Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Yayy! I feel all happy and loved now thanks to all your amazing reviews! Thank you so much everyone! I really appreciate your support! :D
To my guest reviewers, a big thanks and some answers to your questions and comments:
Cherrie-san: Yes, it wasn't a very smart move from Macnair. You have a good point when you say that either Bill or the French Minister might owe one to Voldemort. I have no doubt that the Dark Lord will make sure to exploit it to the maximum if he can, as usual ;)
Charlie0925: Yes, the Death Eaters are rather nasty fellows, in most part. Lucy and Sevy are ok, though, in my books, hehe! :P
lilith: I won't apologise for damaging your social life. To tell you the truth, I feel rather smug about it, mouhouhaha (that was an evil laugh)! I'm also happy to read that you find the plot original. Sometimes I wonder if I haven't strayed too far from canon. You review reassured me! ;)
Boblove321: It's really nice of you to try to assuage my insecurity :) The image of you splurting your drink on your laptop screen will remain in my heart forever, I can tell you ;) Top 4, right? Pray tell, who are my crowned fellows? They are probably already in my favourites, but who knows? :)
skydreamer22: One might argue that Crouch could have tested it and demonstrated it against a duelling dummy...or a prisoner. I know that, in theory, prisoners are already getting punished for their crimes through their sentences, but well, under the Dark Lord's regime, I guess it's pretty expected that they could also serve as guinea pigs. Makes people think twice before committing a crime or going against Voldemort then, right? ;) But yeah, I suppose he gave a fair warning to Harry. It was just surprising to see that Crouch was useful for something else than make the Dark Lord show his possessive side ;)
FanFiction Lover: I think that your 'accent' is getting more pronounced with each review. I can barely understand a word you write. It's upsetting, you know? I want to read the nice things you write to me, but my poor little self can't decipher your message. :( (Yes, I'm making some sad puppy eyes at the moment) I got that you weren't sure who Gabrielle was in relation to the French Minister. Let me clarify it and hopefully, the others that didn't get it will see it as well.
Background info: Wayyy back in the story, our dear Dark Lord was infuriated with a stupid "French Minister" at the ICW that kept dismissing the Muggles as a potential threat and getting in the way of his preventive legislation. Now, you see, in my magical France, a Minister is like a Head of a Department or a Secretary (depending on which country you come from). Gabrielle's father just happens to be the Minister of Foreign Affairs (the equivalent to a Secretary of State), who is also in charge of the French delegation for the ICW. If you're from the US, it's a bit like if John Kerry was also the US ambassador to the United Nations (an office currently held by Susan Rice). I hope this clarifies it ! :)
Summary of the previous chapter: It's the Dark Lord's birthday, and the gift-giving ceremony with the Death Eaters ended with a nasty surprise. Thankfully, Harry had been able to calm down the situation with...minimal damage and is now heading to bring back our little Miss Delacour to Fleur and the Weasley's at the Shell Cottage. It's also time to get an answer to the long-awaited question (and probably forgotten in the meanwhile): What, in the name of Magic, happened to Charlie Weasley?
Chapter 44: 31st of December 1997, Part two: The Shell Cottage
I Flooed to Grimmauld Place with Gabrielle in my arms. I set her down as soon as we arrived and she looked around cautiously at the darkened reception room before turning to me again. I was suddenly quite glad I had ordered Kreacher to clean the place up a bit. I imagined that the 'Hall of Fame' made of Elves heads wouldn't have helped the situation in the slightest. Just what was it with Dark wizards and decapitation?
While I was pondering over the correlation between magical alignment and taste and just what that meant about my relationship with a Dark Lord, Gabrielle had gone to sit on a nearby couch. Her question shook me out of my pointless evaluation.
"Zat was ze Dark Lord, non? Eet iz a surprise for me zat 'E let me go like zat," she tested out with me. Clever, clever girl. I doubted I was that bright at her age.
I grimaced slightly, not knowing how to present this exactly.
"He...isn't so bad, you know. He doesn't do bad things for the sake of bad things. He just...doesn't really have a conscience like most of us. He does things to make himself and his goals better, but doesn't actively do anything wrong out of nowhere for no reason. At least, that's what I think," I rambled.
She looked at me with furrowed brows. She probably didn't understand what I had said, by the looks of it.
"I tink zat 'E was a lot more gentil because you was zere. I read the journal, you see. I know you are wit 'im. Girls zat I know like zat. zey say you make him more... nice," she offered wisely.
I coughed, a bit embarrassed at the thought of young girls gossiping about my relationship with the Dark Lord. I didn't think that anyone would be in favour of it...let alone think that I had a positive influence on him. If I had, in any case, it wasn't really apparent to me, but I was glad I had been there today to temper him and allow Gabrielle to go back to her sister. That thought put me back on track.
