Chapter Nine

Word spread through the dark streets and the crumbling alleyways. Shifty men and creatures of every description slinked down through dark doors and whispered messages to one another. "There is a stranger in Knockturn Alley."

Harry took his supper in the room and sipped stale water from a glass. He heard the sound outside almost immediately. It was the sound of the drape brushing against the door. With a spoon in one hand and his wand in another he called out, "Who is it?"

"It's Marcuso, master," the voice said.

"And who is with you?" Harry asked.

"A friend who wishes to introduce himself," came the muffled reply.

"Come in." Harry sat back, trying to look at ease. It had only been hours and he was already getting a visitor. He was feeling lucky he'd run into the Gypsy bum even if he was a scab on Roma reputation. It had saved him from having to do a lot of work to navigate through this dark world.

Two people entered; the Roma and a tall man, dressed in a black cape and wearing a hat like his own. The Gypsy, who had a look of abject fear on his face, followed him and stood away from him.

"Get out, Marcuso," Harry said in Romani. The little man scurried out the door like a rat.

The man before him removed his hat and it was all Harry could do to not gasp and push back on the chair. He had never seen a vampire but he knew he was looking into the eyes of one now. The face was very smooth and pale, the pupils of the eyes, cold, dark and glittering. The man's face was handsome, he had sandy brown hair which fell to his shoulders and he had both the appearance of a very young man and the presence of a very old one.

"Hello," he said and bowed. "I am Demitri Kaldensky." His English was very proper and yet there was a hint of an accent.

Harry nodded. He stood slowly, not wanting the creature to think he was anxious or that he had never met a vampire before. He also knew these creatures could move very quickly and he wanted his back to a wall, although he doubted it would save him.

"Will you not tell me your name, sir?" the creature asked.

"In good time, Mr. Kaldensky," Harry said and bowed slightly. "Please have a seat and tell me what has brought you here." He said it in Romani, vowing not to use English unless it was necessary. It was to his advantage to let others talk in front of him in English as he had done in the pub.

"Very well," the creature said speaking Romani. He pulled off the black cloak and Harry saw that he was dressed in very rich clothes.

Harry regained his seat and sat very still. It surprised him that the creature was speaking Romani.

"Please resume your dinner," he said. "I did not want to disturb you."

"My soup has grown cold and I am finished," Harry replied. "Tell me what you want of me." He did not feel like being as polite as the vampire, he wanted to send a message that he was an adept wizard and could hold his own in this world.

"Perhaps I should ask you the same." The man waved a hand dismissively and looked around the room. "A ...young man of your…should I say quality… does not come into these places without purpose. I am here representing an entity who is most interested in your presence. He likes to keep a watchful eye on things here."

"I am here because I seek information," Harry said.

The creature nodded and folded very delicate hands in his lap. "Of course, that is understood. However, the Roma are very… powerful wizards and are not normally seen in the company of… our kind." Harry understood him to mean the residents of Knockturn Alley. Kaldensky smiled and added, "Other than that old stinkweed." He closed his eyes briefly and tilted his head. He was referring to the Gypsy, Marcuso. "My apologies if I have offended… ."

"I am not offended," Harry said. "He is as you describe."

"I hope you are also not offended by my presence." His hand went to his chest and he bowed from the waist.

"I am, once again, not offended," Harry replied.

"Ah, the Roma have such good manners about these things." He sat back, produced a flask and sipped from it. He did not offer any to Harry. "Very well, shall we talk about a meeting then?"

Harry stared for a moment and realized he was talking about a meeting between himself and this 'interested party'. Harry wondered if it was Voldemort.

"I won't meet with anyone that does not have the ear of …" Harry struggled for the correct words and the vampire interrupted.

Kaldensky nodded, sagely, and said, "You are a very young man to brave such a venture, or the information you seek is very important to you." The vampire stood and Harry followed suit. "The exchange will be in kind; information for information."

He turned to leave, and added, "I will let my master know you wish to meet him and I will send word with that putrescence, Marcuso, when there is an appropriate time and place." He was out the door without another word.

Harry swallowed hard. A Vampire! he thought. I've met a Vampire and I'm going to meet his master. And...I am still alive.

…

"Ron, as soon as we've finished dinner you have to tell him or I will," Hermione said helping herself to potatoes. The Sorting Ceremony was complete and they were at the opening day feast. She was staring at Dumbledore. He was sitting at the head table and sipping from a goblet. His blue eyes were looking back at her and she knew he was aware of Harry's absence at the Slytherin table.

The year before Harry had faked his own death and had re-entered Hogwarts as a new student sorted by Dumbledore into the Slytherin House. He was to continue that ploy in the new term as well and it was for this reason that Hermione was watching the Slytherin table.

