Welcome to another, action-packed installment of PotDS... somehow I am amazed that I managed to keep up with all my writing even with a full week of work and being sick, but it happened, so I hope you're all grateful for that at least. Anyway, Reviews are wonderful, enjoy...
Chapter Forty Six
Clues of the Ancient Past
Luna was very glad to be away from Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays, not only for the opportunity to be back with her father, who needed her help sometime more than even he'd admit, but that she finally had time where she could relax. Being surrounded by the growing power that the Darkness was building was wearing on Luna, and when she first arrived home her father had questioned whether she was eating or sleeping enough, neither of which were truly the case. But she had dodged around the question, and in an effort to placate him ate double helpings of Christmas pudding and slept in on Christmas morning.
Now, the evening that the Yule Ball would be happening back at Hogwarts, Luna and her father were on an important outing, meeting with goblins at Gringotts for Luna's father to discuss the financial state of The Quibbler.
Luna was sure that everything with her Daddy's paper was perfectly fine, but one could never be too certain with the odd fluctuations of readers for the magazine. Luna was about to turn to go wait outside in the cool evening air, when she spotted a familiar face.
Griphook, the kindly goblin that had spoken with her before was just finishing some work at a now empty counter, and Luna happily skipped across the wide lobby to him, drawing some attention from the nearby goblin workers.
"Hello again Lore Master Griphook…" she said cheerfully, and the goblin looked up at her with surprise, before relaxing and smiling toothily at her.
"Ah, hello again young one, what brings you to our bank so late on this day. Isn't it a human holiday?" the goblin replied respectfully, shuffling the last of his paperwork into one stack.
"Oh, Daddy is speaking with his account manager about funds for his paper, and I chose to spend time away from Hogwarts for the holidays, so I came along with." Luna replied, although as she did so she felt something odd, like a cold trickle down her spine.
"Oh I see, you father is…" Griphook started, but something caught his attention toward the doors of the bank. He turned, freezing in place as he did so. "Child, you need to come with me, now." he declared, taking Luna by the arm, and leaping from his high stool. Luna turned as they started running for the back of the bank, and her insides froze with dread.
The Darkness was there, clad in unfamiliar clothing, with weapons of fire and magic in his hands, their glowing blades dancing as he spun them. The boy was masked, but Luna knew it was him even as goblin warriors charged the Darkness with their swords and axes that had been previously hidden now drawn in plain sight all over the lobby.
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Veneficus laughed cruelly as he began his dance with the first of the goblin guards. The portkey had taken him to the end of Diagon Alley, almost inside the off shooting Knockturn Alley, but he was able to stealthily and rapidly close in on the bank. By some merciful act of the Force, after dispatching the outside guards, he entered to find Lovegood, along with the Goblin Lore Master, the very one responsibly for all of the Sith's problems with the bank, together. Now he could eliminate two problems with one swift stroke.
Dancing around the first of the warriors' strikes, the crimson blades of his sabers found soft flesh, searing and dismembering the small creatures as easily as a human opponent. Their weapons had some sort of enchantments on them, goblin magic that deflected his weapons, but that was little cause for concern.
Leaping high into the air of the high vaulted lobby, Veneficus pursued his pair of targets, cleaving down a stupid looking wizard and his goblin accountant as they emerged from an office to discover the source of the disturbance. More warriors poured from all directions, but a sharp blast wave of the Force sent them all flying backwards.
The pair had run deeper into the Bank and its network of underground caverns, but Lovegood was still connected to the Force wherever she went, meaning Veneficus could track her. They wouldn't escape, he would not allow it. Throwing a lightsaber forward as he ran, Veneficus skewered a warrior that leapt in his way, wrenching the weapon back as he passed. These little beasts would learn that to face a Sith was to fight against death itself, there would be no victory against him, and no mercy for those who stood against him.
Lightning blasted forth at his call, catching another pair of guards, these clad in metal armor, and they were both blasted into the far wall, smoking and very much dead before the Sith Lord even reached them.
