It happened as he delivered the climax of his argument. It was just a glimmer, a flash so brief it could scarcely be felt. Lucius was a consummate professional however, and ignored it in favor of completing his address to the Assembly. It had felt like the Manor Wards, but the lack of any real alarm within them told him it had probably just been one of the incompetent Elves. He made a mental note to investigate later.
Lucius inclined his head regally at the Assembly as they applauded. Another flawless delivery, another victory for the Dark Lord, and all it took was making it seem like the proposed law would preserve the Pureblood way of life.
Ignorant old fools. As soon as the Dark Lord rose again their precious preservation, their ridiculously biased laws, their own positions of power - all would be swept aside. The Dark Lord would rule as the King of Britain, and he, Lucius Pellecien Malfoy, would be Duke of Birmingham and rule the second largest area in Britain. He would still bow to the Dark Lord of course, but when his attention was elsewhere, Lucius would be free to reign and do as he pleased.
He gave one last dignified nod to the Assembly and resumed his seat. At least he could report success to his Lord that afternoon. He wasn't looking forward to the meeting, but he'd been summoned, so it was inevitable. His Lord had plans, and Lucius knew what was good for him. Even though the Dark Lord was still a disgusting Homonculus being cared for by that simpleton McNair, the time when that would change rapidly approached. The Resurrection Ritual would grant him a new body and restore him to power, and Lucius planned to watch while the Dark Lord punished those who were not so loyal. It was an infinitely better choice than to be one of the punished.
He voted down Ossul's ridiculous proposal to create a standing army, and voted for the motion to make it illegal for a group of people to wear masks in public - just to keep the plebs guessing. It was clearly aimed at allowing Aurors to arrest anyone caught dressed as a Death Eater, so in that respect it was against his best interest to vote so, but ultimately it didn't matter. It was all irrelevant anyway. Before the year was out most of the wizards and witches in the Assembly would be dead or fled, and all the laws would be whatever the Dark Lord decided they were in the moment.
He left the council chambers after the meeting, both dreading the tete-a-tete with the Dark Lord and excited to report his successes. He changed into his less opulent robes before he left, as he knew he would be writhing on the grubby floor of his Lord's shabby abode. His meeting with the Dark Lord went as he expected, with the exception that he was instructed to give Yaxley any assistance he required. He agreed immediately of course, and was treated to a Cruciatus curse that was less intense and less lengthy than he had anticipated. All in all, it had been a good day. He left the Dark Lord's chosen abode - filthy and decrepit as it was - with a spring in his step.
He retired to his drawing room when he returned home and quaffed a Cruciatus Recovery potion from his private reserve. He felt nearly normal by the time dinner was ready.
"I want to thank you... for this afternoon." Narcissa said during the soup course. "It's been some time since you were so ardent."
He was not aware she'd been in the Assembly during his speech, but it wasn't an uncommon occurrence. She had her own part to play in the Dark Lord's rise, after all.
"I was somewhat impassioned, wasn't I?" He said. It wasn't a question, it was a preening demand for greater praise.
"Very much so." She replied. "I look forward to the next time you feel so... strongly."
"The Dark Lord has commanded me to render aid to Yaxley's endeavours, so I fear it may be some time." He said. There wouldn't be another session of the Wizengamot until mid-May in any case.
"Excellent." She smiled. "And a pity."
"Now is the time for patience more than any other, Cissa. The rise will be soon. After that there shall be time enough for other pursuits."
"As you say, my husband."
My husband? She hadn't called him that since before Draco was born. She must have really liked his speech. Well, he had all the time in the world to pontificate once he was Duke of Birmingham. If she played her part well, perhaps he'd write a speech just for her and have it performed by some of the muggle slaves.
"Indeed." He said after a moment. So far she had performed her duties admirably as a wife and Lady, he was gratified to see she had no intention of changing that.
There really was no substitute for a proper family life.
Krolly wasn't as sneaky as Zolly - nobody was - but he was plenty sneaky enough. Not a single one of the sad elves in the huge lonely castle had noticed him even a little as he poked his nose here and there. Just like Wolly and Brolly, he wrote down all the things he found, he took pictures too, since there weren't any wizards or witches in the castle to do any talking. Besides, Mister liked pictures. The sad elves only talked to each other once the day's duties were done and they retreated to their tiny shared space in the north tower.
He had found plenty of things the wizards and witches didn't want found. He was fairly certain he'd found all of their secret spots, as a matter of fact. He'd been through the entire castle, from the invisible room at the top of the East tower to the underwater passages that led out and away down the road. Unfortunately, none of them had the bad magic that Lammy had shown them. His skin still crawled when he remembered the feel of it. Thankfully Lammy had only shown them the pretty witch hat for a few seconds before she closed the box it was kept in.
He found loads and loads of bad magics, magics to hurt, magic to steal, magic to kill unmagicals, magic to hurt other magics, and all kinds of items the bad magics were forced into, but none of them were the same creepy-crawly looking at you magics that Lammy had shown them. It had taken him almost a week to complete his search, but he had to return and tell his family he had failed. He didn't look forward to that.
He made sure his notes and camera and everything were tucked safely in his legpouches, and appeared behind Iggi. Only one thing left to do.
"Hi." He said to Iggi.
Iggi jumped and spun in the air while she squealed. When she landed she fell to her knees with her face on the floor.
That part he understood, he'd done the same thing the first time he met Lammy.
"You can get up Iggi, I'm just a House Elf like you. My name's Krolly."
"House Elf?" Iggi looked up from the floor. "Youse House Elf? For trues?"
Krolly nodded. "I wanted to talk to you if that's okay? You can still do your work while we talk, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble."
Iggi went back to polishing and oiling the weapons on the wall. "Iggi likes talks. Nobody to talks here but family elveses. What one like youse wants with weak Iggi?"
"I came on a mission from my Mister, but I can't do what he asked, so now I have to go tell him I failed."
"Iggi is sorry for Krolly gets punishings."
"That's possible, but Mister will probably just thank me for my effort."
"Mister bes thankings for fail?" Iggi's eyes went wide in disbelief.
