Chapter 2: On new elements
Standing in the middle of her alchemic lab, Narcissa frowned pensively, eyeing the chaos of her own creation. The large table in the corner was cluttered with two burners, a big bain-marie, a copper alembic and a whole pile of caldrons in dire need of cleaning. She put two boxes on the smaller table: one for glass and ceramic vessels that had to be cleaned by hand, the other for vessels that could be entrusted to house elves. There was a huge coffer in the corner for everything that had to be destroyed. It was charmed so that reactions between different components were neutralized.
Narcissa tied her hair up in a heavy bun, sighed, rolled up her sleeves and put on her work gloves. Everything that could be done with magic was already done. Only the most tedious part was left: cleaning out the cabinets with ingredients and utensils that could not be handled using magic.
Her lab has been standing unused for nearly ten years. And before that… when she became pregnant soon after the wedding (to Madame Honoria's profound delight) she gave up on experiments out of concern for the baby. Then Draco was born, but the war was at its height – during long uneasy nights Narcissa was either caring for the newborn or worrying whether Lucius would return in the morning or… Anyway, she had neither time nor energy for Potions or Alchemy. And when everything had ended… she was just glad that the three of them were miraculously spared any terrible disaster. Lucius' parents were killed, one of Narcissa's cousins died, another ended up in Azkaban along with her sister and brother-in-law… Narcissa winced. She could not stand the Lestranges and always blamed them for Bella going crazy about the Dark Lord. Had Bella not married that scoundrel, she maybe would not… Even at fifteen, Narcissa shuddered inside in disgust at the sight of Rodolphus. She had a lot of opinions about him, but no one asked for them, unfortunately. She was the youngest of the family, 'the little princess', doted on by everyone – and she, to be honest, took it all for granted. At the time, she was much more invested in her own pleasures and passions than someone else's problems.
Shaking her head, Narcissa tried to gather her thoughts.
She carefully dusted a small green vial and held it up to the light to check the contents, comparing it to the tag. Illusive flower scarab (antennae), Nov. 1978. These ones were of no use. She got rid of the antennae, put the vial into the 'to clean' box and picked the next one. Oh! The gold dust. No expiration date for that one, good.
Sorting through vials, jugs and boxes, Narcissa reminisced. When Draco was two or three, she attempted to return to the lab, but alas, she never had time – or maybe patience – for anything serious. Draco claimed as much attention as she could give; and there was also the big manor that needed constant management and social obligations that should not have been abandoned, considering their precarious position in the society. In short, her half-hearted attempts at Alchemy fizzled out rather soon.
Then Harry came into their life, and everything changed again.
Straightening, she blew a strand of hair away from her face and sneezed. I should have maintained at least a semblance of order here – purely out of principle. It is a good thing that Severus doesn't know what this place looks like. He would have exploded of indignation, she thought with a chuckle.
There had been another occasion when she had almost returned to her hobby. The boys had less than a year left before Hogwarts then, and Narcissa started meditating on what she would do when the manor became quiet and empty nine months out of twelve. She almost made up her mind to return to the lab and only postponed it until the annual Samhain hassle was over. Then,
on November 4th, she read about the tragic and untimely demise of Mrs. Pandora Lovegood, nee Strange, in The Prophet. Xenophilius returned her letter of condolences unopened, and she never wrote to him again.
Pandora Strange was her closest – and secret – school friend. Closest because Pandora always supported her in everything and fearlessly did many things Narcissa dearly wished to, but lacked courage for. Secret because they became fast friends before the Sorting, and then Pandora went to Ravenclaw, of course, and Narcissa ended up in Slytherin. Considering Bella's and her cronies' scrutiny, Narcissa could not openly befriend someone from another House: at first, she had no desire to make a point and trigger a fuss, and later, when it became clear that messing with the Lestranges was not only unpleasant, but outright dangerous, she was afraid for her friend. So they met rarely and in secret right up to the graduation.
Soon after they left Hogwarts, the war began in earnest, and both girls hurried to get married, as many people did at the time, scared of not living long enough to have a life, and the children were born, and then suddenly the unexpected peace came, like a miracle… Through the following years, they met several times once in a blue moon, usually for a short chat in a cafe somewhere or over an afternoon tea, mostly preoccupied with their children's current joys and sorrows. It seemed that life was very long, and they would have enough time to catch up later. The fate did not give Pandora any 'later', though. And Narcissa got scared. She was under the impression that it was a sign: there was no sense in changing the path, it was better to leave everything as it was. One can never enter the same river twice.
In June, however, when Draco and Harry brought the Philosopher's Stone home, the strangest thing happened. Holding this unique trophy in her hand, Narcissa suddenly felt a light prickling, a touch of a long forgotten feeling: something very important and incredible was about to happen. She did not miss a beat and did not tell anyone about it. They sent the Stone to Flamel. Then she got it back with that extraordinary letter. Kissing your talented hands, indeed. At that moment Lucius looked at her thoughtfully, but said nothing, only discreetly kissed her temple. Luc always had a talent for eloquent silence. And he remembered about Pandora, of course.
Since that day, the strange feeling has been returning more and more often, each time stronger than before. So finally, Narcissa made up her mind. She went down to the basement and started cleaning out her abandoned lab. She would straighten it up and face whatever comes later.
It looked like she would have to sort out not only dirty pots and vials, but her memories too. Narcissa sighed again, deliberately opened the doors of another cabinet, froze for a moment and grimaced… Then as deliberately she started cleaning out cobwebs from the lower shelves with a duster.
"Tante Narcissa?"
She straightened and turned around: Constance was standing in the half-opened door. She had a strange look on her face: half-embarrassed, half-perplexed.
"May I come in? Am I disturbing you?"
"Of course not," Narcissa replied. "Spiders can most definitely wait. Do come in, please." Constance entered and carefully closed the door. Curious, Narcissa thought. The girl has
secrets now. Does she want to share them with me?
"Take a seat, please," she said aloud, waving the duster in the direction of the huge worktable in the middle of the room. It was the only still uncluttered piece of furniture. "It is still clean. Do you want tea or something?"