He was catching up to his prey, the guards unable to slow him in the slightest, but they still had an annoyingly small lead on him. Turning left at a junction, Veneficus shattered a pair of doors with a Force thrust, crashing into a wide room that was infested with guards.
"You! Intruder! What is the meaning of this blatant attack on my nation!" roared the goblin leader, pointing his large mace threateningly at Veneficus. "We know what you are, Je'daii, and you are will go no further!"
Veneficus said nothing. He had been given strict instructions to make absolutely sure he could not be recognized as the famous Harry Potter, which is why he wore his hood up and the ancient Sith mask blocking his face from view. In response, he inverted his offhand saber, locking the ends together into a full Saberstaff, and flourishing with the now much longer weapon.
Realizing that he was undaunted by their show of force, the goblin leader bellowed in their native language, and the warriors roared as they charged at him.
Drawing heavily on the Dark Side, Veneficus actually felt himself slip away into a powerful and deep meditative trance as he leapt into combat. His consciousness drifted out of himself as he danced among the swinging weapons of his foes. So long had he used the Force so restrained and in controlled amounts that this glorious unleashing of his power burst a vision upon him.
He was back in the graveyard, but the picture was far clearer than it had ever been before. The worm, Pettigrew appeared, holding a knife and a bundle of cloth that moved on its own. Then the scene flashed to a massive cauldron, as the potion within frothed and billowed black smoke into the air. From the smoke, the snake-like face of a man emerged. There was no doubt in Veneficus that this was what the great 'lord' Voldemort was reduced to attempting to return to the physical realm.
The screams of the goblins back with his physical body were a low background noise as the Sith Lord watched an even greater battle between his future self and the dark wizard that made the whole of Europe tremble with fear. The Wild Force sang off the man, and Veneficus found himself grudgingly impressed with the dark wizard's knowledge and power. Not that any of that changed the outcome.
As the vision-Veneficus stood over the fallen wizard, he saw as the man's force essence departed from his body, splitting up into seven fragments. As the portions of essence hung in the air before him, Veneficus breathed, inhaling two pieces and incorporating them into himself. The others manifested themselves in various familiar forms: A golden cup, a tarnished crown, a silver locket, a small ring, and finally a massive snake.
As the vision closed, Veneficus smiled. He was surrounded by the corpses and gore of the fallen goblin warriors, yet sported no wounds of his own. And out of all the chaos and bloodshed on the last few moments, he had learned what at long last was needed to defeat Voldemort once and for all, and the last pieces of his ultimate trap for the man could be placed.
'Let the fool play his games of resurrection and power,' Veneficus sneered internally as he stalked out of the room, continuing his pursuit of Lovegood and the Goblin Lore Master. 'I will be ready for him when he makes his move…'
No more guards attempted to forestall him from this point onward, with the death of their leader the will of the creatures seemed to have been broken, and his way was swift down to the lowest level of the cavernous bank. Pausing momentarily outside the like barrier between himself and his intended victims, the only ones who knew anything close to the truth of who or what he and his Master were. Almost reverently, Veneficus stroked the doorway that served as the final obstacle. Nothing special, just a standard wooden door barred with goblin steel, something he could and indeed would smash with ease, but for the pair to have lived so long was something to be respected, even if they weakly through countless lives away in trying to stall him.
Balling his fist and hefting the double hilt of his conjoined sabers, Veneficus eagerly called upon the force to splinter the wood and metal, sending the whole door crashing inward with a thought and a gesture.
"You are to be commended for making it this far," he said casually to the two goblins and human child within, even as the Sith Lord strode confidently inside. There was no need to hide himself here, as any others were a long distance from this hidden room, and little magic in the way of scrying to speak of.
"However your journey ends here." He said with finality, igniting his weapon and dropping into his battle stance.