Krolly nodded. "Mister is a good wizard. I'm very lucky. Where is everyone?"
"Is only elveses now. Mistress and Master and other Master goesed to the Bad Place. Other wizards and witches putsed them there. Iggi can't even goes when they calls! Flying blacknesses keeps Iggi out. No more magics for cleaning or popping. Only old old castle keeps Iggi and Figgi and Miggi from deads."
"Oh. Sorry, Iggi. Do you wish your Master and Mistress and other Master were here?"
Iggi's forehead scrunched backward as her eyes bulged and she made strangled noises. "Krolly bes head-crazys! Mistress and other Master hurts elveses just for funs! No magics is bad, but Master and Mistress and other Master bes here lots worse!"
She looked around then, her eyes darted left and right as she suddenly realized she'd said something negative about her owners.
"Relax, Iggi. I won't tell anyone. My brother Wolly is out talking to other elves like you from other bad families as well. If your Master and Mistress and other Master died, would you want to bond to a better family?"
She frowned then. "What means 'better'?"
"Well... like my family. Mister wants me to be happy. He even makes up special things just for us to do. When we do good things, Mister shows that he is thankful. My brother Wolly got a medal for good service."
"What bes medal?" Iggy asked, curious.
Krolly conjured a temporary copy of Wolly's medal and pinned it to his shirt. "Medal. Special thanks, so everyone knows Mister is proud of our service."
Iggi's eyes grew larger and glassed over as she looked at the medal. "So shiny...Iggi never dreamed Familys had medals."
"So you would be happy to go to a good family?"
She looked at the ground for a moment, then looked around to make sure they were alone before she gave him a quick nod.
"Good." Krolly grinned. "It's too bad I couldn't find a safe place to put precious things like Mister wanted. It was nice talking to you, Iggi."
"Mistress always keeps precious things with goblinses. Mistress says no safer place than Gringott's."
"Really? Thanks, Iggi. Maybe I didn't fail after all." He smiled. "Okay then. I will come see you later, when Mister knows a good family for all three of you."
She nodded. "Iggi bes cleaning then. Thanks for talks, Krolly."
"Thank you, Iggi. See you later." Krolly hated to manipulate the poor elf like that, but he understood what was at stake. With a smile and a wave, he silently took his leave.
Neville blew on the ink to dry the final version of his essay on the positive and negative effects of a waxing versus waning moon on the growth of magical plants. It had only been assigned yesterday, but now that he was finished he was free to push ahead in his O.W.L. work. It's what Harry and Her - He caught himself as even the thought made his stomach go cold. Was it what Harry would do anymore? He honestly didn't know. He hadn't seen his little brother in weeks.
He heard a group of footsteps approach, and the next table over floated up to his as more chairs floated into place around the newly expanded table. Deja-vu washed over him as Fleur, Luna, Daphne, Arielle, Millicent Bulstrode, and several of the french witches whose names he still didn't know sat down around him.
He waited until they were all seated before he spoke. "I don't know where he is. I don't know where he sleeps anymore and I don't know where he disappears to every weekend. Sorry."
Most of the women, all but Daphne and Luna, deflated.
"Umm... I was hoping maybe you knew something about Pansy?" Millicent asked softly.
Neville shook his head at her. "No, sorry. Have you asked Colin Creevey?"
"Who's Colin Creevey?" She asked. Her thick brows moved toward each other like magnetic hams.
"He's a nice boy. He asked her to the Yule Ball." Luna replied.
"Oh, him. No, I haven't." She actually smiled, and Neville had to admit she looked like a normal girl when she wasn't scowling. "Thanks."
"I hope he knows something for you." Neville smiled back.
"So you haven't seen him eizer?' Arielle asked.
He shook his head again. "Apart from classes when we all see him, I haven't seen him since the -" His voice caught in his throat and forced him to clear it. "Since the funeral."
Daphne's hand slid over his collarbone supportively, and Luna dabbed her eyes with her ever-present handkerchief.
"Do you know eef Doombleydoore... quel est le... cherche justice?" One of the french witches asked. Neville recognized her face as having been with the first group that had cornered him and Luna to ask about Harry, but he still didn't know her name. He was getting better at French, but Arielle's reply to her was too fast for him to catch.
"Doombleydoore does anyzing to solve 'Ermione's dess?" Arielle clarified as she turned back to him.
"Of course not," Neville scowled, "He just says he is. 'Everything's under control, just ignore the fact that people are dying who had nothing to do with the stupid Tournament in the first place. Just go back to worshipping the ground I walk on'." He imitated bitterly. If he were any better as a wizard he'd go after Dumbledore himself, just for what he did to his parents. He knew he was a decade or so too early for that though. It was almost a shame Daphne had turned out to be everything he'd ever dreamed and more. If he weren't so happy with her he might just follow Harry to the continent next term and leave Hogwarts to rot. As it was, he had a number of seemingly unsolvable conundrums to solve, and all of them to do while he felt like his right arm was missing.
"Zo." Fleur said with a determined expression, "What can we do?" She looked at him as though he were the default group leader, but he had no answers for them. All he had was a heart full of pained gratitude. He'd gained his parents but lost his best friends.
"I'm sorry Fleur, I feel just as confused and helpless as you." He said softly. Tears escaped his eyes before he realized he was crying, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. His chest squeezed tight and he knew they wouldn't stop coming.
He shook his head sadly at Fleur and the rest of them. "All I know is that neither Duncan nor Hermione would want any of us to stop studying. That's all I've got right now. I know someone in this castle knows exactly what happened to Hermione and why, but I don't know who that is. If I did know who that was, I'm not sure I could stop myself from killing that person. I'm not sure I'd want to stop myself. So I'm going to keep studying because that's what they'd want."
Luna hugged his side then. She turned, wrapped her arms around him, and buried her face in his shoulder. He could feel her shake as she sobbed silently, so he patted her back until Daphne moved to stand behind her and took over. Luna stood and transferred her hug to Daphne when she did. They stood there next to him and expressed what they all felt.