"N-no, thank you," Constance looked flustered. "That is, if you would like to…"
"It's quite all right, we'll do without, then," Narcissa said. She took off the gloves and put down the duster (In case the girl, Merlin forbid, thinks that I am eager to get rid of her!) and sat across from her unexpected guest. "Now, just tell me what happened."
"As a matter of fact, nothing happened," Constance replied. "I just need to talk to somebody. Well, not to somebody, but to you, Tante Narcissa."
"I will be happy to help you if I can. Please, call me Cissy, though," Narcissa smiled. "So, what is going on?"
Constance shook her head.
"Nothing. I just… I dearly need some advice. From someone who is not expecting much from me. The thing is… I haven't spent so much time in the Wizarding world in a long while!" she confessed suddenly. "Of course, Papa does everything for my life to be nice and comfortable at home, but I mostly study among Muggles. That is a good thing too; I now know and do a lot of things that Wizards have no idea about. But… You see, I like Potions very much."
Narcissa suppressed a smile with great effort. Even three years ago the girl already talked Severus' ears off about her hobby… not that she was hiding it much this time around.
"I know," she nodded. "And?"
"I am thinking of a career in the field!" Constance said with passion. "What is the difficulty then?" Narcissa asked.
"The thing is, Maman and Papa discourage me from it! They are afraid that I… that it will be difficult for me… that I would not be able to achieve much because I…" she stumbled again, but Narcissa did not help her this time. The girl must say it herself. "Because I am a Squib," Constance finished. "They say I will not be able to achieve much because I do not have magic, which means it is not worth gambling on."
"What do you think about it?" Narcissa asked calmly.
"I think it is not important. Well, no, of course, it is, but what I want is not simply brewing potions that are already known and tried. I want to understand how everything works."
This time Narcissa did not have to feign interest. "What do you mean?"
"I want to understand the nature of interaction between magical components. Just like Muggles understand the nature of interaction between regular, non-magical components. Like acids and alkali, for example. All of it works under certain laws that can be described with mathematical precision. I am sure that magical components work the same way. Everything can be calculated! And if we will know for certain what lies behind magical interaction, we can create new potions and charms with more ease. I am so surprised that no one tackled this matter before!"
Narcissa stared at Constance, stunned by her vigour and at the same time fascinated by this view of the matter. Many things in magic – especially in Potions and Alchemy – could be calculated, indeed; many patterns of ingredient combinations, for example, could be described with formulas, and a concoction's efficiency could be varied through ratio of the components. These fields of magical knowledge were probably the closest to Muggle science. Wizards, however, always encouraged a more practical approach. If you already know the ratio and the sequence of mixing certain elements to get a certain result, what does it matter how exactly they interact to get there? Very few were interested in knowledge for the sake of the knowledge about nature itself. Albus Dumbledore, for one. Or Pandora Strange. Or Severus.
"It is a very ambitious goal," Narcissa said at last. "That demands a lot of work and will probably find few supporters among your future colleagues, at least at the beginning. You will need to work twice, thrice as hard to earn respect and some sort of acknowledgement if you forego the traditional way from the start. In a manner of speaking, you will have to run twice as fast to remain where you are."
Constance sighed.
"I understand. So, you are discouraging me from it too?" Narcissa shook her head.
"No. It is hard, but I think you have some advantages that a common witch does not. If I understand the matter correctly, you have a decent grasp of Muggle sciences concerning elements and their interaction. What are they called? Chemics?"
It seemed only her superb upbringing helped Constance to keep a straight face.
"Chemistry. And physics," she answered earnestly. "Yes, we study that, and I try to do a lot of extracurricular reading when I have time."
Narcissa nodded.
"So you do have a good start," she said. "I think you are old enough to see the difference between a spur-of-the-moment whim and serious intentions. I also think that you have already made up your mind. You just want…"
"…to hear a confirmation of my own thoughts from someone else," Constance finished. "Stupid, isn't it?"
"It is a completely natural desire," Narcissa shook her head and smiled softly. "Everyone needs that from time to time."
"Even you?"
"Of course. Even Lucius. Or Severus. Or, it is safe to say, Albus Dumbledore." Constance's eyes went wide.
"Do you mean to say that Albus Dumbledore himself asked for your advice?" At this, Narcissa allowed herself a laugh.
"Certainly not. I think for something like that to happen half of Hogwarts should crumble. And even then it will be unlikely. He regularly voices his doubts to Severus, though, so trust me: even the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards sometimes needs a confirmation of his hunches."
Constance laughed too, and Narcissa thought, And I will not draw attention to the fact that he confides in Sev and not just 'someone else'. Whatever you grandmother says, you will manage your life on your own.
X X X
Severus was standing in front of a bookcase deep in thought, examining the packed shelves. Where were Isabelle Fromond's Alchemical Studies he had promised to Cissy? He could not even remember when he opened that book the last time and he did not want to summon it: books, if torn from the shelves with magical force, deteriorated much faster. Only a complete fool would do that to a rare manuscript, even if not an original, but quite a decent hand-written 17th century copy.
He wondered what Cissy was up to. During the last few weeks, he occasionally noticed that something was on her mind whether they discussed Pre-Raphaelites at the Tate gallery, debated on Celtic Wizarding practices in Amesbury or chatted at Fortescue's. Some alchemical project, maybe? Well, she would be on her own. Severus would not have a minute to spare for something like that in the next few years. His hands were already full with looking after his restless godsons, classes, Slytherin politics, the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore, not to mention maintaining intellectual conversations with Constance Malefoi about rudiments of atomism in magical theory. Any attempts to reproduce the Elixir of Life on the side would be the death of him. So no, thanks, he will pass. Even though some Miss Malefoi's ideas need to be pondered upon…
Realizing he was getting foolishly side-tracked and running late because of that, Severus snapped his fingers and mumbled a memory-clearing spell. As a rule, he avoided using it: first, indulging in one's laziness like that might probably lead to dementia, secondly, the spell left a thick acid aftertaste in one's mind somewhat like peppermint, but more obtrusive. Severus loathed the feeling. Right now, however, he could not be delayed more.
His memory revived by the spell, Severus picked the book off the shelf and hurried to the main doors of the castle.
On the ground floor he almost ran into the headmaster. Something made Severus stop despite his hurry. Albus looked nor exactly glum, but definitely preoccupied.
