Harry Potter
and the Death Eater Menace
Harry Potter and all associate characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
CHAPTER 29: The Blackest Day
19 December 1993
Longbottom Dungeon
10:00 a.m.
While Miss Demeanor had received considerable training in escapology (among many other obscure and illicit abilities), she was disappointed in how more than a decade in Azkaban had degraded her physical skills. In retrospect, it might have been better to regularly assume control over the damaged Bellatrix Lestrange persona despite the risk that Dementor exposure would damage the psychic matrix that represented her sense of identity. If nothing else, she'd have kept up this body's physical conditioning in preparation for eventual escape.
"Pointless to regret the past," Miss Demeanor thought to herself. "If wishes were hippogriffs, hags would fly."
Her physical difficulties were exacerbated by that same relentlessly annoying second personality with whom she shared a body. At most, Bellatrix Lestrange would give her a few minutes of peace and quiet in which to work before loudly haranguing her about how long it was taking them to get out of the straitjacket. As a result, a task that should have taken 30 minutes even in her weakened state instead took several hours. Admittedly, part of that delay was caused by Miss Demeanor finally losing her temper and simply granting Bellatrix direct control. The other woman quickly demonstrated she had no idea how to get out of a straitjacket, and her hysterical efforts not only tightened their bonds but exhausted them both to the point that they had to rest for a while.
Miss Demeanor resumed control, and a chastened Bellatrix finally shut up long enough for her to free them from the jacket. Then, she moved to the cell door and sat cross-legged before it while focusing her mind on the arrangement of spells that secured the door.
"What are you doing now?!" Bellatrix thought furiously. "Cast a wandless Alohomora and let us out! I know you can!"
"I can cast a wandless Alohomora," Miss Demeanor thought back through the mental equivalent of gritted teeth. "But I can also perceive that the door is protected by powerful locking charms that can resist that spell, as well as warding charms to alert others if magic is used to open it. Do you know how to bypass such wards?"
"… no," Bellatrix thought sullenly.
"Then be silent and let me work. This may take hours, and every minute of delay increases the likelihood of our discovery. It is a miracle we have not been found out already."
Though she could not know it, the "miracle" that had protected Miss Demeanor from discovery so far would continue for some time. By a stroke of luck, her efforts to escape would take place against the backdrop of several events taking place elsewhere that would monopolize her captors' attention.
Meanwhile in a conference room upstairs …
As Miss Demeanor struggled with the herculean task of wandlessly bypassing multiple high-level wards, the adult members of the "Azkaban Conspiracy" were upstairs engaged in pitched debate. Harry had contacted Regulus by mirror immediately upon returning to his dorm room and informed him of the horrifying news. Rufus Scrimgeour, the former Chief Auror, was aware of their activities, though he only knew for certain of Harry's involvement and strongly suspected that of Lucius. Lord Malfoy was not amused. The others in attendance – Regulus, Lady Augusta, and Severus Snape – weren't much happier.
"Well," said Reg, "look on the bright side. He doesn't know for certain who is part of our treasonous little group nor where our prisoners are hidden. That's … something at least."
"Hmmph," snorted Lucius. "He suspects my involvement, and where Scrimgeour is concerned, suspicion might as well be a cold certainty. Meanwhile, you are still believed to be dead, Severus has the patronage of Albus Dumbledore, and no one would suspect the Longbottom Regent of being complicit in freeing the Lestranges from Azkaban. I find myself feeling … exposed."
"Nevertheless," said Augusta calmly between sips of tea, "will you meet with him as he requested?"
Lucius laughed aloud at the absurdity of the suggestion. "Alas, dear lady, I find that I have a scheduling conflict. Originally, I had planned to meet Draco this evening and take him home to the Manor for the holidays. However, I have since concluded that spending the holidays in a big empty manor house still haunted by memories of Narcissa might not be good for my son. And so, I've sent word for him to disembark at the Paris station where I will collect him, and we will spend the holidays in the City of Lights."
"Uh-huh," said Reg drily. "And when exactly did you decide to spare your son the trauma of a Christmas break on British soil?"
"Two minutes after you woke me up this morning to tell me about Scrimgeour's involvement," Lucius answered defiantly as he rose from the table. "Do send word if Scrimgeour is truly someone with whom we can deal. If he's not, then don't bother. I imagine I'll read all about it in the papers from the comfort of some wizarding nation that has no extradition treaty with Magical Britain."
