It turns out that being cooped inside almost 24/7 makes writing villains being villainous much easier. My loved ones are grateful that I channel my aggressiveness through my writing^^.
Time to see how Regulus gets sucked deeper into the gang (full disclosure : to write Regulus' chapters, I've been spending an inordinate amount of time reading up on how 'normal' teenagers become part of gangs). People who are very nice to 'their' people and callous, even monstrous, to outsiders seem to be scarily common.
In the Spring of '76, a muggleborn by the name of Hugo Wallace and his dying mother were turned away by Saint Mungo's staff. The hospital didn't treat muggles, no exceptions.
This wouldn't have been noteworthy if not for the fact that, a few months later, thirty year old Wallace got himself filmed performing magic and sent the films to every news office he could think of. Truth was, after the loss of his livelihood because he couldn't find a pureblood business partner, Wallace had lost his purpose, then his house, and months later, his girlfriend. A decade spent outside Hogwarts' halls had turned the promises made in the Gryffindor dorm into faint echoes, and besides, who was Wallace to heap his misery on the few friends he still had? Moving back to his birth town and watching his elementary school acquaintances with their families and their jobs, while he was wrapped in lies and feeling like a wretched failure, wrecked him. The death of his mother was the last straw.
Wallace had come to understand why, in '69, Jan Palach and two other Czechoslovakian university students had chosen to protest against the Soviet invasion by setting themselves on fire. Sometimes the only thing you could do was scream loud enough and hope to be heard.
ITV broadcasted Wallace's video on September 6., commented by an astounded film expert. 'This is either a genius of special effects beyond my understanding, or, as barmy as it sounds, true magic'. The next day, the video was on every British channel and MI6 demanded access to the films. The day after that, Wallace's video was picked up by international outlets.
It was out of control, the information spreading too fast, too far, for Obliviators to contain. The Minister had no choice but to welcome an international delegation of mages demanding immediate action.
A team of twelve expert mages from seven nations cast a modified Fidelius Charm that rippled through the world. Unlike a memory curse, nothing was forgotten, only dismissed and locked away in a corner of everyone's minds. Suddenly, the film stopped being important and muggles moved on with their lives. Such a powerful spell could not be bound on a single keeper, and so magic itself was its keeper : wizards and witches would all remember how close they'd gotten to discovery.
Its pride in tatters, the Ministry of Magic could obviously not leave it at that. Even those who held no particular ill will towards muggleborn had been unnerved by the realization that a minority of wizards, informed by their muggle relations, had become aware of the crisis before the Ministry of what had transpired.
And so, whether it was out of fear of a breach of the International Statute of Secrecy, fear for the Ministry's power, hate of muggleborn, or just a desire to not bother arguing against the loudest voices, it was agreed that safety mattered more than muggleborn's freedom. The Wizengamot voted that it wasn't safe anymore to let people with uncertain loyalties wield magic.
As of november 1976, muggleborn witches and wizards who weren't married to someone who could justify having either two magical parents or one magical parent working at the Ministry, were given sixth months to either get hitched, surrender their wands, or leave the country. Some protested, so the Ministry assured everyone that it was just a temporary measure, as they were working on magical vows to make sure muggleborn could safely own wands. A few dared whisper that Ministry-enforced Unbreakable Vows was a first step towards slavery, but muggleborn were few and often badly integrated, so to most wizards they were other people, little else than potential threat.
The Ministry didn't stop at that. Muggles who knew of magic now had to be registered and approved of. Lack of approval would result in memory modification erasing all knowledge of magic (as long as someone had the means to pay for an expert obliviator), or a full memory wipe. Lack of approval was common for muggles who lived as muggles. Only those married to mages and parents of magical children were relatively spared.
In December 1976, Albus Dumbledore publicly denounced the Ministry for giving in to the traditionalists. He accused them of taking disproportionate action against muggles and muggleborn, and of ignoring the true issue : that Voldemort and his allies encouraged people to return to a world where power was law, where everything the Ministry had put in place to make wizards and witches independent from muggles was being thrown aside in favor of the old days' parasitic and violent ways. Dumbledore insisted that with suitable wards to combat muggle expansion, there would be more than enough space for mages. He argued that it was the old families' refusal to share their warding spells and the exorbitant sums they charged for warding that had created this crisis.
Some would later say that the founding action of the fledgling Order of the Phoenix was destroying the registers of muggleborn and magic-aware muggles, crippling the Ministry's hunt and allowing hundreds to go into hiding.
The response to that particular act of sabotage was to keep it under wraps. Minister Jenkins had left the Daily Prophet a lot of freedom, and she had been ousted from office in '65, outmaneuvered by Voldemort's supporters and deserted by former allies who had lost faith in her. Minister Minchum, determined to wrestle things back in order, knew that the population had to be kept calm. It made the Ministry look more efficient, and with the people's trust, the Ministry could be more efficient. Or so he believed.