"Something happened?" Severus asked softly.
"Something did not happen, actually," Albus replied. "You seem to be in a hurry, however?" Severus waved the comment away.
"If over the last ten years Lucius has not become used to something happening here all the time, that is his problem. He will wait. So, what did not happen?"
"Our DADA professor did not happen to arrive, unfortunately," the headmaster said sombrely. "One of my old… acquaintances, who tentatively agreed to come here for a year in June, suddenly changed his plans and declined the offer. Something happened to one of his numerous… relatives, and Sanguini was forced to deal with family matters. Frankly speaking, I have no idea what to do now."
Severus, who was listening to these explanations rather absentmindedly, suddenly startled. "What was the name you mentioned? The name of this acquaintance of yours?"
A slightly guilty expression appeared and almost instantly faded from Albus' face. It was replaced by remarkably insincere geniality, usually reserved for the Ministry employees. Admittedly, it disappeared too, changing into good-natured patience – that could have even been sincere. Maybe.
"Sanguini," he repeated, smiling demurely. Severus stared at him.
"So, my ears did not deceive me. And I did not make a mistake," he said slowly. "Did you really intend to hire a vampire to teach DADA?"
"I suppose I did," Albus said. "But it does not matter now. He declined the offer. And now we need to find someone else, given that we are to dispatch the annual students' letters with all the requirements for the year before this Wednesday. We have three days."
"But a vampire, Albus!" Severus still could not collect himself. "A vampire, teaching at a school! Were you really ready to entrust the children to him?!"
As soon as he finished the sentence, it occurred to him that in Albus' place, Lucius surely would have remarked something like, "Well, I seem to entrust them to you, don't I?", and that would not have been entirely wrong. Severus suddenly had an urge to straighten his left sleeve, but he forced himself to refrain from that tick. It did not even occur to Albus to joke about it, though.
"Why not?" the old wizard countered gently. "You know as well as I do that old vampires of the Italian clans never harm children. They are unbelievably family-oriented. If anything, he should have been apprehensive of the senior girls' unwanted attentions."
At that, Severus shuddered, remembering his first year at Hogwarts: anonymous Christmas cards with weird compliments from the most extravagant girls, heaps of pink valentines and other horrors that often waylay young unexperienced teachers. And he was never even slightly good-looking, let alone handsome.
"You are right in that regard," he said at last. "But still, a vampire… it is a little too much, don't you think? Could you not find another candidate?"
Albus stared at him. "Like?"
"Me, for instance," Severus looked him straight in the eye. "Slughorn could be persuaded to take up Potions again temporarily, for a year, while we look for a permanent solution for the DADA problem. I could have gotten through a school year, I think."
Albus' face darkened.
"No," he said firmly. "Not for the world. And please, never ask this of me again, my boy. Please."
Severus opened his mouth to object, but suddenly remembered Lucius once mentioning that, according to rumours, the position of the DADA professor was cursed. Did that mean that Albus knew about the curse – or at least suspected it existed? That was certainly curious.
"Alright," Severus said. "I will not. Three days, though… What do we do now?"
"I will have to resort to plan B," Albus replied grimly. "Although, I confess I have no confidence in it. No confidence at all."
X X X
Casting the Notice-Me-Not spell, Lucius leisurely walked down the street, where due to his efforts Petunia now lived, and contemplated the upcoming conversation. He did not regret the decision he made a year ago: they had achieved what they wanted. And even the family gatherings were not as burdensome as they could have been – at least not worse than the communication with some of his other relatives back in the day. However, in haste – if not in downright panic – he missed a lot of details at the time, and now unforeseen consequences were piling up like a snow ball. All of it had to be settled before anything hardly amendable happened.
He reached the gate of the house he was looking for, quietly opened it with a spell and closed it without a sound before proceeding to the house. A huge blooming garden looked immaculate, and Lucius nodded in appreciation: it seemed Petunia was simply created by nature to fulfil the role of a perfect country estate mistress.
He rang the bell and waited. The sound of steps came soon, and a cautious voice asked, "Who is it?"
"Petunia, it is me. Please open the door."
The lock clicked, and Petunia's anxious face appeared in the doorway. "What happened?"
"Everything is fine," Lucius assured her. "I just need to discuss with you some family matters, preferably without interruptions. Is Dudley home?"
"Yes, but he planned to go out with his friends, then to have dinner at their place," she replied, opening the door wider and inviting him in. "They are very decent people, living two streets over. Llyr… that is, Mr. Lewis, made some discreet inquiries about them on my behalf…"
Llyr, is it now? Curious, Lucius noted silently.
"Very good," he said aloud. "No one will interrupt us then."
Petunia led him to the sitting room and, excusing herself, asked him to wait while she would inform Dudley of his visit and make some tea. Several minutes later, footsteps were heard again, and Petunia's son entered the room.
"Good day, sir." The boy looked awkward but was polite enough. "Mom told me you came. I wanted to thank you for the holydays in Italy. That was just awesome, sir."
"I am glad you liked it," Lucius nodded. "You deserved it."
After six months of rigorous drilling, Dudley not only finished the school year with excellent marks, but learned to behave himself too. Lucius was so impressed with his results that he presented Petunia with a trip for two to Sicily for Dudley's birthday.
"Will you need me here for the talk?" Dudley asked. "Can I go to see my friends? If I'm needed, I can call and…"
"No need," Lucius shook his head. "It is nothing worth cancelling arrangements for. You can go."
Dudley nodded, said his good-byes and left. Soon Lucius heard him informing his mother (apparently in the kitchen) that he was leaving. The front door clicked closed. A little while later, Petunia entered with a tea tray and started fussing by the table.
"So, what's going on?" she asked when the tea was finally ready.
"Nothing. At least, nothing out of the ordinary is. However, when we met the last time we did not have the chance to settle a few nuances."
"Par example?.."
"Par example, I meant to ask if anyone bothered you here. Weird neighbours, for instance? Pushy random Mu… erm, that is, visitors making strange inquiries? Journalists, perhaps?"
Petunia smirked.
"You can say Muggles, Lucius. It will not shock me. No, no one bothered me. The neighbours are very nice, thank you. No new people appeared in the neighbourhood in the last six months. Trust me, I would have known otherwise. Our gardening society is a very advantageous source of information."