He bowed respectfully to Augusta and then left the room for the Floo. Reg glowered at him as he departed.
"Well, to be fair," he said ruefully, "did any of us really trust him to stick with us to the end?"
Augusta clucked her tongue, while Snape, still injured and exhausted from the previous day's activities, said nothing. Finally, Augusta spoke.
"I will meet with Scrimgeour. He and I were at Hogwarts together, so perhaps I may be able to exercise some influence over him. Besides, as Lucius hinted, surely my status of as Longbottom Regent will persuade Rufus that we are not a cabal of Death Eaters." She paused and then smirked ruefully. "Despite the fact that other than myself, the only other members to have never been a Death Eater are a pair of Slytherins both too young to have ever been offered the chance."
She sighed and tossed her napkin down on her empty plate. "As the saying goes, if t'were done well, it had best be done quickly. I'd must come up with an excuse for Neville to explain why I'm leaving him and Harry here alone on their first night back while I run off to treat with Scrimgeour."
Reg perked up at that. "Actually … if you don't mind, I'll be picking up Harry and taking him directly to Grimmauld Place. I … I think he should probably come see Sirius as soon as he gets home."
Augusta favored him with a sad look. "His condition is unchanged?"
"Unchanged, if not growing worse," he replied quietly.
She nodded gravely and left the room, leaving Regulus and Severus alone. The two sat in silence for several minutes. It was almost as though Severus were waiting for Regulus to make the first move, a step that Regulus dreaded taking. Finally, Regulus spoke cautiously while staring down at the table.
"You were right … what you said about Sirius's health. His stupid little apparition stunt has undone all the treatment he's had since leaving Azkaban. Dobby's watching over him, but … I don't think he's going to make it." He finally looked up at Severus's face. "Does that please you, Severus?" he asked and surprisingly without any anger or malice in the question.
Severus paused before answering. "Despite what I said yesterday, the prospect of your brother's death does not … necessarily please me. I bear Sirius an intense ill will and if he were the only person affected, I would take no little satisfaction in his demise. But you have proven yourself a valuable member of our conspiracy and a staunch foe of the Dark Lord, and while we were never friends at school, you are still a fellow Slytherin. I am not so cold that I would wish upon you the grief of losing a sibling who had only just been returned to you. Just as I have no desire for Harry Potter to suffer the grief of losing a seemingly devoted godfather when his own father has been such a miserable failure on the role."
Then, his expression hardened. "But do not take my sympathy for your impending loss to mean I have any intention of averting it, even if such were within my power. I am not inclined to save the life of a man who tried to murder me." He sneered ruthlessly. "Particularly when he tried again to curse me just yesterday."
Regulus nodded. "I understand. I remember the lengths I went to in order to avenge my family's murder, Severus. I could never forgive any of the monsters responsible for it."
Snape tilted his head slightly. He had learned, of course, about Regulus's life as Lazarus White and the role a werewolf pack played in destroying it.
"So … you believe me when I say that Sirius tried to murder me?"
Regulus hesitated and then nodded. "I didn't at first. But then, I asked him about it."
Snape's eyes widened in surprise. "And he admitted it?"
"No," Regus said flatly. "He said it was just a harmless prank that got out of hand." Then, he raised his hand to stall Snape's rising anger. "But I know my brother even after all these years. Let's just say I always thought the real reason he wasn't sorted into Slytherin was because he was the only Black in the history of our family to be incapable of lying properly. His 'denial' all but confirmed your accusation."
He hesitated again. "For what it's worth, I also think he feels some degree of guilt over what happened, though I doubt he would ever admit it."
Snape snorted loudly, causing Regulus to wince slightly. After collecting himself, he began again.
'Severus, I know that in light of what Sirius did, regardless of the details which he has still not shared with me, I cannot possibly ask you to help my brother." He swallowed painfully. "So … I'm going to beg. I will give you anything and everything in my power. I will swear whatever oaths you ask up to and including life-long servitude. I will give you every knut out of my vaults, and if I can manage it, all of Sirius's too. But please, I beg you, don't let my brother die."