"Right, well, I'll contact Bill now, ok?" I asked her. She nodded, still looking at me thoughtfully.
She was such a weird little girl. I was pretty sure I hadn't been like that at eleven, or whatever age she was. At least, I certainly hadn't been that small.
I threw some Floo Powder in the fireplace and called:
"The Shell Cottage!"
I put my head through when I felt the call connect.
The distraught faces of a group of red-haired people met my eyes. I recognised Bill, who I could see standing in a corner close to a beautiful, but inconsolable blond girl, trying to reassure her. I cleared my throat and ended up coughing on the ash of the fireplace. Well, that got me their attention.
"Harry Potter!" shouted an unknown ginger with glasses, pointing at me.
Everybody gasped at the same time. Well, if this wasn't embarrassing. I didn't have time to deal with this, however.
"Bill, is that Fleur Delacour with you?" I asked him to confirm, just to give me a way to introduce the subject.
"Yes, but, Harry? What are you doing here? How do you know...?" he asked, baffled.
"I've got a pretty distraught little girl at home who says Fleur is her sister. I think she'd like to be with you now," I interrupted him.
They all gaped at me before I saw someone shove their way to the fireplace. I recognised one of the twins that had that joke shop in Diagon Alley. I hadn't made the connection between Bill and them, to be honest. I started to smile at him, but he cut me short:
"What do you want for her?" he asked in a curt voice.
It was my turn to gape. After a moment, I frowned in puzzlement.
"What do you mean by 'for her'?" I asked him, taken aback by his aggressive tone.
The twin's gaze hardened and he replied:
"We know you are with the Dark Lord so, I ask, what do you want in return for her? We don't have a lot of money, but she's family and we will do anything to get her back," he said and his twin appearing from behind him nodded in support.
I felt my face morph in astonishment.
"Well...I admire the sentiment and all, but really, I don't want anything except your permission to pass through to bring her to you."
The twin on the left huffed a dark laugh.
"Ah, yes, is that what you said to your old friends at the Rebel Camp: 'Let me pass through, I only forgot some stuff at my old house?' We won't let you bring the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord to our brother's home," he warned.
I felt stunned, and not a bit hurt. I didn't know the twins that much, to be honest, but they had always held a special place in my mind because they were one of the first people I had met outside of the Camp. I looked around at the faces of the gathered Weasley family. Some of them looked like they supported what the twins had said, while others, like Bill and Fleur, just looked as lost as I felt.
"Look. The wards are pretty tight where I am, and I can't let any of you come here. I just want the permission for Gabrielle and me to pass through. That's two people. Can you let two people pass?" I tried to reason with them.
"If we let two people pass, it will be you and the Dark Lord, that's for sure!" the same twin argued angrily.
"Why would the Dark Lord want anything to do with you anyway? Why would he be so interested in going to your house?" I enquired.
Now, that sounded suspicious. But I wasn't there to interrogate them, nor was it my business to keep the Dark Lord's regime in order. I happened to think that their group for equality was pretty cool now that I remembered it, actually. I wasn't sure about involving myself with it, but it would be perfect for Neville when he got out, in fact. Maybe he could even sound it out for me. I shook my head to get myself back on track and my vision swam slightly. Wow, am I still a bit dizzy from the earlier magical strain?
"Never mind, I don't care about that. Gabrielle is anxious to see you again. She's been through a lot. I told her you'd want to see her as soon as possible and it's taking way too much time now, she'll be asking herself questions," I warned them.
I felt bad for using the Dark Lord's 'pacification through emotional manipulation' methods on them, but really, what was wrong with them? Didn't they want Gabrielle back as soon as possible?
Fleur hurried to the fireplace, tears falling from her reddened eyes.
"What do you mean? Someting 'appened to 'er? Waz she 'urt? Is she ok?" she asked desperately.
"Er, ah, er...She's ok now, I think," I answered hesitantly, not knowing what to say.
"Zen what are you waiting for, little boy? Bring 'er to me now! She need me!" shouted Fleur at me, her beautiful face deformed in anguish.
I nodded at her seriously, before looking at Bill, who probably held the wards in the house. He nodded once, indicating that he'd let me pass. I pulled my head back to Grimmauld Place.
Gabrielle was there, crying softly on a nearby sofa.
I approached her slowly, to avoid startling her. I had no idea how to deal with other people's tears.
"Gabrielle?" I asked her.
She shook her head and buried it in her hands.
"Fleur doz not want me now, no? I am...salie," she said in a small voice.
I frowned at the unknown word, but I could address the first part of her reply, at least.