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Griphook turned as the door to this, the most secret and deepest chambers in all of Gringotts was destroyed. The Potter boy, a monstrous creation of the star wanderer that had come to steal wealth and power from their world entered, his face masked but brimming with dark power with every movement.
"My son," Griphook said, turning to his physically stunted, yet prized child. The younger goblin, although very much an adult, had always been treated as a favorite by his father, and even now with death approaching, Griphook would move the earth and sky for his son. "Go with Lovegood."
"Father…" Griphook's heart melted, but there was no time for him to sooth the fear in those green eyes. Turning the frightfully small goblin toward their nation's greatest secret, he pushed him gentle by the shoulders. Lovegood, blessed child that she was, seemed to know already what was required of her, and she took Griphook's son by the hand, leading him safely into the confined of the great star vessel that the goblins had gained possession of so long ago from some of the fallen star wanderers.
"You are to be commended for making it this far," the sinister voice of the Potter boy rang through the chamber, his great weapon burning the air around him as he settled into a warrior fighting stance, "However your journey ends here."
Sighing to himself at what he must do, Griphook took from his waist the one item of great value he owned, a weapon that had been passed down in his clan and family for generations. The small handle felt light in his hand, a weapon claimed by some ancestor centuries ago, along with the ship that hopefully would carry the Lovegood girl and his son away from this place, safely delivering them from this monster's grasp. Griphook had little understanding of its function, but as a Goblin he knew of its uses. Battle was his profession, as it was for their entire nation.
So many warriors fell honorably against this foe in this night alone, and Griphook held no hope that he would be a survivor. However, as the emerald blade sprang from the weapon, he swore that he would delay the madman until the bitter end.
"You will not have them," Griphook said softly, gathering himself for the onset of battle. This child, barely older than the Lovegood child, was no novice when it came to this particular weapon, which put Griphook at a massive disadvantage, and they both knew this fact. Swinging his weapon high, Potter charged, bringing down a blow that surely would have cleaved the old goblin in two, if not for his battle trained and hardened reflexes.
Leaping to the side, Griphook slammed his emerald blade down onto the violent crimson of his enemy, hearing the sparking and seeing the bright flashes as these living weapons dueled for dominance. If it were not a matter of life and death, Griphook would have admired the elegance and precision of the weapons, but instead he parried the follow up attack, dodging to the boy's undefended side and ramming his thick skull into Potter's exposed flank, sending the lad staggering.
From the ship, he heard sparking and the beginnings of a low rumble as the ship slowly came to life. Time was not on his side however, as the robed and masked monster was at him again, both pillars of red fire spinning in an ever increasing tempo, yearning for his blood. The emerald fire in his own hand sang as he swung it, deflecting and knocking every blow he could aside, until the impossible occurred.
Potter threw his hand outward, and a blast of unimaginably strong wandless magic sent Griphook hurtling backward through the air. It was unheard of for any human wizard to be so magically powerful, and Griphook was stunned for a brief moment as he registered what had just happened.
With an infernal scream of rage, Potter came hurtling through the air after him, and only by rapidly rolling to the side did Griphook dodge a fatal impalement on the end of the boy's blood-red weapon.
Rising quickly to his feet, Griphook backed away toward the star ship, his hope building as quickly as the rumble of the ancient vessel's systems came to live, the propulsion flaring dramatically as they ignited.
Potter glanced once at the ship, a snarl covering his face, showing his true maddened character, and he thrust out a hand again at Griphook. He tensed, waiting for the overwhelming thrust to throw him back again, and was therefore unprepared for his weapon to be pulled from his hand, into the waiting grip of the monster before him.
Quick as lightning, the boy rushed Griphook, and he screamed as a searing pain entered his chest. "Father! No!" screamed someone behind him. Griphook fell backward, hands convulsing as pain tore through him, scorching every nerve ending and setting his mind on fire. Potter loomed over him, ready to deliver the deathblow with Griphook's family weapon, when the ancient Goblin heirloom was torn from his grasp.