He strongly resented Dumbledore for not cooperating.
1977 January – Regulus' fourth year
"Gran would love to take on apprentices, but she's bound by magic to not cast or teach wardlore," Gladys Meadowes said, her fingers nervously playing with the shut velvet curtains as she leaned against the chilly stone wall. "Why is everyone being so stubborn? Surely if we unite we can come up with runes, or a ritual like the Statute, to peacefully avoid muggles. Dumbledore has a point."
Regulus shook his head. "Father will never share his ward knowledge without express bindings. Wardsmiths are by definition wardbreakers. He'd compromise the Manor's safety. Now, if you mixed blood magic with the wards, it might not matter, but that's illegal."
The two stood close, close enough an onlooker would think they'd stumbled upon two teenagers flirting. They kept their voices down despite the music, because Slughorn was quick to interrupt political talk at the Slug Club. Things at Hogwarts had become tense. Snape had said the older year's club was even worse (obviously. What was Slughorn thinking, inviting both Lily Evans and Corvis Avery to his gatherings? Barty Crouch of all people had been keeping the peace.).
"It wasn't made illegal on a whim, Reg. Name me one great practitioner of blood magic, aside from Saros Black, that didn't end badly. I just... Magical skill doesn't make one right. I'm not saying the Ministry isn't corrupt, but the concept of Ministry isn't wrong. If laws stop mattering it's everyone for themselves. People aren't just taking from muggles. I heard from Gran that the Minister wants to increase dementor numbers, to patrol even the petty crime section of Azkaban, because they number of thefts and assaults keep rising." The blonde clasped her hands before her worriedly. "It's going to be chaos."
"Chaos is the price to pay for change. Nobody likes thieves, neighbours will unite. They'll realize magic is more important than filling in Ministry reports for a hundred galleons a month. They'll invent their own wards! We were a powerful nation once, so why not again?"
Gladys grasped his wrist and Regulus immediately lowered his voice, his eyes darting around. It was difficult these days, for a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin to talk. Everybody had loud and angry opinions on what everyone was to think. With Gladys, they could disagree without hating each other and that was... weird. A nice weird.
"Regulus, you're not listening. Someone who's fine with destroying or killing always has an advantage in a duel. The solution to that is aurors, not encouraging everybody to get good at destroying! Our population has doubled since the seventeenth century, because people thrive in peacetime. Sure, our Ministry isn't perfect but this violence-"
"The Ministry is very violent." That was something Mr. Nettles had said last summer, and that had struck Regulus. "When the Ministry tells people they have to give up land, or stand by helplessly as muggles pollute the rivers, that's violent, even if no hexes are thrown. When you can't afford international portkeys and are forbidden to apparate across the Channel because some idiots did it in front of muggles and got a law passed, that's violent. When you don't have a personal library, and aren't rich enough to buy magical theory books, then you're effectively barred from learning advanced magic... It's even worse for those who don't get to study at Hogwarts. Lots of people already aren't fitting in."
Gladys sighed. "You're right," she finally muttered. Regulus liked how her lips thinned in concentration and how her brown eyes met his, like they were on the same side trying to figure things out. "We must reform things but not like this."
Gladys was smart but also so naïve. Regulus didn't blame her. A year ago, he'd been the one bored by the Prophet and current events, eager to focus on Quidditch and classes and to tune out the rest. He'd been a child and a fool.
"Come on, Gladys. They talk about reform now, because they're desperate to keep their positions. If tomorrow the Dark Lord vanishes, they'll stop talking about reform. Things would be more peaceful if the Ministry would stop losing its mind every time wizards reclaim their land. Why not just change the laws when the laws hurt people?"
"Muggles don't deserve to have their lives ruined. Muggleborn are wizards and witches. We need to find a balance, not just create more suffering."
Regulus crossed his arms. The Nettles had been suffering, that was the point. "Then get your family to side with us and help us find this balance. Don't pretend the Minister actually cares."
'They like you because you have no personality.' All those years ago, Sirius had been a git, as usual, and wrong. Regulus could think and have opinions. Soon, people would listen to what he had to say. The Dark Lord would look at him differently if Regulus brought over the Meadowes to his side.
But that probably wouldn't be tonight: Gladys looked increasingly frustrated. "So what will this Dark Lord do when his angry mob has toppled the Ministry? There's a reason he seduces so many Slytherins and it's not just his ancestry : you're all convinced that you're cut of a finer cloth than the rest of us. That in this new world where the weak bow to the powerful, you'll be on the side of power."