Snape glared at the other Slytherin who truly seemed earnest and sincere in his plea. Despite himself, the Potion Master could not help but consider the matter. For as much as Snape despised Sirius Black, now that the offer had been made, saving him suddenly held a peculiar attraction. To earn the eternal devotion of both Regulus and Harry at Sirius's expense? And with the added bonus of acquiring much if not all of the Black wealth? And even an outside chance of the bastard himself owing Snape a life debt? The possibilities suddenly seemed intoxicating. And as he studied Regulus's earnest face, another possibility jumped to his mind.
"If I do this," he said slowly, "if I provide treatment for your brother, there is no guarantee that I can save him long term. At best, I can prepare a potions regimen to see him through the current health crisis. But if he continues to recklessly push himself before he fully recovers, he will only continue to relapse. And there is no guarantee that he will ever fully recover. Moreover, it will take me several hours at Hogwarts to even brew the potions needed. He may well expire before I can finish preparing them."
Despite the warning, Regulus nearly collapsed in relief. "Every hour he lives is another hour for me to hope, Severus, Thank you."
"Do not thank me yet, Regulus Black. You offered me quite a great many boons for saving your reprobate brother. The details we can work out later. But there is one thing you can – and will – do for me today."
Regulus swallowed tightly at the predatory gleam in Snape's eye and the cruel sneer on his lips.
The Dungeon
Later that afternoon
To Miss Demeanor's astonishment, she been blessed with several uninterrupted hours to study the magic that protected the cell door. Finally, she was ready to begin. Unfortunately, the next phase of her escape would be equally time-consuming and, worse, somewhat painful. She stalked across the room and snatched up the straitjacket in which she'd so recently been restrained and examined the metallic buckles. "It'll have to do," she decided with a frown.
Transfiguration was virtually impossible without a wand no matter how skilled the practitioner was. With very few exceptions, wandless magic was limited to Charms. But there were oh so many Charms that could be learned if one were patient enough to do so.
Or if one had been created with such familiarity.
Miss Demeanor grasped the metal buckle tightly and concentrated. "TRANSVERTO NOVACULA" she said softly, and in response, the metal of the buckle shimmered and flowed until it had become a small blade roughly the size and shape of a scalpel. She turned back to the door and laid herself down in front of it as near the frame as she thought safe. Then, she pulled back the sleeve of her prison shirt … and gasped. Or was it Bellatrix Lestrange who had gasped inside her mind? Miss Demeanor honestly wasn't sure, as both of them were equally shocked. The Dark Mark was still there, blessedly reassuring in its permanence. But it was so … pale. Gingerly, she touched the dread tattoo, and while she could feel the same vibrant magic that had been there since the day her master had inscribed it into her flesh, the sense of connection, the surety that her master was with her so long as she bore his mark, was gone.
The witch shook off her misgivings. The Dark Lord endured, she was sure of it. Both of her were sure of it. Setting aside her fears, she turned her arm over to show the side with unblemished skin. Then, she gritted her teeth tightly and made a small incision just deep enough to let the blood flow. After liberally coating both sides of the knife with her own life's blood, she began the painstaking process of gouging a rune into the floor, pausing every few minutes to dab the knife into the wound to replenish it. After a good ten minutes of careful work, she had inscribed the first and simplest and yet most important rune: the lightning-shaped Sowilo.
She sighed as she wiped the blood from her arm and prepared to make a second cut. "One down," she thought. "Forty-eight to go."
Kings Cross Station
Platform 9 ¾
4:30 p.m.
It had been a quiet train ride for Harry Potter. He was still upset about what had happened with Moody and later with Scrimgeour. The latter issue he'd discussed with Regulus for hours after returning to his dorm room, but he had not spoken to anyone about his invasion of Moody's privacy. He'd decided long before to never abuse his Occlumency gifts by preventing himself from feeling emotions except in dangerous situations that demanded that he have a clear mind. But while he'd previously allowed himself to feel anger, grief, and fear when necessary to maintain his mental health, this was the first time he'd forced himself to feel shame.
That cloud of emotions hung over Harry until the train pulled into Kings Cross Station. As he disembarked, he immediately saw Lady Augusta waiting for Neville and him, but he was surprised to see his solicitor, Artemus Podmore, standing next to her.
"Good afternoon, Harry!" Artie said with unusual energy. "I do apologize for showing up to spring this on you upon the start of the Christmas holidays, but there's been an important legal development that you and I need to address immediately. I must ask you to come with me. Lady Augusta and I have already discussed the matter, so I'll Apparate us straight to Gringotts and then return you to Longbottom Manor this evening."
