Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or ideas which you recognise as being from JK Rowling's Harry Potter series or any other trademarked or copyrighted work. The plot of this story is my own, but I have no intention of making any money from it.
Chapter 12
Three and a bit months later...
"No, Sean, no. It is not good enough to have the sales figures for last month on my desk by tomorrow. I'm currently on the plane to Oz. That's AUSTRALIA. So no I will not be in the office tomorrow morning, so those figures had better be emailed to me by the time I land. They're a week late already!"
As he slammed his mobile shut and laid it on the table in front of him, Seamus leaned back on his chair, shutting his eyes in frustration. Why were people so stupid? Surely his own PA should have noticed the large red capital letters on every calendar he owned, marking out this week, the second week of March, as a SALES CONFERENCE IN AUSTRALIA. He'd been very specific about it!
He was now only three hours from the end of his very long flight. He picked up the book he was reading – the Lord of the Rings, the only book long enough that he thought it might last the flight. Seamus had seen every in-flight movie currently on offer; what with his frequent business trips, he had had plenty of opportunity.
He rolled his eyes as there was yet another flowery speech by a soldier who really should have known better than to soliloquise in the middle of a battle, but battled through the dense language, hoping they'd land soon.
X
Seamus shut the file with a snap, nodding to his business partners. They had been supremely successful over the past few days, he felt, and he had in his hands the signed contracts for the backing to open five new O'Hara Stores supermarkets in Australia. He was pleased – they hadn't extended beyond Europe yet, and this would give him a whole new series of markets to explore.
Now for the other bit of business which had brought him to Oz. Seamus checked his watch – it was only midday, plenty of time for the long drive ahead.
A few hours later found Seamus changed out of his formal business suit and into a red T-shirt and black jeans, driving in a rented Range Rover along a deserted, dusty highway. It was fairly warm, but not uncomfortably so. He decided that March was a good time to visit this country: having heard horror stories of overwhelming weather from his colleagues when he had announced this trip, he was rather glad to find them wrong. It was just turning to autumn, here, and the leaves were just beginning to change, providing a gorgeous darker counterpoint to the golden road.
Seamus estimated himself to be at least a couple of hours from the nearest civilisation. In fact, the only sign that there was anyone else in the country at all came in the form of the occasional houses which he saw on the side of the road.
When the GPS indicated that he should turn into the driveway of one of these houses, he pulled up at the side of the road just before the turning and paused to survey it. The house itself looked like something out of a period novel: it was plain and whitewashed, with red-painted beams criss-crossing its front, and a long porch. A sign at the start of the drive declared "The Albus Dumbledore Institute for Magical Education".
Seamus raised his eyebrows. Hermione hadn't mentioned that. But he was pretty sure that this matched the directions she'd given otherwise. Warily, he cast a glamour to conceal his features, though it would hardly be much use if he was actually here to meet who he thought he was here to meet, then got out of the care and walked up to the house, giving a sharp rap on the door as he did so.
"Yeh?" came a voice from inside. Seamus smiled – it was familiar, but it had been a while since he'd heard it.
"I'm here on behalf of a mutual friend, Hagrid. May I come in?"
The door opened to reveal the half-giant, bending awkwardly to fit his head through the door. He was pointing a very long wand at Seamus with a mistrustful look. "What friend? Who're you?"
"Harry Potter. My name is Seamus Finnegan, I was in your Care of Magical Creatures class more years ago than I care to remeber."
The large man's face broke out into a smile. "Aye, it's been a while. Come in, come in!"
Seamus stepped through the doorway... and stopped, staring. He was in an enormous replica of the Hogwarts entrance hall, moving staircases and all. He could see at least seven levels stretching upwards, with students walking around, lauging and chatting and carrying books, presumably between classes. They were all wearing maroon robes, most of them open, with shorts and T-shirts or dresses underneath. So much for Hogwarts' dress code! "This is surreal!" Seamus muttered.
Hagrid seemed not to hear that particular comment. "Fantastic, innit? They wanted to feel more homey in the beginning, then it were convenient to keep. C'mon, I'll take you to the Headmistress."
