Chapter 1
Notes:
WARNING: Discussions of injuries, non-consensual use of potions
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lord Voldemort was being entertained at a lavish gala to celebrate the passage of his latest mortal birthday, an event graciously hosted by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy in their spacious Manor, when one of his most trusted advisors approached him looking drawn and pale. Well, more so than usual for the dour Potions Professor, Severus Snape.
"Mi'Lord, I'm afraid I have some rather...perplexing news to report this evening," the raven-haired wizard said as he slightly bowed his head in deference to his Sire, "It stems from a serious accident at the school."
"Please tell me that twinkly-eyed old fool has finally taken a tumble off his Ivory Tower at the castle," smirked Riddle, causing a handful of his nearby un-Turned followers to snicker, "It would certainly make for a wondrous gift for my birthday, my Childe."
"Unfortunately, that momentous occasion has yet to occur," drawled Snape, the corners of his mouth still curled down into a deep frown. Leaning in so that only Voldemort could hear, Severus murmured, "No, this involves the other bane of your Un-Life, the young Mr. Harry Potter and one of his ever-present companions, Miss Hermione Granger."
That caused the Vampire Elder to arch a single eyebrow as the younger man rarely, if ever, referred to either of those two students by their given names in his presence. Something truly unnerving must have happened to cause this noticeable slip up.
"Well then, Severus, don't keep us all waiting in suspense," commanded the Dark Lord, gesturing impatiently for Snape to continue, "What could possibly be so terrible as to have you in such a discomfited state?"
"It's best if I disclosed those details to you in private, first, Mi'Lord," insisted Severus, not daring to look the older wizard in the eye lest he use Legilimacy to search for the freshly made memory before he was ready, "Then, you can decide whether or not to inform your guests afterwards."
This definitely peaked Riddle's curiosity, "Follow me then, Childe. We'll adjourn to Lucius' private study to continue this conversation," he said as he lead the way to the specified room on the second floor of the Manor.
"As you wish, Sire."
The moment they both stepped across the threshold, Riddle spun on Snape and demanded, "Alright, out with it Severus. What's so important that it had to wait until we got in here?"
Snape hurriedly set about casting hefty locking and silencing charms on the door and about the room before replying, "From what I've gathered so far, the sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors were brewing a relatively innocuous Somnium potion this afternoon when Slughorn's attentions were drawn to a student's failing efforts on the far side of the classroom. And, the moment his back was turned to aid Mr. Longbottom's smoking elixir, some, as yet unknown, dunderhead tossed a packet of Fire Seeds and a large clump of Fluxweed into Miss Granger's cauldron to sabotage her potion. As you can imagine, the mixture turned volatile in the blink of an eye and the resulting explosion had her and her lab partner, Mr. Potter, rendered semi-conscious and covered in the thick scalding liquid. I was contacted by Madame Pomfrey immediately after the two Gryffindors were brought to the infirmary to aid in their treatment as the altered elixir had some unintended...side effects."
"Get to the point, Childe," snipped Voldemort impatiently, "I have five new prospects arriving in an hours time and I need to prepare myself for their...interviews."
Severus's cheeks flushed pink at the memory his Sire's words evoked. Shaking his head to dismiss the images of his first meeting with the Dark Lord, Snape cleared his throat and continued on, "Yes. Well, when I arrived at the hospital wing, Poppy had the two in a magically induced coma and was in the process of removing the rest of their damaged clothing and cleansing their skin in preparation for applying Burn Paste. That's when I saw the silver and green markings appearing on their backs near their left shoulder...an Ouroboros on Mr. Potter and an Infinity symbol on Miss Granger. Apparently, this accidently created potion removes long-term glamours that don't revert with a simple Finite Incantatem."
Riddle's posture became rigid as the sickening realization hit him, "It can't be true...the Prophecy says...Harry Potter...he...we...", his voice trailed off in a rare occurrence of being at a complete loss for words.
The younger wizard nodded in understanding, "I ran a few more tests to be absolutely certain before reporting to you," Snape stated, tentatively reaching out to place a comforting hand on the other man's visibly trembling arm, "Our mates have been hidden from us under our very noses, so to speak, all this time."
Severus moved across the study to Lucius' desk where he knew his blonde friend kept a bottle of Ogden's Finest firewhiskey in the bottom left drawer. Pulling the cut-glass decanter out and summoning a couple of crystal tumblers from the set on the shelf on the wall behind him, the Professor then poured two fingers worth of the golden brown liquid into each glass and handed one to Voldemort who knocked the drink back in one go.
"I'm afraid there's more that I have to tell you," drawled Severus, downing his firewhiskey quickly, too, "As Poppy was running further diagnostics on Miss Granger, I did the same for Mr. Potter and the results were rather disturbing, to say the least."
Taking a moment to pull in a deep, steadying breath, the Potions Master continued, "The boy's medical history continued running until it hit a full twelve feet in length, going all the way back to that night in Godric's Hollow and ending with today's explosion. I was convinced I had done the spell wrong and had Pomfrey re-run it, twice, both scans ended with the same outcome," pausing a few seconds to regain control of his rising temper, Snape growled, "It was fortunate the Matron had Mr. Potter under a heavy Laevisomnus charm as it took over three hours to correct just the poorly healed broken bones and torn ligaments. The damage from long-term malnutrition will take weeks, if not, months to counter and then there's all the deep scarring across his back and chest that will take even longer to treat. Particularly, the area on his left hand. That one was apparently inflicted by the former High Inquisitor, Dolores Umbridge, through the use of Dark Magic, specifically from a Blood Quill, as a means of 'discipline' sometime during his fifth year."
The Dark Lord angrily hissed, "Do you happen to have a copy of my mate's files with you?"
"Of course, Mi'Lord," replied Snape, pulling the requested document from his robe pocket and handing it over to Voldemort, "I knew you would want to see the diagnostics for yourself." The Professor knew exactly what the older wizard was looking for, the names of all the people responsible. Too bad, it didn't include the one person Severus felt belonged at the top of this short list...Headmaster Albus-Too-Many-Sodding-Names-Dumbledore. But, he would make certain to voice this opinion to his Sire, later, there were more pressing matters to be taken care of first...the issue with the Prophecy being one and those despicable Muggles being another.
Severus took a step back when the paper in Riddle's hand began to smoke and then burst into flames. "I know where to find Undersecretary Umbridge but, where are these...people called the Dursleys," snarled Voldemort, his hazel-colored eyes alight with a wicked gleam, "I feel a long overdue visit is in order, don't you?"
"Most certainly," said Snape, his own beetle-black orbs sparking with mischievous intent, "Do you wish to put in an appearance at their home later tonight?
"No, my eager young snake," rumbled Tom, placing a hand on Severus' shoulder and guiding him out of the study, "I plan to savor my revenge and prolong their suffering for as long as possible. Let's bring Lucius in on this, too, you know how he loves to plan things."
"Of course, Mi'Lord," smirked Severus as he starting running through a list of potions in his head (each one more devious than the last) that Voldemort may find a use for in his plot against the Dursleys, "He will certainly enjoy adding a bit of Malfoy flare to your retaliation schemes. But..."
"Forgive me, my Childe," interrupted Voldemort, suddenly turning to face the younger wizard, "I did not ask how your mate was faring. Did Miss Granger share the same signs of physical abuse as Mr. Potter?"
"Apart from the long-term glamour on her shoulder or the similar scarring on her left hand from a Blood Quill, she did not," growled the agitated raven-haired Professor at the reminder of his mate's diagnostics, "However, there was evidence of Miss Granger being dosed on a semi-annual basis with a loyalty potion. One that was keyed to the Headmaster, as well as, a couple of members of the Weasley family, specifically, Molly and her youngest son, Ronald. Plus, there was an underlying compulsion spell pinned to a directive from Dumbledore to 'aid Messrs. Potter and Weasley in any way possible', hopefully, that meant strictly with their essays and preparations for exams. But, whatever Albus' long term goal was for this charm, it stops today."
"Agreed. We'll make certain to set aside a few choice...surprises for the Headmaster to avenge Miss Granger, too."
"Thank you, Mi'Lord. You're most kind."
"Well, Sire, how did this latest bunch of initiates fare?" drawled Lucius, handing Riddle a cold glass of ginger water to chase down the headache potion he just downed.
"Rather well, my Childe," replied Tom, strolling over to the closest chair and taking a seat, "Two are set to complete their Auror training at the end of January. Two others have shown a knack for politics and law and are starting their clerkship appointments with the Wizengamot next week. And, the last one has just accepted a Ministry position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."
