Title: All That Glitters
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Author's note: So, I am going out of town (out of the country, actually) for a month. And I won't have access to Internet, or even a computer, for most of my travels. Which means there will probably not be another update on this story until mid-September. But I'll try to get a chapter written as soon as possible after I return.
Summary: "Decent people are so easy to manipulate."
Chapter Sixteen: Reckless Abandon
The first glow of the early morning sun had begun to shine over the distant horizon line. The hills were lined in red and yellow, and the moon was slowly descending from the night sky. A few streaks of color, light blues and pale gray, flooded through the inky sky, forcing the stars to fade back into the distance.
The house was silent. It was more of a Manor than a house, or perhaps more of a mansion. The roof was studded with turrets, and two towers rose to be silhouetted against the rising sun. The grounds spread out around the house, dark and dreary, ill-kept. The air was heavy with dew and the scent of sulfur.
It was not a place, Kingsley reflected, that he would ever wish to visit.
"It belonged to the Blacks," Snape murmured, his wand held tightly in his hand as he stared at the rusty gates that bared their path. "That was long ago, however. It passed into the hands of the Yaxleys' through marriage perhaps five or six decades ago." A smirk tugged at his lips as he added, "To Bellatrix's great displeasure, of course." The Dark witch had always despised seeing her family's possession land in the hands of others, and her time in Azkaban had only served to strengthened that dislike.
Her vicious attitude had turned him against her from their very first meeting. She was perhaps the only one of the Dark Lord's followers who he truly hated. Serving Dumbledore had always left him with the uneasy feeling of betraying people who had once accepted him, but when he thought of Bellatrix, his doubts would quickly fade. As his hatred of her grew, so did his desire to taunt her, and he had used this particular quirk of hers to get under her skin.
Many times.
"Have you seen the splendor of Yaxley's home?" Mrs. Goyle murmured as she pulled open the door to her rather distasteful looking home and gestured for her husband, Snape, Bellatrix, and Avery to follow her inside. She was not a Death Eater, although she knew perfectly well what her husband did in his spare time. She was plain-looking, and had a foolish desire to fantasize about luxury and wealth. But in her day-to-day actions, she was also practical and efficient, and had earned some of Snape's respect through the no-nonsense demeanor she presented to the world.
She was in interesting study in contrasts, a contradiction of sorts.
Bellatrix snorted in disgust. "It is too gaudy. He does not take care of it, shows no appreciation for true wizarding tastes."
"But so lavish," Snape drawled. "So perfectly arranged for entertaining."
"What use do we have to entertain?" Bellatrix retorted fiercely, eyes flashing with a dangerous glow.
"Ah... I see your time in Azkaban has removed from you some of the finer traits of humanity," Snape sneered, meeting her gaze. "Pity."
"What do you know of the finer traits of humanity, Snape?" Bellatrix spat. "You live like scum in a place not even fit for Mudbloods!"
"Please," Mrs. Goyle cut in, "enough of this." She gestured to the dining room. "Take a seat at the table, and I will bring you refreshments."
"This is not a time for a party!" Bellatrix snapped at the hostess. "We have work that needs be done."
"I am sure the dining room will serve adequately for those purposes," Snape said smoothly, giving the faintest of nods to Mrs. Goyle. In a voice low enough for only Bellatrix to hear, he added, "Not as well as Yaxley's, of course. But I suppose not all of us can have houses like his." With a smirk, he twisted the figurative knife just a little deeper, "I am glad to see such a place pass into the hands of a proper wizarding family who can adequately take care of the place."
"How dare you!" Bellatrix cried, reaching for her wand. But whatever curse she might have cast - and Snape knew it would not have been pleasant - was interrupted by the sudden burning sensation on their arms.
The Dark Lord was calling.
"And now it passes from Uncle to Nephew," Kingsley said as he pointed his wand at the air and muttered a few incantations. After a moment's pause, he turned to Snape. "It's well guarded."
"Yaxley's no fool. Particularly if he has Runcorn to guide him," Snape agreed. "The place will have many wards and other hidden traps."
The two wizards stared at each other, both thinking the exact same thing. In a house such as this, the various hidden dangers would create a perfect environment for one to ensnare and betray the other. They would both need to be on their guards and watch their backs if they had any hope to come out of this alive and in one piece.