Neville wasn't made for war. He knew that. He was happy to dig in the dirt and plant tiny seeds and nurture them, encourage them to grow. That was his purpose. That's what he was for. Nevertheless, he felt a hard, sharp coldness settle in his chest as he decided to ask his parents and Gran what he could do. Mum and Dad had been Aurors, they knew how to investigate. Gran knew just about everything, and saw connections where he didn't. She could ask a few different people different questions and come up with what had happened.
Yes, he would keep studying. That's what they would want. He wanted answers.
Albus watched the boy shuffle up the stairs. His slumped shoulders and vacant expression spoke volumes about his mental state, and that tickled Albus pink. The boy didn't care what happened to him, and that couldn't be more perfect. It was the result he'd planned all along, even if nothing had actually gone according to plan. It wasn't quite as good as noble self-sacrifice, but not caring whether he lived or died would be functionally the same. Albus thanked Merlin that the Greater Good won out in the end.
He pressed the head of the cute, chubby little phoenix figurine that sat on the left side of his desk, and the door opened as soon as the boy neared it.
"Duncan, my boy! Good to see you, have a seat." He greeted the lad warmly. "Lemon drop?"
The boy ignored him and shuffled forward to plop into a chair as though his legs wouldn't support a slow, controlled descent. He sat there and looked at the floor vacantly.
It was all Albus could do to keep his lips from smiling. He replaced the proffered bowl of lemony sweets back on his desk, then reclined in his chair to steeple his fingers in front of his face. It helped him concentrate on schooling his features.
"I suppose you're wondering why I sent for you." He used his favourite mysterious tone of voice to goad the conversation onward. Of course the boy wanted to know why he was there, nobody wanted to be summoned to the Headmaster's office.
Harry stared at the floor vacantly and moved not a muscle.
He gave no indication that he'd even heard Albus's statement. It caused a flicker of annoyance across his otherwise joyous mood, but then the boy was only acting exactly the way he wanted him to. Apparently not caring what happened to him included being summoned to the Headmaster's office.
It was a pity the Third Task was still weeks away, honestly. The boy was perfectly ripe to be sent after Tom immediately. If he was left to stew any longer... Albus nearly sat bolt upright as that thought completed itself.
What if the boy killed himself? Would that complete the prophecy, or would it render Tom immortal? Would he even be allowed to suicide? Technically he was one of the principals of the prophecy... Neither can live while the other survives... if the boy wasn't really living in the first place, would that simply make Tom the winner by default? It may allow the boy to attempt suicide and keep him alive if only technically. If Tom got hold of Harry now, as he was, and kept him alive... No, that would not do. That would not do at all.
He would have to snap the boy out of his catatonia, but keep him on a leash. Keep Harry looking to him for direction. Luckily, he already had the perfect means by which to accomplish both ends.
"I have been investigating poor Miss Granger's death," He told Harry gently, "While it is yet too soon to ascertain with any degree of certainty, the clues I have uncovered point toward followers of Voldemort as the ones who -"
Albus stopped mid-sentence, as Harry had flashed out of his chair and stood over him, his nose a hair's breadth from his own. Harry's eyes glowed with incandescent rage and Albus could feel the power rolling off the boy.
"WHO? WHERE?" Harry demanded.
The intensity of him made Albus's guts weak, as though he'd quaffed a bowel-loosening potion. He'd witnessed Harry's outburst in the Great Hall with Ronald, and had dismissed the phenomenon as being fake - theatre, intended to intimidate. He knew in that moment his previous assumption was incorrect.
It had been nearly a century since Albus had felt weak or insignificant, and he hated it as much as he always had - but he was no fool. He knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he was in immediate mortal danger, and part of him shrank from it. It was like being the focus of an enraged dragon's attention. He needed to defuse the situation, and quickly.
"I'm sorry, my boy. I don't yet know." Albus said in a tiny voice. Even to his own ears he sounded scared. He cleared his throat afterward, and took a deep breath.
Harry's face relaxed. The incandescence left his eyes, and he stood up again. Just like that, the horrible, clawing pressure of him fell away, and Albus felt himself again almost immediately. As though towering rage had been the only thing animating him, Harry shuffled back to the other side of the desk and plopped into the chair again to stare at the floor blankly.
Nimue's nipples! Albus swore internally. The boy had completely discombobulated him! He took another deep breath and tried to refocus. Leash. He had to get the boy on a leash. Right.
"Of course, Voldemort's minions don't act on their own. Whatever they have done, he has ordered them to do, so her death can be laid at his feet." Albus said helpfully. Harry's eyes snapped upward to lock onto his as they took on a greater vibrancy. They didn't burn as they just had, but Albus could still feel the power in that gaze.
"I have been looking for Voldemort for some time, my boy. Rest assured that I will let you know the moment I find him."
The eyes dimmed again as Harry slumped into himself and his eyes dropped to the floor once more. Harry rose and shuffled out the door then, apparently having decided that their meeting was done. That irked Albus, but at the same time he was blissfully thankful for not having to deal with him anymore.
"I hope we haven't misstepped where that boy is concerned." Phineas' voice said, with undertones of awe after Harry had gone.
"The stick is useless, but the carrot seems to be working for now." Albus replied. "We'll see if it remains enough. It only has to last three more weeks."
"And if something goes wrong? Merlin, Albus what if the boy wins? He'll be ten times the terror Riddle could ever be."
Until that moment, until Phineas voiced that concern, the possibility that Harry might win had never occurred to him. He was forced to concede that Phineas might be right.
"We'll burn that bridge when we come to it." Albus responded. For some reason, his mouth was suddenly very dry.
Neville led the pack as they rounded the shore to the far side of Black lake. He ran pilotless, automatically, as his thoughts turned toward the scene that unfolded on top of the dark waters bare months before. The footing was mucky as it always was after a rain, but he'd become used to it over time. Harry had told him when they'd started that running over uneven and snow-clogged surfaces would help his balance and his awareness of his surroundings, and he hadn't been wrong. He looked around reflexively, taking in the scenery and noted all the possible problems in the path ahead.
Daphne and Luna trailed him by a few hundred metres, they held their own pace and kept each other company. He knew they talked to each other for most of the run, and that was great. He knew he'd been miserable company for the last few months. He'd already planned to make it up to both of them, somehow. Fleur and Cedric jogged behind Daphne and Luna, more for the opportunity to spend time with each other away from school rather than any drive toward fitness.
