Spoilers: Order of the Phoenix
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!
Once back in his office at the Ministry, Ron flopped down gracelessly in his most comfortable armchair, stretching his tired limbs.
'Next time a Slytherin gives me sound advice, I'll follow it immediately,' he promised himself.
He looked at the list in front of him; all the names were crossed out except for the last one, next to which was written improbable.
'I can only hope that Percy reacts the same way I did and takes them in order.'
He was exhausted. Apparating twenty or so times in the same day was not on the recommended things-to-do list, but at least he had the satisfaction of knowing that he's done his duty. Severus Snape had been warned of Percy's imminent arrival and of his obsession.
Even though he felt sorry for Harry, who would come back empty-handed, Ron congratulated himself on giving him the first half of the list. Knowing what the man had done for Hermione didn't make Severus any easier to bear, even if he had been almost civil – minus the snide comments. Ron flattered himself that the meeting had gone smoothly; with Harry, sparks – and spells – would have been flying. Harry was not the most cool-headed person where Severus Snape was concerned.
With a flick of his wand, Ron set his list afire and watched it burn, his mind wandering far away. Severus had also given him sound advice and, true to his newly made promise, Ron was ready to follow it.
'But first, let's have a look at this mysterious Miss Nott.'
With a sigh, he rose from his armchair and his steps led him toward the archives.
Percy was calm. His trial was coming up, but after some reflection, he was now able to point out some highly suspicious facts: his own inability to stop when seeing Isadora; Minerva McGonagall in the dungeons, of all places; Isadora, a pure-blood witch, without her wand; he could go on forever. Surely the Wizengamot would see that he had been framed and, let's not forget, it was his word against two Slytherins. His record at the Ministry was spotless – except maybe the slight problem of having supported Cornelius Fudge. All in all, Percy was confident that everything would go without a hitch.
The theory was good, but the reality was different. As soon as Percy lifted his head to speak, he was frozen into silence by Isadora's eyes. Seeing her looking so innocent, her wide eyes upon him, he began doubting his own sanity. Maybe he really had wanted to assault her, after all; a buried feeling he didn't even know about until facing her. Maybe he truly was a monster who should be sent to Azkaban.
When the Interrogators asked him what he had to say in his defence, Percy didn't answer. He didn't even hear them. His world was reduced to a slender silhouette standing in the middle of the crowd – how could she be here? – and, losing himself in her eyes, he tried to understand, tried to grasp at the slim shreds of reason that were left to him. He didn't hear his sentence and was only shaken out of his trance when they took him away to Azkaban.
As if she was feeling his distress, Isadora's eyes never wavered away from Percy. She wanted to know what she felt at the idea that he was condemned because of her – that he would live in a hellish place for the next two weeks. She left the hearing room looking down, skilfully avoiding the people around her trying to console her or just have a glimpse at her for being the woman who had made Percy Weasley lose his head. Some speculated that she felt embarrassed or ashamed or maybe even proud. But they were all wrong. Isadora felt nothing. Not even regret.
Theodore Nott fidgeted when the Minister for Magic entered his office. He knew the part his sister had played in Percy Weasley's condemnation, and after all, the convict was the Minister's brother.
"Good afternoon, Minister," he said, mustering a jovial tone. "May I do something for you?"
Ron eyed the stringy young wizard, trying to find any resemblance between him and the beautiful Isadora. He found none, except maybe in the quickness of his eyes.
"Yes, Mr Nott. It's about your sister."
Theodore sighed and rubbed his eyes, the tiredness he felt due to his Time-Turner use suddenly falling on his shoulders.
"What did she do this time? Unless you mean to speak about her framing your brother?"
Uninvited, Ron sat in the chair in front of the young wizard. He had a feeling the talk would be a long one.
"Not really. In fact, in framing my brother, your sister was a great help to me."
Theodore stopped in mid-motion, quite taken aback.
"What was her interest in it?"
"That, I don't know. So, as it's not only stupid but also suicidal to wield a weapon without knowing how, I'm asking you to tell me about your sister."
"What an accurate way to describe Isadora." He leaned back into his armchair, half-closing his eyes. "To understand Isadora, I guess we'd have to go back to my mother."
"Julia Rookwood Nott," said Ron, remembering his notes from the archives.
Julia Rookwood was born at the same time as Harry's parents. She was doted upon by her parents and her adoring elder brother, Augustus. Her father, Algernon Rookwood, though not an active Death Eater, was in sympathy with most of Voldemort's doctrine. He believed firmly in pure-blood supremacy and had sworn that his children would rather die alone than marry a Muggle-born or even a half-blood.