"Excellent! And, if my calculations are correct...and they are," purred Lucius, waving a house-elf over to bring another round of drinks, "That means with the addition of these five individuals, plus the ten from last week, half of the current Ministry jobs are now filled by people loyal to you. If you so desired, Mi'Lord, you could take the place over by the end of May this coming year."
"Perhaps but, right now we have more pressing concerns to address," stated Voldemort, casting a locking spell over the door and a privacy charm about the sitting room, separating himself, Snape and Malfoy from the rest of the houseguests, "The first being, Severus has discovered the whereabouts and identity of both our mates."
"My sincerest congratulations to the two of you," cooed Lucius, knowing that his Sire and Blood Brother had been searching for their partners for quite some time, "However, from your dour expressions, I take it that there are...complications?"
"You could say that," grumbled Severus, pacing in front of the fireplace as he proceeded to fill the blonde wizard in on the recent events at Hogwarts.
"Merlin's Twisted Beard!" declared Malfoy, joining the Potions Professor in his agitated strolling before the hearth, "You have to get them out of the castle, tonight!"
"Given the extent of Mr. Potter's injuries and the fact that Miss Granger is still undergoing detoxification, I'm afraid that's not possible," growled Snape, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a migraine, "Besides, if those two Gryffindors suddenly went missing from Hogwarts, Madame Pomfrey and I would immediately be suspected in their disappearance."
"True but, there must be something we can do to protect them," stated Malfoy, scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration, "We can't simply leave them open to further manipulations by that old goat of a wizard."
"Don't you think I don't know that!?" snarled Severus, glaring at his oldest friend, "I'm unable to stand guard over them all..."
"Patience, Childe. I believe I may have a workable solution," interrupted Voldemort, pulling his wand from its arm holster and Accio'ing a book from his rooms in the Manor, "I'll need to consult my personal grimmoire to be absolutely certain but, there are a couple of Blood Magic enchantments I have in mind that should provide adequate shielding until they leave school at the end of term."
"What about afterwards, during the Summer? You can't allow Mr. Potter to go back to those awful relatives of his, they'll just..."
Holding up his hand to stop Lucius from continuing on with his rant, the Dark Lord smirked, "Who said anything about letting either of them return home?"
Notes:
somnium - daydream, sleep, drowse, dream
laevisomnus - dormant, sleeping, resting
harrypotter.fandom.com: potion ingredients
Fire Seed - ingredient used to maintain high temperatures, used in Fire-Breathing Potion and in Antidote to Uncommon Poisons
Fluxweed - known for its healing properties; used in Polyjuice potion if harvested during a full moon
mythus.fandom.com ; 'Dracula' by Bram Stoker
The Vampires in this WIP are a mixture of the Dhampir or Daywalkers from Balkan folklore and Dracula - able to travel about in daylight without turning to dust, although, their powers are somewhat weaker during this time; heightened senses, strength, agility and stamina; enhanced regenerative abilities/resistance to illnesses; immortal but, can be killed; able to practice/wield magic; a rare few adept with mind magics/mind control; shapeshifting capabilities between dusk and dawn (bat, wolf, dog, mist); able to drink/eat human foods but must supplement with a blood meal once a week; created by either being Turned by a Sire or born from the sexual union between a vampire and a human; don't need permission to enter a home/building
weaknesses: stake through the heart (who wouldn't that kill), fire (again, doesn't that affect everyone), magic (like any other magical being or Muggle in the Potterverse)
Chapter 2
Summary:
A/N Apologies for the late posting. Covid-19 affected three members of my family, including, my husband who wound up hospitalized. The added stress also caused my own health issues to spiral for a time. Fortunately, everyone's back home now and fully recovered. I hope to return to my regular writing rotation soon. Thank you all for your patience. Continue to stay safe everyone!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
With a touch of difficulty, Hermione finally managed to open her eyes to see her softly lit surroundings, a raspy groan escaping her lips from the effort. Somewhere to her left, and behind a privacy screen, an answering moan greeted her ears.
"Ah, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter" soothed a familiar voice coming from the doorway of the large room, "It's good to see you back amongst the living once more. Although, I will admit, you two had us rather worried for a time."
Turning her head as little as possible towards the person, Hermione was both relieved and concerned that it was the school Matron who had spoken to them, "I...how...what happened to us?"
"What's the last thing you remember before waking up here, Miss Granger?" asked a shadowy figure standing behind Pomfrey, their distinctive baritone giving away their identity.
"Professor Snape? Why are you here?" a puzzled look giving way to one of surprise on Hermione's face. Only, before he could answer her, she replied, "Wait a minute. I...I seem to recall Harry and I were in Professor Slughorn's potions class working on an assignment...sorry, everything gets a bit hazy after I prepared the ingredients."
"I'm afraid I don't remember too much more than that, Professor, but I'm certain I heard laughing just before everything exploded," claimed Harry, slowly moving to sit up in his bed, hissing through his teeth when the freshly healed skin on his chest pulled taut, "The only thing is, there wasn't anyone around us."
Hermione's eyes momentarily widened at the scrap of information Harry just imparted, an uneasy suspicion growing in her still slightly foggy brain. She didn't give voice to her thoughts, though, as she had no proof of her concerns.
Snape, however, had noticed the young witch's reaction and pressed the matter, "You believe you know who this disembodied laughter belonged to, don't you Miss Granger," he stated rather than asked, "Any lead you could provide at this point would be most helpful to my investigation of this event."
"But, it's just speculation, Sir. I have no evidence to support my claims," sighed Hermione, rubbing her temples, then hiding her face with her hands. She didn't want to wrongly blame anyone...even if that person had been a total arse towards her and Harry over the past couple of weeks.
Pomfrey took pity for the younger witch's dilemma and pulled Snape aside, "Give her a few moments to collect herself, Severus," she advised, leading him towards the doorway, "You can see how stressful this conversation has become for her."
Snape silently nodded in agreement, before turning his attention back to the young witch, "I'll return in half an hour, Miss Granger. Use that time to re-examine what you believe to be the truth and give me the name or names then."
Not waiting for her reply, Severus turned on his heel and billowed out of the infirmary, heading straight towards his private quarters. With luck, his house-elf, Rook, would be there waiting for him with the promised Blood Magic items from his Sire.
Albus was relaxing in his office, sipping on a freshly brewed cup of tea, when Ronald Weasley stepped off the spiral staircase, dropping the Invisibility Cloak from around his body as he reached the last step, and appeared before him, the younger wizard's cheeks slightly flushed from climbing the numerous stairs between the infirmary and the seventh floor.
Barely looking in Weasley's direction, Dumbledore drawled, "Well, were you able to sneak into the hospital wing and dose your two 'friends' with the Fides and Vinclum potions Molly owled you this morning?"
Ron's face turned a brighter shade of puce, "No, Professor," he grumbled, showing the Headmaster the painful boils that had broken out over his right hand where he'd touched the infirmary door, "That Bloody cow Pomfrey put up some nasty wards over the place, no one's allowed in to visit them."
"Hrnm," mused Albus, not pleased with this development, "You'll just have to wait until they return to Gryffindor Tower and slip it to them through some sort of 'welcome back' treats, make sure no one else touches them, though."
"That should be easy enough," sneered the red-headed menace," Potter likes Chocolate Frogs and the Mudblood is fond of Sugar Quills, I'll just soak a couple of each with the potions and give those to them when we're alone in the Common Room studying for final exams. A simple Confundus will make sure that they eat them right away."
"Good. In the meantime, I'll have a word with the Matron," snarled the Headmaster, setting his empty teacup onto his desk, "I may need to modify her memories again if she's re-discovered the true extent of the boy's injuries."
"Sodding nosy bint."
"We've been here how long!?" squawked Hermione, immediately regretting her outburst when her headache returned with a vengeance.
"A full week," repeated Madame Pomfrey, sending a gentle wave of healing magic over the distraught younger witch to ease her pain, "But, I'm afraid that pales in comparison to what Severus and I found out after you were brought here for treatment."
"Those revelations can wait for a few moments longer, Poppy," admonished Snape as he strolled purposefully back into the room and removed a small, ornately carved wooden box from his robes, safely nestled within were the long-awaited gifts from his Sire, "Ensuring Mr. Potter's and Miss Granger's continued safety takes priority."
"Of course," agreed Matron, gesturing for him to continue.