Ron rolled his eyes at her words and continued to stuff his mouth as full as he could. Others along the table, those who knew Harry was alive, were questioning him with their eyes. He nodded in surrender and shrugged in resignation.

The feast ended and Hermione pushed Ron towards the head table. "Go and I'll take care of the first years," she urged.

He walked up, red-faced, to Dumbledore. The old man stared down at him and stood up, walked around the entire length of the table, put a hand on his shoulder and led him through a door at the back of the Great Hall.

"He just said he had something to do, Professor," Ron was explaining. "He wouldn't tell me what it was." Ron sat across from Dumbledore in a small circular room off the great Hall. A fire burned in the fireplace even though it was only early fall.

Dumbledore looked at him with a stern look on his face. Ron had never seen him look as intensely absorbed and concerned as he did now. He nodded and asked softly, "Is there anything more Mr. Weasley?"

Ron had yet to tell him about the small hand-mirror hanging around a chain at his neck. Harry made him promise not tell anyone he had it. Ron shook his head, and answered, "Nothing, Professor."

"I see," Dumbledore frowned at him. "Mr. Weasley, Harry has put himself in grave danger, grave, grave danger; more than you or he can possibly realize." Dumbledore waited.

Ron gulped and nodded, but remained silent.

"I'm keeping you from your duties," Dumbledore said. He stood abruptly, dismissing him with a wave of his hand and waited for Ron to leave the room.

Dumbledore was looking down into the fire when another person entered through the door. He looked up. "Have a seat Severus; I have something to tell you."

Snape sat in the recently vacated chair, and waited silently.

Dumbledore sat down heavily and struggled with his words, "Severus, I am going to say something that will be cruel and unkind. It will hurt you. It will hurt me to say it and I would not do it if I thought there was another way."

The man stared back and Dumbledore noticed he stiffened slightly as if bracing himself. "Say what you need to say, Headmaster." Snape looked at him curiously and remained still, his face betraying nothing.

"You do not have the capacity to allow someone to love you. You fear it more than death itself. Now I have two of you on my hands and I can't reach either one of you!" Dumbledore growled. "Harry Potter has gone in search of answers, truths that may end up getting him killed. Like you, he has stopped allowing himself to feel the love from people, something that you and I have discussed many times when it concerned your personal history. Now it involves a young man. He searches for his father or … someone to replace his father. There is a great longing for the person he thought could love him. A love he thinks he's missed out on and can get from no other…" Dumbledore leaned forward watching the man across from him. "You understand this Severus, I know you do."

Snape shifted in his chair, his face remained closed. "Go on."

Dumbledore stood in and confronted him. "I have watched you search for forgiveness from a man who had none to give, a man who should have asked for your forgiveness instead! Severus, you did nothing wrong as a child that warranted his abuse of you and there was nothing wrong with you- he was an evil man who could not accept you and he was a father who didn't deserve a son like you!"

Dumbledore raised his voice and began to pace the room, returning to stand before Snape obviously full of strong emotion. "He did not love you, Severus, because there was something wrong with you- NO! NO! NO! He did not love because he could not! I tell you this, THERE IS NO DEBT YOU OWE HIM." Dumbledore stood trembling.

"Albus, this is old history..." Snape began. "Just because you saw me again as a child does not mean I have the feelings of a child. And I thought we were discussing Potter. Where is he?"

Dumbledore shook his head, his voice softening, "Ah Severus, both you and Harry, in your own way, have sought the same thing in your lives. You thought to find redemption through me and I, the fool that I am, have allowed this to go on too long. I've watched you go out into the world and get hurt, take risks and stubbornly refuse to ask for help. I have been willing to allow you, Severus, to do these things and I have not interfered because you are a grown man and I cannot keep you from making your own choices, no matter what the motive is behind them."

Snape was about to argue, his eyes narrowed, his face a work of pain, his mouth open. He was breathing heavily and his hands gripped the chair. "Please Albus, I think you have misunderstood my motives. I am not that child anymore. I serve you because I choose to, not because I believe I owe you anything. We fight on the same side."

Dumbledore raised his hands to stop him from speaking and continued, "I don't believe you. I realize you do these things for me, that your sacrifices have been for me. That is what I am saying. I appreciate you more than you can ever know. However, it would be less burdensome if you sacrificed on your own behalf instead of mine. Being on the receiving end, watching you give this kind of gift for me… has always filled me with wonder. As I have said, I love you; even if you cannot understand or feel what I have to offer. You are the son I would have dearly loved to have had and I have tried to be a good to you. But it has not been enough because I am not your father and he can no longer give you what you want, never could;…and I cannot give it to you either."