Harry studied his solicitor with some confusion, as his passive Legilimency told him that something was off about the man. The question was answered when "Artie" leaned in to whisper "Time is of the essence, I'm afraid." And as he spoke, one of the man's eyes shifted color from brown to the icy grey that Harry had learned to associate with the House of Black. He nodded in understanding, before turning to Neville.
"I don't know how long this will take, so I guess you'd best start dinner without me. I'll see you when I see you, I guess." The two boys exchanged a brotherly hug before Harry and "Artie" popped away.
A long vertiginous moment later, Harry and Artie were standing in the foyer of Grimmauld Place, where Artie quickly shifted into the familiar face of Regulus Black, his clothing immediately sagging on his smaller frame.
"What's going on?" Harry asked cautiously. Regulus rubbed his hand over his face and then quickly explained the current situation – that Sirius had suffered a bad relapse and that if Snape couldn't provide suitable healing remedies, he might not make it through the night.
"I thought Sirius was getting better," Harry said anxiously.
"He was, but …. Do you remember how you reacted to the Boggart last year when your brother exposed you to it directly?"
Harry nodded guardedly.
"Well, the principle's the same. Wizards and witches are often much more vulnerable to things like post-traumatic stress than Muggles are. For them, it's a purely psychological problem. But for us, when circumstances cause us to remember deeply traumatic events, our own magic can sometimes turn against us and recreate the physiological symptoms that originally accompanied those events. In your case, being exposed to a Boggart caused your body to experience the symptoms of a doxy attack. Similarly, Sirius's ill-advised Apparition attempt, combined with a form of claustrophobia developed over the length of his incarceration, caused his body to experience the effects of several years of malnourishment, mistreatment, and Dementor exposure all at once."
"All that just from Apparating?" Harry asked incredulously.
Regulus shrugged. "It's part of the nature of Apparition travel, I'm afraid. People who have any degree of claustrophobia often suffer panic attacks from traveling that way, at least until they grow more comfortable with it."
Harry said nothing else as he followed Regulus deeper into the house, but he wondered to himself if his own background might present a similar problem when it came time to learn how to Apparate on his own. He'd never thought of himself as claustrophobic, but he was suddenly worried about whether solo Apparition might dredge up memories of years spent trapped in a cupboard. Then, he was distracted from such musings by the whoosh of the nearby Floo. Professor Snape had arrived with a black healer's bag in tow.
"Severus," Regulus exclaimed. "Thank you so much for coming! You don't know how grateful …."
"Enough, Regulus!" the other man snapped. "I'm here. Your maudlin displays of gratitude will do nothing further save set my teeth on edge." He looked around the room. "I don't suppose anyone else is available to help us, perchance. Specifically, someone who knows the Patronus Charm. The more Patronuses active around your brother, the easier it will be for him to throw off the psychic trauma of his Dementor exposure. I would have brought Flint, but he's teaching Patronus lessons at Hogwarts today."
"I can do the mist form," Harry offered.
Snape sneered at the boy. "I'm well aware of your precociousness, Potter, but you're not at Hogwarts now, and so the Trace will record your use of magic and your location when you cast it."
Harry opened his mouth to respond and closed it. His expression indicated that he wanted to say something but was choking on the words. Snape closed his eyes.
"Merlin grant me the strength to persevere," he muttered under his breath before opening his eyes to glare in accusation at Regulus. "You lawless reprobates have somehow managed to illegally remove the Trace from a thirteen-year-old boy, haven't you!"
"No!" Regulus said defensively. "We just gave him a wand that the Trace can't detect."
Snape sighed loudly. "Go get your incredibly illegal wand, Potter. We have work to do."
Longbottom Manor
Roughly the same time …
With a soft pop, Augusta and Neville appeared on the front steps of Longbottom Manor to find the Longbottom house elves – Hoskins and Lumpen – waiting for them.
"Welcome back, sir," said Hoskins cheerfully. "Did Master Neville have an enjoyable term at school?"
"Well, I don't know about enjoyable," Neville said, "but I made it through unscathed, I reckon." He turned his attention to Lumpen, who oversaw the gardens and greenhouses on the Manor property and had done so since the time of Neville's great-grandfather. While Neville had never made a study of house elf geriatrics, Lumpen was the oldest house elf in Wizarding Britain that Neville knew of. Sadly, it showed, to the point that the elf was no longer permitted to handle any household affairs outside of gardening, the only arena where his memory and capabilities had not yet begun to fail.