There were others who joined, and Neville could see them spread halfway around the lake in ones and twos, but who those people actually were changed, sometimes on a daily basis.
He became aware, while he absently took in the pack he led, of another set of footfalls next to him on his right. There was nobody there... But whoever the nobody was, they left footprints next to his.
"Must be difficult to run like that." He said.
"It is, a bit." The Nobody replied. It was Harry's voice.
Neville nearly stumbled as he dropped out of pace, but Harry urged him on.
"Don't stop. Keep running. Everything as normal." Harry's voice came from ahead now, as he hadn't stopped. Neville struggled to catch up, and panted as he fell in beside Harry once again.
"Where... Have you been?" He asked. "Are you... Alright?"
"I'm alright, Nev. Right now Dumbledore is watching everything like a hawk. Whatever is going to happen will happen around the Third Task of the Tournament. I'm sorry to have to keep you away for now. I don't want to, but what's happening is too important to let feelings interfere. You can kick my arse for being a poor brother and poor friend later."
"No, I... Understand...I've seen Dumbledore... Looking for you every... Meal. He acts like he's... just smiling at everyone... but you can see his eyes scanning... Looking for you."
"Exactly. He's the one I need to keep in the dark. If I fill you and Luna in too soon, it will change how you look and act, and he'll know something is up. Please give my apology to Luna as well. I just didn't want you both to worry for nothing." Harry's voice sounded sad and conflicted.
"Will do." Neville said as his breath came easier and he settled back into a normal running rhythm. "She's going to kick your arse hard for not stopping to talk to her."
"I know. You'll get front row seats when she does, promise. A few more weeks, that's all."
Neville nodded. "I'll hold you to that." He said with a small grin. "I'm just glad you're here, mate. I can't say it's fun not knowing what's going on with you, but at least now I know you're not sitting in the dark think – that you're alright. That's more than we had."
He felt Harry's hand on his shoulder, then his footsteps stopped and Neville ran on alone. He felt a bit lighter as he did, like a little of the pain inside him had abated. Harry was getting better. It was just a little, but he wasn't the vacant Harry doll that he'd been for the past months anymore. He was moving, and that told Neville the world hadn't actually ended just yet.
He broke stride and walked once he reached the side of the lake closest to the castle, and strolled while Daphne and Luna caught up.
"What's wrong?" Daphne asked as soon as they fell into step either side of him.
"Nothing." He grinned and put an arm around each of them briefly. "I had a visit from Duncan. He wanted us to know he's alright, didn't want us to worry."
"Oh! Is he talking again?" Daphne asked.
"I'll give him a "don't worry", right in his stupid boy face." Luna growled.
"He didn't talk much, honestly. Said he needs to keep Dumbledore in the dark. He knows you're going to kick his arse, Luna. I told him so. He said he'll fill us all in later but he can't right now. Dumbledore is watching everyone too closely."
"That's more like it." Luna relaxed. "At least he hasn't gone completely dippy."
"I knew it!" Daphne whispered. "I knew Dumbledore wasn't just happily looking over the students. Every so often you can see a flicker of annoyance. That's because Duncan isn't showing up?"
"Very likely." Neville replied.
"Very definitely." Luna answered. "Dumbledore has had an unhealthy interest in Duncan ever since his first day. If Duncan is keeping Dumbledore in the dark, then that's why he's keeping us in the dark. Dumbledore isn't stupid. He'll know something is different if we're suddenly relaxed and happy."
"Why would Duncan want Dumbledore in the dark? What's going on? Is this something to do with Her-" Daphne's voice hitched and she couldn't finish.
Luna reached out and hugged her Club Sister. "Maybe. Duncan isn't the kind of person to just accept what he's told. If I had to guess, I'd guess he's investigating and doesn't want Dumbledore to know."
"Is there... anything we can do to help, you think?" Daphne whispered as she blinked away the water from her eyes.
Luna let her go and resumed their walk. "We are. By not knowing, we act how we should be acting. Upset, confused, hurt. Duncan doesn't want us to actually be those things, that's not how he is, but it's necessary for now."
Daphne nodded once. "I understand. If he's thinking tactically, then he must have at least put some of his grief aside. That... makes me happy. Makes me think he might... get better."
"He said what he's doing should be concluded by the Third Task." Neville said softly, amazed at their ability to work things out. They put his feelings into words better than he could have. Damn courting for taking so bloody long!
"I want to help more though." Daphne sighed. "I feel like I'm betraying her by doing nothing." She whispered.
Neville held her hand, and she shot him a shy smile. "So do we, Daph," He said softly, "That's exactly how we should feel right now. It stinks, but we'll have to live with it for a few more weeks."
Daphne sighed and squeezed his hand. "I'll do my best."
"We still have each other." Luna smiled. "And we'll be here for Duncan when he needs us." She cast a pointed glance at Neville's eyes when Daphne looked away. Neville's lips tightened some and he nodded slightly.
"That will be wonderful. It might be the only time what I want to do and what's expected of me as a Slytherin will be one and the same." Daphne said. "I can't wait to be finished with school."
"Me either." Neville agreed. "I used to think staying here as a teacher would be great, but this year has shown me so much that I think it would be a small, sad world to live in. There's going to be so much more to learn after we leave here. So much more to see and do. There's so much wrong with the way things are, and it's going to be up to us to fix it. I can't do that hiding out in a greenhouse, no matter how much I might want to."
"At the very least we need to make sure nothing like this fucking Tournament ever happens again." Luna spat venomously. "I agree there's too much to be done to leave it to others. There seems to be an egregious lack of competence in general."
"I would love to help you both corner people politically and force them to your will." Daphne's eyes shone with delight and she shivered a little.
Neville chuckled and kissed her fingers. "Alright then, the Coalition for Rectifying Wizarding Britain is on the job."
Daphne shivered again and reached out to snog him fiercely, then just as quickly broke away and looked at the ground while her face went red. "Sorry... I just... You're so... Sorry."