"Dumbledore, I believe we are friends, inseparable friends and I am in no need of a father. When I was very young, it may have been true. You saved me from a terrible life. But I have repaid that debt many times over as we have discussed before. What has brought this on? What has Potter done that has opened up this old wound?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Perhaps it is watching another child going through the same searching agony once again. Harry has lost the only people he thought loved him and he is afraid of losing those he cares about now. I know you understand Severus. When Lily Potter died..."

"Albus...stop!" Snape growled . His face changed and he was suddenly on his feet reaching out as if to physically stop Dumbledore.

"I have never asked anything of you Severus, that you had not already been willing to give. I would never dream of abusing you or taking advantage of you in that way," Dumbledore said, "But, I intend to ask now."

Dumbledore was shaking so violently his voice quivered. "There is a boy out there, a young man, who is following in your footsteps. You are the only one who knows, who understands what he searches for. You can find him and reach him." Dumbledore stumbled back into his chair and Severus jumped as if to reach over to him. The older man put out his hand; tears filled his eyes and whimpered, "Harry has gone to Knockturn Alley. He has gone to his death and it is my fault. I could not tell him what he so desperately needed to know. I fear...I believe he will find Jeremy Potter."

Snape helped Dumbledore down the hall and up to his quarters where he put him to bed, snuffed the candle with his fingers and left the room.

It was only then, in the privacy of his own room, in the dank dungeons, could he let out the feelings trapped inside. His body shook, sweat broke out on his brow and in a fever of anger and sorrow, he broke most of the furniture in his room. Emotionally spent, he fell asleep on the cold hard floor, his last thoughts which drifted into his mind were, You will never know, Albus what it is you ask of me now.

...

Harry slept in the chair and caught himself jerking awake at every noise, including the scurrying, rustling of rats creeping up to his boots and tugging at the hem of his trousers. He kicked at one in the dark, heard the squeal and the dull thump when it hit the opposite wall.

He comforted himself by thinking about the feast, the Sorting Ceremony and his soft, comfortable four-poster bed at Hogwarts. He thought about Ron. He knew Ron would remain silent at least until they were on the Hogwarts Express. He wasn't sure how long after that before Hermione would pin him to the wall and make him tell her where he was. Harry also knew Ron would not tell anyone about the mirror.

All I need is twenty-four hours, Harry thought. To do what? He thought about it. Find out about Percy, Moody and Shacklebolt; that was the first step. Find out what Voldemort was doing. That was a long-shot, he considered. In exchange for what? They wanted information. What information did he have? What information would they want? And how was he going to get in and out alive?

However, there was something more that he wanted and he couldn't put it into words not even in his thoughts. Something haunted him. He wanted information Dumbledore was not willing to share. Harry felt guilt at even having the thought, but he knew his father had been a Guardian and had been caught up in the dark world Voldemort had first created. Maybe out here, he thought, away from the people who smother me with their protectiveness I can find answers.

He heard the soft knock on the door in the early hours of the morning. He had just been drifting off into a dream and he answered gruffly, "Who is it?"

"Marcuso, M'Lord." The gravelly voice was muffled.

"Come in," Harry said, tucking his wand protectively under the table. "What is it this time?"

"You are to follow me." The Gypsy stood in the doorway and whispered. He held the drapery to the side indicating Harry was to follow him immediately.

Harry stood and stretched, feeling the soreness in his shoulders. He retrieved his hat and stuffed it into the sack, drank a sip of water and spit it out through the open window. It felt to him as though he had swallowed too much of the foul air in the room. He pulled the cloak around his shoulders and the hood over his head.

"If it was me, I wouldn't go," the man advised and stepped to one side to let Harry pass.

Harry smirked in the dark. "I am not you." He stepped into the hallway and listened. It was quiet. He followed the stench of the man as he made his way down the hall, to the stairs and down into the street.

Harry hesitated. The street was empty and only the feeble light of the moon outlined the narrow walkway. He followed Marcuso for some distance, keeping to the shadows, trying to maintain some sense of direction and find familiar landmarks to guide himself back if he needed to.

The little man stopped and whispered, "There will be another in a minute to take you the rest of the way. Latcho Drom (safe journey)."

Harry had to smirk, Safe journey, huh! He'd be lucky to stay alive through the night. A figure emerged from the doorway down the street, walked within ten feet, stopped and seemed to sniff the air. He raised an arm and waved at Harry to follow. Harry kept behind the figure, amazed at the man's ability to sense him.

He was led down an alley, down stairs, through a courtyard, another street and up some stairs. He knew they were trying to confuse him so he would not be able to find his way out of the maze of streets, rooms and yards. Harry kept glancing up at the half-moon sleeping under drifting clouds.

