Chapter 43: Catching Up
Severus sent his letters via owl-post when the Knight Boat docked near London to drop off some passengers who wanted to watch the fireworks on Guy Fawkes night. Guy's attempt to blow up the House of Lords was a terrible crime, but what the way they had tortured him to death afterward was sickening. Civilization had advanced a bit since those days, thank Merlin.
The letters went to Millicent Bulstrode, Marigold Montague, and Harry Potter. Potter owed him several life debts and it was time to request a small payment. There was also a letter to Lucius Malfoy thanking him for the ticket to the New Years Eve masquerade ball at Hogwarts and requesting tickets for Kat and Seabiscuit. Severus offered to pay for them, but he hoped Lucius would provide them at no charge, or at least at a reduced price. The event was intended restore the Malfoy family's standing in wizarding Britain and Lucius would want it to be well attended. Mysterious visitors from far-away America would make the affair seem even more important. But on the other hand, Lucius was Lucius, so he'd probably want full price.
Severus was very wary of going back to Hogwarts. It could reopen old wounds and send him spiraling back into depression. But he needed to find out why he'd been having pleasant dreams about the place lately, instead of the usual nightmares. Was someone trying to lure him back there? If so, he needed to find out who, and why. What could someone want from him now? He had to get to the bottom of the matter. It might become dangerous.
His last dream had been ridiculous. He'd been brewing potions for the school and people kept stopping by to thank him. No one had ever thanked him except Poppy Pomfrey. What utter nonsense!
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"I brought you some coffee," Seabiscuit said as he came onto the bridge.
Kat was on duty, steering the boat through the cold, dark depths of the North Atlantic. Fawkes was perched by the map table and chirped at the cook. Everyone else was asleep.
"Yes, I have sugar cookies for you, you big beautiful birdie," Biscuit said, putting a plate of cookies on the map table. Then he handed Kat a mug of coffee. "I'm so glad Slade has decided to attend that masquerade ball. I think it'll give him closure."
"Or it might push him over the edge," Kat said, snatching a cookie before the phoenix could grab it. "Remember what he was like when he first got here?"
Biscuit smiled. "Don't worry! We'll be there to look after him."
"Somehow, I don't think he'd find that comforting. He probably thinks we'll get into trouble and he'll have to rescue us."
"Then we'll just have to do our best to disappoint him," Biscuit laughed. "Anyway, he's agreed that we'll go as pirates. He'll be Captain Hook. I'll be Mr Smee, and you can be Jolly Roger. We've got hats and cutlasses, but we'll need a few other things, plus some hair dye and contact lenses for Slade. I'll make a list and go shopping when we get to the next major port. This is going to be fun!"
"I hope you're right," Kat said.
Fawkes looked out the window and winked at a whale that was diving past. Then he gobbled down the last cookie.
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It was a few days later when Clayton Urquhart joined some of the other former Slytherins at a table in the library. He cast Muffliato and called the meeting to order. Meetings of the disbanded Houses were forbidden, so small groups got together discreetly to make plans and pass along information.
"We're doing pretty well, making it look like we're getting along with the others now, even Gryffindor," Clayton said. "And the others are holding up their end of the plan, too. I've even had some reasonable conversations with a few of the Gryffies lately."
"Be careful or they'll give you crawlies," Theodore Nott sneered. "They despise us, and everyone knows it."
"And we despise them, too, but we've got to pretend, and so do they. So just keep it up." Clayton unfolded a letter that Millicent Bulstrode had forwarded to him. "The word is that Harry Potter might try to help out, so if he approaches any of us, we're supposed to be civilized about it."
"Says who?" Theodore Nott snarled. "If I see Potter, I'm going to hex his eyeballs right out of his stinkin' head."
"Then make sure you don't see him," Clayton told him firmly. "Don't go wrecking things for the House."
"Potter is the reason that my dad is in Azkaban," Nott said, slamming his hand on the table.
"Keep it down!" Clayton hissed. There are limits to what Muffliato can cover up.
"Your dad's fondness for Lord Moldy-Shorts is the reason he's in Azkaban, and you're lucky that you're not in there with him," Lawrence Butt interjected.
"We thought the Dark Lord was going to win," Not said, "and we were going to be on the winning side. He promised us he would restore pure-bloods to greatness and put the Muggles in their place. And he would have succeeded, too, if it hadn't been for Potter." He spat out the name like it was poison.
"The Dork Lord would have succeeded if he hadn't been so stupid about it all," Clayton told him.
Clayton felt sick when he remembered how he had once flirted with the idea of joining the Dark Lord. His parents had been involved, albeit very discreetly. Clandestine meetings, mysterious plans, and secret missions; it all sounded so exciting. He had thought it would be a great adventure.