Regulus' lips thinned. "You call them a mob only because you feel they don't deserve to be heard. You can't argue for muggleborn and in the same breath dismiss purebloods who've been losing everything."
"He's encouraging people to use dark arts. That's not what you do when you want to build-"
"Bollocks," Regulus snapped. "Light magic is something you must learn. Control access to knowledge and you control people's magical skill. Dark magic is feelings-based. Learn how to harness your intent and spells follow much more easily than with anything light. That's why it's feared: the Ministry can't control people's feelings. Dark arts can be safe if you have discipline."
Gladys stared. That long stare that made the few inches between them feel like an invisible, unbreakable, wall. "Reg, have you ever wondered why Slytherin house is disproportionately dark? Why Hufflepuffs are more relaxed and friendly? Why we have an easier time making friends?" Regulus opened his mouth and winced when Gladys grabbed his hands tightly enough to hurt. "Why so many kids in Slytherin are competitive and... intense, and talk of their parents very differently than most Hufflepuffs do?"
A hand muffled his retort. Gladys was pressed against him, it was awkward but would not had been entirely unpleasant had she not looked so upset. The hand muffling his mouth, though, that was really rude.
"Did you ever pause to think that's because it's really, really difficult, to tame dark arts and that use of dark magic changes how you feel, who you are? I -"
With a huff, Regulus shoved her off. "Of course they change you! Instead of being a doormat, you -"
"Hey, you two, no hiding behind the curtains!" Slughorn's smile was jovial but his eyes were tight in warning. At his arm, Fausta Haywood, the evening's guest.
Regulus winced. He'd gotten too loud and he'd pushed Gladys more forcefully than he should have. She was scowling at him, like she wanted to pound his head against the wall until he changed his mind. To be fair, he was feeling the same. To suggest all Slytherin were all dark-addled -
"Surely you must have questions for Ms. Haywood!' Slughorn boomed, all but physically cornering them."How many people do you know who started off enchanting children's toys and now spend their days shadowing auror investigations? Proof that with Charms and Potions one can do great things, even without a Defense OWL."
"I'll let you know, Sir, that my shield charms are quite sturdy," Haywood protested, her eyes smiling. She was a plump woman with short brown hair and straight-cut, almost masculine robes. "Why bother learning to duel when a good portkey will get you out of a sticky situation faster than you can say 'help!'?"
"Quite true!" Slughorn stared pointedly at Gladys. "Fausta was Hufflepuff, Miss Meadowes."
Gladys smiled at that. It was true that Hufflepuffs did smile more than Slytherin. "I do have a question: in the Fawley case you talked about, you didn't say how you realized that toy brooms could be use to identify a secret corridor."
"Toy brooms keep kids from bumping everywhere, so they stay away from solid surfaces. When a broom bumps into what looks like a wall... something's up. Now had there been a charmed door blocking the way, my trick wouldn't have worked, but the aurors had moved fast : Fawley had only had the time to cast an illusion over the corridor entrance before they arrived." She grinned. "Of course, that doesn't compare to what your aunt Dorcas did to unravel Ladon Lestrange's anti-tracking charms. He went muggle but the moment he casts magic on English soil -"
An incredulous chuckle escaped Regulus' throat. The three turned to stare. Ah, bugger. "I didn't know it was a secret that the whole family is currently living with Brannon Rosier's brothers." It really couldn't be.
"He's not, the aurors investigated," Haywood said with a frown. "You are -"
"Regulus Black." The lengths the Minister's people went to pretend they were in control. "Perhaps I am wrong." He couldn't resist. "After all why would the Ministry lie about it?"
Haywood looked genuinely upset, and slightly flushed as she realized who she was talking to. They didn't wear house colors at the Slug Club. Gladys was staring like she believed him, which was nice, and also like he was aiding a criminal, which wasn't fair. Slughorn looked supremely uneasy.
"I'm exhausted, I'd better be going," Regulus decided. No point in dragging out the awkwardness. "I'm always impressed with all the fascinating people you know, Professor."
Funny how an expert socialite like Slughorn still looked tickled whenever someone paid him a compliment. "Good night, Mr. Black."
Regulus' heels struck the floor unnecessarily hard as he strode back to the common room. Not that Fausta Haywood wasn't interesting, but her presence was meant as a distraction. The Dark Lord was right. The Ministry and their teachers wanted them to do nothing. They thrived on distracted, spineless citizen. Worse, after two years reporting increasingly common incidents, the Prophet had suddenly become the Ministry's fawning lapdog.
It was sickening. And just as sickening were the light wizards who had convinced people like Gladys that there was no choice but to wait for reform to magically happen instead of fighting for their own future.