Lucius smiled.
"Very well. I am glad that you are settling in. And what about other familiar faces?" He emphasized the word familiar.
This time Petunia frowned.
"Do you mean… from your boys' school?" She slightly twisted her lips. "No." "Wonderful."
"What is the matter exactly? What is the reason for these questions?"
"The situation we discussed last summer continues to evolve. The one who killed your sister has indeed returned, but in the beginning of June Harry managed to best him again." Lucius chose his words carefully and watched Petunia's expression. "Partly because of what you agreed to do, you see."
She nodded. "Do continue."
"Naturally, only few people know what actually happened, but that is enough for someone to become interested in you."
"The headmaster of the school, maybe?" Petunia stared at him. "It is possible," Lucius agreed.
"No," she shook her head. "The headmaster did not come here, write letters or send anyone. Yet. Would you like to give me advice in case that happens?"
Petunia grimaced slightly before saying 'advice', and it was not hard to deduct that she chose the word to avoid saying 'instructions' that she most certainly found insulting. For the umpteenth time, Lucius thought that were she not a Muggle, she would have been right at home in Slytherin.
"If you are open to suggestions," he replied with pointed good grace. "I will be most grateful." Her smile was cool and perfectly polite.
"Actually, you can speak more or less openly with the headmaster if it occurs to him to visit you. He has general understanding of the situation. On the other hand, I do not think he will come here to ask you for details. He has a lot on his mind already. If other people start bothering you, I think, you are more than able to get rid of them without disclosing anything. I would like you to inform me about that, though, as soon as it is possible."
"Of course, but… how?" Petunia frowned. "I seem to remember Lily once told me about your mail system. I do not think it is a custom in Asher to take owls as pets. This is not Notting Hill."
"True," Lucius agreed, having no idea what the difference was, but getting the general idea of some social standing contrast.
"I gather you do not have a phone in your manor, do you?" she asked.
"Unfortunately, this useful Muggle invention deteriorates in close proximity to constant magical field. Mr. Lewis probably has one, does he not?"
To Lucius' utter surprise, Petunia's cheeks suddenly turned pink. "Yes, of course," she mumbled. "I have phoned him several times…"
"Wonderful. So, you will be able to find me easily in situations of low priority. Now we need to decide what you can do in case of emergency when you need to act quickly. Or, for example, if Mr. Lewis is out of town."
Petunia frowned.
"I think," she said with some doubt, "there is a special street for your kind in London or at least there was one when I was a child… It has a lot of shops, I think? Can I get there by myself or do I need escort?"
Lucius pondered the question. Needless to say, Muggles could enter The Leaky Cauldron if a Wizard was with them. Parents of Muggleborn students usually entered the alley that way. Was it possible for a Muggle to see the bar without assistance, though?
"I do not know," he finally admitted. "I will have to do some research, and then we shall test the findings together – if you do not mind, of course."
Petunia nodded.
"In any case," Lucius continued, "that is also a plan for circumstances of no hurry. Diagon Alley is simply a shopping street where one can buy something, exchange money or send a letter via the public owl service, but one cannot get urgent help there."
"Do you think such a situation is possible?" Petunia became a shade paler, but remained as composed as before.
"Anything is possible. I hope it does not happen in the nearest future, but sooner or later it will. I would like to offer a strategy for such circumstances."
Petunia nodded, and Lucius started explaining.
X X X
After they said their goodbyes, Petunia closed the door, but did not lock it – Lucius did not hear the click. He walked down the pathway and stopped suddenly, seeing the gate opening. Mr. Lewis, aka Llyr Lloyd, calmly entered the garden, unlocking the gate with his own key – and stopped abruptly upon seeing Lucius.
"Good day," the lawyer said pleasantly, but he was obviously embarrassed at being caught coming here.
"Good day," Lucius agreed. "And what a curious day it is, isn't it? Petunia never mentioned your visit. Did something happen?"
"No." Lloyd had composed himself already; his expression was as welcoming and nonchalant as ever. "It is very fortunate that we crossed paths today, Mr. Malfoy. I need to talk to you and was just about to contact you."
"What a coincidence," Lucius replied not without irony. "I intended to contact you as well because I wanted to talk."
They stared at each other, assessing the situation.
"Let me start, please," Lloyd said decisively. "I have two pieces of information, and I am afraid both might seem rather upsetting to you."
"Alright," Lucius nodded. "Shall we return to the house? It is ridiculous to just stand out here. Not to mention hot."
"There is a gazebo underneath those cherries. We can talk there, and no one will disturb us," Lloyd offered and started walking in that direction without waiting for a reply.
Someone feels quite at home here, Lucius thought with slight annoyance and some mischief at the same time.
There was indeed a vine-covered gazebo among the cherry trees, it was shady and cool inside. As soon as both were seated and Lucius applied the muffling charm, Lloyd grasped the nettle.
"First of all, Mr. Malfoy," he said. "I must apologize. I am afraid my long-term communications with Mrs. Evans have resulted in a conflict of interests. I have to admit that it might better for you to find another lawyer who will deal with any legal affairs between you and Mrs. Evans."
Lucius smiled.
"Indeed? When is the wedding?" he asked impishly. Lloyd stared at him darkly.
"Mr. Malfoy, I acknowledge that I deserve your rebuke, but that is my private business." Lucius smiled even wider.
"Alas, Mr. Lloyd, I am afraid you still do not fully grasp what you are getting yourself into. Mrs. Evans is not simply a distant relative of my foster son. She is now part of the Malfoy family. Ergo, everything that has to do with her is my business."
"What does that mean?" Lloyd asked stiffly.
"It means," Lucius replied, "that regardless of your readiness to deal with any legal affairs between me and Mrs. Evans you will have to deal with me on regular basis. If you are planning to continue any... communications with her in the future, of course."
Lloyd neither wasted his breath in declarations of friendship, nor pretended to be outraged or offended.
"I understand. Can I assume that you do not see a conflict of interests in this case?" Lucius shrugged.
