Chapter 28: A Secret Revealed
Author's Note: Well, several years, 2 new babies and a new home in a new state later…It's been a long time. Many thanks to those of you who still have an interest in continuing with this story. I have never forgotten it, just had to put it on the back burner for a while. I have a bit more time to devote to it now. The rest of the story is still all here in my head, and I'm eager to getting back to sharing it with you. Thank you again for your very kind comments and your encouragement and support!
Oh, and by the way, this story is now obviously Alternate Universe. I believe it was started just after Prisoner of Azkaban, and remains hopelessly stuck in a time warp there. So, good news if you're like me and have seen some of your favorites meet their demise in JKR's world. I won't say anything more for fear of spoilers (yes, there are still people out there who haven't yet finished DH).
So…onward…
"EXPELLIARMI!"
The Headmaster's voice boomed and twenty-one wands flew into the air, clattering down in a heap behind him. The Order of the Phoenix was now disarmed.
Dumbledore had watched with dismay as the friction between Moody and Adelaide easily sparked old flames of resentment that he'd hoped had been extinguished years ago. His eyes were not twinkling now. Angry, crimson embers spat from the tip of his wand.
He spoke in a voice that was disturbingly quiet and weary. "I had hoped I would not see the day when members of the Order turned on one another. Have we let suspicion so easily infiltrate our ranks, so effortlessly penetrate our minds and transform cameraderie to mistrust? If so, it is a sad day for the Order, and a triumphant one for Voldemort. I am glad Fawkes was not here to witness this." With that, he returned heavily to his seat.
The room was still. No one looked at anyone else. Someone coughed.
The silence was broken when, without another glance or word in Adelaide's direction, Moody turned on his heel and loped back to his murky corner by the fireplace, his lopsided gait echoing once again off the paneled walls. His retreat seemed to send a wordless signal around the room, and the scraping of chairs and rustling of robes filled the silence as everyone, now wandless, resumed their seats.
As Addy turned back to her chair, Dumbledore called sharply, "Professor Mayhem, you and Professor Snape have devised a strategy for us to thwart Voldermort's attack on the London Underground, have you not? Step forward."
Addy stared at him in disbelief, her eyes wide as saucers. "He couldn't possibly mean…" she thought to herself, "he wouldn't honestly ask her to…he can't really think…"
With a withering stare, Dumbledore replied aloud, "I could, I would and I do, Professor."
Addy was rooted to the spot, speechless, petrified. The next thing she knew, Snape had retrieved her magical replica of the subway platform from beneath her seat, shoved it into her arms, and was dragging her by the sleeve of her robe to the front of the room.
Together, Addy and Snape managed to stumble through their plan and get their point across. Much to her astonishment, their scheme was well-received. After a bit of debate, the mission was approved unanimously and the roles were assigned.
Eleven Aurors, led by Moody, would take part, making this one of the largest coordinated efforts the Order had yet to undertake. Pugh would be apprehended; disposed of if necessary. The plan had to be airtight--there could be no possible means for Pugh to slip through their grasp and report back to Voldemort. If the Dark Lord found out that his attack had been anticipated, he would surely wonder how the information had been leaked. Once Pugh was successfully in the custody of the Order, word would be sent back to Voldemort, through Snape, that Pugh had got cold feet and had run off into hiding, presumably somewhere in the Pyrenees where he had relatives. If they were lucky, Voldemort would end up spending valuable time and resources trying to track him down.
Arthur Weasley (to his delight) had been put in charge of Muggle disguises so that the team would blend in with the surrounding Londoners trudging through their morning commute. He was particularly excited about arming everyone with what he called a "mobular tellyphone" and an "eye pod," which sounded to Addy like something that ought to be overseen by Professor Sprout.
The gathering grew solemn as Dumbledore magicked away the round conference table and conjured in its place a Summoning Fire to perform the Bonding Ritual. This ancient magical vow of allegiance, similar to the oath of the Secret Keeper, would bond the team members to one another and to the mission. They gathered in a circle around the fire.
When Addy and Snape stepped up to take their place at the circle, Moody stiffened. As the Headmaster raised his wand to begin the incantation, Moody preempted him.
"What do we need them for, Albus?"
"It's our plan," growled Snape.
"He'll recognize you, won't he?" countered Moody, his eyes narrowing. "I realize Pugh's an idiot, but surely even he would recognize two fellow Death Eaters. Particularly a pair of celebrities like yourselves: the Dark Lord's Princess-in-Waiting and his star Poisoner."
Addy felt the heat of her own blood rising to her cheeks. She really wished he would stop calling her that. From the corner of her eye, she looked down to see Snape's knuckles go white with the effort of restraint.
Before Snape could lash out, Dumbledore responded calmly, but firmly, "Alastor you will kindly work with whatever team you are assigned. I have every faith that we can ALL put the interests of our cause above our own personal grievances. While you are correct in that either Severus or Adelaide would likely be recognized by Mr. Pugh, you may recall that we have a very simple way of concealing their identity with a potion that most of our Fifth-Years could brew."
"However," he continued, turning towards Snape and Addy, "Alastor is also correct in that you are not both required to serve in this mission. One of you is quite enough. In the starkest of terms, should something go wrong, we could not afford to lose you both."
Addy's breath caught in her throat. It was the first time she'd considered the possibility that something might "go wrong", or that anyone might be "lost."
"Step back, Professor Mayhem," Snape proclaimed coldly, without looking at her. "I'll go."
"No. I'll go. You step back," Addy replied, matching him note for frosty note.