Seamus was vaguely disappointed to find that beyond the entrance hall, the Hogwarts parallels failed. The headmistress' office was a light, airy room at the end of a long panelled corridor. When they reached the door, Hagrid knocked, then, hearing no response poked his head round the door.
"She's not here, must be still teaching. You sit, and I'll go find her." Hagrid pushed Seamus into one of the armchairs in front of the desk then left the room, the door swinging shut behind him with a bang which made the Irishman jump.
He looked around the room. There were several moving portraits on the walls: one he recognised as Albus Dumbledore, but the others of witches and wizards he didn't know. He nodded to the ex-headmaster, receiving a smile in return.
Seamus turned as the door opened behind him, and Minerva McGonagall entered. He stood, and shook the proffered hand.
"Mr. Finnegan, my apologies for keeping you." She gestured him to return to his chair, then settled herself in the one opposite.
"It's not a problem, Professor."
"Minerva, please, it's been a decade since I was your professor."
"Minerva, then. Please call me Seamus."
"Seamus. I understand that you're here from the Order – I apologise for having to ask this, but could you please tell me the pass-phrase?"
Seamus smiled. "Hermione Granger says "hello", and asks you to remember Shakespeare's words:
O, never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seemed my flame to qualify."
Minerva nodded, and replied:
"That is my home of love; if I have ranged,
Like him that travels I return again."
Seamus relaxed a little in his chair. "Thank Merlin, I'm in the right place. I was so shocked when I saw the school – Hermione didn't warn me about that, just said you were set up in a house at this address. You've certainly extended it!"
Minerva smiled. "Indeed. We'd been here a couple of years when we realised how little provision there is in Australia for Magical Education. Most children learn at home in the evenings from personal tutors, while attending Muggle schools during the day. That's good, in that the Muggle and Wizarding worlds are very intermixed, but there's a problem for Muggleborn students. There simply aren't enough teachers roving around looking for signs of magic in young children, as we became aware of when... well, anyway. So we set up a school for eight to eighteen year old wizards, mainly Muggleborn, but some half and pureblooded too."
Seamus frowned. "Eight?"
"We had one particular eight year old, a special case, so we felt that in order for her to have interactions with children the same age, we should open the doors to other younger students. Currently, there are five eight to ten year olds, and about fifteen students in each of the other seven year groups, those you'd recognise as the 'Hogwarts years'. Filius, Hagrid and I can pretty much cover the basics of all the subjects, along with several local teachers we've recruited over the years. Of course, it's nothing like as grand as Hogwarts, but it suits us. But you didn't come here to discuss the Institute, however proud of it I am. I presume there have been developments in the UK?"
"Yes, actually. We're planning for the Final Battle, Mark II."
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Well, you'd better explain further."
They began to talk shop.
X
As Seamus was leaving the office a couple of hours later, Minerva stopped him in the doorway with a light touch on the shoulder. "I presume that the next time I can expect to see Hermione is in battle?"
Seamus looked grim. "Probably. She can't get away from the country at the moment"
Minerva looked undecided for a moment, then resolute. "She ought to... well.." she muttered to herself. Then she looked at Seamus, straight in the eye. "Would you please deliver a letter to her for me? It's nothing to do with the war effort, just personal."
Seamus looked curious. "Of course."
"I'll have someone drop it off at your hotel this evening," she said.
As he sat on the plane home, looking at the heavy sealed envelope, address left blank for security reasons, he felt a sudden urge to open it. What could be so important that Minerva would need to send it urgently? Delivered by one of the Australian teachers on a flying motorbike, indeed! That must be one interesting letter.
He shoved the envelope down the side of his carry-on luggage. Seamus Finnegan was a principled man, he liked to believe. And that he wanted to fulfil his obligation to the pretty blonde Australian who had arrived at his hotel to deliver it didn't hurt either.
X
Severus Snape surveyed himself in the mirror. He smoothed his long black robes, considering. He was meeting Helena again tonight... he absolutely did not feel his heart jump a little at the thought.
Lucius swanned into the room behind him. "Thinking about your Muggle, Severus?"