"In theory, there can be one," he agreed. "In reality, I might see one even between me today and me tomorrow if the situation starts changing at a fast pace. Were Mrs. Evans a stranger whose well-being I could disregard, maybe your… intentions – if you will allow me such plain wording – could become a nuisance. In current circumstances, though, it will probably be an advantage. The question is – pardon my frankness – whether you are willing to be dragged into unpleasant or potentially dangerous situations because of family obligations."
Lloyd's face became expressionless, and he replied even more dryly, "If I were apprehensive of such things, I would have chosen a different field of work. And I would have definitely chosen not to work for you, Mr. Malfoy."
Lucius smirked.
"I have no idea how such a model citizen as myself gained such a reputation. And I apologize if my comment made you uncomfortable. So, if the possibilities I outlined do not bother you…"
"They do not."
"…we can get down to business. What exactly did you want to tell me apart from the fact that our business cooperation might become a family affair?"
Lloyd's face darkened.
"Liam asked me to pass on to you some information of such sensitive nature that he did not dare to convey it in writing. I presume you have already heard about the latest Ministry raids."
Lucius slightly raised his eyebrows.
"Naturally, but not in any detail. There are a lot of rumours, though. Apparently, some artefacts harmful to Muggles have been found, is that so? A deplorable affair, certainly, but what does it have to do with me?"
"It would have none if not for one circumstance," Lloyd continued, pursing his lips. "These raids became possible due to several very detailed tips that came from an anonymous source. There was a lot of information, and it was true in each individual case."
"It is very curious," Lucius noted. "But I still do not understand what I have to do with all of it."
Lloyd lowered his voice despite the muffling charm.
"Liam asked to advise you that someone is secretly undermining you, as he put it. It is done so expertly that even he could not work out who started it and from where exactly it originated."
Lucius sat straight.
"And what are the ramifications," he made a face, "of these unexpected efforts?"
"Nothing extraordinary so far: strange rumours, unpleasant quiet gossip and such. As far as I understand, someone is raking over coals, and they are doing it so skilfully that a blatant anonymous accusation similar to the previous ones can be enough. Even Madame Bones will not be able to find rational arguments to spare you a visit from unwanted guests."
"I see," Lucius nodded. "It is unpleasant, but not dangerous. For now, at least. Please tell Liam I am grateful. For a long time already, I have not had in my home anything that any guests, wanted or unwanted, might find objectionable, but this sudden interest in my humble persona clearly deserves an investigation. Forewarned is forearmed…" He drummed his fingers absentmindedly on the bench he was sitting on.
"May I give you a piece of advice?" Lloyd said suddenly. Lucius stared at him in surprise.
"Of course you may. In a sense, it is your duty." "As your lawyer?"
"As my future – or at least potential – relation," Lucius chuckled. "So, you have my undivided attention."
"Let them find something. Something that is not dangerous, of course, and not too scandalous, as we would not want anyone to question your qualification as a foster parent to Mr. Potter. Yet, it should be something forbidden – at least in theory – or not approved of." He pondered for a moment. "Let's say, a charmed ring that forces a Muggle to tell the truth or something of that sort. A harmless trinket that they can happily confiscate."
Now Lucius looked at him with interest.
"I think that can be arranged," he said slowly. "So, you think that…" Lloyd nodded.
"Yes. If they find nothing at all, it will draw attention to you, and this business will not end with this one visit. The public will just assume that either the Aurors were not doing their job meticulously enough or you somehow managed to hide your Dark Arts artefacts in a different location. I hate to say it, but even Albus Dumbledore is not idealistic enough to believe in you as a paragon of Light."
Lucius snorted.
"The 'even' part wounds me. He knows more than most about my affairs so he should have faith in me. I hear you, though. Thank you. I think it is great advice, and I will certainly follow it."
X X X
Lucius spoke little during the Saturday family dinner. He answered the boys' remarks and exchanged some knowing or mocking glances with Narcissa, of course. But mostly he stayed silent because he watched Severus and young Constance with great interest. He watched and pondered.
He liked Constance. He liked her not in a sense in which people usually "like" children of their relatives, friends or acquaintances (Oh, even in her tender age your daughter is already so charming, Madame Parkinson!). He liked her not in the way some men of his age and standing can like young pretty girls (Brrr! Merlin forbid! Firstly, she was still a child; secondly, Lucius loved his wife very much, thank you). No, he liked Constance per se, as a person, as one does when someone's words, actions and manners are genuinely attractive.
She was level-headed, but not opinionated; sociable, but not too talkative; confident, but not presumptuous. She was cheerful, cordial and smart, and she made him regret a little that Narcissa and he did not have a daughter.
At the same time, Constance constantly perplexed him.
First of all, she wore trousers. Lucius was not old-fashioned enough to consider this garment indecent, but still thought that pureblood Wizards and especially Witches should wear a robe on top of it. Constance preferred pantsuits – elegant, but still Muggle – to any other clothes, though. She wore robes on very rare occasions (for example, in Diagon Alley, so as not to attract unnecessary attention). Admittedly, the constant magical field around her clothes suggested that everything was not as it seemed. Nevertheless, Lucius could not shake off the feeling that he was being tested. Also, it sometimes seemed to him that this ridiculous discomfort of his pleased Narcissa immensely.
Secondly, Lucius was used to thinking that Squibs… were disadvantaged, let's put it this way. In a sense, their fate was even more unpleasant than that of Muggles. The latter, after all, have no idea they are handicapped in terms of magic. While Squibs, who chose not to leave the Wizarding world, were always forced to look at magic like a hungry man looks at a piece of someone else's pie. All Squibs he met before in the Wizarding world were unhappy, even though they tried to hide it one way or another.
Constance was not unhappy and showed avid interest in magic and its nature – not envy, peppered with regret. However, she apparently had a real talent for Potions which was rare even among Wizards.
Mostly, though, she absolutely refused to consider herself deprived in any way and did not allow anyone to feel so. Every time she needed help in anything Wizarding that she could not do any other way or ask a house elf for, she simply and calmly asked for assistance from anyone who was close by and could do her a favour. Just as calmly she helped others in Muggle places when there was a need to quickly convert galleons to pounds, use an elevator or call for a taxi. As a girl of perfect breeding, she had enough decorum not to make it plain to Lucius that she noticed his discomfort in such situations; but he was bright enough to know his young relative watched him and would later relate to Cousin Gérard whether the good old England was truly embarked on the new course as it had been declared some time ago.