Opening the container and pulling two rune-etched Goblin-silver rings from inside, Severus added, "To that end, take these bands and place them on your right index finger," he instructed the two young Gryffindors, holding out the trinkets in his left palm, "It doesn't matter which you choose, they both have been imbued with an identical array of protective spells."
Hermione and Harry looked at the rings, visibly flinching, and then at each other without speaking, they were both wary of touching any enchanted piece of jewelry, especially, after they'd witnessed the horrific incident involving Katie Bell and that cursed opal necklace earlier this term.
Snape watched their silent exchange and approved, it was good that they were finally learning to consider their options first instead of just plunging headlong into possible danger, "I assure you these silver bands aren't dangerous, otherwise, I wouldn't be touching them with my bare hand. Besides, Poppy would skin me alive if I did anything to further injure you, especially, after all the trouble we just went through to heal you."
Still hesitant, the pair turned to the Matron and with her nod of approval after she'd cast a detection charm on the baubles, they finally complied with their Professor's directive. A mild gasp escaped their lips when the, surprisingly, warm rings resized to fit their fingers and they noticeably shuddered as a tingling jolt of magic shot deep into their hands, "They have also been bespelled to recognize your specific magical signatures," Snape informed them, stifling a chuckle at their reactions to the blood infused silver pieces, "That way no one can remove the trinkets from your person but yourselves, nor can anyone tamper with them," Severus paused a few seconds before continuing, "Until the individual or group responsible for that explosion has been caught, these bands will work to shield you from any more of their attempts to harm you. Well, at least until you disembark from the Hogwarts Express for the summer hols."
('At which point, the Port-key features will activate and transport you two directly from the train station to the safety of Malfoy Manor where you, hopefully, won't hex your anxiously waiting mates on sight.')
"If it really was Ron that pulled that prank, I don't think he truly meant to hurt us," muttered Harry, now with his mind free of pain, he was second guessing what he remembered and having serious doubts about his friend's involvement.
Hermione rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't fall out of their sockets. "Harrison James Potter!" she hissed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, "You know damn well that Ronald's been an absolute nightmare to be around ever since he got permanently banned from potions class for stealing Professor Slughorn's research notes for improving the Pepper-Up potion. What really puzzles me is why Headmaster Dumbledore spoke to the Board of Governors on his behalf to keep him from being expelled from school."
Granger sighed as she brushed a piece of imaginary lint from the sleeve of her dressing gown, "Besides, unless you updated the wards on your school trunk, Ronald still had full access to a certain family...heirloom of yours, one that he certainly wouldn't have hesitated to use if he thought it would help him get away with something. So, unless you've got a better suspect, the Professor will need to officially rule him out."
"Fine. But, I don't like this."
Snape had already suspected the youngest Mr. Weasley even before listening to the exchange between Miss Granger and Mr. Potter. Proving the ginger-haired twit was involved in the sabotaging of Granger's and Potter's cauldron, however, was a whole other matter. Had Weasley worked alone or were there others assisting him? More importantly, Severus wanted to know why one of The Golden Trio had, apparently, turned on the other two.
But, his investigation into the younger wizard's involvement with the cauldron explosion would have to wait a bit longer. He and Pomfrey needed to disclose the results of their diagnostics scans with the Gryffindors, as well as, discuss the treatments needed to correct Potter's ongoing health issues and Granger's non-consensual potioning.
Poppy gave him a tight smile and handed him two vials of Calming Draught, it was best to be prepared for anything.
Surprisingly, it was Hermione and not Harry that needed the sedative potion after reading her medical report, and especially, after she saw Harry's lengthy diagnostic chart. She was beyond angry and Snape found himself automatically backing up out of the range of the witch's clenched fists and twitching feet, an old habit of self-preservation he'd learned in his youth. And her hair! Merlin! It had looked positively alive as her magic crackled through her chestnut-colored curls.
As her ranting continued, Severus and Poppy half expected her to burst into flames at any moment but, Harry simply shrugged his shoulders at the sight, having witnessed this manifestation of his house-mate's temper numerous times over the years, usually, because of something tremendously stupid that he or Ron had done.
Not having access to the real targets of her ire, Hermione began venting at the two adults in the room. "Harry's been in this infirmary numerous times since he started at Hogwarts, why haven't you reported the abuse before now, Madame Pomfrey? And, don't tell me you didn't know, even a basic scan would have picked up the worst of these injuries and the malnutrition."
"I'll admit I'm rather curious about that myself," stated Snape, arching a single eyebrow at Pomfrey.
Accio'ing a thick file from her office, the Matron replied, her lips pressed into a thin line, "According to this secondary file on Mr. Potter, I have made numerous complaints to the DMLE to have his Muggle relatives, the Dursleys, investigated for abuse of a magical child. Unfortunately, I have no memory of ever doing any of this and the only reason I am even aware that I've taken these actions is that this folder is kept in a separate drawer in my desk under a special ward."
Taking a steadying breath, Pomfrey continued, "An alarm sounded on that drawer last week when Miss Granger and Mr. Potter were brought in after their potions accident. That's when I found or, more accurately, reacquired this file. I immediately contacted a friend of mine in the DMLE but, was informed that they have no record of receiving any such requests from me or anyone else on Mr. Potter's behalf."
Before Poppy could open her mouth to say anything more, Severus snarled, "I suspect you've been repeatedly Obliviated to prevent you from intervening."
The Matron nodded her head, pulling another scan (her own this time) from her robe pocket, "Yes. And, Dumbledore's the one responsible for doing it."
In the oddly-shaped, and rarely quiet, family home in Ottery-St. Catchpole, Molly Weasley was having a wonderfully relaxing morning. Her husband, Arthur, had already left for another long day of work at the Ministry and the youngest two of her brood of children had returned to Hogwarts last week for the remaining five months of the term, leaving her alone in the place to research for the next specialty potion she was going to brew for Headmaster Dumbledore.
As the Weasley matriarch finished her tea and sent the dishes off to scrub themselves, she walked over to the southern wall of the sitting room, a few paces to the left of the stone fireplace mantle, and pulled a centuries old tome from its secured hiding spot. After returning to her seat at the dining table, Molly slowly began flipping through the age-yellowed pages. An hour or so later, she found a Dark Magic potion that she was certain Albus would reward her handsomely for...if it worked as described.
Mrs. Weasley let out a grumbling sigh as she continued reading and discovered that it would take five months to complete, well, six when adding on the extra four weeks needed to source all the required ingredients.
('Why is there always a catch with the truly interesting recipes?') It couldn't be helped, she supposed, but the end results would be so worth the effort.
Once she finished writing a note to the Headmaster, Molly called for her house-elf, Pippin (the little elf had been one of the rewards she'd received for the last two potions she'd made for the man). "Take this directly to Albus Dumbledore and deliver it when he's alone in his office," ordered Molly, a wicked gleam flashing across her eyes, "Then return here and start cleaning the house, I want it spotless by the time I return this afternoon from my errands in Diagon Alley."
"Yes, Mistress Weasley, Pippin be doing as yous wishes," the young elf replied before Disapparating with a soft 'Pop'.
After making certain that the grimoire was safely stored in its hidden compartment, Mrs. Weasley stepped over to the fireplace, threw down a small handful of Floo powder and called out "The Leaky Cauldron".
Molly was nearly giddy with anticipation as she disappeared into the green flames. If all went to according to plan, in six months the impudent Potter brat and his irritating bushy-haired Mudblood friend would be completely under hers and Albus' thumb, ready to be used in any way they saw fit.
And for Mrs. Weasley and the Headmaster, that meant employing any number of magical short-cuts (mostly, painfully forced transfigurations) to re-shape Potter and Granger into living weapons, ones that they would unleash upon Lord Voldemort and his followers by next Christmas, Easter in a year's time at the latest if the two miscreants were resistant to the transformative enchantments.
Oh, to be sure, the two young Gryffindors would most likely perish in the attack but, it would be worth their pitiable lives to have those disgusting leeches and their leader eradicated from Wizarding Britain.
Molly smiled to herself at this last thought as she strolled through the main dining hall at The Leaky Cauldron and headed towards Gringott's, a noticeable pep in her step.
('What a wondrous present that would make for the proper witches and wizards of our world, we simply have to make it happen'.)
When the latest meeting of the Wizengamot was done, the heavy metal doors to the chamber opened up and an extremely pleased witch and wizard walked out into the fresher air of the corridor.
"Well, that went far better than I expected," chuckled Minister Fudge as he slowly moved towards his office, his toad-like accomplice following a step behind him, "And, it's all thanks to your efforts, Dolores."