Fortunately, Professor Snape had discouraged him. "You'd be of no use to them at present," his Head of House had sneered. "Your defense skills need improvement, and your knowledge of herbology is abysmal. You must focus on your school work for now. Otherwise you'll be an embarrassment to yourself, your family, and Slytherin House."
At the time Clayton had felt hurt and resentful, but he had sullenly returned to his studies, and he knew now that it might have saved his life. His parents had managed to lie their way out of any consequences, too. They were some of the lucky ones.
"At least conditions in Azkaban are a lot better than they used to be, thanks to Shacklebolt's reforms," Butt pointed out. "I hear they've even started to allow visitors."
"Yeah," Nott said. "I'll be going to see my dad on Saturday."
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"It's from Snape!" Harry said as he unfolded the letter. "He didn't even disguise his handwriting."
Uh oh, Ron thought. Here we go again. "What does it say?" he asked cautiously.
Harry read it over. "He wants me to help get the Houses restored, including Slytherin."
"You've lobbied McGonagall about that for months now," Ginny said, "until she told you that she doesn't want to hear another word about it. What more could you possibly do?"
"Snape wants me to make a show of getting along with Slytherins. Like, being friendly and fraternizing with them," Harry told her.
"Don't do it!" Ginny said. "They'll probably hex you on sight."
"I'm not afraid of them!" Harry said. "And if it will help get the Houses restored, I'm willing to try it. And besides, I owe Snape a lot."
"You're the Boy Who Lived," Ginny said, "and we want you to keep on living."
"I'm not a boy any more!" Harry said.
"I think it's worth a try," Hermione interjected. "Getting the Houses back might not help mend the divisions or heal the war wounds, but Minerva's new plan isn't working either."
"What are you children arguing about?" Molly Weasley asked as she came in from the kitchen. "Here, I brought you some nice cookies and milk. Now I think it's time to talk about the wedding."
Harry sighed. So did Hermione.
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"They force pure-bloods to do elf work?" Theodore Nott gasped. "That's cruel!"
"Yes," His father said, "it's outrageous. The dementors are gone and Azkaban's not the cold, filthy dungeon that it used to be, but they make us do all the chores instead of getting some house elves in here like they ought to. We have to do it all the muggle way, too, without our wands. All the cleaning, all the laundry, all the cooking, and all the dishes. Gah! It takes all day!"
"And the food is disgusting," his cellmate Yaxley griped. The man was sprawled on his cot reading Vacationing with Veelas by Gilderoy Lockhart. Azkaban now had a prison library.
"It's too bad Snape's dead," Yax added. "If he was in here, he could probably figure out how to cook. What I wouldn't give for a meal that wasn't burned!"
"I'll see if I can smuggle in a few chocolate frogs next time," Theodore said.
"Make it a couple of ham sandwiches, kid," Yax told him. "Use a spell to shrink 'em down so you can hide 'em."
"Things may seem better now, " the elder Nott said sourly, "but people still go crazy in here. You remember how old Crabbe hung himself in June."
"Crabbe didn't hang himself because of Azkaban," Yax said, "Crabbe hung himself because his son got burned to death in the war. And Crabbe figured it was his fault for getting the kid into Dark Magic. You're lucky. Your kid survived. And so did you, for that matter."
Theodore tried not to think about what could have happened to him and his dad. He'd tried to go back to join the Death Eaters in the fight, but someone had hit him from behind with a stunner. He never figured out who did it, but when he woke up he was lying in the street in Hogsmeade and the battle was over.
There was a loud bang from down the hall as Dolohov slammed his fists against the bars of his cell. "I can't remember!" Dolohov wailed. "I can't remember!"
"There he goes again," Yax said. "I feel sorry for his cellmate." Then he turned back to his book. "Too bad about Snape," he muttered. "We sure could use a decent cook in here. And Argus Filch, too. That man knew how to mop a hall!"
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The sun was rising in Philadelphia as the big yellow D-9 Caterpillar bulldozer snorted to life. Dan McCracken, AKA Cat-Man Dan, née Argus Filch, had a new identity thanks to the Wizard Immigration Assistance Agency, and he had recently completed a training program in heavy equipment operation. He smiled as he started the powerful machine rumbling toward the abandoned shopping plaza. Soon its shabby buildings would fall before his mighty blade.
Mrs Norris lounged in her basket beside the operator's seat, watching her three half-kneazle kittens wrestling with each other. They were shielded from the noise and vibration by a weak but adequate Serenitas charm; Filch had actually managed to learn a thing or two from those KwikSpell courses.
At last, Argus Filch had the power he'd always craved. Granted, it was Muggle power, but it was very impressive nonetheless. Soon he would begin to study for his blasting licence. Life was good in the Muggle world.