"Lumpen!" Neville said rather loudly, for the diminutive creature was known to be hard of hearing. "How's my Mimbulus mimbletonia coming along?"
It was near the end of the previous summer when Neville had decided to undertake the difficult process of raising a specimen of the incredibly demanding plant. The boy's Uncle Algie had been the only Longbottom to successfully breed one in decades, but he'd waited until completing a Herbology NEWT to even attempt it. Neville had chosen to plant one before he'd even taken an OWL, and he'd researched on a treatment plan that Lumpen could carry out while he was at school.
The elf nodded and grinned. "Quite well, sir. Quite well indeed. Lumpen reckons it will be ready for first germination next summer, Master Frank."
Neville and Augusta both grimaced at that, while Hoskins leaned over to Lumpen and coughed the words "Master Neville" under his breath. Lumpen looked around in surprise before babbling a brief apology and using Neville's proper name.
"That's quite alright," Neville said sadly. "I'll come by to look at it first thing in the morning. I'm sure you've done a wonderful job with it and with all the rest of the hothouse plants."
Lumpen smiled warmly at the compliment. Meanwhile, with a snap of his fingers, Hoskins transported Neville's trunk up to his room while the boy and his grandmother entered the Manor.
"Are you hungry, Neville?" Augusta asked.
"Not especially, Gran."
"Good, because unfortunately, dinner won't be until 8 o'clock. I do hate to leave you alone on your first night back, but unfortunately, some business matters have popped up unexpectedly, and I must pop down to the farm in Wales to attend to them."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, Neville, that won't be necessary. It doesn't involve anything to do with the running of the farm itself. It's just some tedious contractual work. Just stay here and relax. If you get peckish before dinner is served, Hoskins can make you a snack."
Then, she pulled the boy into a warm hug. "I'm glad you're home, Neville."
"Me too, Gran," he answered before heading up to his room. After he was gone, Augusta called for Hopkins.
"Yes, Milady?"
Augusta spoke quietly, as if afraid Neville might overhear. "In all the excitement of the day, I completely forgot about our 'guests.' Have you perchance checked in on Bellatrix Lestrange? I know she's bound and incapacitated, but she's still conscious."
Once again, Augusta cursed the fact that someone who'd been awoken from Draught of Living Death could not be placed back under it for at least a week. She consoled herself with the knowledge that they'd gotten nearly all the information from the three Lestranges that could be gained, which meant that justification for keep the three Death Eaters alive was nearly at an end.
The house elf coughed nervously. "Hoskins has not personally viewed the prisoners, Milady. But all the wards in the dungeon are intact and untouched. Hoskins can tell nothing more without physically entering the prisoner's cell."
Augusta nodded. "When Neville is settled in, do so." She paused and her expression hardened. "You are authorized to use whatever force is necessary to restrain the Lestrange bitch if she shows any signs of resistance or any remote possibility of escape. Even lethal force."
Hoskins said nothing, but his respectful bow made it clear the order was understood.
Grimmauld Place
Sirius's Bedroom
Slowly and painfully, Sirius Black's eyes fluttered open, and he looked around the room with some surprise. His bedroom seemed thick with a silvery fog, and for a few seconds, there were two Patronuses – a silvery doe and a strange canine animal – standing on either side of his bed before they slowly faded away. Regulus and Harry both stood at the foot of the large canopy bed, their faces etched with concern. He smiled weakly at them both, but it turned into a frown when he saw someone else sitting farther behind them in a chair against the far wall: Severus Snape.
"What -cough- what is he d-doing here?" Sirius spat out angrily. As he sputtered, the animagus sat up in bed and snatched up the wand that had been resting on his nightstand. Instantly, Regulus interposed himself between his brother and Snape before Sirius could do something foolish. Beside him, Harry involuntarily took a step back and clutched the Black Wand tightly in his hand.
Regulus held up his arms and tried to calm Sirius. "Brother, Professor Snape is here because he just helped save your life. You … injured yourself gravely when you attempted to apparate inside Longbottom Manor. You might well have died had Snape not provided you with medical treatment."
"... should've let me die," he muttered.
"Sirius!" Regulus exclaimed, while Harry's eyes widened in shock. He already knew about Snape's hatred for his godfather, but this was the first chance he'd had to see how thoroughly it was reciprocated. For his part, Snape only snorted contemptuously.
