Chapter 4 – Finally, a Bit of Progress

After belatedly realizing he did not have access to Gryffindor's sword or any basilisk venom, Cameron settled on the only other method he knew to destroy the Horcrux—Fiendfyre. He brought the locket to a meadow a few miles from his house, laid it on the ground, and cast the strongest containment spell he could muster around it.

After that, it was short work to start a Fiendfyre within the field and wait until it burned itself out. He had to reinforce his spell a couple of times, but the flames never breached the field.

All that was left when he cancelled the charm was a patch of burnt grass and a melted lump of metal. He left it where it lay.

Later that night, he nursed a glass of scotch as he considered his next step. The locket was taken care of, but he still needed to find and destroy the diary, the ring, Ravenclaw's diadem, and Hufflepuff's cup. At least he didn't have to worry about Nagini yet, as the self-made King of Evil wouldn't get around to making her into a Horcrux for another fourteen years or so.

The diadem was locked away in the Room of Requirement, to which he did not currently have access. The diary and the cup, he knew, would be entrusted to Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, respectively, some time before Halloween of next year when Harry's parents would be murdered, but he had no way of knowing if they had them yet. They would have to wait until he could be sure.

The ring, on the other hand, was hiding in a box under an abandoned house, all alone and unguarded. It would have to be next, then. As long as he didn't try to put it on (seriously, what had Dumbledore been thinking?), he should be fine.

The clock on the mantel struck twelve, and he whispered, "Happy twenty-first birthday, Cameron." It was a silly ritual to keep up, especially when he knew he'd be meeting friends from university at the pub that night, but he couldn't seem to help himself. It was tradition.

The clock on the wall said 'Time for bed', so he hauled himself up and started upstairs. He couldn't help noticing that no owls had coming swooping through the window on the hour as they had during his school years, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as he'd expected.

XXX

Cameron waited until Easter Break to retrieve the ring. It was right where it had been when Dumbledore had found it before Harry's sixth year—tucked in a box under the floorboards. Just as in 1996, there were no wards on the property. He supposed the Mostly Soulless Bastard didn't want any wizards noticing anything out of the ordinary.

Cameron could understand that, especially as the Riddle mansion was not so terribly far away and it wouldn't do for any wayward Death Eaters to stumble across the run-down shack. Even if they had pledged their souls to him, Cameron knew he didn't trust them. Except Bellatrix, maybe. That woman was positively insane and he could see them getting on very well.

He didn't linger there. Just being so close to a place his nemesis could possibly, maybe be was making his temper flare and giving him the willies. Mindful of the mysterious curse that had maimed the Headmaster, took the whole box with him after wrapping it in his outer cloak and brought it to the meadow.

When he'd finished, he left behind a pair of scorch marks, one rather fresher than the other, and two misshapen masses of precious metal.

XXX

Convinced there was nothing he could do to further The Quest (as he had come to think of it) for a good while, he concentrated on school. After two years of study, it was getting to be time for him to settle on a research topic for his thesis. He was having trouble deciding if he should work on something directly related to The Quest, like Horcruxes or the Dark Mark, or if that would draw too much attention and he should stick with something innocuous. But that would take time and energy away from the Quest and felt like a bit of a waste.

Mostly in order to avoid making a decision, but also because he'd found he had a taste for traveling, he opted to spend the fall semester on a study abroad program in Texas. Of course, when he made the decision to go, he didn't know the first thing about Texas other than it was in the States and everything was bigger there.

Well. He couldn't speak for the rest of the state, but Houston turned not to be his favorite place ever. For one thing, it smelled bad and there was always a brownish tinge to the horizon that spoke of nearby petrochemical plants, and for another, its inhabitants were bloody insane. He wasn't sure if it was all Americans who were crazy, or just the ones in and around the college.

Either way, all the people he'd met freaked out about his accent, wore odd items of clothing like boots or suede jackets with fringe, and seemed to be obsessed with a sports team called the Astros, which apparently had just signed some guy named Nolan Ryan. Evidently this guy, whoever he was, was a big deal. And they put ice in their tea. Yeah, they were all nuts.

Most of them, anyway. Cameron's roommate and his girlfriend weren't so bad and he hung out with them a lot. Aside from that, he spent most of his time there turning down invitations to rodeos and having sex with Maverick Anthony.

He was one of those with the boots and really big hats and belt buckles the size of a human hand, but somehow he made it sexy instead of ridiculous. Or maybe it was his arse in those tight jeans. Cameron considered that he liked that arse much better out of the jeans, so that probably wasn't it.

Maverick was a sweet guy (almost too sweet, sometimes) with very gentlemanly manners, and Cameron made it clear from the start that he was headed back to the UK at the end of the semester and was not up to any sort of long-term relationship. While he sometimes hinted that he would be interested in something more, Maverick respected Cameron's wishes and only shed a few tears at their parting.

He did learn a few things. He learned that how tall a horse is gets measured in hands, which is the same as four inches, and that he shouldn't be surprised when the same people who knew that kind of thing also knew that the performance of Rigoletto last Thursday was particularly good. He learned to make apple pie and gumbo and enchiladas. He learned to say 'fixin' to' and 'ain't'. He learned the fine art of rimming.