So it came as an agreeable surprise to him when it was noticed that Julia seemed infatuated with Justinius Nott, a friend of his, considerably older than she, but then she was mesmerised by his vast knowledge. Their wedding, as soon as Julia was out of school, was the talk of pure-blood society for weeks.
To an outsider's eye, the new couple was happy. Julia seemed genuinely in love with her older husband, who had a tender affection for her. Inside the house, it was a different affair. Julia had followed in her brother's footsteps and was passionate about Voldemort. Somehow she got her husband to join the Death Eaters, since women were discouraged, Bellatrix Lestrange being the exception. She became close friends with Bellatrix and Narcissa and, in the course of things, Justinius became one of Lucius Malfoy's friends.
Both couples had a child at the same time, and the boys grew up almost as close as cousins. But their characters differed; whereas Draco relied on his father's money and influence to get anything he wanted, Theodore turned out to be a loner, fighting his battles on his own. His mother wanted him to be close to Draco, but he never accepted belonging to his gang.
Then something changed: Julia gave birth to Isadora and lost all interest in Theodore. Her only care was for her daughter, who grew up as manipulative as her mother. Pushed by both his wife and his daughter – whom he adored – Justinius went deeper and deeper in the Dark Arts, even though Voldemort had disappeared, maybe killed by Harry Potter. He would have done anything for his beautiful young wife and she knew it.
"Isadora is a follower of Voldemort?"
"No. I like to think that she didn't understand the meaning of what she was asking from my father. But everything changed when my mother died."
"You could see the Thestrals in our fifth year," said Ron thoughtfully. "So you were there when she died?"
"Oh, I was there and so was Isadora. Even my father was there."
"How did she die?"
"Stupidly. We had a huge library and the Dark Arts books were on the top shelf. We needed a heavy library step and she was on top of it, leaning precariously to reach a book that was too far out of reach. She fell, hit her head and died in her bed several minutes later at the glorious age of thirty-two."
"Nothing could be done, I gather?"
"Maybe, but she decided to wait for us to be around her before releasing her grasp on life. She was too disappointed in Voldemort's disappearance. My father was never the same after her death – and neither was Isadora – but, respecting the memory of his wife, he continued the Death Eater thing. I can't say it was the wisest decision he ever made."
"But you took the opposite path."
Theodore chortled. "My mother was proud of my intellect, saying I was cleverer than Draco. That ought to account for it. And then, I was scared to death of Aunt Bellatrix. That's what we were supposed to call her, Isadora and me, though she wasn't our aunt."
"So Isadora is a manipulative little enchantress."
"Isadora is an exact replica of my mother," said Theodore angrily. "My mother drove my father to his doom and Isadora is more than probably trying to destroy your brother for the fun of it."
Ron sighed. "As much as Percy annoys me from time to time, I don't want the Dementors to feed on his soul. I guess I need to have a little talk with Miss Isadora."
Theodore rubbed his eyes with his fist. "You know, in a way, Isadora and Granger are quite similar. They're both very clever, except that Isadora is more cunning and she doesn't use her intellect for the same causes."
Ron had a large smile. "Hermione's brains used to scare me so much I felt like an idiot next to her. So I talked about chess and Quidditch, until one day she looked at me as if I was an intriguing potions ingredient, and she told me that no one as good at chess as I was could possibly be as stupid as I acted. At the time, I yelled at her. Afterwards, I realised that her comment was in fact a compliment, and since then, I've tried my best to prove her right. She always liked to be right."
"I think you succeeded nicely, Minister. She'd be proud of you."
"I hope so, Mr Nott, I hope so."
Minerva McGonagall was quite unnerved when Ron asked to see Isadora.
"Mr Weasley, with all due respect, the last time a Weasley asked to see Isadora he ended up in Azkaban. Maybe you should think twice about your request?"
"I had a discussion with her brother, and I don't feel particularly attracted to young witches still in school. In fact, for the moment, I don't feel attracted to witches at all; my work is time-consuming enough as it is."
"I didn't think Percy Weasley was attracted to young witches, either, yet he succumbed to Miss Nott's charms."
"Percy was framed and besides, Harry here will make sure I don't drown in the pools of her eyes."
Minerva pursed her lips. "Do as you wish, then. I'll summon her in here."
"Please, could you include Mr Higgs?"
Minerva didn't like to be treated in such high-handed manner, even by the Minister for Magic, and she made it known, especially when Ron firmly shooed her out of her office as soon as the two students arrived.