His son appeared, and Griphook wept inwardly, watching his boy trying to face off against the enemy who had slain too many of them already.
"Brave of you, young one," Potter taunted, "but you cannot stop me. This one is only the beginning."
"Not if anything to say about it, I have!" there was a deafening explosion, a scream of rage, but Griphook lacked the strength to lift his head and look. He felt himself being moved, lifted onto something metal, and the sudden jerking sensation of flight as whatever he was in launched itself into the air.
Rapidly, the air around him grew colder, and he was having a hard time hearing what others around him were saying. "My son..." he panted feebly, feeing life leaving him far too quickly. The younger goblin appeared in an instant, concern etched in his face. "Oh my brave son," Griphook said fondly, grasping his son's hand with trembling fingers.
"Safe you are now, Father," the younger replied, relapsing into the inverted syntax that had plagued his youth. Many a tutor had been enraged by the boy's utter inability to speak straight through a thought, but now that was the last thing that Griphook cared about.
Peering through rapidly darkening eyes, Griphook saw the ancient weapon clutching in his son's hand. It fit his frame perfectly. "You must carry the knowledge of the Goblin Nation with you now," he said weakly, "Do not mourn for me, my son, for you already have done more to save us than you know."
"Father…" the younger goblin pleaded, "With us you need to stay."
Griphook smiled weakly, "My body is broken… I go where you cannot follow, at least not as of yet." Glancing over at the Lovegood child, Griphook forced himself to continue, "You must watch out for each other now, and find a path that will keep you both safe from… this coming terror…" his strength was failing him now. Closing his eyes for the last time, Griphook inhaled for what felt like a lifetime, and slowly offered his final blessing on his only son. "Go in… peace… Yo...da…"
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Veneficus watched in seething rage as the rusted, ancient starship blasted through layers of stone and wood, rocketing skyward. The Muggles would have a field day, with all their wild speculation of an unidentified object leaving their world. Worse still Lovegood survived, escaping with the powerful Force sensitive goblin runt. The older one was as good as dead however, and with them gone from this world, his mission was technically a success.
The Goblin Nation would be reeling for years from this blow, quite possibly to never recover, but there was little time for him to revel in the glories of his combat. Stowing his weapons back on his belt, Veneficus activated the two way Portkey, retuning to a secluded cupboard of Hogwarts.
Banishing away the blood, soot and grime of a long and destructive battle, Veneficus composed himself behind a cool and impassive mask before returning quickly to the Yule Ball, mere minutes after his own departure into the past for the same assignment.
Recovering Miss Granger from near the refreshment table, Veneficus took her out to the middle of the dance floor. With energy left to burn, he casually took her through the steps of the dance, idly speaking of the great things to come through their mutual efforts, in part speaking of Magi-technology and how it would usher in a new age of thinking, and in part referencing the consequences of such technology: recognition by the Republic.
Although, did he honestly want this primitive world to be allowed anything close to space travel? No, more assuredly not, but developing the ability was what he desired Miss Granger for. There would be time enough to fashion a world to slip strategically into the Republic, and between the power of the Wild Force and the technology they were creating, the Galaxy would be placed squarely into the palm of his hand.
After a while, the girl grew weary of the constant movement, and they deposited themselves at an abandoned table to rest. Veneficus watched his Master, moving confidently through two more dances, along with various female members of the staff, before finally locating and approaching them both..
"I'll bid you both a good night," Millennial said, secretly accepting the portkey that Veneficus passed to him as he stood respectfully to the Master of the Dark Side..
"Good night sir," Granger responded, while Veneficus nodded.
Even as the Sith Master departed, Veneficus watched as several of the most influential spectators, hidden and public, turned toward Lord Millennial like flowers to the sun. Chief of these was Dumbledore himself, who watched the Sith's retreating form with a neutral expression, even as the man's aura fluctuated with disdain and suspicion.