Frustrated, Regulus threw his outer robes on his bed, willing Gladys' worried brown eyes out of his mind.
How could anyone believe that ambition meant you'd been twisted by dark arts?
1977 - February
"Aah, warn a bloke!" Archie exclaimed, jumping backwards from a second jet of vomit as he fumbled for his wand. "Scourgify! Are you alright?"
Regulus, sprawled on the floor on his way to Herbology class in the greenhouses, gasped for air. He couldn't manage to say Finite beforehis stomach heaved once more. Burning with embarrassment, he half-expected to see a smirking Sirius show up.
Regulus retched once more, and this time, there was blood.
"You need Madam Pomfrey," Gladys exclaimed over his classmates' muttering, "now."
Increasingly panicked, Regulus forced himself upright. He'd been fine this morning. What -
What stopped being a mystery when Severus showed up as Archie was dragging him to the Hospital Wing. With a flick of the sixth year's wand, the illness evaporated.
"I need to talk to you." It wasn't clear whether Severus Snape didn't bother with greetings because he needed to assert his dominance in every social interaction, or because he'd been raised in a muggle hovel. Probably both.
Archie wasn't one to tolerate blatant rudeness. "You made him throw up on me just to talk -"
"Back to class, Diggle. You can say he was hexed."
"I'm not your house elf, Snape," Archie snapped. He shot a look at Regulus and harrumphed when he realized he wouldn't be getting any support. "You'll make it up to me."
Severus didn't bat an eyelid. He turned to Regulus and bristled at the younger boy's unimpressed glare (calm jugement was the best way to get under Severus' skin.)
"I see Podmore is still ignoring you." Severus didn't apologize, no, never, he escalated instead.
Stupid, as Regulus knew exactly how to strike back. "Evans still ignoring you?"
Severus scowled, his wand arm twitching. Served him right for bringing up Roland.
Roland had gotten weird. He couldn't understand why Regulus was suddenly so interested in what happened outside the castle. Roland spent a lot of time with his little brother Sturgis, an annoying Gryffindor who seemed to worship the Marauders. He and Regulus had started fighting. It had gotten nasty.
'I'm trying to be a good brother, not that you would know. Us Podmores don't have a habit of losing a family member every five years.'
'How can you be so short-sighted? Now I get what my parents meant, when they said not to bother befriending a dressmaker's son.'
Roland still wasn't talking to him. Regulus hadn't apologized. He'd spent too much of his childhood chasing after the approval of people who refused to grow up. He spent more time with the older guys now, and Archie was happy to sit next to him in class while Roland, ironically, sat with Ian Redclove, the boy he'd so long look down upon for being half-blood.
"My father is being investigated," Severus said after a tense pause. "He's a muggle, living as a muggle, and he doesn't like wizards. They'll wipe him. I received this letter."
'Tobias Snape, Spinner's End, Cokeworth, under investigation.' The note was signed with a small drawing a snake coming out of skull.
"Is that a bad thing?" Regulus said in his most neutral tone. Things had changed after the summer. Severus didn't treat Regulus like a job anymore, and Regulus had begun to see beyond the snide armor the sixth year hid behind.
"He wanted a tough, football loving kid," Severus said, his voice flat but his eyes narrowed with distaste. "He's never known what to do with me. Always had a shitty temper. Can't deal with the fact I'm smarter than him. Couldn't even have the decency to not be dirt poor. We're apparating out, take me to your cousin Bellatrix."
Severus' tone hadn't changed so it took Regulus a full second before he registered the order. "What -"
"They don't get to kill my father. If anyone does, it's me."
Kill - "They'd just wipe him, that's -"
A harsh laugh escaped Severus' mouth. "He'd become a drunken tramp until the winter does him in." He stood close, and a head taller than Regulus still, forcing the younger boy to step back in he didn't want to crane his head. "They warned me for a reason. They want to see me act. And I will act."
Regulus swallowed back an instinctive protest. Why would he protest? What was he afraid of? Points and detentions, like some first year?
"Alright, my broom is in the locker. We 'll fly double to the wards."
Disillusioned and coated in warming charms, they flew out in the January drizzle. The second they were out of the Hogwarts' grounds, Regulus called his favorite apparition mode.
Kreacher took them to an empty street near Belvedere, London, one at a time, with twin loud popping sounds.
"Master Reggie being skipping classes," the house-elf pointed out. It wasn't chiding, just curious.
Regulus grinned at him. "Yeah, Severus has a family crisis. We've got to talk to Cousin Bella."
"Kreacher is staying, to keep Master Reggie out of trouble."
Regulus picked the elf up and put him on his shoulders. "There, you'll pop me out faster than any of Bellatrix's hexes."