"Believe me, Black," he said. "That was my original intention. Certainly, your continued existence is not merely personally offensive to me, it is also a blight on the whole of creation." Then, Snape smirked. "Luckily for you, your brother agreed to give me something … irresistible to secure my aid in preserving your miserable existence."
"Do we really need to do this now, Severus?" Regulus asked irritablly. "Sirius has only just regained consciousness!"
Snape said nothing, but his expression was implacable. Meanwhile, Sirius's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"What did you offer this Death Eater, Regulus?" he said in an icy voice.
Regulus glared at Snape. Then, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to prepare himself for whatever came next.
"I asked you once before about Severus's accusation against you – that you tried to kill him."
Sirius's lip curled in disgust. "And I told you to drop it!"
"Yes, you did." Then, Reg opened his eyes and regarded his brother. "However, as a condition to helping you, Severus … Severus made me swear an Unbreakable Vow that I would get you to reveal the truth about that incident before this day was over."
Sirius stared at Regulus in shock, and even Harry was surprised by what he'd heard. While Snape was apparently under an oath never to reveal what had happened during the mysterious Prank, it now appeared Sirius would have to divulge that secret unless he wanted his younger brother to lose his magic and possibly his life. Sirius turned a furious gaze towards Snape, whose face was an emotionless mask.
"You utter bastard!" he snarled. "James should have let you die!"
"Ah, but I would not have been the only one, would I, Black?" Snape replied. "Tell your brother the truth. About how you tried to kill me. And about who you were willing to sacrifice in order to commit that murder!"
"Damn you, Snivellus!" Sirius roared and tried to rise from his bed, but Regulus interrupted before he could continue.
"Sirius! I know we would love nothing more than to watch you rant and rave at Snape for hours and hours, but I've explained the situation. So, are you going to tell me the truth? Or should I leave now and start making my funeral arrangements?"
Sirius nearly quivered in rage, before he finally fell back onto his pillow.
"Alright. But I can't believe you were willing to swear an Unbreakable Vow over something like this. I'd have thought a Slytherin would be smarter." Sirius took a moment to collect himself before he began his tale.
"It was in the Fall of 1976," he began. "Around Halloween. You know there were four of us Gryffindors who stuck together. The Marauders we called ourselves. Me, James, Peter … and Remus."
Regulus nodded. "I remember."
"Well, something you didn't know about us – because no one knew outside of the four of us, Dumbledore, and Pomfrey – was that Remus … was a werewolf."
At that point, Sirius flinched in response to the look Regulus gave him.
"… that's ... impossible," Reg said slowly after a disturbingly long pause. "Dumbledore … he would never … a werewolf?!"
"You have to understand, Reg," Sirius said urgently. "Moony wasn't like other werewolves. He turned when the moon was full like werewolves do, but he never lost his sanity or became a psychopath like we were taught in DADA. Except on the night of the full moon, he was as sane as me."
"… Moony?" Harry asked slowly.
"Yeah," Sirius answered as if happy to look at someone other than his brother. "That was what we called him. Remus was Moony, I was Padfoot, your dad was Prongs, and well, you know the other one."
"So, the werewolf allowed to attend Hogwarts along with us all was called … Moony," Reg said in a slightly strangled voice. "Of course he was. I'm sure you Gryffindors thought it was all jolly good fun to have a werewolf roommate."
"Reg …." Sirius began nervously, but his brother quickly interrupted him.
"Go on, Sirius," he said in a raspy voice. "You were going to tell us about the 'Prank' you played on Severus that apparently involved a werewolf."
Sirius swallowed. "When it was time for Remus to change, he would go to the Shrieking Shack, which was a place at the edge of Hogsmeade that Dumbledore set up for him. There was a tunnel that connected it to a secret passage under the Whomping Willow." He glared over towards Snape, who smirked cruelly at his discomfort.
"Anyway, Snivellus was always trying to get us into trouble. That is, when he wasn't getting his kicks supplying dark curses to future Death Eaters! On the day in question, he came upon me just after…" Sirius hesitated. "Well, he came upon me when I was upset about something else that had happened that day and started pestering me about where Remus went off to on the night of every full moon. I lost my temper and told him the secret of how to get past the Whomping Willow."
