Harry and the Magic Factory
Chapter 9
A/N: Reviewers are about split on Bracus Snape. Some think he deserves all he gets. Others didn't expect him to be as stupid as he is. I've never been a fan of Snape (unlike some fanfic writers who pair him up with Harry or attempt to redeem him some way). Part of what happens to Bracus is revealed in this chapter, but the rest won't be until Harry has to confront a raging mad Severus Snape several chapters in the future. I'm sure you'll all enjoy that confrontation, too.
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At Tom Riddle's shouted incantation, nothing – surprisingly – happened. He shouted out "Dominus Vocat" again. And nothing, again, happened.
If it had worked, the "Lord's Calling" would have woken, freed, and set to rights any of his marked followers. It was an old, very powerful spell for a Lord with vassals. It also took very little power to cast, so Tom Riddle was sure that his host's body must be capable of doing it.
What, then, was wrong?
Tom Riddle wasn't in much of an analytic mood. He was in a rage, actually. Fifteen plus years trapped in a jar. Watching as his horcruxes were found and brought near him. Watching as his enemies plotted his final destruction. Yes, Tom Riddle was in a rage. But he wanted to understand why he was powerless now.
Why wasn't his wand functioning. He dropped it to the ground, then searched his host's clothing. He found another wand. He quickly and successfully cast a "Lumos" with the new wand before trying a "Dominus Vocat" again.
"It won't work, Tom," Harry said. "You need to use the wand you marked them with…"
Tom Riddle looked up. He was annoyed at the disturbance. He was annoyed that this young child was right.
He lifted up the wand and said "Avada Kedavra."
The jet of green light flew from the wand. But when it struck the wards, it got stuck. Instead of a stream, it squished up so that it was an odd-looking ball of green energy. It hadn't dissipated, but it also couldn't move forward.
Voldemort cast a "Crucio" next. It also balled up. He then proceeded to work through another couple of vicious spells he knew. More balls of magical energy lined up against the wards.
It was only then that Voldemort discovered within his host's memory that he carried a portkey on him. It didn't matter where it went. Anywhere would be better than this open-air stone cage he'd been inside.
He pulled out the Muggle lollipop, scowled at it, and tapped it with his wand. "Portus." He felt the yank behind his stomach. But he never left the pavilion. Something was keeping him here.
His wand didn't work. His spells didn't work outside the wards. And now even this damned portkey didn't work. Voldemort's only minute source of amusement was knowing that the all-powerful Dumbledore had made a portkey that failed.
Bracus Snape was completely imprisoned inside his own mind. What had he just done? How had that jar taken over his mind? And why was his own wand working for this madman? He felt Voldemort paging through his memories at will and was completely unable to stop the powerful wizard who'd already captured his body. So now his mind and soul were up for domination, as well.
Bracus Snape, raised as a true pureblood, was having second thoughts. He'd thought to be hailed and recognized for his achievement, not turned into a prisoner by a vicious, ungrateful spirit. He was trapped inside himself as a reward for his actions. Nothing seemed to be able to change that.
He tried pushing against his mental bonds. He tried to hide various things from Voldemort's gaze. He tried expelling the presence in his mind by using his Occlumency techniques. But nothing worked in a case of possession like this.
Harry looked at the scene and was a) glad that the wards were working so well and b) very upset that he had to handle this situation in front of so many witnesses. It was a danger to him to truly reveal the extent of his prowess. Most of the citizens had a decent clue, but only five or seven had any real notion.
But the longer that Harry left Riddle inside Snape's body, the worse the damage would be. And Harry was nothing if not fair. He wanted Snape back alive and sane so that he could be properly punished for what he'd just done.
It was time to work. Harry drew out a simple piece of wood that looked like a wand. He'd use it to distract this Tom Riddle character. The remaining Chosen had heard about Harry's wandless skills, but this spirit hadn't. Then he needed a distraction or two.
Harry stepped within a foot of the pavilion's wards before he began to speak. "Do you know why your wand refuses to work, Tom?"
The spirit possessing Bracus Snape glared at Harry.