Severus looked bemused at the interaction, but Kreacher's weight was comforting, a reminder of the best of his childhood. Regulus felt rather cheerful as they, cloaked by a mild muggle-repelling charm, walked up to Bellatrix's house. It was a very muggle street, but Regulus had to admit it was a charming, obviously wealthy, one.
The door magically swung open when they rang the doorbell. Behind it, Bean smiled, those ear-flapping toothy house-elf smiles. "Cousin! It being nice having visits! And Young Master still being too kind to house elves."
"Well, you guys actually played with me. And it pays to be nice to those who make the food."
Severus' are you done sucking up glower vanished when Bean snapped her long fingers. Half of Bellatrix's stock of desserts appeared on the dining room's table. Regulus craned his neck to admire the enchanted ceiling. Today it looked like a mountain dragon reserve with snowy peaks and wyverns flying overhead.
"Enjoy! Bean is fetching the masters," the wrinkled elf announced before popping away.
They were half-way through the cookies when Rodolphus apparated.
"Merlin, those are mine you hogs. And don't even think to touch Bella's ice cream!" He squeezed Regulus' shoulder affectionately and even clasped Severus on the back, as if they'd been friends for years. Regulus smiled back. Cousin Rod acted more like a big brother than Sirius ever had.
"What can I do for you, lads?"
"Is it your people or others in the Ministry that will be wiping my father?"
Rodolphus' smile grew, it was less cheerful and more appraising. Proof he knew exactly why they'd come.
"Others, but ours won't be far." Rod stared levelly at them. Unlike Bellatrix, he didn't look dangerous or fierce, but earnest and solemn. And like he took them seriously. "It's peculiar... See, the register was destroyed a few weeks ago, so someone must have put your father's name in..." Rod smiled grimly at their stunned expressions. "Oh, you won't read that in the Prophet. So, lads, we have about a day to act. What do you want to do?"
Where Cokesworth had been a prime exhibit of everything miserable about muggle industry, Prince Villa in Southern Wales was all arches, wide windows and sculpted embellishments. Dozens of enchanted fountains filled the tree-less grounds. They were made of stone, quartz, ivory, glass or even live-looking vines. Some depicted carved animals, others people, and others still abstract shapes. Colored jets of waters danced around them, defying gravity as they dived in and out of the reservoirs.
"It hasn't changed," Eileen Snape muttered. The Dark Lord had lifted the curse her family had placed on her in a few wandstrokes, but there still was something brittle and meek in the way the witch slouched at her son's side.
The Snapes, Regulus, Rod and the Dark Lord were surrounded by a sort of disillusionment sphere, that concealed them from the outside but not from each other (Regulus couldn't quite muster the confidence to ask the Dark Lord about his spells).
As they walked closer to the villa's wards, the blurred embellishments proved to be gargoyles, hundreds of them, from the goofy to the terrifying, perched on the fountains and on the villa's flat roof. Even the balconies were made of gargoyles, grotesque beasts set shoulder to shoulder with legs and arms shooting upwards obscenely to make the railings.
"Sculptors?" Regulus guessed. This wasn't a collector's lair, this was a workshop.
"Yes... Not that anyone buys gargoyles anymore. Father must be even more desperate to hide he's living above his means than when I was a child." Contempt dripped off Mrs. Snape's every word, strikingly so for someone who'd spent twenty years in magic-deprived squalor.
"Snape, walk through the wards."
Snape's father, who'd been slouching at the edge of the group, frowned when he realized the Dark Lord was talking to him. The muggle stared back, stiff and red-faced, clearly unhappy with his current company. His hair was slick and his clothes wet from the persistent light rain (the rest of them were, of course, protected with charms).
"What'll happen if I do?" His voice shook with badly repressed fear, and Regulus suspected he was also starting to be affected by the muggle-repelling wards.
The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed, his wand loosely between his fingers. "Walk through the wards."
Eyes glazed over, Tobias Snape turned around like a man sleepwalking and began to walk.
Regulus took a slow breath and cleared his mind, the now familiar sense of heightened focus washing over him. He had not yet mastered the art of shielding his thoughts from magical intrusions, but distancing himself from interfering emotions was something he was becoming proficient at. Regulus would prove he was man enough to earn the Dark Lord's respect.
The wards' edge wasn't visible to the eye. Tobias Snape kept walking on the grass, oblivious to his surroundings. There was no sound except for the patter of rain and the burble and splashing from the fountains.
He was some twenty yards ahead of them and ten more away from the nearest fountain when the gargoyles sprang alive. Heads and bodies twisted into crouching stances. A grotesque bronze dragon hanging from a bell clapper began to swing. With the first toll of the wide brass bell, four gargoyles leapt forward.