Suddenly Lucius caught Narcissa's eye: smiling a little, she pointed with her eyes at Severus. The man was absorbed in some alchemic discussion with Constance to which Draco or Harry sometimes added a point. It looked disgustingly touching, but Lucius still frowned slightly: he had not thought to warn the boys not to share the details of the Stone incident with their French cousin. What if they decided that since it was a family business it was not worth hiding it from Constance? He could only hope that Severus could turn the conversation to safer subjects if it became necessary.
Listening closer, he realized that the discussion did touch upon the Philosopher's Stone, but in a different way.
"…Gamp's Transfiguration Law," Constance finished her sentence.
"What does it have to do with anything?" Draco was taken aback. "We were talking about the transfiguration of metals. I still don't understand why a match can be turned into a needle, but copper can't be turned into gold."
"It is a matter of power," Narcissa noted.
"I would say it is a matter of energy," Constance replied. "I do not know why, but Wizards rarely use this explanation, even though magic at its core is just a unique way of using energy."
"Like electricity?" Harry asked tentatively, frowning.
"Not quite. It more like… No, I do not know how to explain it," Constance frowned a little too. "They do not teach physics in Wizarding schools. I am afraid I will only confuse you. I meant to say that sometimes a transformation would change the original object so much that the energy needed for the process would be beyond measure. It would actually be more energy than an average Wizard can spare."
"Have you ever thought why a lot of really complicated tasks and goals require potions and not spells?" Severus interjected, and Lucius thought that his friend looked suspiciously pleased.
"It's because magical ingredients are the source of the magic power, isn't it?" Draco guessed. "Yes, that's obvious. Still, why nothing can be turned into gold, though?"
"The changes that need to be done to any other substance are too great," Constance replied. "No Wizard, no matter how mighty, has enough energy for that. Or enough power, the wording is not important."
"There are a lot of such substances, gold is simply the most known of them," Narcissa said. "Many precious metals cannot be transfigured from something else. As well as ordinary food."
"What about the Philosopher's Stone, then?" Draco could not let go. "Does it exist?"
"It does," Constance nodded. "And judging by what we know about it, it is an immense source of magical energy. No one knows, though, how it was created. Nicolas Flamel never revealed his secret, and no Wizard, not to mention Muggle, managed to repeat his success."
"Everything that is done by one man can be repeated by another," said Harry, who up to this point was silent and listened.
"The question is in the amount of effort needed," Severus noted.
"But…" Draco started and suddenly stopped short, changing the subject. "So, something can't be transfigured into gold because there's not enough magical power. And that's the Gamp's Law, right?"
The later discussion touched upon various exceptions from Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, and Lucius stopped listening, preferring to watch its participants instead. He could have sworn that Harry had kicked his brother under the table just now to make him stop talking. It was not something extraordinary, but still worth noting.
If it was not one thing it was another, apparently. He wondered what the boys were up to this time.
X X X
Later that evening, during those blessed hours that adults prefer to spend without children, Harry was sprawled in his bedroom, trying to read The Moonstone that Hermione had sent him as a birthday present, in the light of a magical flashlight – simply because it was more fun that way.
"Hey, are you asleep?" Draco peeked through the half-opened door. "Not yet. Why?"
"Get up, I'll show you something. It's unbelievable."
Intrigued, Harry put down the book (that turned out to be unbelievably boring) and followed his brother to their shared study room. After making sure no adults were around, Draco retrieved a small leather-bound notebook from the depths of the bookcase. He laid it flat on the table, quickly wrote something on the first page and turned it to Harry with a dramatic gesture, "Just look at it."
There was a word 'Hello' written in the book. Harry was about to ask what the deal was when new letters appeared without any assistance from the boys.
HELLO. WHO ARE YOU?
Harry stared at the page for several long moments in amazement, then looked at Draco. "Where did you get this?"
"I found it in the library. It was very well hidden, and I… well…" Draco looked away. "I was curious."
"I see. And what were you looking for when you found this?" Harry asked, even though he suspected he already had the idea.
"Well…"
"I see," Harry sighed. "Listen, you should have told me about your search. And I would have told you it was not in the manor."
"What?" It was Draco's turn to be surprised. "How so? And where did you get that information?"
Harry shrugged.
"I've overheard some bits and pieces. Got just lucky two or three times… Dad hid the Stone somewhere with Severus – maybe at Hogwarts, maybe in a different place – back in June. Then they've changed the location again. I have no clue about that second one, they were speaking in riddles by that point and noticed me soon after, so they changed the topic."
Draco's face fell, and Harry tried to console him.
"That's a cool thing you've got here, isn't it? Hey! What's up with you?" There was a reason to be scared: Draco who was upset before now turned pale.
"Do you have any idea what that… thing is?" he managed to say, pointing at the notebook. "No," Harry admitted. "Do you?"
"Me neither," Draco snapped. "Think of it, though. Would Dad or, Merlin forbid, Grandfather hide any magical object just for the fun of it?"
Harry frowned.
"Do you think this thing is Dark?"
"It's not a toy, that's for sure." Draco winced. "I've made quite a fool out of myself. I should have just left it where it was, but now I have no idea how to return it discreetly. Constance will leave in a few days, and we'll be going back to school soon after. There are always people in the house these last summer days until the start of the term."
Harry looked doubtfully at the notebook, not knowing what to do. New words appeared under the previous ones as if in reply to his stare.
WHY ARE YOU SO QUIET? WHAT IS YOUR NAME?
Both brothers stared at the notebook. Before Draco had a chance to interfere Harry took the quill decisively and wrote:
WHAT'S YOURS?
After a small pause new words appeared. YOU GO FIRST.
The boys looked at each other. Draco shrugged. Harry hesitated a little before writing: I'M DICK. WHO ARE YOU?
Another delay. Then someone replied: I AM TOM.
The boys looked at each other again and almost spluttered with laughter. Draco made up his mind, took another quill and wrote:
AND I'M HARRY. DICK, TOM AND HARRY ARE AN EXCELLENT BUNCH!