"Of course she wants you back, Gabrielle. You also have many protective big brothers who were all worried about you. It took some time to reassure them that I really had you with me," I replied in the softest voice I could manage, slowly placing a hand on her knee in what I hoped was a comforting manner. She flinched a bit at my touch, so I withdrew it quickly.
"Do you want to go and see them, then? They are right in there. It's just one trip of Floo, and you will be with your sister again, ok?" I suggested.
She nodded minutely before throwing herself in my arms.
"Mon héros," I heard her say in my neck.
I flushed in embarrassment. I really wasn't a hero. I just did what anybody else would have done. And probably more clumsily. At least, she had stopped crying now.
I picked her up and carried her to the Floo, calling out the address and stepping into the fire decidedly.
.
In mid-travel, however, I felt her being torn away from my grip and violently separated. The fire expelled me more roughly than I had ever been and I fell against a wall, hitting my head on the stone.
"Ow! What the heck?" I exclaimed in shock.
Disoriented, I didn't pick up on the people surrounding me before one of them grabbed my jaw and opened my mouth forcefully, shoving a vial to it. Once they had poured something in it, they blocked my nose and my mouth, forcing me to swallow the Potion they had made me drink. Another one grabbed my arms and pushed me down on the floor. I trashed around, my magic swirling widely, but it still too weak from the earlier strain and it couldn't shove my aggressors away. I felt my blood pump loudly in my ears and my vision started to blacken. I thought it would be worse to lose consciousness among them than to drink whatever they had put in my mouth, so I swallowed it reluctantly.
Veritaserum, oh no...and in much too big quantity. That could be lethal if I don't vomit it up within the next minutes.
As soon as I swallowed, the hands let go of my face and let me fall forward.
I vaguely hear panicked voices in the background, but couldn't focus on them.
I made a show of coughing as if I hadn't swallowed properly while I contracted my stomach muscles and willed myself to vomit until I finally did with a bit of help from my magic. I heaved on the ground, unable to hold myself up because my hands were now tied in my back. When I finished vomiting, I felt hands lifting me back up against the wall and a bright light blinding me and preventing me from seeing who was in the room with me.
"Why did you throw up?" asked a voice, trying to sound tough.
Despite everything I vomited, I still felt the fog of the Veritaserum try to take over my mind. I tightened my Occlumency shields to counter it. As long as they didn't ask endangering questions, or ask about secrets that I didn't want to share, it was easier to just go along with the effect, however. Trying to resist Veritaserum was akin to trying to paddle upstream in rapids. It was much easier to let the current carry you and move slightly the trajectory to avoid the rocks.
I didn't like the feeling of being carried away with minimal control, however, so I tested out the bindings on my hands to see if I could regain my footing in that direction. I discovered that they were made of conjured rope, which is more vulnerable to erosion by magic. I started to work on it as subtly as I could as I let my mouth speak for me:
"Because I would have died from the amount you initially gave me," I said, letting the potion speak for me. I thought it was obvious why I had to vomit, really.
I heard a slap (which thankfully hadn't been for me) and a hissed admonishment: "I told you not to pour too much of it!"
"It just came out of the vial too fast! And it was too late when I realised it!" defended another voice.
"Get out of here now! I don't even know why B...he sent you with us. We'll deal with it. We are professionals. Go bother G...her!" commanded one. The idiot who had poured too much Potion grumbled and I heard a door slam as he probably exited.
So the remaining people were the 'professionals', here? I wondered if they interrogated a lot of people to qualify themselves as such.
"Who was responsible for the bomb incident at the Ministry?" asked the voice. Why would they want to know that? It had nothing to do with today, right?
"The suspects are the Rebels in general, and Moody in particular," I answered in a droning voice. I felt another information bubble at my lips and let it pass, to see what else I had forgotten.
"The Dark Lord also suspects Muggles, Wizards related to Muggles or with contacts in the Muggle World, or Foreign forces to be conjointly responsible," came out of my mouth. I frowned slightly at the information, but thought it was too widespread to be of any use. It just showed that the Dark Lord had a lot of suspects and was perhaps a bit paranoid.
I hear another slap. It sounded like it hit the back of a head. Apparently, even between 'professionals', they enjoyed hitting each other.
"We are not supposed to ask about that now! Ask about Gabrielle!" the other whispered.
"What did you do to Gabrielle Delacour?" the voice asked after a heavy silence.
The question was vague enough that I was presented with multiple choices of answers.
"I consoled her, determined her identity and brought her back to her family," I answered neutrally.
"Did you touch her?" it growled at me menacingly.
-I..."the Potion was conflicted between the implied meaning of touching and its absolute one. "I took her by the hand to bring her here, I placed a hand on her knee briefly and I put her on my hip to carry her through the Floo twice. I did not touch her inappropriately."