Snape's nostrils flared, his temper already pushed far beyond the boiling point. He snapped his head in her direction, glaring, but Addy cut him off with a raised hand and a voice that sounded very tired of arguing. "Look Snape, I'm the only one here who could detect him even if he is disguised. I'll know when he's there. I'll know when he's coming."
Snape's eyes narrowed suspiciously. In fact, everyone thought that was a rather odd thing to say, especially Molly Weasley who really did not appreciate all this talk of losing people when her husband stood at the front of the room with a rather disjointed team about to embark on a very dangerous mission. She piped up, "What do you mean, you'll 'know when he's coming?' I assume the Death Eaters are as familiar with Polyjuice Potion as we are. Why, they could grab any Muggle off the street and use them for the purposes of—"
"It doesn't matter, Mrs. Weasly. I'll smell him," said Addy, turning to face Molly with a weary sigh. "I'll smell him long before anyone sees him. I'm an Omniolfactor, and Pugh is as rotten as they come. There's no amount of Polyjuice in the world that could mask that stench."
A blanket of hushed surprise fell upon the room. Harry turned to Remus with a baffled expression and mouthed, "An Omni-what's-it?" He had never heard the term before (although he was sure Hermione would have known what it meant).
Without taking his eyes off Addy, Remus whispered back, "An Omniolfactor…extraordinary! It's a rare gift, Harry, very rare. There are witches and wizards today who don't even believe it exists—they think it's only in the ancient legends. Omniolfactor's have the ability to actually determine another person's intentions…their character…their aura...through the sense of smell. You know how some animals can use their noses to detect emotional states? Fear…sadness…aggression…joy. It's like that. Sort of like having a built in Sneak-o-Scope. I can do it to an extent when I… when I change. But when I return to human form it's difficult to remember the sensation, like waking up from a dream that I can't quite recall."
Sirius, who had been listening to Remus' halting explanation, added, "Same here. When I transform into my animagus, I can do it too. But when I change back, the experience is frustatingly beyond grasp." Harry glanced intuitively at MacGonagall, who was looking at Addy with the same look that Remus and Sirius bore, which was a mixture of admiration and envy. Clearly, the elusive sensation was something that haunted all animagi.
Addy had hoped she wouldn't have to mention it, for she already felt like enough of a freak, and she hated the way people looked at her on the rare occasion that she had revealed her "special gift." It was no big deal, really. The Sense, as her maternal Great Grandmother used to call it, was just something she'd been born with, and it was such second nature that she usually just took it for granted. Most of the time it was more of a nuisance than anything else, since having an extra sense to contend with could be a real distraction. When one was faced with a particularly hostile foe, as in the case of Pugh, it was no picnic to be privy to the nauseating stench of brutality. If she hadn't grown up with the reek of Voldemort's compound, it would probably cause her to faint dead away. Even so, she had to adjust to it each time she went back. Even the other side of the coin—the dizzying, intoxicating scent of Professor Snape—was equally distracting, if not infinitely more pleasant.
The only time she'd felt it really had been a handy gift was around people who projected one persona outwardly, but held vastly different intentions in their heart. Like Lucius Malfoy. Despite the smooth exterior and polished manners, his signature scent was the metallic reek of blood mixed with the stale, dusty odor of old paper. She'd known from the moment she had met him at the tender age of four that he was no good.
There had been another time, of course, that she'd been grateful for her gift: when she and her family were on the run from the Aurors. Addy's gift could probably be credited with saving their lives. Moody's unmistakable signature was the uncommon smell of freshly hewn stone. It preceded him everywhere, and each time she'd thought they had given their hunters the slip and were free from pursuit, sooner or later that cold, sharp smell would creep into her nostrils again. At the first, faint sign of it, she and her father would be packed and on their way. Even after they had finally "disappeared" into relative safety, it had taken more than two years for Addy to shake the habit of sniffing the air upon wakening, like an animal, just to be sure there were no enemies nearby.
Moody's shrill voice dragged her attention back to the present circle of so-called comrades. "So THAT'S how you did it! That's how you always got away! I told you Shacklebolt, didn't I? I always said it had to be something like that. Didn't I? I knew it…didn't I always say…" Moody's voice trailed off to a disturbing, mumbled monologue, while Kingsley simply stared malevolently at Adelaide, without speaking.
Dumbledore proceeded. "Well then, it would seem that Professor Mayhem's gift bestows a distinct advantage on this mission. Therefore, I must ask you to step down, Severus. Your desire to serve, however, is duly noted and much appreciated. Anyway," he added grimly, "you have your work cut out for you with the Snakebite Antidote, and I'm afraid the next mission will be a solitary and extremely dangerous one for you."
After so many years, Snape knew when it was pointless to argue with Albus and this was clearly one of those times. He nodded cordially to the group and gracefully removed himself from the circle, resuming his post against the far wall. His expression was indecipherable. Addy frowned and worried her lower lip.
The Bonding Ritual proceeded without further interruption, and brought the meeting to a dramatic conclusion. Ordinarily, these gatherings ended with congenial chatter and sometimes even gatherings for drinks in Albus's study or Hogsmeade. This one, however, was different. Dumbledore curtly directed everyone to retrieve their own wands from the pile where they had landed, and departed swiftly to his private quarters without a glance backwards. The members filed out in somber, quiet contemplation. No one could escape the realization that they were now at war--full-fledged war—and the weight of it was heavy on their minds and shoulders. There was no turning back now. There would likely be losses. And possibly even betrayals.