Overall, he counted it a success.

XXX

When the new semester started, his advisor sat him down for a talk.

"Look, Sage, it's past time you settled on a topic."

"I know, I know. I've been trying, honestly," he explained.

Master O'Flannery sighed. "I'm sure you have. Why don't you tell me what the problem is and I'll see if I can help you out. It is my job, you know."

Cameron bit his lip and decided to tell him the truth. Sort of. "Well, it's like this. I do have an idea that I'd like to pursue, but I'm worried about what people will think."

O'Flannery raised his eyebrows. "How bad can it be?"

"I want to study the Dark Mark." O'Flannery's jaw dropped. "See, this is what I mean! I don't want people thinking I'm a Death Eater or planning to be the new Dark Lord or anything. I just think it's an interesting phenomenon that bears careful study. Theoretical only, for obvious reasons."

He could see his advisor calming himself down before he spoke. "You're right, Sage. I've no right to judge you for your choice. When I did my thesis on lycanthropy, the first thing everyone did was assume that I'm a werewolf. Taboo subjects need to be studied just as much as everything else, if only to protect us against them."

"So you'll approve it, then?"

"Yes, if you can find enough material to do it justice. I'm sure a lot of people will have a problem with it, but we'll try not to spread it around too much. I'm sure you'll do a great job."

XXX

When Cameron's sort-of-boyfriend owled to ask if he'd like to accompany him to a holiday party at Malfoy Manor, he couldn't believe his luck. He was beginning to despair of ever making any progress in The Quest, and this was just the thing to give it a jumpstart. Who knew, maybe he'd sidle into the library and find the diary filed right there in the 'H's between Horatio Bettleby's Life, Death, and Afterlife and Horklumps, Jarveys, and Other Magical Garden Pests.

Well, it was possible, anyway. Malfoy had to have it by now, as the Half-Dead Git was currently, well, half-dead and had been for over a month.

Plus, he could use something to get his mind off the fact that he was surprisingly not upset about his parents having been killed and little Harry shipped off to the Dursleys'. It didn't feel real to him, somehow. To make himself feel less guilty, he mused that he'd already had over twenty years to come to terms with their deaths.

So, despite the fact that he'd have to go out and buy dress robes and Rich was beginning to really grate on his nerves, Cameron accepted. He should probably also learn something about manners in high society. Or maybe not. Maybe just enough to keep Malfoy from challenging him to a duel for mortally offending him.

He was going to have to be very careful. He didn't want anyone getting aggressive because he seemed too muggle-friendly, but he certainly didn't want them to try to recruit him either. Best to shoot for perfectly average and just stay out of everybody's way. Hopefully they'd all be too busy laying low after their erstwhile Master's downfall to give it much thought.

It took him three 'trips to the loo' just to find the library, and when he saw the size of it he wanted to cry. On a whim, he tried incanting, "Accio Horcrux!" and "Accio Riddle's diary!" but, of course, it didn't work.

All four walls were filled with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, the ceiling being some three or four stories up. On closer inspection, there did not seem to be any rhyme or reason to the arrangement, so he contented himself with wandering around and reading random titles for a while.

He was pulled out of his pursuit by a deep voice.

"Mr. Sage. Snooping, I see."

He panicked for a moment before it occurred to him that the man was joking. Or trying to, anyway.

"Yes indeed, Mr. Snape. Are you here to apprehend me, or to join in the fun?"

The corner of Snape's mouth twitched, and Cameron thought maybe he was trying to suppress a smile. "An impressive library, is it not? My favorite room in the Manor."

"I can see why. Do you spend much time here?" he asked, wondering just how close he and Malfoy were.

"Some. I did not expect to see you here," Snape countered in an obvious attempt to change the subject. Cameron decided to let him.

"My date received an invitation—I'm just along for the ride."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Date?"

"Mmm. Richard Rothfuss," he answered, pressing his lips into thin line as if to apologize for his poor taste.

"I believe I met him," Snape said, grimacing.

Cameron grinned. "Now you know why I'm in here snooping." He was having a hell of a time equating this Snape with the Professor he remembered. This Snape hadn't directly insulted him once. He actually wanted to talk to this Snape.

"That is not terribly charitable of you, Mr. Sage."

"You'll just have to forgive me, Mr. Snape. Or ignore it. I've had too many cups of eggnog to censor my opinion. And from whom, pray tell, are you trying to escape? Make a poor choice of escort, as well?"

Snape gave an amused snort. "Surely you do not imagine I've come here with a date. Do you think you're funny, Mr. Sage?"

"Occasionally, though not at the moment. Why—don't you date?" He cocked his head to the side, for some inexplicable reason very interested in the answer.

"Self-flagellation is not a hobby of mine. Shall we rejoin the party?"

Cameron gave the diary search up as a bad job and carefully avoided conversation with known Death Eaters for the rest of the evening. Except for Severus Snape, for the sole reason that he'd long since turned spy by that point. Absolutely the only reason.