Many of the visiting Ministry dignitaries, along with a few of the Hogwart's Professors ranged from mild interest to outright awe. It was still so strange to Veneficus, how these people, used to their altered variant of the Force for so long, were so easily ensnared by the raw powers of the main branch of the universal power.
This thought was compounded when Veneficus reached out to touch those among the student body that were avidly watching himself, much as the other adults wereso intently focused on Darth Millennial. Anguis was among these, but his interest was more of aware of valid reasons for watching the Sith Lords than the others, hoping for some scrap of information that may slip to him, or a piece of loose power for the boy to grab a hold of.
Intermixed with his many casual admirers, primarily from Slytherin but a noticeable few from other houses, was the circle of Gryffindors that heeded the inane rantings of Ronald Weasley. The red haired menace himself was key among these children, foolishly glaring their resentment for any trained enough to notice to see. Veneficus was honestly surprised that the boy had lasted this long before attempting to make any sort of direct confrontation, but the Sith could still feel the need building in the boy. Any day now it would explode, and Veneficus would be ready. The time was long past for humiliation or lesser punishment.
As the Ball wound to a close, Veneficus cast his attention to the last of his stranger and more moldable servants, Blaise Zabini. The boy had intense jealously since Veneficus arrived with Miss Granger, despite the obvious explanation that stood for all to see.
After seeing Granger up the grand stairs to her own dormitory, a necessary gesture for his image, Veneficus intentionally caught Zabini's eye, before purposefully heading in the direction of the Astronomy Tower. It was hard not to laugh as the boy all but dropped his date's hand and followed like a puppy after their owner.
Gazing out across the snow covered darkness of the grounds, Veneficus waited for Zabini to arrive and announce himself. The Sith was not disappointed.
"Granger, Potter? Seriously, do you not have any respect for me?" the boy snarled after he shut the door to the tower.
Turning causally, Veneficus eyed the Italian boy's stance, carefully reading the rise and fall of emotion, probing for every little change as he spoke, "And you would rather me have chosen someone else?" he asked calmly in return.
"Yes!" Zabini said defiantly, stepping toward Venefiucs threateningly, but not nearly enough so to even warrant the Sith to prepare a counterattack.
"You and I both know that what you wanted wouldn't be acceptable, not here and most assuredly not during the Tournament with every eye on me specifically..." Veneficus reasoned back.
Zabini stewed over the words a moment, still fuming at whatever falsely conceived notion he held onto about a relationship between himself and the Sith Lord, "I know..." he said at last, shoulders sagging in acceptance and defeat, "It just makes me so mad that we can just be us. I could get away with it because of my mother and the power our family has, but I know the situation isn't even close to the same for you, Harry."
Zabini stepped closer again, reaching out to stroke Veneficus' face, and the Sith allowed it, leaning into the boy's hand for just a moment, before slipping away again, turning to look back out over the treeline of the forest. "I doubt that it could ever be that way while we're still in school," he said, pointedly drawing the boy in with his words and the Force, "And with the Wizarding world in its stagnated state they would never accept it. As much as you purebloods feel superior, you must know that the Muggle world has changed a lot in the past few centuries, and in many ways they outstrip the Wizarding world in laws and freedoms, not to mention technology..."
"But we have our magic..."Zabini started, but Veneficus turned, pushing to convince the boy of his words through the burning passion that bled out from the Force. "But we could have both! Imagine what wonders we cannot accomplish with magic alone, but combine the power of the muggle's technology and our magic and there would be nothing in this Galaxy that could stop us!"
From an inner robe pocket, Veneficus drew the blueprints of the basic power cell that operated via magic, "This is just a taste of what we are capable of if we applied ourselves," he explained, allowing the rolled sheet of parchment to unfurl in the air, and magically producing an illisionary image. "A standard Muggle energy storage device, modified and augmented by arrays of runes and charged with magical energy, able to keep and power anything we create for months after installation. Able to produce energy equal to one hundred times its Muggle counterpart for nearly that many times longer. We can succeed even where they have failed."