Weirdly enough, this unknown Tom person did not appear to agree because the letters started fading away. Soon the page was just as pristine as it was in the beginning of their experiment. Harry and Draco stared at each other in astonishment. What had just happened? Did the magic fail? Was it really a silly joke? Trying to make this strange notebook talk again, Harry wrote:
HEY, TOM, WHERE ARE YOU?
The words soon disappeared, though, and there was no answer to the question. "Interesting," Draco said thoughtfully. "What ticked him off?"
Harry shrugged.
"Who knows. Maybe the one who charmed the notebook didn't come up with what to say next."
"Yeah, that's why it was so well-hidden," Draco deadpanned. "So no one could ridicule the author for the lack of imagination."
No one can say how long this debate would have been, but it was stopped by a house elf popping quietly into the room. Both boys jumped like scalded cats and stared at him.
"What do you want?" Draco grumbled impolitely.
"Dobby is seeing if Master Harry and Master Draco need something," the house elf said with reproach in his voice. "Dobby comes to ask if you want some cocoa. Dobby…" Then he saw the opened notebook, and his whole demeanour changed completely. His eyes became even larger and filled with terror, and he nervously grabbed both his ears with his hands, tagging and twisting them. "That's a bad, nasty thing!" he shrieked. "You can't take it, Master Draco! Master Lucius will be very displeased when he learns of this!"
Draco visibly paled; Harry scrambled for a way to fix the situation. It would be too much if the frightened house elf would tell on them. He had to forbid Dobby to tell Lucius anything, but how to do that? Harry had never given orders like that before; his communication with the elves was limited to requests for this or that trifle or messages for members of the immediate family. Then it dawned on him.
"Listen, Dobby," he said quickly. "Do you remember Dad told you to obey me?" Dobby nodded vigorously.
"So, this is my order: do not tell anyone that we found this thing. Do you understand?" Dobby's face crumbled. It looked like he was about to cry.
"Dobby hears, Master Harry. But it's a bad thing. A very, very bad thing. It's dangerous!" "We gathered as much," Draco grumbled.
"We won't use it or anything," Harry promised. "Don't be afraid, Dobby. We'll put it back where it was as soon as we get a chance, do you understand?" Then an idea came to his mind. "Listen, can you do that, Dobby? Just put it back where it was hidden."
Dobby shook his head forcefully.
"The master forbade it, Master Harry. Dobby not to touch. But it's bad. Master Harry must tell the Master."
The boys looked at each other again.
"He'll turn us in," Draco said quietly. "Even if he doesn't mean to. Look how scared he is. I don't know what that awful thing is to scare a house elf so much, but we must do something. I won't write anything in it again, that's for sure, but we can't return it right away. He can't tell Dad anything!"
Harry nodded and looked at the elf again. The creature waited, twitching his ears nervously and gawking.
"Dobby," Harry began. "Listen to me. I forbid you to tell Lucius Malfoy or anyone else that Draco found the notebook and where it is now. You should not communicate about it: verbally, in writing or with gestures. Do you understand, Dobby?"
Dobby's eyes filled with tears.
"Dobby understands. Dobby won't tell. But it's a nasty thing. A bad thing." "Here he goes again," Draco groaned.
"Don't be afraid, Dobby," Harry added. "We will put it back and won't use it. Do you understand? Look." He closed the notebook and hid it again among the Muggle books. "That's it. It will just stay there for now."
The house elf grabbed his ears again and twisted them.
"A bad thing. Very, very dangerous. Must tell the Master. Can't keep it here. Master Harry must tell the Master himself."
"Stop!" Draco erupted. "We got that. Stop repeating the same things over and over. And let go of your stupid ears. Harry, tell him to stop."
Harry sighed and squatted down, looking into the house elf's terrified eyes.
"Don't be afraid, Dobby. We understand everything and will try to fix it. And you won't tell anything to anyone. And don't talk to us about it too. Are we clear?"
Dobby nodded dully. "You can go."
Dobby looked at them reproachfully for the last time and disappeared. Only then the boys realized that they did not answer the question the elf had come to ask them. They did not want any cocoa anymore, though.
X X X
Monday morning, Severus came down to the Great Hall, not suspecting in the slightest what lied in wait for him there. The day before, he returned from the Malfoy manor rather late and went straight to bed without meeting any of his colleagues on his way to the dungeons. That is why he almost froze solid upon entering the Great Hall. Only his old habit of hiding his feelings (especially surprise) helped him to move forward without stumbling (even though he was very close to it).
Right at the staff table, among the other Heads of House and those teachers who had already returned from their summer vacations, there was a monster.
No, it was not one of Hagrid's creatures – everyone was already accustomed to them, and Albus forbade letting the most dangerous ones into the castle, anyway.
It was not a vampire. It was not even Lupin.
Gilderoy Lockhart was sitting next to Minerva (at Severus' usual place, no less!), smiling radiantly. The splendour of his light-blue satin robes, stitched with silver thread, outshone even the apparel of the headmaster who never liked dull colours.
So, this was Albus' 'plan B'. A radiant self-centred psychopath, who had once sent eight hundred valentines to himself. The star of Witch Weekly and the recipient of the Order of Merlin of whatever degree. Even self-assured Sirius Black would look reasonable in comparison with this beau – at least Black never had a brilliant idea to spell his own name on the Quidditch field in twenty-foot-tall letters.
All of this flashed through Severus' mind in those few moments that he needed to reach the staff table, but he managed to come to a decision about his further action in that short amount of time.
Severus chose an empty chair next to Hagrid, sat down, wished his colleagues a good morning, not addressing anyone in particular, and broke his fast. The entertainment was not long in coming, even though Lockhart did not catch on right away, as the main person who caught attention of the man was always the man himself.
"Oh, Severus Snape!" he exclaimed. "It is astonishing, old boy! I forgot you work here! What a coincidence! It is so amusing! I hope you have not forgotten me."
Someone – Sprout, probably – had a sudden fit of coughing. Minerva snorted.
Considering that Lockhart's seventh year was Severus' first year of teaching, their encounters were hard to forget. Despite the Halloween tragedy and the dark despair that followed it, Severus still shuddered, remembering his first classes and first blunders – and some students. Lockhart shone among those like a well-scrubbed pot of Leprechaun's gold. When his year passed all exams, and the beau finally left the school the Hogwarts staff as one celebrated the departure of such a distinguished alumnus, displaying as much delight as one could without it becoming inappropriate.