"You are sure Minerva is in here?"
Snape nodded. "I've considered all other possibilities. It was possible, for a while, that they would have kept her at Runcorn's. It is now unlikely, however, as he is under some suspicion from Abbott. I suppose the man is actually good for something." Snape curled his lip as he muttered Abbott's name, as though the very word was distasteful. He did not think highly of the man.
Kingsley had to stifle a smile and remind himself that this was not a colleague or a friend, this was the Traitor, the enemy. But he, too, was not thrilled with Abbott's appointment to a rather powerful position within the Ministry. The brutal murder of his wife had left Abbott unhinged in the way that only grief and pain can, and his desire to revenge often clouded his judgement.
"Come," Snape said finally, and he pointed his wand at the gate. It sprung open, the rusty hinges protesting against such movement with a stiff and grating whine. Kingsley winced as the sharp noise cut through the still air, but Snape seemed almost to not hear it. He was focused instead on the ground beyond the gate, on the twisting path, lined with large stones and overgrown with weeds, that led to the house.
The two of them walked forward, passing through the gate together.
A burst of flame erupted behind them, illuminating the sky in a single flash of light. Kingsley jumped, but reacted fast enough to extinguish the fire with a spout of water from his wand. Snape, too, appeared startled. His beady eyes widened, then narrowed.
"Interesting," Snape mused.
Kingsley drew a breath. "We were nearly roasted, Snape. How is that interesting?"
"Fire spouts are no longer common as a guarding mechanism," Snape replied idly, paying little attention to Kingsley. The senior Yaxley had always had rather sadistic taste, and had used more lethal protective enchantments. His cruelty was rivalled only by Bellatrix and, as legend would have it, Crouch Jr. Snape had never known the younger Death Eater personally, except, of course, when he pretended to be Mad-Eye. But those who had crossed paths with him before the Dark Lord's first downfall found his temper and knowledge of obscure Dark Arts disturbing.
Kingsley, noting that Snape was lost in his own thoughts, interrupted pointedly, "Grindelwald used them."
Snape shrugged. "Did he now?" he asked, not particularly interested.
"Oh, did Lord Voldemort not have you study all the past Dark Lords?" Kingsley asked sardonically. "I would have thought he would be interested in his predecessors."
"The Dark Lord was not interested in the petty schemes of those who had already been defeated," Snape answered grimly. It had been his downfall, of course, paying little attention to the lives and magics of others. In his arrogant belief that he alone could rule, he had brought about his own defeat.
The two resumed walking. The path finally became so overgrown that they could see nothing but weeds and grass. Kinglsey squinted through the dim light, trying to identify anything that might resemble a walkway, but finally they were forced to abandon it all together and push through the tall grass and muddy ground towards the house.
There was no light on in any window. There was nothing but darkness staring back at them from the manor, a darkness that was both physical and magical. As they grew closer, Kingsley could already feel some sixth sense warning him of the dangers that lurked inside. What would they encounter in this home? Dark relics and spells, perhaps?
He exhaled and slanted a look at Snape. So far, the enigmatic wizard had only managed to further confuse him. He did not trust Snape, but he could not understand why this traitor would profess to care about Minerva. Or was he only doing this to seek revenge against Yaxley and Runcorn for attempting to incriminate him? And that raised a different question; why would two former supporter's of Voldemort's reign want to bring about the fall of their Lord's greatest servant? And how did the Malfoys factor into this chaotic mess?
Was he a fool to trust Snape?
Or was he just desperate to save Minerva before it was too late?
He knew what would happen if she were to die. She was one of the few symbols of hope left. A woman who had stayed at Hogwarts to protect her students even though she knew the school was being run by a madman, even though her presence there only served to put her in more danger. Dumbledore's right hand, and now Hogwart's Headmistress. A war hero, and one of the bravest women he had ever met.
If she died - particularly at the hands of Death Eaters - people like Abbott would use the opportunity to throw the world into chaos in their desire for revenge. And no world, no matter how strong it was, could survive if the people were driven by nothing more than vengeance.