It wasn't just a sculptor's playground. It was an army.
Tobias Snape kept walking. Huge stone wings sent a gust of wind against his clothes but the man didn't even flinch, stepping forward oblivious as the hippogriff gargoyle raised its claws. Blood spurted against cloth and stone as the enchanted beast tore into the man's torso. He stumbled with a shocked cry.
Regulus turned away. Not out of distaste, his occlumency shielded him from such reactions, but because there was more to learn by spying the others' reactions.
Severus' face was a wooden mask and his mother looked mournful but resigned, her hands tightly clasping Severus' wand arm. What kind of miserable bastard do you have to be, for your son and wife to watch you murdered with barely a flinch? Mrs. Snape's expression suddenly twisted into pure hatred.
Two tall lean men in light blue robes had apparated a few yards before them, one gray haired, the other in his fifties. As they rushed to Tobias Snape's corpse, the family resemblance was gargoyles had all stilled, as if frozen in place.
"Have the repelling wards failed?" Older Prince exclaimed. "How did he get so close?"
"Must be a squib despite the clothes. But why would the fool do that?"
The wizards stiffened when two aurors apparated just outside the wards. "Good afternoon, I'm Auror Rosier. This is my partner, Auror Edgecombe. We've just been notified a statute breach..." his eyes widened at the carnage, "and, apparently, a murder."
"He just walked in." Older Prince said, looking like he was about to throw up. "The gargoyles got him. And, Merlin, look at him! He won't be breaking the Statute anytime soon!"
"Wands down, gentlemen," Rosier warned. "Lethal wards aren't -"
"They're not lethal to anyone with a wand! Any muggle should have been repelled -"
"Let us check the wards together, Auror Rosier," Younger Prince cut in with a placating gesture. "This is a misunderstanding."
"Very well, deactivate the wards and show them to me."
It was almost tragic, how the most skillful layer of wards became useless when you unwittingly allowed your enemies in. Still invisible to the Princes, the five entered the grounds without a single gargoyle stirring.
Neither Rosier nor his partner flinched when the Dark Lord dropped the illusion.
Older Prince, who had been taking ragged breaths and wringing his hands, froze in shock.
Younger Prince only had eyes for his sister. "You!" His hand rose to his face in instinct, intercepting something small, transparent, and fast.
Glass, a potion's vial, shattered in the wizards face. The man's features twisted as if made of warm clay. He fell on the grass, his scream stolen. Eyebrows, nose and lips lost their color, their structure and dripped downwards. Bone, skin and teeth all melted into a thick mess.
Older Prince screamed in horror as his son's body spasmed on the ground, the lasts wisps of his magic evaporating along with his skull.
"One of the very first potions I learned here," Eileen Snape said. "It makes stone as easy to mold as snow. Bad for your skin."
The witches' hands shook. Her tearful eyes were bright, she looked stunned, relieved and half-mad, but her voice was steady and vicious. She straightened, and Regulus realized now that the woman was tall, taller than he was, almost as tall as her son.
"You... I expected you to come back," Prince elder spluttered, scrambling backwards. He gasped when his shoulders and legs struck a stone wall conjured by Rod. His eyes darted left and right in wild panic, but there was nowhere to go except towards them. The hopeless situation seemed to fill him with sudden rage. "Twenty years with that muggle you wasted!" He jabbed a finger at Severus. "And you. How could you? How could you go to Hogwarts in rags rather than owl us! I would have written you had I known!"
Severus looked at his grandfather up and down. The man was a shaking, tear-stricken mess. Uncertainty showed through the teenager's distaste. "Is it true you tried to sell her to a man for... supplies?"
The older wizard took a shuddering breath. A dazed resignation seemed to replace his panic.
"We all have sold ourselves. What ancient family does not! He would have given you the potion mastery you wanted, Eileen. You could have poisoned him the moment you'd sucked all the knowledge from him, and we'd have inherited -"
"He drugged me with love potions and you said 'how else do you expect to have a good marriage'," Eileen said flatly. "I wouldn't have survived three years. He'd soon have found a prettier toy to torment." She turned to Severus. "Go, legilimize him, go see the childhood I deprived you of."
Severus didn't hesitate. The man buckled, screaming in pain. Where the Dark Lord could slip subtly into your mind, Severus had neither the skill nor the patience and tore through his grandfather's shields. Severus wasn't occluding : it took a master to use Dark Arts with a shielded mind, and so his fierce curiosity, his rage, and soon his pallor, was obvious to all.
Severus swayed, his eyes wide and distant, as he finally broke the contact.
"Too fast, and your mind is overwhelmed," the Dark Lord said, pointing his wand at Severus and muttering an incantation.