"Of course not," Severus replied calmly, disregarding the overfamiliarity. "You are just as unforgettable as you were before."
"Yes, that is me!" Lockhart lighted up. "I think now, when I am here, Hogwarts is guaranteed to have a bright future! This will be the end of leading a wretched existence and suffering in obscurity!"
"Definitely," Severus agreed, painstakingly cutting scrambled eggs into regular small squares. "Suffering in obscurity is our main problem. We were in dire need of press attention, especially last year, weren't we, Minerva?"
She almost choked on a scone, but immediately joined the game.
"You are absolutely right, Severus. Regular visits of Witch Weekly employees will break the dull monotony of our lives."
"Personally, I am much more concerned about leading a wretched existence," Sprout remarked. "I do not know about your part of the dungeons, Severus, but as soon as winter comes, the existence in Hufflepuff becomes so wretched that the children are constantly shivering and sneezing. There's been talking about installing a central heating system in the castle for years…"
"Centuries, Pomona, centuries!" Flitwick added. "And what is the result? The Board of Governors lacks funds for such major renovations," he mocked.
"The Board of Governors lacks funds even for standard quills and parchments, if they are to be believed," Sprout grumbled.
"I am wondering if Mr. Malfoy could do something about this situation," Hooch said, eyeing Severus slyly.
Severus snorted.
"Mr. Malfoy would sooner propose to build a new school in a warmer climate," he replied. "It will be easier and more practical."
"And much cheaper," Minerva chuckled.
Gilderoy Lockhart looked a little overwhelmed by such an outpouring of new information, but he was not about to be discouraged.
"I was referring to a different kind of wretched existence!" he announced. "We should not be just thankful for small favours! Hogwarts needs innovation, openness, attention of the crowds! Now, when I am here, everything will change, I will bet my head on it!"
"Bet your what?" Hooch mumbled under her breath – low, but distinctly.
It was Aurora Sinistra's turn to almost choke now, and Lockhart started urging her to try his new potion, stunningly effective in curing problems with throat and voice.
Poor Sinistra made several attempts to evade his boisterous advice before mumbling that "Only Professor Snape attends to potions at Hogwarts", and Lockhart returned his attention to him.
"Indeed, Severus, you dabbled in potions a little! So you will surely have no problem grasping my ingenious recipe! Several lessons with me, and…"
Severus noticed Sinistra's paled face, even though he was not paying much attention to Lockhart's ramblings. She looked frightened, probably scared of being blamed for instigating this overdressed idiot. Sinistra came to Hogwarts as a teacher not that much later than Severus, so they have been colleagues for about seven years or so, but she was still inexplicably afraid of him, for all that he could swear he had never said anything harsh to her. Truth be told, he spoke to her only a handful of times. Severus cast a side glance at his other colleagues, finding that they were eagerly waiting to see how things would unfold. There was, however, not an ounce of trepidation in their eyes, just hungry curiosity or even hidden enthusiasm.
"…And I know one amazing potion for that!" Lockhart kept prattling. "I know one too," Severus said calmly.
Lockhart startled and stopped short. "What?"
"I know. A potion."
"My potion? I have not said anything about its wonderful properties yet!"
"It does not really matter," Severus graced him with a smile of a happy ogre. "I know another potion."
Minerva, choking on laughter, started coughing loudly and quickly covered her face with a handkerchief. Even Hagrid, who was usually rather slow in his naivety, guffawed.
They could have probably continued with these skits for a long time if not for Albus' interference (Severus wondered if the twinges of guilt or the sense of self-preservation were to blame). The headmaster started querying Lockhart about any possible changes to the DADA curriculum, about the books the students would need and other details of the sort. The staff members could finally finish their breakfast in peace.
Minerva caught up to Severus at the doors of the Great Hall, and they exited the castle together – to make a walk a bit and discuss the circumstances in private.
"Frankly speaking, I was afraid you would kill him then and there," Minerva confessed. Severus raised an eyebrow.
"When have I ever been so indiscreet and careless?" he asked. "I would have waited at least until dinner. There are subtle poisons, you know…"
Minerva snorted.
"Anyone else could have believed you. I have seen, however, that you were not even really angry. You were magnificent!"
Severus bowed mockingly.
"Thank you. I have no idea how long I will last, though," he added with unexpected frankness. "It is quite pleasant to lead this fool on a pretty dance, being in a good mood. In the middle of the term, though, with all the little menaces here…" he grimaced.
Minerva nodded in agreement.
"Yes. Now all of us had enough sleep, rest, and everyone is content with their lives. Some Thursday morning in November after a recent set of detentions and grading of atrociously bad essays his rubbish can become the last drop. I am afraid I might have a strong desire to turn him into a mop then. You know what… I propose a bet."
"Yes?" Severus perked.
"Let's wager… fifteen galleons that you will not stick it out till the end of the term and lash out at the dearest Mr. Lockhart." Minerva looked at him archly.
"The same for you?" She contemplated.
"No, that will not do. If both of us will stick it out or both lose we will gain nothing. What if…" Minerva squinted. "If you lash out, that is, raise your voice, insult him openly or use any harmful spells against him, you will wear a red-and-gold robe for a week."
Severus snorted.
"You, Gryffindors, are mad about the colour red. Alright. The desire not to look like a scarecrow is motivation enough to play it cool. And you… If you do any of the things mentioned before, you will forgive my Slytherins three violations of discipline. Of my choosing."
Minerva pursed her lips for a moment, then gave up and laughed.
"And you, Slytherins, are mad about violations of rules. Alright, I agree. So be it."
They shook hands and walked on, discussing more trivial details of preparations for the upcoming school year.
X X X
The thoughts in his head were darting and colliding, raving and jumping, trembling in rage while he was sitting motionless in his jail, staring at a wall.
Since THAT ONE brought him that newspaper he tied himself in knots. Fury filled him, but deep inside beyond the wall of frothing anger his mind stayed cold and persistent. He will find a way out. Sooner or later he will. He believed it for so many years and will continue to do so, otherwise existing was not worth it.
He must get out. He must punish the traitor.