? He's going to finish what he started in the graveyard."
"The grave—" Mariela began, and then let out a stream of swear words, both Spanish and English.
Lupin, however, remained cool. "Then that's where we are going."
"We? You can't—"
Lupin snapped his fingers, and thin cords bound Lestrange's hands behind his back.
"I believe you'll find that I can," he said pleasantly, and turned to Mariela.
"So, you're a werewolf," Mariela said, raising one eyebrow.
Loki blinked. She didn't know? Oh, bloody hell, this should be interesting
"Ermyes," Lupin replied.
"Huh." Mariela considered. "You don't hear that every day." Then she seemed to snap out of it. "Let's go. We can talk about this later."