"Thank you, Cornelius," tittered Madame Umbridge, her girlish laugh a jarring contrast to the vicious gleam in her eyes, "It's amazing how easy a simple message written on the back of a candid photograph helps to motivate people to vote the correct way when it's slipped under their door the day before a scheduled session."
"I do admire your...initiative, Madame," drawled the Minister as he stopped by his assistant's work station to collect his messages before strolling towards his own desk, "Just so long as it's never directed towards me," he warned before calling for a Ministry elf and ordering his afternoon tea.
"I wouldn't dream of it, Minister," purred Umbridge, taking a seat on one end of the plush settee setting in front of the only window in the room, "I like being the subtle support behind the man in charge instead of in the spotlight, you know that."
Fudge snort-laughed, "My dear, you are anything but subtle," he smirked, glancing at the woman's bright salmon-colored robes.
Turning his attention back to the stack of papers in his 'In' basket, the Minister smiled when he spotted the next bill set to go before the assembly the following week, "Wonderful!" he stated, handing the paperwork to Umbridge to read, "I trust you'll have enough time to work your special 'magic' to get the votes to fall our way on this?"
Dolores crinkled her nose in disgust at the subject of her latest project, "Of course, Cornelius. We can't have those vile blood suckers thinking they can live where ever they wish like us real human beings. They'll believe they have the right to work alongside us next if we don't nip this in the bud."
"I'm sure it won't come to that once the Vampire Lords realize we don't want them or their kind in our midst," said the Minister, scratching a few notes on the proposed bill, "Perhaps a staged protest complete with a well-placed bonfire would drive that message home."
"Understood, Cornelius. I'll iron out the details this evening and fill you in first thing tomorrow morning."
Notes:
fides - loyalty, trust, belief, allegiance
vinclum - bond, prison, restraint, chain, tie
Chapter 3
Notes:
WARNING: brief mention of physical abuse, implied act of assault
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape had just finished applying his improved version of Burn Paste to Hermione and Harry when the security wards on the main door alerted them that someone was trying to gain access to the infirmary. A secondary alarm, sounding mere seconds after the first, caused Poppy to hiss and Severus to growl in displeasure. Whoever this person was, they harbored ill-intentions towards their two patients.
The Matron acted quickly, tossing the salve container to Hermione before standing and reinforcing the protection charms surrounding the space with a sweeping flourish of her wand. Poppy then strode over to Severus and Harry, took a large silver key from her robe pocket and pressed it into her colleague's left hand," Should whoever it is manage to break through the enchantments on the main doorway, activate this Port-Key and get these two to safety. Do not wait for me," she ordered, her face calm despite her racing heartbeat.
She paused a moment as she reached the threshold to the private room and, with her back still turned on him, Pomfrey further instructed Snape to Obliviate her knowledge of the Port-Key and the memory of him being in the infirmary that day.
Once this was done, Poppy hurriedly locked the door behind her without a backwards glance. After setting a few extra hex-based deterrents across the doorframe for good measure, the Matron straightened her shoulders and headed out to confront the would-be intruder.
Somehow Poppy was not surprised when she discovered that it was Dumbledore standing just beyond the transparent entryway. Nor was she the least bit intimidated when he icily glared at the layered spellwork covering the archway before directing his disapproving scowl towards her.
"Drop these wards immediately and let me enter," demanded Albus, his normally bright blue eyes taking on a stormy grey hue, "I must speak to both Mr. Potter and Miss Granger concerning the potions accident in Slughorn's class to get their side of things for the school's incident report."
Pomfrey wrinkled her nose as if smelling something unpleasant, "Then, I regret to inform you that I can't do as you ask," she replied, her hands firmly on her hips in a show of defiance, "Because of that 'accident', as you call it, both my patients are still in a magically induced sleep while their bodies heal from life-threatening injuries," Poppy convincingly lied to the older wizard, "Of course, you'd have known that if you had bothered to check up on them before now," biting back her snort of laughter when Albus growled in irritation at her mild rebuke, "Professor Snape also informed me yesterday that there's strong evidence proving that this was a deliberate act to inflict harm. In other words, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger were purposely targeted."
"Given that, you can understand why I'm not permitting anyone beyond this point until they've recovered enough to defend themselves...that includes even you Headmaster. That is, if you truly are Albus Dumbledore. For all I know, you're their attacker disguised with Polyjuice Potion trying to gain access for another attempt."
Softening her tone a touch, she added, "I promise I'll notify you as soon as Mister Potter and Miss Granger are lucid enough to answer your questions, Albus."
Poppy was certain that her bluff had worked but, in the blink of eye, everything went to shite. Her last conscious image was that of the misnamed Leader of the Light cutting away the entire section of wall standing between them, effectively bypassing the wards on the door, with an illegal lightning drill spell before pointing his wand at her face and hissing 'Imperio!'
From the moment Pomfrey locked them inside the private room, Snape got to work on his own contingency plans. First, he called for his personal house-elf, Rook, to assist him in testing the Port-Key.
"Why would you do that?" asked Harry, after he heard the Professor's instructions to the elf and the little being vanished within a blue light, "I thought you trusted Madame Pomfrey?"
"Under normal circumstances, yes," replied Severus, taking a specimen jar containing a couple of preserved mandrake roots from one of his pockets, transfiguring them into perfect simalcrums of Potter and Granger, and placing the pajama-clad replicas in their respective beds under a heavy Somnus, "However, after reading her medical file and seeing how many times Dumbledore has manipulated Poppy's memories, we can't presume that the Port-Key was created by her."
Harry paled at the implications and nearly jumped out of his skin when Rook reappeared moments later mildly disheveled and extremely agitated. "Yous was right, Master Snape," the little elf growled, the remains of the silver key crumbling to ash in his hand, "It was a trap for Young Master and Mistress. Nasty key would takes them to magic-dampening cages in Headmaster's quarters."
"Are you okay? How did you manage to escape?" Hermione asked, worried that the little elf had been injured in the process.
"Spells on cages meant for Wizards and Witches magics, Young Mistress," smirked Rook, setting his appearance back to rights with a quick snap of his fingers, "Elf-magics different, not affected."
"An oversight most Wizarding folk make but, it's a fortunate break for us," stated Snape, continuing with his preparations by making duplicates of his students' wands, and other belongings, and placing them on the small tables next to their dopplegangers' beds before shrinking the original items and securing them in his shirt pocket.
"Take Mister Potter and Miss Granger to my private quarters then return for me, Rook," ordered Severus, a loud rumbling noise coming from the main part of the infirmary causing him to hiss, "And hurry, we've just run out of time."
Once Rook had delivered the trio safely to Snape's rooms, Hermione turned to their Professor and frowned, "If Rook could transport us to your quarters all along, why did you bother testing the Port-Key at all? Although, that turned out to be a good thing. And why make replicas of us, weren't the rings you gave us supposed to provide us with enough protection until the end of term?"
Severus smirked at his young mate, "It always pays to have a back-up plan. As in this particular case, those bands may not have held up against someone powerful enough to break Poppy's quarantine wards," he replied, taking their wands and backpacks from his pocket, unshrinking them and handing them over to the now thoroughly rattled Potter and Granger.
"You'll be safe here," Snape assured them, temporarily taking their mind off their discomfited thoughts by giving them a brief tour of his sitting room-library (containing a number of tomes which Hermione was itching to get her fingers on), guest bedroom with en suite and kitchenette. "Naturally, my room and private lab are off limits," gesturing casually in the direction of said areas," Now go ahead, make yourselves comfortable and get some rest. Should you require anything, just ask Rook for assistance," he suggested before making his way towards the laboratory to collect a few items from his personal stock. His intention was to return to the infirmary, under the pretext of delivering a pre-existing potions order to the Matron, to ensure that his colleague was unharmed but, equally as important, that the replicants were still functioning.
"Wait! You're just going to leave us here on our own," Harry stated more than asked, "What if those decoys don't fool anyone and the person breaking into the hospital wing tracks us here next?"
Severus paused and turned to stare at his Sire's visibly shaking mate, Harry's thoughts were so loud that Snape didn't need his Legilimacy skills to 'hear' them," Is there any particular reason why you're so certain that they'd consider searching my quarters first?"
The younger wizard swallowed the tight lump in his throat but, didn't answer straight away, causing Hermione to growl in frustration at her best friend, "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry! " she snipped, barely restraining herself from stomping her foot in frustration at him, "Tell the Professor about the map your Dad left you."