The seventeen year old's eyes widened then narrowed with new focus. He bowed his head in gratitude.
"What did you see?"
Severus bristled reflexively, but one didn't dismiss the Dark Lord. "Lots of silencing charms, my Lord. And cheering charms, calming concoctions, body-bind curses, sleeping potions... They molded their children like they fashioned their statues. Meals, clothes and free time had to be earned. They made sure Mother and my Uncle would compete and hate each other. They had almost no interaction with anyone else until Hogwarts."
"At least Tobias left me my own mind," Mrs. Snape said, her chin raised defiantly. She turned to her son. "Did you see in his mind where Mother is hiding?"
"We'll find her," the Dark Lord said dismissively. "What do you want to do to him, Severus?"
Like that day at the Nettles, it was a question that wasn't a question. It was a test.
Severus stepped towards the pathetic old man, now on his knees on the ground, clinging to his son's mutilated body amidst incoherent sobs. He stiffly raised his wand. "Sectumsempra."
A long red gash appeared on the elder Prince's neck. A jet of blood spurted from the wound, the head rolled off his shoulders, hitting the wet ground with a muffled thump seconds before the headless body. 'A spell to perfectly slice potions ingredients.' Ha.
"Would a standard healing save him?" The Dark Lord looked intrigued. Pleased even.
"No, my Lord. Only the counter will cleanly undo the damage." Severus lifted his chin, emboldened by the Dark Lord's approval. "Otherwise it would just be a fancy severing charm."
A thin smile curved the Lord Voldemort's lips. "Indeed. I'm eager to see what spells you'll have for me by the time you finish Hogwarts." He turned to assess the property. "I will leave you a dozen gargoyles, perhaps more, but the others I need. It's inefficient to give our allies back their land if they can't defend it."
Indeed. Hundreds of bee-like sparks shot out of the Dark Lord's wands and flew for the villa and the grounds, slowing around each object they encountered, as if making an inventory. Regulus watched in wonder, marveling at how easy the Dark Lord made things.
What he wanted, what they wanted, was theirs for the taking. It was as simple as that.
"Mrs. Snape," Auror Rosier called. "I'll need more of your vials to disguise this as a potions accident."
It had been half an hour since Rosier and his partner had finished erasing any damning evidence.
Regulus stood before a remarkable glass fountain of dancing veelas. The beautiful creatures would have been naked if not for the flowing water suggestively draping them. His shoulders were stiff, his fists clenched. It was almost 6 PM. They had to go back to Hogwarts. As a legal adult, Severus had some freedom, but Regulus had no wish to waste his evenings in detention.
But if he left now, any wizard with experience in the mind arts would recognize his tremors for what they were. His heart slammed against his ribcage and his thoughts were all over the place. The blood. The melting face. The ripping and crunching sound of gargoyle's claws. Regulus wished he could maintain his occlumency-fueled focus longer. He hated this... delayed panic. It was useless and stupid and -
A hand squeezed his stiff shoulders. Regulus started: he'd not heard Rod approach. "They deserved it. You'll get used to it. You did well."
He hadn't done anything. He might as well have stayed at Rod's apartment to eat cookies with Bean and Kreacher. Gladys' words rang loud in his mind. 'You're all convinced that in this new world where the weak bow to the powerful, you'll be on the side of power.'
"Why does the Dark Lord value me?" he whispered.
Rod smiled indulgently. He conjured a slab of stone for them to sit on. "Don't let that worry you, Cousin. Look at me : I'm not especially powerful, and politically, you'll be a bigger player than I am."
"You make Bellatrix happy, that's important."
Rod's smile became a full on grin. "Make Bella happy, do I?"
"Well... she married you..."
For some reason, Rod found that hilarious. He soon sobered. "There's something you need to know."
He told Regulus of the Black blood curse, of Bellatrix's plan to use the marriage to free herself from the bindings.
"Father did what?" A blood curse. On cousin Bella. How -
"Most people panic when they see power slipping out of their grasp. Not Orion's smartest move."
"Bellatrix has forgiven him?" Regulus' throat was dry as he began to realize he might end up Lord Black much earlier than he'd intended.
"No, but he's irrelevant to her. You see, the Dark Lord planted the idea in Orion's head. It was a test, he wanted Bella to ask him for help. She preferred to marry me." Rodolphus grinned. "Blacks are a stubborn bunch."
Nervous laughter burst from Regulus' lips. Trust Bellatrix to outplay the Dark Lord himself. "And... you're happy?"
Rod's grin softened, warmth crinkling his eyes. "You're adorable. Bella's a lot of fun. Don't tell her, but there are worse things than a blood curse getting your crush to propose to you. Don't worry," Rod repeated, and Regulus found himself breathing more easily. "Bella is a hurricane, but people like you and me keep things together. The tallest tower needs solid foundations."