I heard sighs of relief. I was glad I had the opportunity to share that information before they could come to their own conclusions.
"Wait, wait, do you know if anybody touched her?" asked another voice.
"Inappropriately, I suspect that a man named Macnair did. In ordinary touches, I think that there are too many people that could have touched her for me to name them all," I answered in a droning tone, trying to steer away from giving a list that would include the Dark Lord. I frowned at how smartass the reply sounded, but was overall satisfied with the vagueness of my words.
"Macnair, that's a Death Eater! I knew it! Was it the Dark Lord that ordered her kidnapping?
-No," I said categorically, some of the anger I felt bleeding through my voice.
"Hmm, that was a bit short, for an answer. What did the Dark Lord do to Gabrielle?" they dug closer.
I wouldn't let them get the wrong idea of what happened though.
"He talked to her, asked her questions, placed his hand on her head to clean her hair and her face and transfigured my robes into the dress that she was wearing when she arrived here." Among other things, I managed to complete silently in my head.
"Why was she wearing your robes?
"Because I gave them to her," I answered shortly.
"Why did you give them to her?
-Because she wasn't wearing any and I couldn't bare the sight of her naked and trembling form on the cold floor," I said, wincing internally because I gave them details that I would have preferred not to mention. I hadn't managed to keep that information to myself.
At my words, they started to swear angrily and hit things. The light was still blinding me and I had resolved to close my eyes to escape its glare, so I couldn't see what they were doing. At least they didn't take their frustrations out on me.
"Who took off her clothes?" asked a voice, disgust clear in their voice.
"I don't know, but I can only assume it was Macnair.
-Why would he do that?" exclaimed angrily one of them. It was probably a rhetorical question, but the Veritaserum demanded an answer of me.
"He was a pedophile and thought the Dark Lord was one as well. When he saw Gabrielle, he decided to offer her to the Dark Lord, but the Dark Lord isn't a pedophile and punished Macnair for kidnapping her." The words came out in one block and left me exhausted with the effort of controlling slightly my answer. I wanted to regain the upper hand on the Potion, in case a question came out that I really didn't want to answer.
"So the Dark Lord didn't want her, then? He didn't kidnap her?
-No, he neither wanted her nor kidnapped her," I said categorically. I felt nearly happy to get that question out of the way. Or at least, I did before the Veritaserum made me say: "Or so he told me." Dammit, now it sounded as if he had kept his vicious penchant hidden for my sake. I struggled to get a justification out.
"But I don't think he did. He isn't a pedophile, or he wouldn't have..." I started, struggling to keep the rest of the sentence unvoiced. He wouldn't have hesitated to start something with me because of my age if that were the case, I managed to complete in my head. And then, the Veritaserum wanted me to precise that he could have lied about that and that I didn't really know what he was thinking, but the last thing I wanted was to confess my insecurities and worries to my interrogators, so I managed to clench the urge down with difficulty.
There was a silence in which I guessed they evaluated whether to pursue that line of questioning and force me to say everything on the subject, but thankfully, they moved on.
"Did you want her or kidnapped her?
-No, I didn't want her or kidnapped her," I said, thankful for the finality in my voice and the lack of struggle from the Potion.
They sighed and stayed silent for a while. I continued to work on the bindings in the meanwhile. I could probably take out my hands if I needed to now. Baring a few details, their line of questioning was one I would have followed without Veritaserum anyway and, despite their big mess-up with the quantities given at the beginning of our 'interview', they hadn't shown any more aggression toward me than what was warranted in this difficult situation, so I kept myself in place.
"I guess that he was telling the truth about that," commented one.
"Yeah, but how do we know if he's really a good guy?" said the other.
"He hasn't got a Dark Mark," pointed out the first who went to lift my sleeve up.
"Yeah, but he's supposed to be his lover. Shouldn't that count for two Dark Marks, anyway?" questioned the second.
"Hey, have you got a Dark Mark anywhere?" I got asked.
"No," I answered, happy that they hadn't asked whether the Dark Lord had marked me, because then I might have had to talk about my scar. They were getting closer to a more delicate topic for me.
"What do you think of the Dark Lord's regime?" asked one of them.
"I think that it's flawed, prejudiced and unfair to Muggleborns in particular, and to Half-Bloods to a certain extent. I think that it made great progress in other areas. I would prefer if it were a democracy, or even a constitutional monarchy, if the Dark Lord doesn't want to relinquish his position at the top," I explained, volunteering information I wanted to transmit anyway. I thought it was weird that I was suggesting to actually keep the Dark Lord in place. If they had asked the same question a few months before, I certainly wouldn't have said that. Perhaps I had become too accustomed to his presence at the top to imagine it in any other way, or perhaps I had come to the realisation that he was genius enough to actually deserve his title. It might also be that I had seen him work in the past months and had gotten the impression that he was the one really keeping the ball rolling in the Ministry.