"I removed the phoenix feather in the core. It was a dead piece of wood that you picked up, something only fit to display. I didn't want to leave such a temptation out, but I forgot that an idiot like the one you've possessed would consider you a bigger temptation… The boy didn't even know what a soul jar was."
Harry pushed in past the wards, dispelling the various magical spells that were resting against the wards. Harry brought up his stick – not a wand – and said the words, "Vacuo Energia." A brief flash of white light covered Bracus Snape's wand.
"I've long wondered what I'd say to you, Tom, when we had this meeting." Harry choked up for a moment. "You took my parents from me. You took parents and children from a lot of people. And then when I captured your followers I asked them why they'd joined behind you, I actually wanted to know. Was it power? Was it an ideal? And most of them couldn't say. Some just loved the sanctioned violence. Some of them believed their own personal theology regarding you. But none of them believed in any kind of pureblood cleansing. They believed, if anything, in power and advantage. And in you."
Tom Riddle then attempted another Killing Curse. And nothing happened. Then Voldemort launched himself at Harry Potter. But Harry was ready.
"Stop."
He put the possessed Bracus Snape into a orbiting bind. His muscles were frozen, but he was trapped in midair. Then Harry conjured ropes to bind him. The problem with this Tom Riddle was that he'd managed minor feats of wandless magic in his original body. But Bracus obviously had no talents. Harry was unsure if Tom Riddle's spirit could help Bracus along the path to possessing wandless talents.
"The stupid thing you did, Tom, was to assume you needed fear and violence to win whatever war you were fighting. You had wealthy supporters. People in the government who'd support you. Why did you form your own army? Why did none of your supporters know exactly what they were fighting for, Tom?"
Harry moved swiftly to the main part of the pavilion, to all the little treasures Tom Riddle had collected before and during his reign of terror. Harry picked up a diary and said, "Animus Evacuat." A gray mist poured out of the diary and entered Bracus Snape.
"I don't want to know. I just want you gone. You were supposedly so smart, but you couldn't see the most obvious things. Persuasion is harder than killing, but it works so much better. Choice works better than force. And, when you're in a war, you create your own worst enemies. Tom, you killed yourself when you started this thing. Fate and that goddamned prophecy dropped me into place to even the odds up. Goodbye."
Tom Riddle knew what was happening now. He knew why he'd been trapped for so long. It had taken that long for these people to locate his horcruxes. And now they were going to use some sort of purging ceremony. Well, Tom Riddle, Voldemort, the Dark Lord, he wasn't ready to give up any of it yet. He started boring deeper and deeper inside Bracus Snape. He tied his foul soul into Bracus Snape's magical core. He layered himself inside Bracus Snape's memories. He pushed a part of himself into Snape's heart and kidney. He was going to survive whatever ritual this horrifying young man could conduct.
Tom Riddle groaned in pain as Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket were emptied of their soul fragments. Then came Gaunt's ring and the Ravenclaw cauldron, golden and the source of many of the greatest potions ever created. He'd never had the chance to create his final planned horcrux, but for the first time since he was a mere student, Tom Riddle felt full again. His soul was all stitched back together. He was no longer immortal.
To the outside crowd, the sight was sickening. The young, innocent looking child had transformed into the young dark lord. Then as Harry had performed his spell on more and more of the items, the possessed body had aged and turned more gnarled and horrifying. Like the Muggles and their story of the picture of Dorian Gray, this dark lord was aging and putrifying in front of their eyes. All his crimes had been repaid to him, all his horrifying rituals had been reversed. The totality of his evil and decrepitude were now visible.
Tom Riddle was seventy years old, but he looked closer to two hundred. The skin of the body he'd possessed now sagged with the abuse he'd inflicted on others over the years. His eyes were sunken and drawn. He looked frail now, frail and vulnerable.
Harry Potter thought for a second, then triggered a special subset of the wards surrounding the pavilion. For a second the visible, but translucent, wards shimmered and then turned dark and opaque. Harry needed to keep these last steps to himself. He could share many secrets with the world, but not this particular one. The Soul-Eating Curse was something that should have been lost to time, but it had existed inside one of Harry's memories. It was a disgusting piece of work, horrifying. It was also one of the foundational spells to creating a construct known as a dementor. (Reversing the process, so as to destroy a dementor, was near the top of Harry's list of projects.)