He was shaken abruptly from his thoughts as Snape caught his hand tightly and yanked him backwards. He stumbled, nearly falling to his knees, and threw out his hands to balance himself. At the same time, Snape whispered something under his breath and pointed his wand at the place Kingsley had stood moments before. A light flickered briefly from his wand, and the two just barely caught sight of something slithering away through the grass.
"A snake?" Kingsley asked curiously.
Snape shook his head. "Pytho."
Kingsley blinked, his mind running over that word in an effort to determine why it sounded so familiar. Finally, forced to admit defeat, he said tersely, "Explain."
"They're like snakes, but much deadlier. They say it is bad luck to have one cross your path. A omen of sorts."
Kinglsey shivered and looked back at the house. He did not believe in most legends and myths, but in a place such as this, he could not help but feel that perhaps these beliefs held more sway over the subsequent events. Pytho, he remembered suddenly, was a snake that Hera, Queen of the Greek Gods, sent to chase the woman her husband Zeus had gotten pregnant. Leto, very pregnant with the twin gods Apollo and Artemis, could find no place to rest. He did not remember how the myth ended, only that the twins were eventually born.
"How do you know about these creatures?' Kingsley asked as they resumed hurrying through the grass. "We never learned about them at Hogwarts."
"They're Dark Creatures," Snape replied, "but too rare to warrant any time spent on them in Defense Against the Dark Arts." He glanced at Kingsley for a moment, expression unreadable. "I learned about them outside of school."
"Oh!"
Eileen Snape nearly jumped out of her seat as the rustle of something passed by her feet. She licked her lips nervously and peered under the table just in time to see the tail of the creature disappear into a hole in the ground. Her face paled.
"What is it?" Snape asked from where he sat on the floor, sorting through a box of Chocolate Frogs that his mother had managed to sneak into the house for him. His father didn't like having this kind of 'wizard rubish' around, so Snape knew he would need to be careful to keep it hidden. But his father had gone out drinking, and would not be home for several hours, so it seemed safe to pull them out now.
"Nothing, Severus," his mother replied quickly, giving him a little smile that did not reach her eyes. Under her breath, she whispered, "A Pytho?" and the word stuck in Snape's mind.
"What is a Pytho?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Go on eating, Severus."
And then the door flew open and Tobias stood there, outlined by the falling sun, eyes blazing with anger. He was mumbling something about being cheated out of his rightful money, and how he had to come home early, and couldn't a man earn a single day off from work...?
Eileen was still looking in the direction the creature had disappeared.
Then Tobias caught sight of the Chocolate Frogs, and his anger turned into cold fury.
Kingsley wondered, but did not press the issue. They paused, only a few feet away from the door to the house. The wood was dark, and even darker in some places where the water had caused soft patches to form. In the early morning light, Kingsley could just make out the carvings along the door frame. A great snake twisted up one side of the door, and the words pure in heart, pure in mind, pure in blood ran down the other.
Snape pushed the door open. It was not locked.
Kinglsey hesitated, then followed the potions Master into the entryway. He was surprised they had encountered no one on their way. His initial analysis of the situation had revealed protective enchantments and wards all along the grounds, and yet so far they had come relatively unscathed.
He was worried.
And the moment he stepped into the house, his worries were confirmed. A sudden magical wind rushed past him, and then something hit him in the stomach and a burning sensation spread through his body. He blinked once in an effort to force back the pain, and saw that his torso was covered in tiny creatures, glowing like fireflies, that had eaten away his shirt and were now attacking his skin. Through the haze of pain he managed to register the absurdity of the situation - was he really being eaten alive by flies? - and cast a well-placed freezing charm.
The pain alleviated immediately.
Snape had not been as lucky. Standing in front of Kingsley, he had absorbed the brunt of the attack from these little menaces, and now his entire chest, arms, and neck were covered in angry red bites. He was struggling to maintain a grip on his wand as the little devil-like creatures attempted to pry it from his hand.
Kingsley froze them as well.
Snape let out a sigh of relief and sagged against the wall.
In the awkward silence that followed, both wizards attempted to heal their own cuts and repair their torn clothing.
After a moment, Snape said curtly, "Let's go."