Zabini clearly didn't understand the full scope of the project, but his eyes were alight with curiosity and wonder regardless, "That's pretty amazing."
"And this is only the beginning. A project that was headed and drafted by none other than Miss Granger as well."
Zabini paused, thinking, and Veneficus smirked as the boy turned back to him, "Because she's muggleborn, as well as brilliant, possessing both the understand and experience with both worlds to achieve something like this. Now I understand why you break all traditional Slytherin roles and sterotypes..." he paused again, "More than that actually, you embody them more so than any other in our house I daresay."
"Now your beginning to see why I do what I do." Veneficus said smugly, "We could use another pureblood on the team Blaise, one that has access to the political contacts we would need to slip these projects past the Ministry, as you know they wouldn't like anything of what we were doing..."
"No, I daresay they would shut it down without so much as a 'by your leave'..." Zabini replied, thinking hard. "Alright Harry, I'm in, but I want to know what's in store for us here. What's the end goal of this adventure you're leading us on?"
Veneficus smirked deeply, "Everything..."
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Severus arose early on Boxing Day, grateful to at least have a few hours before he was needed to babysit a castle full of children crazed from the previous late night of activity. He took breakfast in his quarters, something he wished he could do more often to be away from the Great Hall, and opened the newest edition of the Daily Prophet, but he never got past the first page.
'Christmas Massacre at Gringotts Bank' was the headline splashed across the page in bold lettering. What followed, taking up not only the first, but three additional pages, detailed a horrific slaughter of the Goblin bankers the previous evening, and listing a half dozen wizards that got caught in the crossfire and were killed. The paper attributed it to the Death Eaters, citing the previous attack and sighting of the Dark Mark at the World Cup, but Severus knew better.
The purebloods among the followers of the Dark Lord would never tolerate potential upsetting the holders of all their material wealth in such a risky and downright suicidal attack. From what human survivors detailed, it was a single cloaked figure that had suddenly burst in and started attacking the goblins. The Goblin Nation had sealed the bank and refused to comment upon anything that had occurred.
It was a dark day for the wizarding world; as such an attack had never been conceived in any of their wars. Gold was something that was depended upon, which was why so many valued the neutrality of the goblins. The creatures cared not for good or evil, only gold and profit, and they defended that which they were charged with to the death. For some dark wizard or wizards unknown to purposely attack them in their place of business was a declaration of war upon the entire world as far as they all ought to have been concerned.
Abandoning his untouched breakfast, Severus sprinted up toward the Headmaster's office, bypassing several other early risers in the halls, who dodged to the side to avoid him as he hurtled past them. Bursting into the old man's office, Severus found the Headmaster paused between reading the very same article, and filling his pensieve with a stream of memories stored in hundreds of small vials.
"Severus, good." Albus said, not even bothering with casual chitchat or his normal grandfatherly aura. The paper had shaken him greatly as well, and he was now all business. "I take it you're here about the devastating attack on our goblin friends."
"I am," Severus replied, suddenly very curious as to why the Headmaster was prepping memories right now of all times.
"I also strongly believe your first amount of information details how this could not be the work of the Death Eaters…" Albus continued, his blue eyes flashing as he continued to deposit several memories from his own mind into the basin as well.
"Indeed," Severus affirmed.
"It had to be Blackmoore," Albus said with finality, "I just can't figure out how he got away from the Yule Ball to London and back so quickly, and that's not to add whatever amount of time he took to shut the bank down completely. We barely know that the event happened, let alone the amount of destruction that occurred."
"I do recall the man being out in the gardens during the beginning of the Ball for a while, after which he returned for only a few short hours." Severus commented, remembering spotting and speaking briefly with the horrifying man. The strength behind his mental attack still had Severus shaking slightly, even though he managed to defend himself. "I also know he has powers that we cannot begin to imagine, and it's not any sort of magic that we know of…"
"It's very likely that he taught some, if not much, of this same power to Harry, if I'm not mistaking myself." Albus added, probing memories with his wand and viewing the images in the basin reflectively.