"What map?"
After the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Give-Him-Palpitations informed Snape about the features of the Marauder's Map (and the existence of the Invisibility Cloak at Hermione's insistence), where he stored the items and who might currently be utilizing his heirlooms, Severus hurriedly stalked over to his fireplace and forcefully threw down some Floo powder, "We'll talk later about your lackluster warding skills and near non-existent sense of self-preservation," the Professor hissed, pinching the bridge of his oft-broken nose to stave off his pending migraine, "I'll be contacting your Head of House letting her deal with the ginger menace's likely pilfering of your property. Hopefully, she'll keep Weasley detained long enough for me to get you both to a safe house I know of in Wiltshire, preferably, before he's had the opportunity to check the map and report you two as missing to Dumbledore. But first, I must firecall my friend and let him know we're in need of sanctuary."
"Why not simply have Rook Apparate us to this safe house or just let us use your Floo?" suggested Harry, wondering why Snape hadn't immediately thought of these options.
"Because, Mister Potter," answered Snape sedately while attempting to remain patient with his Sire's intended, "It's too far to Apparate one person Side-Along, much less, two from Northern Scotland to the South of England. And even if the journey were broken up into three or four shorter Apparations, Rook would still be completely knackered by the time he transported just one of you there," he stated, trying to keep his usual level of snarkiness out of his reply, "As for Floo'ing, the only person in the castle with a fireplace connected to the main Floo network is Dumbledore. On the slim chance we even managed to access the Headmaster's office without getting caught, Albus has the system charmed to report to him exactly who uses his fireplace to leave school grounds, as well as, keep track of when, how often and of their specific destinations."
"Wow, that's...that's just...creepy," stuttered Harry, his face pinched in disgust.
"I was going to say intrusive but, creepy works, too."
"So, what do you have in mind for us, Professor?" Hermione innocently inquired, not realizing what a loaded question that was for the man.
At nearly the same time, Harry belatedly remember something and asked with a tinge of panic in his voice, "What about Hedwig and Crookshanks, we can't leave our familiars behind."
"Rook!" Snape called out sharply before he knelt down to make his firecall, "Go to Gryffindor Tower and the Owlry to collect Mister Potter and Miss Grangers possessions, including their familiars, and make certain that nothing has a tracking spell or any other nasty little surprises attached," he ordered in full 'Professor' mode, "Then, bring everything here to me. Don't dawdle, either."
The house-elf glared at the DADA master, "Rook knows exactly whats to do, Master. Rook's nots a dunderhead," he grumbled indignantly, popping out of sight with a thunderous 'Crack'.
"Impertinent elf," drawled Professor Snape, although, the sentiment was said without disdain, something that both Hermione and Harry readily noticed.
Ignoring the myriad unsaid questions that were clearly on his temporary houseguests' minds, Severus returned to his task, a Muffliato in place so that they couldn't overhear either the conversation or the voice of the person at the other end of the firecall. The last thing he wanted to do was add to their rapidly growing anxiety and risk them refusing to travel to Wiltshire after discovering exactly who'd be at Malfoy Manor waiting for them.
As the Imperius Curse settled over the Matron, the Headmaster took a brightly colored handkerchief from his robe pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. He hadn't intended on exerting that much magic to take out the section of wall to circumvent Pomfrey's wards but, the stubborn bint had made him exceedingly angry with her refusal to comply with his demands. The nerve of the woman!
Once he'd seen to the two brats in her care, Albus would make certain to strengthen his controls over the witch before returning to his office. But, first things first.
"Alright, Poppy, be a dear and remove all the protective spellwork you've cast within the hospital wing, especially, any surrounding the space where Potter and Granger are sleeping," commanded Dumbledore, the malevolent twinkle returning to his eyes.
"Of course, Headmaster," droned Pomfrey, her body jerkily moving towards the private room to comply with the Headmaster's request, pulling down everything she'd so carefully set to protect her young charges.
"Now, before I forget," Albus chuckled, turning Poppy about to face him, "Bring me the medical scans you conducted on Potter and Granger this past week."
"Right away, Headmaster," the Matron responded flatly as she shuffled into her office, pulled up the files for her two patients and handed them over to Dumbledore. He didn't even bother looking beyond the names on the records before dropping them into Poppy's cheerily burning fireplace to burn down to ash.
"Very good, pet," sneered Dumbledore, roughly pushing Pomfrey down to sit on her desk chair, "Wait right here, I'll be back to deal with you in a moment."
"As you wish, Sir."
The Headmaster breezed unhindered into the room where the faux-Harry and Hermione were sleeping and frowned at all the work the meddling Healer had undone over the last several days. Grumbling under his breath, Albus quickly set about making some necessary adjustments with a few select enchantments, among them, the re-application of the compulsion spell driving 'Hermione' to aid Potter and Weasley with their schoolwork and the ramping up of 'Harry's' desire to become more like his prankster Father and godfather. All the while, the manipulative, twinkly-eyed wizard never once suspected the decoys to be anything other than what they appeared.
Once satisfied with his efforts on who he believed were Potter and Granger, Dumbledore stalked back to Pomfrey's office to straighten out a few issues with the Mediwitch.
"Your turn now, Matron," growled Albus as he backhanded the Imperio'd woman across the cheek for her earlier disobedience, causing him to do all this extra work, "Let's start with Oblivating all those pesky medical details on Potter and Granger from your memory before we have some fun, shall we?"
"Well, it'll certainly be entertaining for me, you...not so much."
"Lucius Malfoy's study, Malfoy Manor," Severus called out as he dropped the Floo powder into the fireplace in his sitting room, a Muffliato charm buzzing noisily, creating a divider between him, Potter and Granger.
There was a brief pause as the connection flared to life and a smooth drawl answered, "Severus, what an unexpected surprise. How..."
"No time for pleasantries, Lucius," interrupted Snape, his voice tensing, betraying his distress, "Notify our Sire that I'm delivering our mates there within the hour. I'll give everyone the details after we arrive," stated Severus, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, "Prepare the wards to allow us direct access into the Manor and have Narcissa waiting in the Blue Room in the family wing. I may need her help once we get there."
Knowing that he wouldn't get any more answers from Severus until he was safely at his home, Malfoy replied, "I'll have everything ready in ten minutes, Brother. Be careful."
"As always."
Straightening back up, Snape closed the Floo connection, cancelled the privacy charm, grabbed a stray quill from the low table near his settee and began to fashion the implement into a Port-Key. Looking up at his two silent, wide-eyed students, he softly cleared his throat before explaining," I've made the necessary arrangements with my friend, he and a couple of others will be there to greet us."
Hermione spoke before Harry could open his mouth, "May I ask who these people are, Professor? I mean, Harry and I trust you after everything that you've done to help us but..." her voice trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence without insulting the man.
"We haven't much time, so I'll give you two an abridged version of things," Severus offered, his mouth suddenly going dry, "Remember the books I gave you to read and our later discussion about the meaning of those marks on your shoulders?"
"Yeah, um, yes...Sir. You, and the texts, told us that they're soulmarks," Harry interjected, nervously scrubbing a hand through his already messy hair, "And, that our...mates would have the same patterns...that the designs could be faked...however, our magics would recognize the genuine from the imitation."
Taking another deep breath and letting it out, Severus said, "Keeping this in mind, I personally know the both of them...your soulmates, that is. You'll be meeting them at the safe-house."
"If I can get this Sodding Port-Key charmed to work."
"What!? Why didn't you mention something before now? Have we ever met them? How do you know they're our true..." Hermione rattled on, only stopping when Harry clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Magic won't let you bond with anyone bearing a mismatched or a counterfeit mark," stated Snape, his beetle-black eyes growing even darker, "I won't bore you with the messy details but I, unfortunately, have personal experience with the latter due to a...'harmless prank' while I was still a student. The outcome was...unpleasant. Since that time, I've learned to..."
Further conversation was momentarily halted when Rook re-appeared with a thunderous 'Crack', Hermione's and Harry's school trunks and familiars in tow, bleeding from a cut across his left cheek and his black uniform-towel singed in three places.
"Bloody ginger-haired brat tried to stops Rooks," growled the elf, handing the magic-lightened luggage to Snape and the hissing and screeching pets in their carriers to Granger and Potter to try and soothe," Rooks gots heirloom map and cloak back for young Master Potter, too" the house-elf said, puffing up his chest with pride.
"Gave dunderhead reminder never to takes what's not his."