Neville grinned and Luna grinned at them, but she didn't say anything else for the rest of the walk back to the castle. Her mind already wrestled with the tasks she could foresee.
He ground his teeth for the entire boatride.
It wasn't bad enough he had to go to Azkaban personally, he could've dealt with that if it had been the only thing - it was the Dark Lord's Will, after all. No, the problem had been at the Ministry. It was a bloody good thing the Dark Lord would rule in a couple short weeks, he feared his own position at the existing Ministry had been compromised.
It had been a perfect plan. It had worked flawlessly on several other Administrators and Directors. Merlin damn that bloody bitch Bones. All it would have taken was a few seconds for her to sign the order to transfer Bellatrix and the others from Maximum Security, but no. She'd thrown off his Imperius the second he'd cast it.
Worse, she'd then recognized what had happened and started shouting orders for a lockdown. He'd only been able to escape after he'd confounded one of his fellow Aurors into thinking the doors were already locked.
When Lockdown was finalized, when headcounts were taken and wands examined, they'd all know he'd left the building. He'd be singled out for questioning, and Bones was fond of Veritaserum. Nuts to that.
The only good thing to come out of the whole fiasco was the fact that he'd left the maximum security bunch for last. He'd Confundus the clerk with phony papers, or Imperius the lot of them if necessary, but whatever happened on that Magic-forsaken island he was fairly certain he was finished at the Ministry. He would have to join the ranks at his Lord's feet, and that wasn't a particularly pleasant thought.
He liked his autonomy. He liked his Authority, too. He'd joined the ranks of the Dark Lord because he wanted more of both. Being next to his Lord guaranteed he'd have neither, but he could deal with that for a couple of weeks until Britain fell. His own efforts at the Ministry would guarantee that it was among the first casualties of the new war. Security at the Ministry leaked like a sieve – he was particularly proud of that handiwork.
Holes in the shift-change schedule, gaps in the security coverage, surveillance that covered irrelevant and inconsequential areas rather than priority areas, Yaxley knew them all. They could come and go as they pleased, to any place they pleased.
At his request - one did not order Malfoy, no matter the authority one possessed - Lucius had done the same to the Wizengamot's members. They could put their hands on just about any one of them at any time. Those that stayed in the country, that is. Most of the toffs would flee Britain as soon as the news of the Dark Lord's return broke. He personally couldn't wait to see the look on Fudge's face when Voldemort himself swept regally into Fudge's office, the jelly-spined twat.
He would have to remind himself to ask the Dark Lord for the privilege of being present.
The boat pulled alongside the dock and was kept still by the magic attached to the dock.
"Don't go anywhere, I'll be back with passengers." He told the elderly boat captain. The old man just sneered at him. Worthless squib.
He almost whooped for joy when he saw the wizard behind the security desk.
He'd trained Abercrombie Slagg when Slagg had applied to the Auror academy - for all of two weeks. Slagg had the mental fortitude of mashed turnip. He'd quit after two weeks and washed out. He'd complained of bullying. Bullying. Because criminals were always wonderfully kind and nice. Shithead.
"Morning Slagg." He nodded amicably.
"Yaxley. Business?"
He handed Slagg a folded interdepartmental memo regarding appropriate behaviour in the Commissary, and surreptitiously flicked his wand at the porridge lump that masqueraded as a wizard.
"Prisoner transfer. Crouch Junior, Pettigrew, and all three Lestranges."
"I see. Well, that looks... fine." Slagg blinked a few times as he handed the memo back to him. Slagg then wrote an order on a bit of parchment, which folded itself into a paper crane and flew off into the depths of the prison. "Can't say I'm sad to see the back of them. Bloody creepy, the lot of 'em. 'Specially that witch. Way she looks at you, like she can't decide whether to fuck you then eat you or eat you then fuck you."
"They're both lies. All she really wants is to kill you." He knew that from experience.
Slagg stared at him for a second, then shivered. "Glad it's you then, I'd be a walking corpse. Good luck with 'em."
The five prisoners were trotted out in wrist and ankle manacles, every one of them a blank-faced ghost of who they used to be. Just looking at them turned his stomach, but he'd never let that show. Display any sort of weakness and Bella would shred you by herself. He knew he could probably take Rodolphus and Rabastan. Maybe even at the same time. Pettigrew was a worthless lump, he'd expended any usefulness he'd had by betraying the Potters the first time around. Bella though... You always watched yourself around Bella.
"Move, filth!" He barked at his 'prisoners'. They didn't blink an eye, any of them. They just shuffled forward like ancient corpses. Pettigrew breathed heavily, mouth open, and drooled as he went.
It took longer than he'd been on the island already just to load them into the boat, and he ground his teeth the whole time.
Finally the boat pulled away from the dock, and he waited until the island was out of sight in the distance before he pulled six miniature broomsticks from his pocket and enlarged them. He flicked his wand at the prisoners' manacles, and they fell to the deck of the boat with heavy thuds.
He pulled their wands from his pocket as well - liberated from Ministry storage - and enlarged them to normal size. For some reason, Pettigrew's wand had not been in storage. He handed wands to Rodolphus and Rabastan and Crouch, but before he handed Bella her wand, he leaned in and spoke to her in a low tone.
"The Dark Lord commanded I free you, but as a personal gift from me... You get to kill the old squib driving the boat."
Instantly, the slack-jawed, dead-eyed look vanished from her face and her lips separated in a ghastly parody of a smile. Her eyes burned. She snatched her wand from his hand and a quiet giggle escaped her. It was a sound Yaxley hoped to never hear again.
The boatman screamed for long, agonizing minutes before she let him die, and when she came out of the wheelhouse covered in blood, she wore a relaxed and happy smile that never touched her eyes. They still burned.
Rodolphus handed her a broom, and the six of them took off from the deck of the boat. Yaxley paused for a moment to cast a couple of Bombardaat the front and rear of the boat, from the side, near the waterline. The boat began to sink, and by the time they were high enough for him to get his bearings over the trees, it had slipped under the waves.
He led them up the coast at a fast clip, toward their waiting Master.