"Well," Severus feigned a leer, "she does make a very good shag at the end of a long day." He tried to suppress his body's instant reaction to the thought of sex with Helena – not that they'd actually had any. He enjoyed spending time with her too much to want to press the issue.
Lucius was smirking, the trademark Malfoy expression. "That's all Muggles are good for, really, isn't it?"
"Possibly not something to put on the campaign literature," Severus remarked, before sweeping past his friend and into the ballroom of Malfoy Manor, where the rest of the Death Eaters' inner circle waited, standing in a semicircle around a black throne on what used to be the dancefloor. He took his place next to Bellatrix, leaving a gap for Lucius on his other side. He exchanged nods with Dolohov and Avery. There was no need for masks, any more.
With the sudden crack of apparition, the Dark Lord appeared in the centre of the semi-circle, standing by the throne. He sat, then hissed at them:
"Good evening, my friends."
Lucius was first up for interrogation. "Your campaign proceeds well?"
"Yes, my lord. I am on course to win in June, with little left to do but maintain current momentum."
"Yet you had to have your son dallying with a Muggle male in order for this to happen..."
Lucius made a face. "It disgusts me, my lord, but there is no doubting that it has increased my popularity ratings in the four months they have been together. Draco assures me that he will take great pleasure in killing the boy as soon as the election is won."
Voldemort nodded. "Good, good." Then, with a sudden flick of his wand, he turned to Snape, and said clearly "Crucio."
Severus fell to the ground, every nerve feeling as though it were on fire. He screamed – Voldemort liked hearing screams – not that he was thinking that, there was not time to think, just pain pain pain...
Then it stopped. Shakily, he stood.
"Speaking of dalliances with Muggles, Severus, I have heard of yours."
"My lord, I apologise, I was just using her, I did not mean..."
"Stop lying to me, Severus."
"My lord?"
"I know that she is a witch. You and I will now discuss why you did not share this information with me and your breathren."
He turned to the other Death Eaters. "Leave."
Through the haze of panic which had descended on him, Severus wondered idly why he wasn't dead yet. And how had Voldemort known? And what could he say to save them both?
The Dark Lord seated himself in the chair. "Kneel and explain yourself," he told Severus imperiously.
"My lord, I humbly beg your pardon with my sincerest apologies for attempting to deceive you. I should have known that your lordship is omniscient and omnipotent and cannot be deceived."
"Enough flattery, Severus. Explain." Voldemort sounded slightly mollified, the hiss slightly less pronounced, nonetheless.
"We met at the Malfoy ball, as you know, my lord. Her name is Helena Andrews. At first she appeared to be a Muggle, but when I used legilimency on her, she was revealed immediately as a half-blood, whose wizard mother died soon after her birth, leaving her living in the Muggle world. She learned magic at the Pure Spring Academy in the United States, but returned to Britain several years ago."
"That does not explain why you did not inform me immediately that she was a witch."
"My lord, I sincerely apologise. At first I was trying to ascertain her motivation in living in the Muggle world, though she has extremely strong magic. I understand that her Muggle family disowned her upon discovering her powers, and she was spurned by her wizarding relations upon her return to Britain, so she rejected the magical world too, her ambition taking her to the Muggle government. She had no idea that Malfoy was a wizard. She is full of anger, my lord. I have sought to turn her to our way of thinking before I presented her to you, and I believe that I am succeeding in showing her that the true path to light is through you."
Severus paused. He was very glad of his Occlumency shields in that moment, since he had been making the entire story up on the spot, his only aim to say whatever would keep both himself and Helena alive for as long as possible. His blood ran cold when he realised what exactly he'd said, and suddenly realised the logical outcome of his last speech – shit shit shit, please don't let Voldemort notice, he prayed silently to any gods which might be listening.
Voldemort being Voldemort, such prayers never worked.
"Bring her to me. I would assess her. If she has such skill and anger as you say, perhaps we can overlook her deficiency in blood."
Author's Note:
The lines which act as the pass-phrase come from Shakespeare's Sonnet 109, "O never say that I was false of heart", lines 1-2 and 5-6.