Narcissa met Lucius in the Blue Room as his vague elf-delivered message requested. And upon arrival, she pulled him aside, "What in Merlin's name is going on with the Dark Lord, Lucius?" she asked over the barked commands of their leader, barely moving out of the way of a bevy of house-elves carrying all manner of...was that construction materials? "Have the Order discovered our location, are they planning an attack on the Manor?"
"Worse," replied Lucius, his calm and collected face gave nothing away but his eyes were bright with poorly contained amusement, "Our Sire is about to meet Harry Potter face to face for the first time since learning he was his destined mate and 'this hovel of a room' we have prepared 'just won't do'. I swear he's worse than a fifth year going on his first date to Hogsmeade."
Notes:
somnus - sleep, slumbers, drowsiness
Chapter 4
Notes:
WARNING: Contains description of physical abuse and sexual assault
Chapter Text
Snape changed his mind about contacting McGonagall to report the previous theft of Potter's heirlooms. Given that the ginger-haired menace had caused quite the disturbance while attacking Rook, Weasley had already succeeded in gaining hers, and a number of his Gryffindor housemates, attentions in the process. The hoped for, however unintentional, distraction was in full swing, he needn't waste time adding to the chaotic aftermath.
Instead, he focused his mind and magic on finishing the Port-Key and concocting a plausible reason for being out of the castle for the Headmaster. (He'd simply save his earlier scheme to visit Madame Pomfrey under the guise of fulfilling a potions order for a later occasion...should the need ever arise).
"There, that's done," Snape said with a triumphant smirk, holding the eagle feather quill aloft between his fingers and briefly admiring his handiwork. ('Now comes the truly difficult part,' he thought to himself, wondering how best to deal with the two young Gryffindors, highly probable, angry reactions when they realized just where his Port-Key had taken them).
As he pondered over several possibilities, Severus set the modified quill down on his dining table with a curt warning to Hermione and Harry to not touch it. He need not have bothered, they were still shaky from their narrow escape from the infirmary, plus, too busy trying soothe their ruffled familiars to move from their respective spots on the settee.
Seeing as the pair were unlikely to vacate their positions anytime soon, Snape took the opportunity to retreat to his bedroom and write a quick note to the Headmaster. In it he claimed that he was heading out early for his weekly potions gathering trip for the school's stores, knowing that the old bastard wouldn't give a second thought about this established routine of his, it would make the perfect cover for his temporary absence from the castle grounds.
After sending Rook to drop the message onto middle of the Headmaster's desk, and packing a few necessities into an overnight bag, Severus returned to the sitting room, mentally preparing himself for the life-changing journey he was about to undertake with his mate and his Sire's intended.
To his chagrin, the pair of teens had recovered enough of their wits about them to reconsider a few things during his perfunctory absence and began voicing their concerns the moment he walked into view. "Please hear us out, Professor, we realize time is short but, we really must insist that you tell us who your friend and our soulmates are before we depart for this purported safe house," stated Hermione, her body tensing up for the expected impending argument, "Neither Harry nor I want any more surprises, especially, not after what we've been through these past few weeks."
Inwardly, Snape was somewhat proud that these two weren't blindly accepting his prior, light on the details, contingency plan. Outwardly, he scowled. They truly needed to leave the school before Weasley sought out the Headmaster and informed him of his fight with an unknown, to him, house-elf, resulting in the loss of Potter's map and cloak.
That revelation would definitely lead to an immediate investigation centering on one of the current 'patients' in the infirmary. And, although, Severus knew his spellwork was strong even he doubted the faux-Harry (or replicant Hermione, for that matter) would hold up long under an prolonged intensive examination by Dumbledore.
Snape knew that Granger and Potter would stubbornly refuse the use of the Port-Key until they'd gotten their answers but, his instincts were screaming at him to get them to the safety of the Manor. So, he did the next best thing and came up with a short-term compromise.
Still frowning at the two Gryffindors, Severus drawled, "Fine. I'll give you the answers you seek but not here," as he said this, he shrank the charmed quill, his overnight bag, all of Hermione's and Harry's belongings and secured everything into two shirt pockets.
"Where are you taking us, Sir?" asked Harry warily while he and Hermione tucked their wands into their arm holsters and grabbed the carriers containing their familiars.
After linking his arms around one each of theirs and calling for Rook, Snape replied, "We're going to my Summer cottage in Lancashire. But, first...Rook, Dissallusion us then Apparate us all to the stone circle in the Forbidden Forest."
"As yous wishes, Master," said the little elf, snapping his fingers to conceal the group before taking hold of one their invisible trouser legs and transporting them all away to the requested site.
Upon landing, Snape released Potter's arm from his grasp, "Now that we're outside of the school wards, Rook you take Mr. Potter on to my cottage and I'll follow close behind with Miss Granger. Hurry, even Disallusioned we shouldn't stay out in the open for too long."
With a quickly muttered 'Yes, Master' followed by a successive 'Pop' and 'Crack' of Side-Along Apparation , the quartet left the grounds of Hogwarts without a glance backwards.
The moment the group arrived at Snape's Summer residence, Rook removed the concealment charm from everyone then retreated to the kitchen to prepare tea and light refreshments for his Master and guests.
Hermione was immediately distracted by the large library they'd landed in the middle of while Harry was busy trying not to be sick all over the expensive looking rug they were standing upon.
After handing Potter a Stomach-Soother potion he'd pulled from a hidden pocket in his robes, Snape began strolling into the next room. "Remain here," he instructed, "I'll be back in just a few minutes. Don't. Touch. Anything," Snape added sharply when he saw Granger reaching for one of the Dark Arts texts on the bottom shelf in front of her, smirking when he saw the deep blush blossoming on her cheeks at getting caught. (Oh, the book wouldn't have harmed her but, she hadn't even cast a detection charm to be certain! He made a mental note to teach her, and Potter, this and a few other safety precautions, later).
Ducking into the closest bathroom, Severus took in a deep relaxing breath and began stripping off his various layers of clothing until he was dressed in just a plain black, long-sleeved t-shirt, dark charcoal trousers and black dragonhide boots. He wanted to appear as far from the image of their DADA Professor as possible for what he was about to do next, he hoped it would make things easier for Hermione and Harry to accept. Well, that was his goal anyway.
Whatever Granger and Potter expected upon Snape's return to library, it certainly wasn't the fit looking wizard in casual attire that glided into the room. Merlin! If they'd known what their Professor been hiding under those voluminous teaching robes all this time, they'd have never been able to concentrate in class.
"It's rather rude to stare, you know," drawled Severus, chuckling to himself when Hermione and Harry both stammered out a breathy 'Sorry', their faces sharing a matching shade of pink as their gazes quickly dropped to the floor. The clear interest in their 'loudly' projected thoughts were almost enough to make him preen but Snape was expected to arrive at the Manor with these two in less than forty minutes and he needed to get the conversation moving along.
"Now, I believe I promised you two some answers."
[WARNING: ASSAULT SCENE]
Dumbledore cast a cleaning charm before tucking himself back into his trousers then took a step back to admire his handiwork. He so loved punishing those that dared try and defy him and Poppy had certainly done that with her quarantine wards and pathetic attempts to break his control over Potter and Granger...not that she'd remember any of her actions later.
Between the bright red stripes on Pomfrey's back from the magical whip he'd used to break her pale skin to his seed dripping from her exposed breasts as her tears flowed down her face, Albus thought she made quite the pretty picture. Just one thing was missing to make the image complete.
"Crucio!"
After Obliviating the memory from the Matron, and Scourgifying his essence from her body, the Headmaster left the woman soaking in a tub containing vanilla-lemon bath salts and Essence of Dittany, erasing the last traces of physical evidence of his actions. And when the added Confundus Charm wore off, Poppy would mistakenly believe the cold water was the cause for her muscle aches and tremors instead of the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse.
Satisfied with his cover-up efforts, Dumbledore walked out of the infirmary with a sated smile on his face, heading back to his office for a short kip before dinner.
[END of assault Scene]
As Snape had anticipated, the Headmaster barely gave his underling's missive a second thought, tossing the bit of parchment aside for later use as scrap as soon as he'd read it.
By the time an agitated Professor McGonagall rumbled into his office like a Summer stormcloud, Severus' message was all but forgotten.