A voice spoke to him from the dark, "Stop."

Harry's heart was suddenly racing. It was wickedly dark in the garden. He knew it was a garden because of the odor of rotten vegetation; a garden that should have been sweetly aromatic in the late summer, and wasn't.

"We must have your wand and your bag, wizard or we cannot proceed." The voice was cultured.

"If I refuse?" Harry asked in Romani.

They seemed to understand. One said, "We will leave you here in the dark to find your way."

The archway overhead was lit with the weakest of lights. Two figures stood in front of him. He recognized neither. Both had their hoods drawn over their faces. He handed them the wand and bag. They searched the bag and handed it back to him. The wand was kept by the larger of the two.

He followed the smaller one and the larger followed him. They walked up a flight of stairs, over a bridge and onto an adjoining street. Harry wondered at it. He didn't think there could be anything as vile and dark as Knockturn Alley and he'd been wrong. He thought he had to be in a sewer. The street was covered in filth and he held the cloak to his nose to keep from breathing the vapors. They walked a short distance and then climbed several steps where he could take a deep breath of fresh air. The two men stood and one swept a door open and stepped aside. A beam of brilliant yellow light struck him and blinded him.

He pulled the hood from his head and stepped into magnificent splendor. The room was bathed in warm light, the walls dressed in sheer drapery. Pillars were gilded in gold and it reminded Harry of a picture he had seen once of a Sultan's palace. Ornate carpets covered the floor and sofas graced the length and bread of the room; which was immense.

Men stood intermittently along the walls on both sides. At least they looked like men, but had the breadth and height of half-giants. Hagrid was still big in comparison, but Harry felt very small walking between them. It was obvious they were guards.

Harry walked slowly towards a man lying comfortably on a couch. He took in every detail of the man and his heart climbed in his throat. Seated before him, smiling broadly, was the spitting image of James Potter. The same eyes, the same mouth, even the unruly hair. If Harry had not been disguised by a charm he could be looking at an older version of himself. The man was definitely a Potter. But not his father. Evil was in his eyes. Harry thought he would never see the same bright, burning evil in anyone but Voldemort's eyes; that same evil he now saw in this mans'.

"Hello, good morning," the man gestured and rose from his chair. "I hope we haven't inconvenienced you by waking you too early. Oh, I have forgotten my manners." He gestured and a figure emerged from the shadows. It was the vampire Kaldensky, "I have someone who can translate for us, since I understand you do not speak our language." The vampire translated in Romani what Harry had just heard in English.

"What would bring a Romani wizard into these dark waters?" the man asked, once again sitting down. He motioned for Harry to sit down in the chair before him.

"I have come looking for information," Harry said.

The man nodded after hearing the translation, politely offering a cup of tea delivered on a silver tray in china cups. "What you come seeking is death, good sir, if what we ask is not forthcoming."

Harry was too curious to let the announcement upset him. He could not take his eyes from the face. This is what my father would have looked like, he thought.

"Now you must forgive us but we will have to test your sincerity and your truthfulness. We cannot have an impostor in our midst," The man raised his wand and pointed it at Harry. "CRUCIO." The green light exploded at him and Harry reached up and caught it as he would the Golden Snitch or money at the Fair. Jolie had spent hours showing him how to deflect the spell. He threw it at the vampire. The vampire stood solid as a statute. It had no effect on him.

The twin of James Potter applauded. "Bravo, bravo! Very good." He smiled at Harry. "Only a true Vardo Gypsy could deflect the spell. Congratulations!" He noticed Harry looking at the Vampire. Don't worry about Demitri; he is not capable of human feeling."

"Shall we get down to business," Harry said, coldly.

"I like to know who I'm dealing with Mr.….?"

"Why do you need a name, I am here." Harry picked up his cup. He didn't think any more spells were coming his way. He waited for the vampire to translate.

"We will exchange information," the man said and grinned, "I like this game so I will go first. I am Jeremy H. Potter."

Harry nodded. So we are related, he thought. "I have heard of this name Potter."

"Yes, I imagine you have." The white teeth glimmered. "It is not commonly known, but I have a nephew by that name." The eyes grew darker. "Now that I have shared so much, don't you think it's time you tell me about yourself?"

A nephew?! Thought. It can't be. I have no uncle. Harry knew his time had run out, "I am here to serve the Dark Lord. I am Tommy Snape."

Potter glanced at Kaldensky, who disappeared instantly. The face grew cold and he stared at Harry. They remained silent. Harry remembered what Dumbledore had told him once; that Voldemort had many followers almost as terrible as he. Harry could believe it. The man staring back at him was a vile, evil monster. He had definitely jumped from the pan into the fire in one move.

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