"Please sit down, Miss Nott, Mr Higgs."
Ron waited a moment until all eyes were on him; he remained standing near the window, blocking the light; it was a technique he had learnt during his work at the Ministry, it allowed him to keep an upper hand over the people facing him, who couldn't read his expression.
"Miss Nott, I appreciate your delaying my brother, but please leave him alone from now on? I would be delighted if he could keep what sanity he has left."
"I'll do my best, Minister," Isadora murmured demurely.
Ron began to wonder if they hadn't taken hold of a weapon far more powerful than they could ever master.
"Miss Nott, Mr Higgs, what can you tell us about the Knights of Walpurgis?"
"Secret society," said Lawrence, sounding bored. "Last known cover was as the Death Eaters."
"Let me rephrase my question: what can you tell us about the Knight Commander of the Order?"
Lawrence crossed his arms on his chest, his face closing and his eyes becoming guarded. Isadora sighed and wound a lock of her hair around her forefinger.
"Who knew enough about Voldemort to choose him as a decoy?" she said slowly. "Who would profit from the confrontation between Voldemort and the boy who lived, two of the most powerful wizards of our time?"
Seeing only blank stares, she added, quite irritated, "Who always knew what Voldemort was up to?"
"I did," said Harry. "I could see what was happening around him sometimes."
"Who hid facts from you as long as it served his own purposes, until you stuck your head in the lion's mouth? Who had a powerful and respected persona in the open, but nobody knew what he was doing the rest of the time? Who had a less than savoury brother?"
"It's a serious accusation you're making, Miss Nott."
"Open your eyes! Who could have been Minister for Magic, but preferred to remain where he could influence young minds entrusted to him? Who kept the boy who lived under his thumb for seven years, all the while sending him on suicidal missions without appearing to do so? Professor Snape tried to protect you from both Voldemort and the too great liberty you were purposely given."
"How do you know all this?"
"Please!" she replied, sounding disgusted. "Give me a little credit, I'm a Slytherin."
"Crabbe and Goyle were Slytherins and they were as stupid as they were mean," objected Harry, quite shaken.
"And they are dead."
"Do you have any proof?"
"Of course not! Do you think I'd be sitting here, alive, if I had any proof?"
"Who else knows?"
"Professor Snape. Some people knew he had defected and felt Voldemort should never have kept him in his ranks for so long. Somebody had to tell him to do so; the same somebody who tested Professor Snape's resolution day after day."
Ron and Harry were silent, trying to ingest what Isadora had just said. Ron was trying to keep in mind that the young witch was manipulative and that she could be lying about the whole thing. Lawrence didn't look surprised by the revelations, as if he had known all along, but his face was set in a reprobating mask.
"I have two questions of my own. Where is Granger? And how does Professor Snape fare?" asked Isadora, as if they had just been discussing the weather over tea and biscuits.
Harry's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "We don't know where Snape is."
"There's only one person who could have sent you to Lawrence and me for information on the Knights of Walpurgis. And I doubt he told it to you before his supposed death."
"Well reasoned, Miss Nott," said Ron, pulling himself together. "Professor Snape is doing quite well and trusts you to keep an eye on the Slytherin students. As for Professor Granger, she's here at Hogwarts, which is, after all, the safest place, even before Gringotts."
"Ron! Are you crazy telling them that?"
"Of course not, Harry. But, as Professor McGonagall told us, if they are members of Snape's fan club, then they will know it's in their interest to protect Hermione as well as Snape."
The calculative gleam in Isadora's eyes told him that she, at the very least, had no interest in protecting Hermione, but he was interrupted from further speculations by a tentative knock at the door. Ron opened it and ushered the young wizard into the room.
"Mr Rackharrow, what news do you have for us?"
"Um, sir, Minister, I… uh, I was looking for Professor McGonagall. There's something strange going on in the dungeons, sir, that…uh, she should probably see."
"Then show us, Mr Rackharrow."
Obviously shaken, Eric led the way to the dungeons and stopped in a deserted corridor. A soft orange glow was surrounding a doorway in the bare wall opposite to them. Slowly, as the glow spread before their eyes, the doorframe disappeared in a fog of light and the ground began to shine. Ron stepped forward and touched the stone. It felt cool and smooth, even as his hand glowed orange.
"So?" asked Harry.
"Nothing. It's just light."
They exchanged a glance, wondering if it could be the place where Hermione was resting.
"Then we have a problem."
"And it's spreading."