Chapter 17: Evil Rising
The carriage was moving so quickly that Lavender could hardly take in the scenery as it whipped passed her. She had never been this far from home—never imagined she would travel, but here she was, bound for Scotland. It hadn't been her idea. Mr. Dursley told her that it would be safest if she left immediately. There was simply no telling what Lord Snape would do if he found out that she had told. She had heard that the lord could be quite mean when he was angry. Mr. Dursley had sworn that he would tell no one that she had come to him. In fact, Mr. Dursley had even paid for her expenses and given her a generous purse in return for the information she gave him about Harry.
At first, Lavender had felt terrible about breaking her promise to keep quiet, but then she had heard how poor Mr. Dursely was only trying to keep Harry safe and away from prying eyes. It seemed that Dursley was not at all the monster people made him out to be.
Suddenly, Lavender was rocked from her seat as the carriage came to a sharp halt. She let out a murmured prayer and pulled herself up from the floor. Sticking her head out of the window, Lavender called out for the driver. "Why did we stop?" she asked when the young man appeared.
"I was only tol' to bring ye this far, miss," he replied in a rather nervous tone.
Lavender frowned. "Surely this is some kind of joke."
The driver shook his head gravely. "And God be with ye, miss, cos I won't."
She nearly fell back inside the carriage as the weight of what was happening settled upon her. Her heart began to pound, and her breathing became labored. She was bound to have one of her attacks, but she couldn't seem to find the will to reach for her medicine. It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps Vernon Dursley was a monster after all. Dear God, what a fool she'd been! She prayed that if she just got to London early enough she could warn Lord Snape and Hermione.
A strangled cry jolted her from her plans.
Forcing herself to peer out the window once again, Lavender was just in time to see the driver's body fall. A man—his face and form indistinguishable in the dim moonlight—laughed and brandished his knife about calmly. "Come out, dearest, it's time to pay for your transgressions," he said smoothly in a voice as elegant as it was cold.
"Please, no," Lavender begged pitifully as she huddled against the velvet-lined carriage wall.
Outside, that horrible laugh sounded again. The door opened slowly. Now, with the light of the carriage torch, she could see the face of evil. In all her life, she had never seen a man so terribly scarred. His face was a taught mask of seared skin, his nose and lips were no more than mere reminders of what might have been, but those features mattered little compared to the pure evil in his dark eyes. He smiled in a macabre fashion and lifted his blade into view—still bathed in the driver's blood.
"I thought it unfair to send you to hell alone, child," he murmured.
Lavender couldn't even catch enough breath to scream.
On that same night, Lord Severus Snape also learned a few things about evil. Though not a particularly naive man, Severus soon realized that his own dealings with the darker side of life were not nearly as vast as he might have thought. It began with Pettigrew's detailed description of how he had watched a man named Tom Riddle violate and brutalize the Potters. Severus could not hold back a chill running down his spine as Pettigrew told them that he had forced his accomplices to hold Sir James while they made him watch as Riddle raped and mutilated his wife. In the end, Pettigrew said that Sir James' own death was a blessing after what they wrought on him.
"And what of Harry?" Severus asked, feeling cold. "Why even take the boy in if they were only going to kill him?"
Pettigrew shrugged. "It weren't Dursley's idea. His wife didn't know that he was involved in her sister's death. Now don't get me wrong, she didn't shed a damned tear over her 'beloved' sister, but it don't mean she'd like to see her off'ed as what her husband had done. Dursley thought his missus might not suspect if the boy were to have an 'accident' in a year or two. He thought he'd kill the boy like he'd killed his parents…just later, but then the boy got sick. Mrs. Dursley was the one who thought up hiding the boy, and I guess in Dursley's eyes if people thought he were dead and his missus still didn't think nothin' then all was well. And it was."
A wave of nausea washed over Severus. "Mrs. Dursley was the one who had him kept in the barn?"
"Said it was her Christian duty to see that he stayed locked away so he wouldn't be dirtying their good name with his madness," Pettigrew replied with a shrug.
Mr. Whit seemed rather unfazed by the information Pettigrew had given them. He gave the lord a look before asking his own questions. "And what does Dursley mean to do in London?"
Pettigrew took a long drink from his bottle. "I don't rightly know. After that girl come to him, he said that we was to pack up for London. He ain't said a word to me about it either way. He did pay someone to deliver some kind of urgent message though, now that I think of it."
"What girl?" Whit asked.
"Dunno. Some little bird named Lavender."
Right away Severus felt a flash of unsurpassed rage but held it in. "What was in the message?"
"Dunno that either," Pettigrew said with great annoyance. "I've told ye what I know. Now I'll take me money and go. It won't be safe be for too much longer."
At Whit's command, one of the footmen gave Pettigrew his money, and the little man scurried from the carriage. Before he left, he turned to Severus. "Mi'lord, if I was ye, I would get the boy well out of London and soon. If I know Dursley, he ain't about to risk his hold on the money."
When Pettigrew was gone and the carriage was in motion, Mr. Whit turned to Severus. "Things have gotten more dangerous," the investigator commented.
Severus nodded. "I understand if you will want to augment your fee."
"No," Whit said, shaking his head. "I won't ask for more money for myself. I always assume a certain amount of risk in these things for myself. However, I do recommend you pay for bodyguards for yourself and the boy. I know a few good men that I trust. Also—though I dearly hate to agree with that man—I don't think leaving London would be a bad idea."
Severus weighed his options carefully. "And just where do you suggest I go?"
"I'm sure we'll think of something," Whit replied, looking suddenly more careworn than he had earlier. "I must say, in all my years, I have never dealt with anything like this. I may have to call in what favors I'm owed down on Bowstreet."
"Do what you must," Severus told him wearily. "And I shall do what I must."