Harry cast several spells without his 'wand,' without words. In sequence they began to loosen the Tom Riddle spirit from its human host. Slowly, the spirit lost its various connections. Like a parasite being ripped from its host, the spirit struggled and tore at whatever it could find. But Harry was meticulous in his approach. His final spells forced the spirit out and froze it in midair, hovering around like an insane gray-black mass.
Harry tapped into the depths of his reserve and cast three spells simultaneously. One moved Bracus Snape away, far away, from the scene of the next spell. Another cast a containment field so that the entirety of the spirit would be destroyed. And the final spell was the Soul-Eating Curse. Slowly, an otherworldly mouth opened up inside the containment field and began to slurp down the vicious black-gray mist. It took thirty seconds, but it was thorough. And only then did Harry begin to comprehend the loud voices coming from the other side of the wards. They were angry and terrified and confused.
Harry reached out and adjusted the wards.
"Bring a healer, Madam Tambor or Mister Wycross, someone with experience in mind injuries."
Remus Lupin apparated off to fetch the needed help.
It was only then that the Chosen saw Bracus Snape returned to his former appearance. It was only then that they understood that some sort of final battle had occurred.
"Is Vol-l-l-the Dark Lord dead," Neville Longbottom asked.
Harry nodded once. "Completely gone."
The silence was short while everyone collected themselves. They'd long believed that Voldemort was dead, before Harry had shown them the mist. Now he was dead again. It didn't seem real exactly.
"Why could just anyone walk in there?" Lisa Turpin was equal parts mad and curious. "Why wasn't that jar behind a lock and a thick door?"
"Because people need to see the truth. They also need to be able to make mistakes. The spirit was prevented from coming out, but I prevented no one from going in… I had to know that all the former Death Eaters had truly renounced their former beliefs. I gave them the opportunity to fail. One can't just be goodness, you know, you can prove goodness in the face of a temptation."
There were more questions. And then the Potter Estate Council showed up based on the half-sensible reports they'd started hearing. And then the healers came to the scene. It was a minor nightmare.
Harry directed the healers to Bracus Snape first. He was still alive, but it seemed his consciousness was detached from his body. The mind healers would have to work on that. Then, when it seemed the night was settling down, Bracus Snape's heart stopped.
Harry tugged the Council and the Chosen away from the pavilion. They didn't need to see this kind of thing right now. The healers would obviously do their best.
"Why did Snape go for that jar," Fred Weasley asked. He and his brother were the oldest Chosen and hadn't really known Bracus at all in school.
The immediate consensus wasn't kind to the dying Snape. Some focused on the fact that "Snape wanted attention" and others decided that Snape "was a Death Eater like his father." But Harry was thinking along different lines. He'd seen the attempt at using a portkey. He'd seen Blaise and Bracus both attempting to steal – not that they were the only ones.
"No," Harry said, "my interpretation is a bit different. I sent out the invitation to Bracus not expecting him to come. His father and mine did not like each other in school. I couldn't fathom a Snape coming here, but he met the criteria. But he did show up. His father probably had to lay aside his prejudices, Dumbledore would have made him…"
Two things happened then. The healers shouted out that Bracus was breathing and pumping blood again. And George Weasley asked, "Why would Dumbledore have anything to do with what Bracus did?"
"...take a guess how many spies Dumbledore had inside the Death Eaters… Seven. But he only saved one of them after the fall of Tom Riddle, the first fall. The rest he left to their own devices, so that Remus and Sirius could capture them, so that we could confiscate their lands. But, he kept Severus around, probably as an insurance policy. Dumbledore has been interested in the Potter Emporium for as long as they've been around. He's sent letters to "the Head of the Potter Emporiums" several times a year for a very long time. And I believe he sent Bracus here as a spy. Bracus would have been going after that soul jar for Dumbledore, for his father. And, thus, another one in the service of Dumbledore meets his fate." Harry was almost spitting in disgust. He had watery eyes as he looked at his parents. There was a lot he wasn't telling to the Chosen, but Harry obviously had hatred inside him for the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Harry was in no more mood to be a good host. He waved Sirius Black over and asked him to escort the Chosen to their quarters for the night. He could take the night to regroup. And let the Chosen formulate their questions. "Be sure to give them the packets on the Apprenticeship Program."