"I've just sent the youngest Mr. Weasley to the infirmary," McGonagall began, her nose wrinkled up like she'd smelled something sour, "He claims to have been attacked by a house-elf, one that he said he tried to prevent from stealing his and Mr. Potter's belongings. While I've confirmed that all of Potter's possessions are missing, Ronald Weasley was a bit thin with the details as to what had been taken from him. I'm thinking it might be of an embarrassing nature as he's requested a male Professor, specifically you, to discuss the matter."
Although Dumbledore's visage was the picture of calm, the usual twinkle in his blue eyes was replaced by an icy hardness, having a fair idea of what was stolen from Weasley, "Very well, I'll speak with the boy. Did he mention whether or not he recognized the elf? And what were the extent of his injuries?"
A rare blush bloomed across the Transfiguration Professor's face as she answered, "All Mr. Weasley reported about the elf was that it wasn't wearing a Hogwarts uniform. But as to his condition, well, a certain...appendage...shall we say has been reattached to the middle of his forehead and the words 'Thieving Dickhead' have been bespelled across his cheeks in electric blue, flashing letters. And before you ask, I wasn't able to reverse any of the enchantments."
Despite having possibly just lost the invaluable Potter heirlooms or the potions Molly had sent, the Headmaster burst out in a fit of laughter at the predicament of his youngest follower, his reaction confusing his Deputy to no end.
Snape smirked at his two young houseguests as he gave them the option of what question they wanted an answer to first, he was rather pleased when they both chose to learn more about their soulmates.
"Very well," Severus drawled, directing them through to his sitting room and having them take a seat. He then took out his wand and solemnly intoned, "I, Severus Tobias Snape, hereby swear on my magic and my life that everything I reveal to Harrison James Potter and Hermione Jean Granger within the next thirty minutes is the truth. So Mote It Be."
As the blue shimmer of the Oath began settling over the Professor's skin, Harry couldn't help himself and blurted out, "What in Godric's Green Earth was that!?"
Hermione jumped in and answered before Snape could open his mouth to reply, " That's a Wizards Oath, Harry. It means Professor Snape can't lie to us about anything for the next half hour. The first time he tried, he'd lose access to his magic and become a Squib. The second time would... "
"Kill him," finished Harry, his eyes growing wide in horrified comprehension, "Why would you risk everything like that?"
Snape didn't hesitate to answer, "Because you've both been repeatedly lied to and shamelessly manipulated by people that you thought you could trust. I needed to prove to you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I'm not one of them."
His heart melted slightly when his little mate shook her head and sighed, "Your actions since that potions explosion in Slughorn's class already did that, Sir."
Snape merely 'Hrnm'd' in response, not trusting his own voice at the moment.
After regaining his composure, Severus continued, "Now, there's some important issues we must address before I reveal your soulmate's identities," ignoring the small groan of impatience from the two Gryffindors, "Have you been made aware of The Prophecy concerning you and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes. The Headmaster had the Prophecy orb on a hidden shelf in his office. He showed it to me after I was chosen as one of Tri-Wizard champions in Fourth year, I heard it then," replied Harry, closing his eyes and attempting to recall the ambiguous prediction, "I don't remember the exact words but, the gist of it was that there'd be a child born at the end of July, He'd mark this person as his equal and that one would have to kill the other in order to win the war...Oh, and that they had a power He knew nothing about that would help to defeat Him."
"That's a fair summation," agreed Serverus, "However, it's utter tripe, a complete fabrication concocted by Dumbledore using the drunken ramblings of that fraud of a Divination Professor, Sybill Trelawney."
"What? Why would he do such a thing?" cried Harry, his stomach sinking down to his feet, dreading the Professor's answer.
"The Headmaster, and other small-minded individuals like him, see the Dark Lord and his people as a blight on the Wizarding World," explained Severus, watching Potter's face for further signs of distress, "He also saw You-Know-Who as a potential threat to his power in the Ministry. To this end, Albus created the Prophecy as a means to split His focus, giving Dumbledore the chance to gain more political support within the Wizengamot. As a result, the Headmaster was able to push through severe restrictions on certain magical...groups, the Dark Lord's faction in particular."
"So, I became the 'Chosen One' only because Dumbledore needed a convenient target with a July birthday?" sneered Harry, the green of his eyes taking on an icy glint.
"Neville Longbottom could just as easily have been selected based on that factor," said Snape, stifling a shudder that the 'cauldron killer' could have been picked in Potter's stead.
Hermione, however, picked up on something else entirely from the conversation, "Wait, the only Wizengamot restrictions made in past decade and a half concerned Werewolves, Centaurs and Vampires. Are you saying You-Know-Who is...?"
"Not a Centaur or Werewolf."
Severus took a deep breath before continuing, "The reason I brought all these important matters up is because..."
"The Sodding Wanker who murdered my parents and gave me this scar on my forehead is my soulmate!" Harry sobbed, struggling to fight back the angry tears, "I... it's too..."
"Actually, that's not true. The Dark Lord was in Europe the night they were killed."
The escape from Hogwarts followed by all these shocking revelations finally become too much for Harry's overtaxed nerves and he passed out cold, slumping over on the settee, his head landing on Hermione's lap.
"That went well," snarked Hermione, transfiguring a button from her shirt into a blanket and covering Harry's legs and chest with it before looking back at Snape, "I suppose you're going to tell me my soulmate is Draco Malfoy, next."
"He'll be lucky if I don't hold him down and let you break his nose again like you did in Third year," smirked Severus, arching a single knowing eyebrow at her.
"Why would you...?" Hermione's eyes widened and her voice trailed off as Snape pulled the t-shirt sleeve down from his left shoulder to expose the matching Infinity mark that resided there.
"Not exactly the enthusiastic greeting I was hoping for from my little lioness."
Chapter Text
Hermione continued to stare in silence at the infinity symbol on Severus' shoulder for what seemed like hours but in actuality was only five minutes.
She finally managed to gather her scattered wits about her, recovering her voice in the process, and launched a barrage of rapid-fire questions at her newly revealed soulmate, "Who else knows Harry's intended is You-Know-Who? Merlin, what will happen if the Ministry learns of Harry's connection to a Vampire Lord? Wait, if you were fully aware that He was a Vampire all this time does this mean you are one, too? Does this mean Harry and I are to be Turned as well before we seal our bonds? Shite! I forgot all about my parents, how do I explain any of this to them?"
Snape gently pressed a single index finger against his young companion's lips to halt the steady flow of words spilling from her mouth and prevent her from working herself into a full-blown panic attack.
"Calm yourself, my little lioness," drawled Severus, keeping his tone steady yet soothing, "We have ten minutes before we need to use the Port-Key and I still have to Rennervate Potter, so most of your inquiries will have to wait until we reach Wiltshire. For now, I can confirm that I became a Vampire by my Sire, Lord Voldemort, on my thirtieth birthday. And, no, neither of you are required to be Turned to complete the bonding, the Dark Lord prefers to wait until a person is at least twenty-one and have reached their magical maturity before they are brought into the Family, no one wants to deal with a tetchy, angst-filled teenager for all of eternity."
That image was enough to illicit a snort-laugh from Hermione, "Sweet Circe, that would be a bit much to handle."
Hermione was about to comment further when Harry began to stir from his impromptu catnap, "Perfect timing, Potter," smirked Snape, who was inwardly relieved that he didn't need to use magic to revive the younger wizard, "You have just enough time to freshen up before we must leave."
Harry hesitated for a second as he regained his bearings before mutely half-stumbling off to the nearest bathroom to splash water on his face, brush his hair and cast a cleansing charm on his mouth, all on autopilot.
Although no longer in shock, Harry was still struggling with the news that the wizard he'd long believed responsible for his parents' deaths wasn't around on that fateful night, the fact that You-Know-Who was also a Vampire Lord AND his soulmate was just icing on the proverbial cake. Plus, in mere minutes he and Hermione would be meeting Him face-to-face.
"Merlin! When did my life get so complicated?"
As Harry wandered back to the sitting room a sudden stray thought had him blurting out, "Wait, who's Hermione's soulmate? I sort of missed out on that bit."
"'I'll tell you once we've arrived in Wiltshire, Potter, we can't afford to have you passing out mid-Port-Key," insisted Snape, removing the charmed quill from his shirt pocket and returning it to full size, "That would be an... unpleasant experience for everyone."
Hermione softly squeezed one of Harry's shoulders in a consoling manner, "I promise you, Harry, although I was surprised, too...well, not to the point of fainting mind you (that earned her a mock glare from Harry), I'm pleased with who he turned out to be," she admitted, a touch of color blooming across her face, "He's intelligent, trustworthy, brilliant with spellcrafting, loves to read..."