"If you'd prefer a democracy, why don't you do anything about it?" That was a good question, and one that made me feel a twinge of guilt in my gut. Didn't I use to have all those plans to make the regime fairer? Would I just let my political aspirations die because I have been exposed as the Dark Lord's lover?"
" I was planning on joining Bill Wealsey's Equality for All group after I obtained my NEWTs," I revealed, surprising myself. Well, I had thought about it for a while, before all these Horcruxes and insanity crises distracted me. It still sounded like a good idea, although I really didn't like my interrogators' methods. I didn't know if they were part of that group at all, however.
"Holy shit! Bill was right?" one asked rhetorically.
"I don't know the answer to this question," I was forced to say. They stayed silent for a while, as if they didn't know where to go from now. Professionals, my ass. I knew more about it than them thanks to nice private session with Moody about it when I was still at the Rebel Camp
"Okay, Okay, I've got one. Are you really the Dark Lord's lover, and if yes, why?
-Yes, and because I want him," I answered, frowning at this line of questioning while struggling to keep myself from sprouting love declarations in this setting. They sounded more like gossips and journalists than interrogators now.
"Ewww! Why would you?" another asked rhetorically, again.
"I find him intelligent, fascinating, charismatic, powerful and handsome. He is a talented lover," I answered honestly and concisely, though I felt like I should be discussing this with tea and crumpets instead of tied in a basement with the taste of Veritaserum and vomit in my mouth.
"Oh Merlin, Fred, quit asking questions about that. The next thing we know, he'll be giving us juicy details of their sex life...No, no, no, don't even think about it!"
I heard the sounds of a scuffle. They were bad interrogators, even with the help of the Potion. At least they weren't violent toward me. I just didn't get the set up with the rope bindings and the blinding light. I didn't know who at left at the beginning, but it wasn't as if I hadn't recognised the twins the second they talked. And George had just confirmed it now when he called the other 'Fred'. They had obviously not planned this well. At least, it confirmed to me that the whole thing with Gabrielle wasn't a horrible set-up to imprison me and deliver me to Moody.
I heard a door open and the twins exit the room. Is the interrogation over?
Why didn't they detach me, then? Weren't they satisfied with my answers? I thought them over. I had clearly exonerated the Dark Lord and myself without revealing too much. I was, overall, pleased with my performance of redirecting information. I hadn't have a lot of training at the Rebel Camp in resisting Veritaserum. They had preferred to keep me uninformed than to risk their secrets if I were captured while carrying out my 'Task'.
When the door opened again, a few people entered the room and one gasped in surprise.
"What have you done to him? Are you insane?" shouted the voice I recognised as Bill Weasley. So, the whole interrogation setting wasn't planned then?
One of the twins cleared his throat and I heard a nervous shuffling on the ground.
"We didn't do anything, really. We didn't touch him, except for binding him up," defended one of them. I noticed that they omitted the 'slight' slip up with the Veritaserum dosage. I guessed that it was someone else's fault, in theory.
"Did he protest at your questions? Was he violent?" asked Bill again, in a disbelieving voice. It was a good point, actually. I would have gladly answered most of their questions even without a Potion.
"No, not particularly, but you know we couldn't take any chances. He's trained to be a real killing machine and who knows what the Dark Lord showed him since then," defended the twins.
I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead. While it was true that I had the capacity for killing people efficiently −and certainly the power to do so− I had never used it on real people...apart from in the Rebel raid when I was under the trance, and even then, I wasn't really sure of what I had done. Maybe the Dark Lord was the one who had killed them? My memories of that night were a bit fuzzy. The only thing I could remember clearly was the Magic coursing through my veins and how I felt like I was connected to everything in the world all of a sudden.
Guilt churned in my stomach when I thought of those who died that day. I didn't even know what had happened to the prisoners, except for Neville. At the basis, I was supposed to be there for their interrogations to make sure that they were treated right, but after the drama with Marvolo, I had mostly forgotten about that part of the agreement. I could only hope that they waited for me to conduct the interrogations and that the captured Rebels were fine in the transition house at the moment. I would ask the Dark Lord about it when I'd be back at the Manor.
While I was thinking, Bill had apparently taken on the task of scolding the twins to submission. I focused back on what was happening when the light blinding me was shut off and I felt him take off my bindings. As soon as I was free, I brought a hand up to wipe my mouth and clean it from its disgusting taste of vomit and Potion with the help of a discreet wandless charm.