"It was stupid of me to tell him, but I never dreamed he'd be such an absolute moron as to actually go to the Shrieking Shack! Later on, I told James about it, and he ended up saving the little creep's miserable life. Honestly, my only regret is that I thoughtlessly endangered Remus's life, since he'd have probably been killed if he'd attacked Snivellus while transformed. But making Snivellus piss his pants at the sight of a werewolf? No great loss there."
He laughed at that, but the smile faded away when he saw Regulus's expression.
"No … great … loss," he said slowly. "Tell me, Sirius. Have you ever seen the carnage left behind after a werewolf attack?"
"Reg…"
"No, let me rephrase that, Brother! Do you have any idea what it's like to have someone you love DIE IN YOUR ARMS after she'd been gutted by a werewolf? DO YOU?! Can you imagine what it's like to … to walk into your infant son's nursery and … and….!"
At that, Regulus's face crumpled as the emotions he'd thought buried at last rushed forward to engulf him. As tears rolled down his cheek, he practically ran for the door.
"Regulus, listen to me, dammit!" Sirius called out.
"NO, SIRIUS! I DO NOT WANT TO LISTEN TO YOU! RIGHT NOW, I DON'T WANT TO KNOW THAT YOU EXIST!" He clutched the door frame as if suddenly dizzy.
"I JUST WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS … MAUSOLEUM THAT I NEVER SHOULD HAVE COME BACK TO! AND I WANT TO GO GET STINKING DRUNK SOMEWHERE AND TRY TO REMEMBER WHY THE HELL I THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO SAVE YOUR MISERABLE HIDE FROM AZKABAN!"
Harry looked aghast, and even Snape was shaken. He'd intended on using the truth about The Prank to drive a wedge between the two Black brothers, but he had not even considered how traumatic the loss of his family had been to Regulus. Though his face remained impassive, on the inside, Snape suddenly felt quite guilty.
"Regulus!" Sirius exclaimed. "Please, just wait!" The younger man turned to glare at him, and Sirius was taken aback the look of contempt in Regulus's eyes.
"And you want to know the funny part, Sirius?" he said viciously. "After all these years, it turns out that you finally did do something that would have made Mother proud of you!"
And with that last cutting remark, Regulus Black fled from Grimmauld Place. As soon as he was gone, Sirius turned on Snape in a fury.
"You unspeakable … snake! How could you be so … evil as to make Regulus swear that Unbreakable Vow?!"
Snape barked out a laugh as he rose from his chair and advanced towards his old enemy. "Evil, Black? Honestly, you don't have the slightest clue how Slytherins think, do you? And certainly no idea how your own brother thinks! I didn't make Regulus swear an Unbreakable Vow! I simply made him swear on the honor of House Black and House Slytherin that he would get you to tell him the truth. And while those two things mean nothing to you, I assure you they mean a great deal to him. So much so that he lied to your face about an Unbreakable Vow because he knew that his very life being on the line would be the only thing that could get you to tell the truth!"
"YOU DEATH EATER FILTH!" Sirius bellowed as he fired off a curse at Snape who parried it before returning fire. Harry immediately dove for cover, while Sirius threw himself off the bed to dodge one of Snape's curses. One stray spell actually set the nearby window curtains on fire, and Harry ran over to cast the Fire Suppression Charm before the whole house went ablaze. Then, he had to duck as a ricocheting curse flew over his head and left a giant scorch mark on the wall. Several more soon followed.
"STOP THIS! BOTH OF YOU!" Harry yelled, but the two men, so consumed with a lifetime of hatred for one another, ignored his plea, their curses growing ever more dangerous and destructive. Finally, something in Harry snapped.
"EXPELLIARMUS DUO!"
Neither wizard had been paying any attention to the boy, and so neither was prepared for a Disarming Hex that struck them both simultaneously. Snape and Sirius's wands flew from each of their grasps and unerringly made their way to Harry's outstretched hand. For a moment, there was a shocked silence from all three wizards. For his part, Harry was horrified that with one spell cast on pure instinct, he'd disarmed both his godfather and his Head of House, the two people best positioned to punish him in horrific ways for the transgression. And from the matching looks of utter fury on their faces, he felt quite certain that horrific punishments from both of them would definitely be forthcoming.
But then, Harry once more felt the strange whirr-click sensation, as the Legilimency kaleidoscope in Harry's head rotated to provide a clear insight. Harry knew what he needed to do – knew and was terrified by the knowledge.