It seemed the whole Charms class held its breath. It was the last class before the Third Task the the day after next, and Neville could tell none of the students in the class were really in the class - they merely waited for it to be over. Even Professor Flitwick seemed preoccupied.
Neville was worried about Harry. He hadn't shown even a hint of his old self since their run along the lake. He and Luna had talked about it, and they thought maybe, just maybe, Harry might intend to get himself killed in the Maze. He didn't think Harry had any kind of death wish, but at the same time if he thought he could go to where Hermione was, Harry would be gone before you could blink. He hoped he was wrong, but he'd already made plans with Luna just in case.
His eyes flicked across the room almost of their own volition to where Daphne sat. For some reason, Davis wasn't next to her as she normally was. Flint sat there and ignored Professor Flitwick, ignored the lesson entirely. Flint's whole focus was on Daphne, whose whole focus was on ignoring Flint. He sat too close to her, sideways in the chair so that he could face her. He whispered to her incessantly, a lascivious grin plastered to his face. Daphne showed no emotion whatsoever, but she did look a little green. Her eyes flicked upward then, as though sensing his own attention, and he could see her plea in her eyes.
Help.
Neville felt his hackles rise and his fingers gripped his wand tighter. Flint was - rather, should have been - a seventh year, but he was incredibly dim. He was big and aggressive though. Harry might have been able to fight him, but Neville knew Flint would wipe the floor with him. He couldn't just go punch Flint in the mouth, no matter how much he wanted to.
He took a deep breath and tried to look at the situation from another angle. That's what his little brother would do, and Neville had learned through experience that he was usually right. He examined the situation critically, and asked himself what would the worst thing be for Flint just then?
He nodded to Daphne with a hopefully comforting smile. He flicked his wand at Flint under the table and silently cast Sonorus on him.
"...keep you chained to the toilet and use you like the whore you always wanted to be..." It took a few seconds for Flint to realize his whisper could be heard throughout the entire classroom. Every eye in the room was on him as he looked around and turned slowly red.
"That's a week's detention, Mister Flint." Professor Flitwick looked ready to start spitting curses. "Twenty points from Slytherin for such appalling behaviour. Leave my classroom immediately."
Flint picked up his things and made his way to the door and glared at everyone in the room as he tried to figure out who had cast on him. Neville smiled quietly to himself, until a tiny voice in his head told him a truth.
It wasn't enough.
It didn't matter if Flint beat him bloody. Flint had dared to speak that way to Daphne. He realized in that moment that she wasn't just the girl of his dreams. She wasn't just the woman he courted and wanted to marry. She was Daphne, and she had carved a Daphne-shaped place in his heart.
It could not stand. He would not let it.
"Markus Flint." Neville said in a coldly angry voice as he rose from his seat. "You have given insult to a Lady."
The entire classroom went deathly silent.
Ron Weasley actually started to shiver and sank lower in his seat.
Neville turned to Professor Flitwick. "My apologies Professor. I would ask that you referee a duel between us, but duels are for gentlemen- not diseased mutts. Dogs get beaten, and Mister Flint has chosen me to deliver his. Please excuse my absence."
Without waiting for an answer, Neville shouldered his bag and stepped resolutely toward Flint, then paused just long enough to look Flint in the eyes. "Outside, dog!" He commanded, then walked toward the exit.
After being called out like that, Neville knew there was no way Flint wouldn't follow him outside. He also knew that Flint hadn't passed exams in three years, and that meant he was thick as an ox pudding - so Neville wasn't worried about being silently cursed in the back. He'd seen Flint's spellwork, and it was both lazy and loud. In that respect, Flint was a lot like a bigger, meaner Ronald Weasley. It was only thanks to Harry and Hermione that Neville even knew about silent casting. It was thanks to their daily training he was able to accomplish it.
Sure enough, when Neville reached the front courtyard, he heard Flint's stomping steps behind him. He set his bag down and turned to face Flint, but Flint had already started to sprint toward him, a rage-filled grimace on his face.
Neville's guts went cold and his instincts screamed at him to run. Run and hide.
Instead, he flicked his wand and cast a silent impedimentia jinx. Months of training with Harry and Hermione and Luna had not gone to waste.
Flint's next steps collided with an invisible barrier, and he continued forward without his legs under him. He got his arms under him, but he still smacked his face on the hard stone of the courtyard. That made Neville smile, briefly.
Flint roared as he got up, and resumed his charge toward Neville. Flint's wand wasn't even out – apparently he relied entirely on intimidation and physical violence. Neville waited until Flint was almost within punching distance.
"Ossio Rumpitur." He whispered, and sent a grey bolt from his wand to impact the meat of Flint's left thigh. Markus let out a short cry as he stumbled again, but his fist connected with Neville's face as he fell.
The world flashed bright for a split second as his bell was rung, but it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd thought it would be - as he'd feared it would be. He'd walked into the door at home a few times, it was rather like that. Markus, on the other hand lay on his side on the stones at his feet and clutched his leg.
"Ossio Rumpitur." Neville whispered again, this time at his right thigh. The resultant CRACK echoed around the courtyard. Markus growled and his breath came in hisses through clenched teeth, but it only made Neville angry. When he thought he was in a position of strength, Flint wouldn't hesitate to bully and threaten. As soon as the shoe was on the other foot, though...
Neville sent grey bolts at each of his arms for good measure. The thick bones of Flint's upper arms cracked as well.
"Do I have your attention yet, Flint?" Neville crouched next to Flint's head. Markus's eyes were wide with pain, but his expression was still one of hatred. He sucked breath through his misshapen teeth and didn't answer. Neville felt a tickle in his nose, and wiped it with the back of his left hand. His hand came away smeared with blood.
Neville smiled.
Apparently getting hit hard enough to make his nose bleed didn't really affect him much, and that made him happy. He was tougher than he thought he was.
Neville pointed his wand at Flint's left eye. "I asked you a question, dog!" Neville's voice snapped like a whip and echoed through the courtyard.
Flint's eyes maintained their hatred, but Neville could see fear behind them as well. His face slackened and he whispered "Yes."