A hand took my arm firmly, but not brutally, and steered me toward a chair in the corner of the room. I could still see dark spots tainting my vision. I let myself drop heavily on the chair, my head swimming at my magical strain and the vomiting. I should have left the ropes alone instead of using up what little magic I had recuperated since Crouch's draining spell.
"First off, I want to apologise for the interrogation my brothers put you through. It really wasn't what I had in mind when I asked them to ask you for your version of the story..." Bill said before pausing, looking uncomfortable. "Your story matches with Gabrielle's. I am very grateful...we are all very grateful that you brought her back to us safe and sound. I apologise for my brothers' attitude again. They can't really stand anyone even remotely close to the Dark Lord after what happened to my older brother and my sister," he explained cryptically.
I lifted an eyebrow in puzzlement, wondering if he'd explain that statement.
"Godric, I can't believe you're the Dark Lord's lover. You're the same age as my youngest brother!" he said, disbelieving, before detailing me and frowning.
"How many brothers do you have?" I asked him, because it seemed like he had an endless amount of them. I recalled having seen quite a few redheaded guys when I had Firecalled. Surely, they couldn't all be his brothers, right?
"Five brothers and a sister," he responded automatically, before he flinched. "Sorry, I meant four. The answer is just so ingrained in my mind that I keep forgetting that Charlie isn't there anymore..."
It was the second time he referred to that mysterious dead brother in as many minutes. It sounded like he wanted me to ask him what had happened to him, so I did.
He looked impossibly sadder, turning his head away and closing his eyes: the very picture of grief. I felt a twinge of unease at the upcoming story. I would have heard of it if the Dark Lord had killed someone recently, right?
"Has he...passed away recently?" I asked, trying to infuse my voice with sympathy instead of the worry I really felt.
Bill snorted in self-deprecation before he shook his head slowly.
"No, no, not even. He was killed about ten years ago. You must think that we are pathetic, right? We're stuck on his death without moving on, even after so long..." he answered, before trailing off.
I frowned in thought. Sometimes, I had the impression that I hadn't taken enough time to grieve Sirius and felt guilty because of it. Apparently, those who grieved longer could still feel as bad as I did, but for the opposite reason.
"I guess that there isn't a set amount of time for which you should grieve. It takes the time that it takes, really," I said in pseudo-wisdom, before hesitating. "Maybe though, after so long, you should try to make peace with what happened?" I advised tentatively. It wasn't as if I knew anything of the situation, really.
I was unprepared for the burst of anger that tore through Bill's usual calm.
"How dare you tell me to make peace with his death when his killer is sitting comfortably on a cushy throne, oppressing this society and lording over all of us as if it was his right to be in charge! He is a monster! I know his true side! He isn't the handsome man you know, Harry. It's just a mask! Underneath it all is a snake-faced evil bastard!" he burst out.
I struggled to keep my calm. I hated being shouted at. It made me want to shout back, even when I didn't have any reasons to do so. It wasn't the first time I had heard the Dark Lord described as such. It was one of Sirius' favourite lines, after all. It had just become more personal since then.
"I am aware of his character. I do live with the man, you know," I answered as calmly as I could. "I think that 'monster', however, is a bit of a strong term to describe him. He isn't so bad, really, when you get to know him," I defended my lover, although I knew that Marvolo subdued somewhat his cruel behaviour in my presence most of the time.
Bill looked at me in disbelief.
"Are you going to tell me that a wizard who tears through your wards in the middle of the night, barges in your house, wakes up everyone and tortures my mother and my little sister until my brother reveals that he is part of the Rebellion and then proceeds to kill him in the most excruciating way possible in front of all his family isn't. so. bad?" he asked, outraged. "My sister can't even use her Magic properly now! She barely qualified for Hogwarts and struggles to produce a Lumos! She's still traumatised! From something that happened ten years ago! That's how bad it was!"
I felt my eyes open wide at that. Somehow, it felt different to know that, in theory, your lover was a Dark Lord and did horrible things than to hear someone who had actually witnessed and been affected by some of those atrocities.
"So, he might be all nice and caring with his fuck-toy, Potter," he said, spitting my name out disdainfully. "But it doesn't change that he is a soulless monster, rotten to the core. And the sooner you realise that and get the fuck away from his grasp, the better it will be. For everyone."
If there was one thing I couldn't tolerate, it was people presuming to know better and trying to tell me what to do. I hated self-righteousness because it was rampant among the Rebels. I was tempted to give him a piece of my mind and show him some of famous training he had heard about, but something kept me in place. I just couldn't understand what this guy wanted with me. Why was he working so hard, and working himself up like that to convince me of his opinion? It didn't make any sense. He shouldn't care so much about my decision, even if he had counted on 'The Boy-Who-Lived's dubious prestige'.