Kingsley followed, brooding. He had hardly expected a thank you from Snape, but still... any display of gratitude might have been nice, given the situation and the amount of potentially foolish trust he was placing in the potions Master's intentions.
The hallway spread out in front of them, branching off to both the left and the right. A grand staircase, carpeted in what must have once been luxurious white Angora, spiraled around to the right as well. The rug was now moth-eaten and ragged along the edges. Like the rest of the house, it held the aura of something that had been beautiful once, but had long since fallen into disrepair.
Kingsley thought of Bellatrix. He'd known her before her trial and imprisonment in Azkaban. She had been a stunning beauty, perhaps even more than her sister. Where Narcissa was pale and delicate, Bellatrix was dark and full of fire and vitality. The Dark Arts had claimed her some of sanity, but Azkaban had destroyed it completely, taking with it her all beauty as well.
The house would have been fitting for her, he thought grimly. And as the oldest of the Blacks, had it stayed in the family's posession, it might have passed along to her. It was rather ironic, actually.
"They'll be keeping Minerva some place hidden," Snape mused, searching the darkness for any sign of movement as he weighed their options.
"You know so much about the house," Kingsley remarked bitterly, "didn't Yaxley confide all the hiding places to you while you served Voldemort with him?"
Snape replied with a drawl, "Contrary to popular belief, serving the Dark Lord was not a social club. We did not gossip about irrelevant facts."
"No, of course not," Kingsley agreed mockingly. "You wouldn't want to take time away from planning how to torture people?" His voice, raising just above a whisper at the end, echoed in the hallway, bouncing off the walls and floating back to them like a horrific refrain.
"...torture people... torture people... torture people..."
Snape winced, but did not reply. At length, he said, "If you wish to waste time with your petty insults and vapid remarks, by all means, go ahead. I, however, would like to find Minerva."
Kingsley refrained from commenting that he hardly thought denouncing the Dark Arts could be considered petty or valid. Instead, he noted that, once again, Snape had referred to the Headmistress by her first name. But he had little time to contemplate what that meant because Snape was already moving towards the door at the far right end of the hallway.
"What's in that door?" Kingsley demanded in a low whisper.
"The servants staircase," Snape replied. "It leads to the basement."
"Do you really think they are holding her captive in the basement?" Kingsley asked incredulously. Someone as smart as Runcorn, someone who had evaded landing in Azkaban, would hardly hide their most-wanted prisoner in plain sight in a basement.
"The dungeons are down there as well," Snape explained.
Kingsley gaped at him. "Yaxley has dungeons?"
"The Blacks originally built the dungeons two centuries ago," Snape replied vaguely, shrugging. "I suppose they thought the dungeons would be useful."
Kingsley snorted. "Useful," he muttered, shaking his head. As Snape extended his hand towards the doorknob once more, however, the Auror interrupted sharply and caught his wrist. "This is a bad idea."
"Why?" Snape asked, yanking his wrist out of Kingsley's grip.
"Because," Kingsley answered, his patience wearing thin, "You cannot just rush off into the enemy's lair. Particularly since we do not know for certain what we will find down there. We need a plan."
Snape retorted silkily, "Then tell me, Auror, what is your plan?"
"At the very least, we want to be invisible," Kingsley replied. "Disillusionment charm."
Snape smirked and reached into the folds of his robe, pulling a thin, silvery material from his pocket. "I can do better than that, Shacklebolt," he sneered in reply, extending the Cloak he had taken from the Forbidden Forest. While Kingsley had been delivering Potter back to the Weasleys, he had noticed the faint moonlight glinting of the metallic material, and had quickly pocketed it, deciding it might come in handy. "I doubt Potter will be needing this any time soon."
Kingsley wrinkled his nose in distaste at the idea of using stolen property, but he could not deny the Cloak had its uses. Unlike camouflage spells, it would keep them completely protected from any sets of eyes, even the most sharp, even those that belonged to various magical creatures. "Very well," he agreed, stepping closer to Snape so that they would both be hidden by the magical object.
They were covered, and then Snape pushed the door open.
What greeted them was nothing more than an empty staircase that circled downwards, disappearing into the gloom. The walls were heavily laden with mold and mildew, the air thick with dust. The corners were covered in cobwebs and something moved along the railing, something small and dark with several sets of legs.