"Yes what? You address your better, Flint. Do it properly." Neville cast scopamultem, then cast a harmless red sparks, though Flint didn't know it was red sparks. All he saw was the tip of Neville's wand glow an angry red.
"Uhh..." Flint's eyes grew wider, and fear overcame the hatred within them.
"Yes sir." Neville supplied. A drop of blood dripped from his nose to land on Flint's school robes.
"Yes sir." Flint repeated softly.
"Louder." Neville demanded.
"Yes sir!" Flint raised his voice by a fraction.
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU." Neville bellowed at his face. Another drop of blood.
"YES SIR!" Flint shouted. It clearly hurt for him to do so, but his eyes never left the angry red tip of Neville's wand.
"That's better." Neville relaxed again, and pointed his wand at Flint's crotch. "Do you know what the Eunuchem Totalis spell does, Flint?"
Flint's fear grew even greater, and he shook his head as he answered "No sir!"
"It's for castration, Flint. My ancestors used it to control breeding among their slaves in the West Indies. If you ever go anywhere near Daphne again, if you ever speak to her for any reason, I will make you smoother down there than a baby girl. Do I make myself clear?"
"No, please no!" Flint begged.
"One word to Daphne and your line ends. Am I understood?" Another drop of blood.
"Yes! Yes sir!"
"LOUDER." Neville shouted.
"YES SIR!" Flint bellowed. "PLEASE!"
Neville cancelled the red sparks and the scopamultem, and moved his wand back to Flint's face. "Before we finish, I would just like to add that I hope you test me on this, Flint. No doubt some of your housemates will tell you that I'm soft and weak and won't follow through. I want you to know the truth, Markus. Look in my eyes and see the truth."
Markus did as he was told, and what he saw there caused him to shrink away as much as he could without moving his arms or legs.
"Good." Neville told him in a quiet, steely tone. "I'm glad we understand each other." Another drop of blood landed on the courtyard stone.
Neville stood and silently vanished his blood from the stone and Flint's robes, as it wasn't a healthy thing to have your blood lying around where anyone could get it. He picked his bag up from where he'd dropped it, and noticed as he did so that the entire back half of the courtyard was filled with bodies. Far more people than was in the entire charms class stood there slack-jawed and silent as they stared at him and Flint.
Neville shouldered his bag as he strolled over to the crowd and held his arm out for Daphne. "Fancy some tea, darling?" He asked her.
Daphne hooked her arm into his with a stunned expression, and he led her inside while whispered conversations swelled in their wake.
Neville made some haste toward the kitchens, and once they were inside with the portrait door closed, he collapsed into a chair with an explosive sigh.
Daphne took her wand out and then straddled his lap, facing him. "Hold still." She said. "Your nose is broken."
"Is it?" Neville's eyebrows rose. "It doesn't feel that bad, honestly. I always thought it would be some great, shattering pain. Hm."
Daphne bit her lip as she concentrated, and waved her wand at his face. "Episkey." She whispered. There was a brief pain, like being slapped in the face, and then he felt normal again.
"Thank you." He smiled at her.
She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him hard.
She moaned into his mouth as her tongue dove past his lips and caressed his own. Her hips moved back and forth, and ground her softness into his lap while she moaned. Neville recovered from the shock quickly, and raised his hands to cup her perfect breasts. She responded with ragged moans in the back of her throat and crushed his hands to her breasts with her own. His body responded to her ministrations in the most embarrassing way possible, but to his surprise it seemed to be exactly what she wanted. She ground herself against him with renewed fervor while he kneaded her breasts roughly. Her breath came in quick gasps as she detached from his mouth, so he put his mouth to use on her neck and collarbones. She wrapped her arms around his head and changed her hip motion from back and forth to include up and down.
A rose-coloured fog settled on his brain then, and without really thinking, he switched one of his hands from her breast to her behind. Her ragged moans gained urgency then to match the motions of her hips. Neville knew they couldn't actually do anything for real - not yet. It would invalidate their contract if they did, and that would be disaster. Still, he felt his will to resist the urge to tear the clothes from her body crumble slowly as she bounced up and down on his erection.
Just as he neared the end of his wits, Daphne cried out sharply and wrapped her legs under the seat of the chair as her arms constricted around his head. He could feel her soft wet heat pulse against him while her legs quivered. She didn't breathe at all, she just held him while her stomach spasmed and her nethers twitched against his. His mind reeled with it – she was spectacular.
Finally she gasped a breath, followed by heavy pants as she collapsed bonelessly against him.
"Ohhh," She moaned, "Hahhh... mmm." She raised her head slowly to kiss him again, softly, tenderly. "I want you inside me so badly." She whispered.
He kissed her back, shocked and humbled to hear words he'd dreamed about for years. The real thing was so much better.
"I know we can't though, Daphne. I'm deadly serious about you - I want to marry you. I always have, ever since we were children. It always seemed like just a fantasy, but you're real. These last few months have been a dream come true for me, but it's more than that. Yes, you're beautiful- I've always thought so, but you're so much more. You're so smart, Daph. You're smart, and tough and funny and wonderful, and the more I get to know you the deeper in love with you I fall. Of course I want you - it's all I can do to not tear your clothes off and take you on this table - but I want all of you. I want to protect you and make you happy for your whole life, not just now."
"Oh Nev," She whispered. She looked into his eyes, and he could see the tears coat her gorgeous sapphire orbs before they gathered and fell onto his chest. "You really mean that." Her lips twisted as she fought to keep sobs down, but Neville could see it was a losing battle. He wrapped his arms around her and cradled her to him as the most precious thing in his life.
"Of course I do." He said softly. Daphne lost the battle then, and broke into choking sobs as she clung to him. He stroked her hair and rocked her gently back and forth. "You might not want to know, but it was usually you I saw naked when I..." He cleared his throat, "... at night."
Daphne pulled away from him to look into his eyes again as snot and saliva trailed the distance between them. Tears still streamed from her eyes as she looked at him quizzically. He could feel his whole face heat up as he smiled back sheepishly.
Daphne started to laugh. Tears streamed down her face and she still sobbed, but she laughed at him at the same time.
Harry's endlessly-repeated words flooded into his mind as he watched Daphne. Be happy while you rage. Be sad while you laugh.