"That would explain quite a bit of Mr. Potter's activities over the past few years." Severus said, thinking back to the slain troll three years ago.
"More than just a bit I fear," Albus said gravely. "There are things I must show you Severus, things that you may not wish to see or hear, but it must be done if you are to understand why I have chosen to take this particular course of events."
Albus indicated the Pensieve, and Severus obediently stooped to gaze into it. The swirling of inky memories as he sank inside was familiar to Severus, as he was used to sharing his own memories with Albus during the last war, but the atrocities that he had shown the Headmaster then paled in comparison to the flashed of memories that were in the device now.
At first, Severus viewed from the background as Albus placed the infant Potter on the doorstep of a boring looking muggle house, with Minerva and a weeping Hagrid looking on. Then the scene changed to the same house, sometime later with Albus entering within. As Severus followed the memory of the old man, he was accosted with the image of three persons to mutilated and tortured that even he, hardened by the acts of the Dark Lord, had to turn away.
The remains of Petunia Dursley nee Evans and her family were horrific in the slightest, but before Severus had time to even occlude the image to a emotionless section of his mind, the scene shifted again, to the Great Hall three years previous to the date of real time, and the sorting of Harry Potter.
"Slytherin," the hat cried, and Albus, looking over the Hall with his grandfatherly persona started ever so slightly, clearly greatly troubled by the boy's placement. But with the hat all decisions were final, so into Slytherin he must go. The scene shimmered again, revealing the strangled troll later that same year, and the tests that Albus had performed to determine its cause of death, the man struggling to fine even a hint of magic that had aided in the beasts demise, and finding none.
Once more the image was replaced, and Albus was talking with Potter in the hospital wing just after the boy's foolish fight with Quirrell in the Forbidden corridor. Severus scowled at how flippant and deflective the boy was to the old man, but the real start was as the man turned away, and the boy glared at Albus' retreating form, Lily's green eyes momentarily becoming marred with a fire orange hue.
The scene abruptly shifted to the Great Hall once more, at the end of Potters first year, when Albus had had his small accident of nearly choking to death. Severus remembered that event quite well, as he had been puzzled why Albus hadn't had anything in his throat at the time. Now however, looking back through the Headmaster's perspective, he understood that the old man had been trying to use Legilimency on Potter at the very moment that his windpipe closed, almost on its own and frighteningly familiar to the same method that the troll had been slain.
Scenes and events flashed by, faster and faster, almost to the point where Severus was having difficulty keeping up. Potter secreting himself away and slowly gathering specific individuals, the mystery of Blackmoore's identity for so many years, the Chamber of Secrets and its oddly abrupt ending, Black's escape and eventual recapture, just for the body to disappear, along with Lupin, who had spent copious amounts of time following Potter and trying to get to know the boy.
There were several key conversations between the werewolf and the Headmaster, where Lupin had expressed great distress from his wolfin side about something with the boy, and that it was highly likely that at some point Potter had begun using Dark Magic.
Blackmoore's sudden rise to political power, rivaling that of Lucius Malfoy within a matter of a few years, only for the pureblood Lord to be found dead in his own home, along with his wife. And to cap that all off, their only son being shipped unceremoniously to Blackmoore when the will had for years stated that Severus himself was godfather to Draco, and responsible for his care in the event of Lucius' demise.
Lists of accusations and suspicions built up over the space of less than four short years, and yet not one thing that even Albus' brilliant mind could pin down on the pair of them, not one shred of proof to any wrong doing. Severus understood perfectly the dilemma that the Headmaster was suffering as he withdrew from the Pensieve, "What do we do about this?" he asked immediately as the Headmaster's office swam back into focus.