Sirius nodded, smiled, and left with them via portkey. Harry figured that they would all be receiving some kind of prank sometime soon.
Harry turned his attention to the healers. "He's stable now. We're getting ready to take him to my suite," Healer Wycross said. Each Healer maintained a private practice and private healing suite. It was a better idea than a large hospital subject to cross contamination. Plus different healers concentrated on different types of injuries.
Harry then moved on to his Council. They'd reconstructed as much of the disaster as they could. Harry answered their questions for an hour before he agreed to an early morning Council meeting the next morning.
Harry spent fifteen minutes talking with the ghosts of his parents. The long nightmare was finally over. Tom Riddle was finally destroyed and the Potter Estate could finally begin moving forward.
"I know you tried, son," Lily said. "But you can't blame yourself if Bracus suffered from what he did."
Harry scowled and then nodded. A person reaps what he sows…
"Snapes usually deserve what they get," James said. "I saved one of them once and a lot of good it did the world. Severus was the one who turned over that overheard prophecy to Voldemort. I killed myself, I guess, when I saved that worthless bastard…but it took a couple of years for it to catch up."
"Mercy for those who deserve it, dad. And there is no place for sentimentality any more."
Lily looked concerned. "Albus and Severus are going to scream for blood when Bracus is returned to them."
"You're going to have to deal with them and the Ministry sooner than we expected, son," James said.
Harry just nodded. These implications had already occurred to him. Plus the plans inside the Magic Factory already dealt with a necessary earlier handling of Dumbledore, Snape, and the Ministry.
"I'm going to call it a night. Draco was supposed to visit tonight to talk over his Mastery work. But I know he's still tied up in knots…"
"Hasn't proposed yet to that girl?"
"No, and Hermione knows he's working up the courage, too. It's a laugh in her view."
His parents shooed Harry back to his home. And, sure enough, Draco was there. It took only a few minutes to relate the day's happenings. Harry was good with brevity around people he trusted. He went a little long in the explanation when he was nervous or around people he didn't know or trust.
"…so now we're completely exposed to the world, or will be very soon. This Snape kid was a complete screw up. I can't believe Hogwarts had him listed as the top student in his year."
Draco nodded. "An utter moron…"
Harry smiled at this. "And how goes your personal quest?"
Draco flushed, but did admit to purchasing a ring. Harry smiled, ate some more dinner, and then looked over the papers on his messy desk.
One, in particular, seemed particularly unpleasant. It was another one of Dumbledore's letters that he dropped off with the elves in the Potter Emporium. It again asked for a meeting.
This time, Harry knew, he couldn't put it off. The plans around Dumbledore gave the Estate a narrow window. And, because of his fairness bias, Harry actually wanted to ascertain that Dumbledore had committed the numerous crimes he was suspected of. The meeting wouldn't stop the American plans, though.
Harry pushed the parchment toward Draco.
"You're actually planning on saying 'yes' this time, aren't you?"
Harry nodded. "I was thinking maybe early on January 10th."
Draco looked puzzled for a second. "But that's the day…"
Harry smiled. "Exactly. That's the day all of the evidence hits the American press. The articles will be reprinted in Britain maybe on the 11th or the 12th. Or maybe Dumbledore will have them blocked. But that would be proof in and of itself. The French press reviles him, so they wouldn't hesitate to reprint the stuff. And maybe we could have the Oompahs do some hand deliveries that day…"
Draco smiled. His friend Harry was brilliant, ruthless when pursuing a criminal, and otherwise fair and very pleasant. Draco rather enjoyed growing up here, versus what he'd heard of the Death Eater lifestyle. Yes, this was infinitely better.
Draco left around eleven that evening, after getting a bit of helpful advice for his mastery work. And then Harry spent another hour considering what to do about Bracus Snape. It wouldn't be an easy meeting in the morning with the Council. They'd literally want the kid's head. And preserved in place of the disappeared spirit of Tom Riddle. A rather bloodthirsty lot some days.