"That's kind of Hufflepuff."
"So what, Hogwarts wouldn't have existed without old Helga. We've been attracting more Ravenclaws, some Hufflepuffs and even some Gryffindors. Hogwarts sorts us to strengthen our core strengths, so we can later all cooperate build castles of our own."
"Beautiful," Regulus deadpanned. "You believe that or you're practicing your political speeches?" The teenager hid his smile as Rod punched his shoulderblade. "Fine, convince me, what makes Gryffs valuable?"
"Look at that mudblood Wallace : he accepted to die for his ideals. Rattled the wizarding world harder than anyone since Grindewald. Gryffindors can be made to do the damnedest things in the name of loyalty or some ideal. Look at your disgrace of a brother : what Slytherin would be foolish enough to give up a Lordship and a sizable inheritance because he had a bad relationship with his parents?"
Regulus nodded in slow agreement, his expression dark. "We're better off without him." Silencio, cheering charms, calming draughts... Their parents had never used those. They'd never magicked them into someone else, they'd just applied natural consequences when he and Sirius had made bad choices. Sirius was too entitled and hard-headed to accept that.
Regulus pushed himself upright. He was feeling better. The blood -. His throat was still dry but it wasn't so bad.
Rod looked thoughtful as they went to fetch Severus.
"We told your friend that his uncle had told the authorities to investigate his muggle father. Prince did, but only after Rosier ran into him at a function and made a public comment about his muggle relations."
Regulus missed a step. "You wanted this to happen?"
"The Dark Lord requires gargoyles. It was an opportunity for Severus to shine, and he seized it beautifully."
For Severus to shine. Regulus swallowed back a new spike of insecurity. He had betrayed enough weakness for today. "He did. We really should hurry back to Hogwarts."
"I'll tell old Slughorn it was a family emergency." Smiling, Rodolphus affected a sigh. "Poor Severus, he just lost his father. Muggles, falling drunk down the stairs... tragic. As far as anyone is concerned, you never were here. Severus shouldn't boast until the house is his."
His? Even if Mrs. Prince was removed - "Mrs. Snape isn't the Prince heir."
Rod smiled once more with that calm confidence Regulus admired. "She will be quite soon. The Dark Lord treats his allies well."
Regulus' soft laughter mixed with the waterfall sounds. The Dark Lord made everything so very easy.
The Snapes magically locked down Spinner's End and moved in at Prince Villa a few months later. The relationship between mother and son couldn't be quite called easy or loving, but it was comfortable in its way. Eileen had taught Severus to spell-craft, to aim high and to be fiercely individualistic. Severus had found it easier to make peace with his mother's shortcomings after the encounter with his grandfather. Nobody would ever sneer at them again, he would make sure of it.
After his NEWTs , Severus soon left for his potions apprenticeship and the villa became wartime headquarters. Eileen left with her son, to find work of her own in a country where she wasn't weighted down by her past.
The Dark Lord had made all the arrangements. The price was a Dark Mark Severus would have taken anyway. At the time, Severus was overflowing with gratitude and a desire to prove himself, to stand right next to Bellatrix by Lord Voldemort's side.
A few weeks after Voldemort's fall, in a fit of blind rage and self-loathing, Severus moved his lab and library to Spinner's End and corrupted the wards, leaving the remaining gargoyles to tear apart his ancestors' home. The house where Edgar Bones had begged for his life. Where the ability to beg had been tortured out of Fabian and Gideon Prewett. The garden where Avery had hunted muggles like pheasants, setting conjured blood-hounds after his victims and finishing them off with increasingly creative dark curses.
It calmed Severus down, to see it torn to pieces.
Eileen Snape never returned from Morocco. She couldn't find a reason to miss Britain.
Author's note.
In canon, Occlumency seems to be frowned upon (on top of being challenging to master), so I tried to come up with a reason why. My head-canon now is that occlumency grants you calm and focus to do what you want. That can be awesome : you can be level-headed in times of panic. It can also help you be the cold-hearted murderer you think you should be. I think it could be considered like a drug : it's something that numbs you and helps you function, and once you get used to it, you often don't want to have to face your feelings anymore (especially if you started occluding to ward off bad emotions, like grief, guilt or anxiety). Like dark arts, it takes a lot of discipline to use it in a way that doesn't harm you.
The next chapter is fully planned out and half of it is written. We'll be hitting the late-seventies, when Lord Voldemort's power is at its peak and he doesn't need to woo his followers anymore.
Paul, I can promise that many of the things you mentioned you'd like to see in your reviews will be happening in the upcoming couple of chapters^^.