A good Auror learned to study a location before engaging in any form a combat. A good Auror learned to rely on more than just hopes and wishes, and on more than adrenaline and instinct. They were important, yes, but so was logical and rational and the ability to think through each step before rushing headlong into danger. Likewise, a good spy knew that the tiniest slip up, the smallest mistake, could be the fatal clue that lead to discovery. A good spy had to understand the probabilities and likelihoods of any given action and plan for every possibility. Because the absolute worst move an Auror or a spy could make was one that did not have a contingency plan.
Snape stepped onto the staircase, his foot almost passing through the rotten wood. He levitated himself a few feet in the air, and heard Kingsley muttered a hovering charm on his shoes to propell him into the air. Then the two of them glided down the staircase.
Without any idea of what might lie ahead.
At the bottom of the stairs, they paused. The basement was quiet. Thin slivers of morning light pressed their way through the tiniest of windows along the very top of the walls. The floor was wet and slippery, and something green was growing along the corners.
The still silence was broken suddenly, with the first sounds of music. A few bars, perhaps no louder than a faint hum, filled the air. Snape turned sharply, seeking out the source of the sound. But before he could find it, he shook away the notion. What harm could a few notes bring? It was sweet, actually, and harmonic, a beautiful twisting of melody and harmony. Each note was so clear it seemed to hover in the air for eternity even as the others joined it.
He smiled, serene, content. He could have stood there and listened to the music all day.
The Invisibility Cloak slid to the floor.
Kingsley, too, let his guard down as he heard the charming sounds. His wand fell from his limp fingers, but he saw no reason to retrieve it. Who could harm him here, in this place? Who would think of violence or treachery instead of listening to this song? He sagged against a wall, and barely felt the dampness of the stone. He smiled, at peace.
Get up, Sev!
Snape started at the voice.
Don't you know? Dark and Beautiful things are dangerous! You must fight. This is not the time to sit back and be complacent.
But the song was so gentle, so endearing, how could he fight it? Why would he fight it?
Something flashed before his eyes. A sudden burst of red and green, and then the smell of flowers. Lilies.
Get up, Sev! Don't give up now. You're so close.
Every muscle in his body protested the movement, but he could hear Lily's voice urging him on, and he would do what she wished no matter what it cost him. His legs were stiff and leaden, his fingers so rubbery he could barely hold his wand. The blood was pounding in his ears, and his mind screamed at him not to do this. But Lily had asked, and how could he deny her what she wished? He extended his arm, hand shaking with the strain of completely the movement, and muttered, "Protego," in a weak and trembling voice.
It was enough.
The moment the shield charm sprung into place, the music disappeared. Snape, coming back to logic and rational with a resounding thud echoing in his head, waved his wand once more and destroyed the source of the music - an old box sitting on the floor underneath the far window.
Kingsley blinked and rubbed the back of his head. It took him a moment longer to return to reality, but he inhaled sharply the moment he realized just what had happened, and what could have happened had Snape not been able to fight off the cursed music. He swallowed nervously, awkwardly. But like Snape with the flesh-eating bugs, he chose not to express gratitude.
Instead, a different thought was forming. A new one, filled with terrifying consequences. "Nothing has been unbeatable," he murmured, searching distractedly for his wand amidst the gloom. "Nothing has been lethal, even. It's been almost... too easy."
Kingsley and Snape's eyes met, and in that moment they both knew something was wrong.
And then Snape felt his wand flying from his hand. He spun around just in time to see Yaxley emerge from the shadows, his normally cold face twisted into an expression of gloating triumph. He caught Snape's wand with ease, and then pressed his heel against the center of Kingsley's wand, snapping it in two where it lay on the stone floor. Behind him, Runcorn appeared, dragging a half-conscious Minerva with him. His wand was pressed against her neck, biting into her throat.
"You are later than I expected," Yaxley said slowly, frowning at Kingsley and Snape. "Still... I am so glad you showed up. We've been waiting for you." Runcorn gave a little smile of amusement as Minerva's eyes went wide with shock at the sight of her two unlikely rescuers, and Yaxley added, "Decent people are so easy to manipulate."