So I sat there for a while, looking at him gravely and waiting for the other shoe to drop. After cursing around a lot and passing his hands angrily through his hair, he finally calmed down and sat back in his chair.
He didn't seem very forthcoming in his explanations, however, so I took the initiative.
"Was this the reason you wanted me to come and see you in the first place, then? To convince me that I should take my distance from him?" I asked Bill, trying to get to the bottom of it.
He shook his head.
"When I met you at the Ministry, I didn't even know what was going on with you. I was just hoping you'd give my organisation your support and I knew you would agree with my vision. You did really great on your OWLs, and you have a name to yourself because of what happened when you were a baby, you know," he said, gesticulating vaguely in the direction of my forehead.
I still wasn't convinced.
"You risked a lot, talking to me like that without knowing if I would be receptive to what you were suggesting. I had never even met you before. How did you know that I would agree with you based on how I did in a practical exam and something that happened to me as a baby?" I challenged. At the time, I thought his openness was a bit weird, but now, it was down right suspicious. Where did his knowledge of me come from?
"Well, I mean, you know, it's not just the test. I had heard of you before and knew a bit how you were, you know?" he said, hesitating.
He seemed to have caught on what I was trying to make him say. The fact was that very few people knew of me as I grew up. Of those, most used to live pretty much all the time at the Rebel Camp. A lot of them were dead now. Perhaps even some by my hand, I thought, still nauseated by my lack of remorse.
There were a few, though, that could have talked to him. One of them was Moody, but he would never had given me a ringing endorsement. And neither would have Tonks, if I remembered her well. The only one I could think of was Remus. And it felt like someone had gutted me when I realised that I didn't know him as well as I thought I did. For him to sell me to this unknown variable and put me in this position without talking to me about it at all...it felt like a betrayal and I was all too familiar with them.
I was 'this' close to blow off my cauldron. I clenched my teeth, breathed through my nose as slowly as I could while I stared Bill down. I guessed that, the Dark Lord's lover or not, he still needed me for his organisation and that was why he was trying to convince me to step away from Voldemort's sphere of influence.
He didn't understand the relationship dynamic between Marvolo and I if he thought I was with him because he was so nice to me and that I would surely rise in indignation against the Dark Lord if I knew his 'ugly side'. The truth was that we both initially entered our 'arrangement' knowing that we had different political opinions and that we couldn't reconcile them. Even as our relationship started to become more serious, we didn't try to influence the other's political views or make them 'see reason'. Or, rather, the Dark Lord sometimes explained his decision-making process to me and tried to manipulate me to give in on certain issues and I tried to reason my opinions about certain issues with him, but I didn't have any expectation that he would take them into account and change the way he governed. I had barely started to realise that our relationship might not be as fragile as I had thought it initially, I didn't think I could influence him in any other way than by convincing him rationally from time to time, or by negotiating like I did with the Rebels' lives.
So, Bill didn't get my position at all. I wasn't planning on leaving the Dark Lord, unless something happened, or he kicked me out, but that didn't mean that I necessarily wanted to stay in his sphere of influence politically.
However, to be honest, I wasn't sure if I still wanted to be part of Bill's organisation. After all, if I had been any less knowledgeable, and I probably had Snape to thank for that particular piece of information, the carelessness of someone who was probably one of his brothers with the Veritaserum would have cost me my life today. It was as bad as that. If I counted Crouch's spell, I had survived two lethal moves in one day thanks to my magical knowledge. Third time's a charm, right? I thought cynically.
I didn't want to report them to the Dark Lord, though, because Remus was apparently part of his organisation, and probably Tonks as well. The fact that I had no business deciding whether a peaceful political group should be shut down was another argument. Ultimately, only one of his brothers had messed up. And I understood the need to interrogate me, even if they could have gone through it differently. I had brought back to their home a little girl who had nearly been molested and violated in the worst of ways. I got the urgency and the anger. It was understandable. But this organisation, with all its bitterness and anti-Dark Lord ideals, felt a bit too much like a rehash of the Rebellion for me to be comfortable with joining it. The only difference I could see at the moment was that Moody wasn't there to push them in the back to take more drastic measures.
With the Rebel Camp down and nobody else to take up the extremist mantel, however, I felt that this movement might be in danger of losing its pacifistic message over time. Perhaps I should put another of the Dark Lord's techniques into application now, if I wanted to avoid that outcome.
I got up slowly from my chair, still staring fixedly at Bill, who immediately started to look nervous at my move. I crossed my arms and looked down on him seriously.