In that moment, Neville understood.
Severus carefully sprinkled the precisely slivered boomslang skin into the cauldron and smiled when the mixture turned a delicate pink. Perfect.
He turned to the grindylow tooth next, it needed to be shaved into curls. Thin and even, for maximum absorption. He picked the tooth up and readied his wand, but pain bloomed in his forearm and he dropped the tooth to the bench.
"Always when I'm brewing." He sighed.
He quickly cast a stasis charm on the cauldron and sealed the door to his office. Once he was sure he was alone, he rolled up his sleeve. He knew he received a message from the Dark Lord just from the feel of the twisty, writhing pain beneath his skin, like a snake in his veins.
ASSIST YAXLEY TO ALTER THE TRIWIZARD CUP AND LEAVE AGAIN UNDETECTED.
The black lettering was as unmistakable as it was painful as it unravelled from his dark mark and undulated around it. He threw a lid on top of the cauldron and sealed it shut, then stored the perishable ingredients back in their containers. He had no idea how long Yaxley would take, so it was better to err on the side of caution.
At least Yaxley was somewhat competent. With any luck he'd finish quickly and leave. With an annoyed sigh he swept out of his office toward the gates, and on down into Hogsmeade.
Rosmerta scowled as he entered but brought him his usual tea just the same. He had no idea what the woman had against him, but after thirteen years with no change it hardly mattered.
It took him twenty minutes to finish his tea. He nursed it while his mind worked on ways to improve the potion he brewed. He even went so far as to pull out quill and parchment and make notes. Finally, as the dregs of the pot dwindled, he heard a whisper from the air next to him.
"I'm here." Yaxley's tone was not congenial.
Severus didn't answer, he merely put away his writing implements and gave Rosmerta a sickle for the tea, same as he always did. Once he was in the street, he walked back toward the castle. As he walked, he quietly asked "Can you hear me?"
"Yes." The reply came from his left.
"Go to the Shrieking Shack. I will meet you inside." To anyone watching, it would appear that Professor Snape simply returned to the castle after having tea and writing some notes.
Exactly as Severus intended.
He did not return to the castle proper, however. Instead he approached a thick and gnarled old tree with supple branches and a terrible attitude. One last glance to make sure he was alone, and he simply disappeared as he approached the tree.
Inside the shrieking shack, Severus saw Yaxley immediately despite his invisibility. The fool hadn't wandered the floor, he'd simply walked in and stood in a corner to wait. His footprints in the thick dust were like glowing pointers.
"Follow me." Severus told him. "No sound." He turned and crept back down the tunnel that had led him to the Shrieking Shack, but rather than return to the tree he took a side branch and emerged into the castle proper.
"I assume you remember where the Trophy Room is. I seem to recall you spent a great deal of time in it during your schooling. I will join you shortly."
"Thank you Severus. You're still a twat."
Severus didn't bother to wait, he went about his rounds. He entered the Trophy Room four minutes and twenty-seven seconds later.
"Have you finished?" He asked impatiently.
"Shut up, the protections on this thing are ridiculous." Yaxley's voice was strained and he panted.
"I have been commanded to assist you. I cannot if you do not explain the task."
"You... already know what this is supposed to do. You had to be the one who told the... Dark Lord, because he told me. I'm just..." Yaxley grunted with effort, and a faint sizzle sounded. "Finally. Re-writing the where and when. As my Lord commanded."
The Tri-Wizard cup flashed briefly, a series of light blue flashes while Yaxley whispered something to it.
"It will take the boy to the Dark Lord?"
"Of course."
"You installed a trigger phrase, what if the boy fails to activate it?"
Silence answered his question, broken only by the faint SNAP of the protections on the cup re-activating.
"Finished." Yaxley said. "I presume the way in is my way out?"
"If you can manage it."
The door opened and closed again a second later.
"Never liked you either, Yaxley." Severus told the empty room. Still, Yaxley hadn't tarried or dawdled and the thing was over with none the wiser. Competent.
He took a last look at the Tri-Wizard cup before he left the Trophy Room and stalked through the darkened halls toward Albus's office.
The door swung open as he approached, signalling that the old man was awake. He was behind his desk, in fact, fingers steepled while he sucked on a lemon drop. Albus looked terrible. The changes were subtle, but Severus paid attention to everything - it kept him alive. Dumbledore looked haggard and tired. Weak. He'd looked old before his time, but now he looked far older than he actually was.
"What can I do for you, Severus?" He asked.
"The Tri-Wizard cup has been altered. It will take him to the Dark Lord. The end of the Tournament will be the end of the boy." He told Dumbledore.
Dumbledore sat forward and leaned on his elbows. "It all ends tomorrow. Thank you for telling me, Severus. I will need time to prepare to meet Tom."
"Are you sure you should do so alone? You don't look well."
"With a day to prepare I will be fine. It's just as well, the boy needs to be used soon. He passes ripe on his way to rot."
"I will brew you some... tonics... See that you use them before the Task ends."
Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "I shall. Thank you Severus."
He nodded at the old man and quietly left his office. A day was too short a time to brew anything significant, but he could brew a few combat potions concurrently. When the opponents were equal, as Dumbledore and Voldemort were, anything could tip the scales one way or the other.
He swept into his own office and began brewing immediately. Even with Dumbledore's considerable power, there was no way he would leave it to the old man to accomplish alone. Severus had too much riding on Dumbledore's success for that. Voldemort would stack the odds in his favor and then dangle hope in front of you while killing you with the wand you didn't see. Dumbledore was simply too old and too arrogant to win without his help, and Severus needed them both dead to be free.
It was almost a shame the key to the whole thing was Lily's child... it still turned his stomach that she had ruined herself with that filth. At least the evidence of that gross error would be erased. It wouldn't bring her back to him, nor change anything else - dead was dead. He had long ago learned to live with the fact that he would never have what he truly wanted.
Once Dumbledore and Voldemort were dead and he was free, he would find enough of what he wanted to at least find some contentment. Once the boy died the battle would rage, and Severus would be the one to walk away free. All Dumbledore had to do was trust him enough to drink what he gave him.