"If I do this and it doesn't work," he thought to himself, "they will probably race one another to see who hexes me first."
But then, both Snape and Sirius started moving in his direction, and the moment of hesitation ended. Harry turned and ran out of the bedroom, pulling it shut behind him. Before the other two wizards could reach the door, they could both hear the spell that Harry cast from the other side.
"COLLOPORTUS TRIMENDIUM!" And in a flash, chains appeared that barred the door and windows shut.
"Harry!" Sirius cried out. "What the hell do you think you're doing?! Open this door at once!"
"Potter!" Snape bellowed just as loudly. "You will release us and return our wands at once or you will be scrubbing cauldrons until the day you die!"
Outside the door, Harry looked around wildly as he listened to the two outraged wizards expound at length on how he'd be punished for this betrayal. Finally, he called out to the one being who could help him right now.
"DOOBBBBYYYY!"
The Longbottom Dungeon
Miss Demeanor had just begun her 37th runic inscription when she froze at the sound of a soft pop from somewhere outside her cell. With an eerie stealth, she crawled silently to the corner of the room to the left of the door. Then, she turned towards the opposite wall where the remains of her straitjacket lay on the floor. She gestured and whispered the incantation for the Doppelganger Defense Charm, and in response, an illusory copy of her shimmered into view, seemingly unconscious and wearing the straitjacket that she'd removed hours earlier. The witch frowned. The spell was one of the most difficult of those Charms that she could cast without a wand, and worse, she was exhausted and had lost much blood. Consequently, her double was not nearly as realistic as she'd have wanted, and in any case, it would only last for a few seconds.
Immediately, there was a soft grating sound as a metal plate on the door slid open to allow someone to view inside. Miss Demeanor held her breath, grateful beyond measure that for once, Bellatrix Lestrange had shown the good sense to stay silent. After a few seconds, there was another pop, and Hoskins appeared in the middle of the cell within a few feet of the illusion. He studied the false Bellatrix for several seconds in obvious confusion. Then, the elf stiffened in fear and turned around … but it was already too late. By the time Hoskins realized the danger, Miss Demeanor had lashed out with a leg and kicked him hard enough to send him flying across the cell and into a wall.
Stunned, Hoskins shook his head in a desperate attempt to get his bearings. He raised his hand to snap his fingers, but before he could, Miss Demeanor landed on his hand with enough force to break several knuckles. Hoskins howled in pain, but his cries were silenced as the Death Eater crouched down and repeatedly punched his face until he stopped moving.
"Is it dead?" asked Bellatrix excitedly.
"No, not yet," Miss Demeanor answered.
"Well why not?! Kill it! Kill it! KILL IT!"
Miss Demeanor rolled her psychic eyes at her counterpart. "Why what a splendid idea, Bellatrix! We'll kill the unconscious house elf and instantly alert its owner, who undoubtedly sent it to check on us, that it is dead! I'm sure that will do wonders for our escape attempt!"
Bellatrix said nothing but did growl softly.
"Besides," Miss Demeanor added cruelly. "House elf blood is inherently magical. And why should we use our own blood when we've acquired a fresh volunteer!"
At that, Bellatrix's surliness melted away, and she suddenly tittered like a schoolgirl. Miss Demenor needed more time to finish the ward scheme that would allow them both to escape. But as Bellatrix surveyed the beaten elf at their feet and felt the cool surety of the knife in Miss Demeanor's hand, she was comforted to know that she would at least have something to entertain her while she waited.
AN 1: Sorry about the delay. I was laid up for several days with the flu. Tentative release schedule is as follows:
March 4 – Final chapter of Strangers In Boston on my website available to Patrons.
March 11 – Chapter 113 of POS preview available on my website to Discord members.
March 14 – Chapter 113 of POS available here.
AN 2: Thanks to those Discord members who helped edit this chapter: FeatheryMinx, Gabe, darkphoenix31, Legeluga, feauxen, and SlytherinCrown. Please check out my Discord server if you'd like to talk with other POS fans about updates, theories, other HP fandom matters, or my original fiction. See my author page for the Discord invite and for links to other TSM social media outlets.
AN 3: As noted previously, the next chapter of Strangers In Boston is expected to be the last, after which there will be a brief hiatus as I get it prepared for publication on Amazon. There will be an announcement here and elsewhere when it goes live.