"Bill Weasley," I called, trying to borrow the low tone of absolute authority I had heard Marvolo use a few times with his minions. "As the leader of this organisation, the responsibility of preserving its pacifistic spirit and image lies in your hands. You were right in saying that we share similar goals and values, but I am not convinced that this movement won't turn into another violent Rebellion supporters," I confessed.
I stopped, thinking about my move. If nobody monitored them, we would never know what they were planning. At this point, I didn't think I could count on Remus to report on them for me. Maybe Neville could? But I didn't know if I could trust Neville at all, or whether he'd do that for me. So I couldn't depend on him for that either at this moment.
I relaxed my posture minutely, letting my hands rest of my hips, but without sitting down again.
"However... your organisation as it is at the moment appeals to me. I am not sure to which extent I would like to be implicated, however. For the moment, I would like to assist to a few of your meetings only as an observer. You understand, of course, that it is quite a serious decision to take. I am also not quite sure if my presence there would be safe, considering how I was treated today. Did you know that one of your brothers just gave me a lethal dose of Veritaserum? I don't imagine this particular piece of information would help you worm your way into the heart of our current government, if you catch my drift," I hinted at with a lifted eyebrow.
I drew myself back up, scrutinising Bill. He had started frowning at me at some point during my speech. He probably expected me to be more Gryffindor about it. After the last few months in the company of the fiercest of Slytherins alive, however, blackmailing and playing on other people's emotions came to me slightly more naturally. According to Lucius, what I didn't have in finesse, I compensated for in audacity and adaptability.
"So, what do you want exactly? Just to go to the meetings without endorsing the movement directly?" asked Bill before shrugging confusedly. "That's all I would have wanted you to do in the first place anyway, you know..." he continued hesitantly.
I lifted a hand to interrupt what he was going to say.
"I also want an oath that you will let no harm come to me if I attend these meetings and that I will not be detained against my will, or threatened or blackmailed into doing anything. Right now, I will only ask you to take it, but if any of these things happen, you will be forced to intervene and put a stop to it. Is that clear?" I asked him, all the while thinking that I was pulling a typical Marvolo move with the oath. Perhaps his company had affected my behaviour more than I thought, in the end. After glancing at a clock in the corner that had a guest hand at 'running late, you'd better go', I decided to wrap this up quickly if I wanted to return in time for the Dark Lord's birthday party.
Thankfully, Bill agreed without much delay and swore his oath without trying to 'weasel' his way out of certain clauses (Draco is a bad influence on my vocabulary). He did look disgruntled at my methods, however. Maybe it would have gone over more smoothly if I had acted like the Gryffindor I knew I still had in me and had started a shouting match with him. I still wasn't very agile in this political game, however. I blamed the Camp and how isolated I had been, growing up, for my social awkwardness. It was ironic that I had never felt more at ease in my life than in the company of the Darkest and most powerful wizards in Britain's government.
I tried to smooth things over with Bill by shaking his hand and telling him that I might know someone else who would be interested to join in. He appeared worried at first, but then grew more enthusiastic as I talked about Neville to him. I might not trust the latter yet to let him fly solo, but I thought that if I monitored his first contacts with the EFA, I might be able to gradually let him deal with them.
I didn't really know how I would present this whole thing to the Dark Lord, however. I thought of my resolution to be more honest and open with him. I had already half-lied to him that day about Bill. It wasn't going well so far and I really couldn't go to meet-ups here and pretend I wasn't hiding anything. I felt a slight worry gnawing at my stomach at the thought of opening up to Marvolo on my political strategy. It went against my survival instincts to reveal freely such information. I tried to clench it down, but I couldn't help but to feel ill at ease with it. This was one of my back-up plans. I was making myself more vulnerable to him by doing that.
If I wanted him to open up, however, I had to channel some of the Gryffindor in me and I had to dive in first.
My decision taken, I took a steadying breath, bid my farewell to Bill, sent my greetings up to Gabrielle and Disapparated back to Malfoy Manor directly.
.
Already this felt like the longest day of my life. And it was far from over. I still had a serious discussion with a Dark Lord, and a dancing reception, of all things, to go through. I sent a silent plea to Magic and the Gods of Nature to support me through all that separated me from my comfy bed that night. And as much as I was skeptical of Magic's, or of any divine power influencing events directly, in retrospective, it was possible that this thought had saved my life.
.
Sorry for the little ominous note at the end. I couldn't help it. There is nearly always something bad happening to Harry, doesn't it?
Next chapter is the part 3 of the Dark Lord's birthday! It will also contain a few types of 'action', if you catch my drift, and some major (in my humble opinion) plot development! Yes, and we will also get the answer to Voldie's little deductive challenge, in case 'the mystery of the gift-giving ceremony' is still plaguing you. ;)
Thank you in advance for reviewing! :D