"That is what I've been struggling with for the entire year Severus," Albus said gravely, "and my only conclusion is that we must, absolutely must, flush out these two for what they are. It is beyond a doubt that Blackmoore wields some sort of dark magic that rivals anything that Voldemort every dreamed of, and is actively passing that knowledge on to Harry, corrupting and twisting the boy beyond any shred of goodness or light."
Albus turned, beginning to pace around his room, as the man was wont to do when his brain was actively engaged in a problem of sufficient magnitude. "I know of no alternative but to place Harry in unspeakable danger, force him to reveal his dark powers, preferable in front of an audience, and from that trace it back to Blackmoore, turning the whole of the wizarding world against them."
"So the Tournament then," Severus remarked.
"Yes, it's the main reason I agreed to host it here in the first place," Albus replied, "The dragon was clearly not enough to push Harry beyond his limits. Sometimes I think that the boy is far too intelligent for his own good." Albus sighed, looking out the single window of his study, "The Second task has potential, as it places someone that the Champions hold dear at the bottom of the Black Lake, guarded by the clan of merpeople, but I am having difficulty deciding who to choose for Harry's prize…"
Severus thought hard for a moment, looking back at whom Potter was currently closest to. "Blaise Zabini would be a good choice," he commented dryly, "the boys have certain affection for each other, of sorts. I know that Blaise is smitten, but whether Potter reciprocates I do not know. The only other option would be Draco. The pair aren't terribly close now, due to the tournament, but they've been closer than blood relatives over the last few years."
"It's better than anything I have to go on for now Severus," Albus agreed, "perhaps I will also instruct that extra defenses are to be placed around Mr. Zabini or Mr. Malfoy, just to see if it takes more out of Harry to rescue someone else than to just get past a nesting dragon."
"You must do as you see fit, Headmaster, but I recommend extreme caution." Severus said, rising to his feet. He would be expected to be seen somewhere below by now, and there were yet essays to mark that he ought to get back to.
"Yes, we should all take those words to heart, Severus," Albus replied, not turning to bid the Potions Master farewell as Severus took his leave.
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A few short weeks were all that the Sith needed to completely integrate the Gamorrean fortress town to their needs and causes. A small open stalled market near the main building was cleared out into a makeshift landing pad for the ship, and a half dozen burly warriors, called Tuskers, were set to watch and make certain that no others approached it.
Septin had joined in many of the Gamorrean males in their competitions and combat training lessons, if one could call them lessons. More accurately, they were just sparring matches with little regard for safety or rules as the brutes pounded each other into submission for honor and rank within the clan.
At first, the pig-like creatures laughed, much as their leader had when Septin had been pitted against him before, but after three devastating victories against the largest and most powerfully built Gamorreans, Septin had earned their respect and fear.
Ocraadi Nuhok had learned from the female Gamorreans, who were the more intellectual leaders of the clans, that there was a smaller clan located directly above the site of the old Sith Academy ruins, but it was a long way from their fortress, and crossed several other clan's territory, which would quickly incite war between them all if they attempted to move armed fighters through on their way to the ruins.
The Sows were against such a mindless charge through so many occupied area, but the Sith did not care for the safety of the clan. Septin in particular was enjoying the surge of bloodlust that seemed stirred through the Force by the Gamorreans, and their war-like ways were starting to affect him, physically as well as in the Force.
Despite the shortness of time that they had been with these brutes, Septin was already starting to put on a fair amount of extra muscle mass, probably fueled along by the gratuitously high calorie diets that he shared with the other warriors of the clan, as well as the near daily exercise in learning different styles of weapons and fighting tactics by the old veterans of the clan, and in wrestling and sparring with the unmarried Tuskers.
It was a way of life that was quickly agreeing with him, and to some extent Septin felt he would be disappointed to leave when their mission was complete, but once Lady Nuhok gave the final command for their clan's warrior to push for the Sith ruins, he dutifully took his place as champion of the clan, his Lightsabers being somewhat of a spiritual superstition by the clan, a token of great power that assured victory for their side in any situation. Not a bad image for him to cultivate and encourage, his Master had recommended.