"In other words," interrupted Harry, giving her a cheeky grin, "He's the swotty male version of you."
Granger playfully smacked Potter's arm, "Oi, rude. But yes, we do seem to share a few things in common."
"Enough idle chitchat you two, collect your familiars and get a firm grip on the eagle feather shaft, my friend's expecting our arrival in two minutes," instructed Snape, his visage the picture of tranquility due to his Occlumency shields being drawn down tight. Internally, however, he was grinning like a loon and doing a moderately dignified happy dance at the petite witch's ready acceptance of him as her mate.
He only hoped things would turn as well between his Sire and Potter...but, he wasn't going to hold his breath.
Giving himself a mental shake to refocus his thoughts, Severus called out 'Rook', having a few more tasks to address before leaving their temporary sanctuary.
"Yes, Master? What can Rook do's for you?" asked the little elf as soon as he appeared.
"I need you to return to the Hogwarts infirmary to check on Poppy and the status of the simulacrums," said Severus, his stoic demeanor not revealing his concerns for his friend and colleague, "Make certain you are not seen by either Dumbledore or either of the two Weasleys. We know the boy's involved with the Headmaster's schemes but, we don't know if the same holds true for his sister. Once those tasks are complete, make your way to Wiltshire and report your findings directly to me."
Rook had rolled his eyes about the reminder to be unobserved but given his earlier violent encounter with the ginger menace called Ronald, he understood his Master's underlying worry for his safety, "Of course, Sirs, Rook will be's careful."
With the house-elf's assurances, Severus turned his attentions back to Hermione and Harry. After ensuring that they were indeed ready to travel, he activated the Port-Key with a clearly voiced 'Portus, Wiltshire', the group vanishing from Rook's sight seconds later in a flash of blue light.
By the time Rook made his way back to the hospital wing under an extra robust Disallusionment, the place was in utter chaos, primarily due to the angry red-haired whirlwind known as Molly Weasley.
"How could you let this happen, Albus!" shrieked Molly at banshee levels, "You're supposed to be the one in control here at Hogwarts. Does THAT look like you're in control?" she hissed, pointing to her son, "And why haven't you countered this curse yet? Aren't you supposed to be the most powerful wizard in Great Britain?"
Dumbledore scowled at the woman, his wand hand twitching. If it weren't for him needing the Weasley Matriarch's brewing skills on a regular basis, he'd have Crucio'd her repeatedly for her disrespectful behaviour.
"Remember your place, Madame Weasley," Albus said through gritted teeth, "Minerva, Poppy and I have tried every counter spell we know. And before you ask, I've already put in a firecall to St.Mungo's and Gringott's for a cursebreaker, they should be here within the hour."
Molly had barely yelled a shrill 'An hour!?' when the rest of her impending rant was silenced... Dumbledore having conveniently removed her mouth.
"Ahhh, blissful quiet," smirked the Headmaster as Mrs. Weasley waved her arms in mute frustration, "Now, I advise that you take a seat by your son and take a moment to calm down before you find yourself missing other, more important, body parts."
Realizing the precarious position she was in, Molly hurriedly complied, although, she still chanced to glare daggers at the man once his back was turned, recipes for erectile dysfunction and other equally embarrassing ailments running through her head the whole time.
Minister Fudge sat at his desk looking at the latest file Umbridge had given him for the upcoming Vampire Restrictions Bill and smiled. According to Dolores' accompanying notes, the incriminating photographs had done the trick and the needed votes were assured.
Although he'd always been curious as to how the pink obsessed witch managed to gather the treasure trove of embarrassing images, Cornelius knew it was best if he was kept out of the loop in this particular case. If Umbridge ever got caught, he had plausible deniability, the cornerstone of a successful career politician.
Leaning back in his butter soft black leather chair, the Minister closed his eyes, dreaming of the best way to celebrate another victory over those damnable leeches that had taken his darling Beatrice from him all those years ago.
A vicious smile crossed his lips, "Yes, that'll do nicely. A public execution of that blood sucking bitch the Aurors caught last night will be perfect."
"Make your peace with whatever gods or demons you believe in Madame Bathory, you'll burn on Friday, long before the ink has dried on the newest Restrictions Bill."
When the trio of humans and two familiars stopped spinning through the whirlpool sensation of the Port-Key, Harry once again sucked in several deep breaths to keep from puking all over another expensive looking rug, this time in a lavish bedroom decorated in cool blues, warm yellows, dark cherry furniture and sparingly accented with fittings of burnished nickel.
On the far side of the room, standing next to a large stone fireplace, was an elegantly dressed blonde witch in robes of midnight blue, the color making her flawless alabaster skin practically glow.
"Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, may I present to you one of our hosts, Lady Narcissa Malfoy," drawled Snape, giving the ethereal woman a small formal bow.
Ever the eloquent one (not), Harry spluttered, "Malfoy!? As in Draco Malfoy? That pompous ferret who's constantly harassing me and Hermione, especially, Hermione. He's repeatedly accused her of cheating because she's the top student in all our classes, he claims no one's that good without help of some kind, particularly, someone like her."
Before Snape and Granger could admonish him for his outburst, Narcissa Malfoy intervened, "I do apologize for my son's behaviour towards you both, his competitive nature and ego are a bit...much as you've no doubt noticed. I assure you his father and I will be having a serious discussion with him over this matter soon. Now, please make yourselves comfortable. I'm certain you have questions that still need answering seeing as how you reacted to my family's name," she said, pointedly glaring at Severus.
"In my defense, we were somewhat pressed for time," grumbled Snape, looking mildly sheepish under their hostess' displeased gaze, "I felt it more prudent to prepare them for their soulmates and their underlying...proclivities with blood rather than discussing the identities our hosts."
Narcissa merely 'Hrmn'd' in response, although, the exasperation in her silver-blue eyes lessened. After a few moments of silence, she addressed the group once more, "I suggest you start with a few more explanations, Severus, while I tend to their remaining wounds. I presume you have the necessary potions with you," she stated more than inquired as she carefully strolled towards the two Gryffindors currently seated on a chaise lounge near the cheerily crackling fire in the stone hearth.
Snape rolled his eyes at the blonde witch but readily handed over some of his supply of improved burn salve and healing potions he'd packed for the still recovering patients, "I'll tend to Mr. Potter while you assist Miss Granger," he said, watching the reaction of the teens out of the corner of his eye, "Unless they'd prefer a different arrangement," he smirked, enjoying the blush that rapidly blossomed over his mate's features.
"I think for expediency's sake, we'll stick with the original setup," declared Lady Malfoy, setting up a privacy curtain between the witches and the wizards, "In the meantime, let's begin with a review of what you two believe you understand about Vampires and build on that, shall we? Given Dumbledore's control over the Hogwarts curriculum, I've no doubts that your education has been somewhat limited on this subject."
Hermione let out an undignified snort, "That's putting it mildly," she stated, slowly accepting the woman's assistance in tending to the remaining burn scars on her back, "Even the Restricted Section contained laughable resource materials. I mean, really, using Muggle fiction as the basis for teaching about the history of Vampires is criminally negligent and downright stupid.
Narcissa smiled at the younger witch, "I must say, Miss Granger, that even without the soulmark Severus would've become enamoured with you. Intelligence and critical thinking all rolled up in a pretty petite package, the poor man wouldn't have stood a chance."
It was a good thing that the privacy curtain was in place, otherwise, Snape's little lioness would have seen the flush of scarlet covering his cheeks. Unfortunately, Potter had witnessed the effect Mrs. Malfoy's observations had on his Professor and was about to make a cheeky comment.
"Not one word, Potter," Snape hiss-whispered in warning, "Or I'll show The Dark Lord a Pensieve memory of your reaction when you learned He was your intended, I'm certain he'll find it amusing that his Gryffindor mate has all the fortitude of a fainting goat."
Lucius was watching Lord Voldemort pace about the sitting room like a caged animal. And despite the fact that this was his Sire, Malfoy was ready to hex the man and force a Calming Draught down his throat.
"They arrived over an hour ago, what could possibly be taking them so long?" growled Voldemort, glaring at the closed and heavily warded door separating him from his mate.
Malfoy held back an exasperated sigh, they'd had this same conversation nearly forty minutes ago, "Narcissa and Severus had a number of topics to cover with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger once they ensured the two hadn't suffered any adverse effects from the extended Port-Key travel. It's likely both of them are asking enumerable questions, especially the young witch, based on the stories Draco has told us about her."
"Yes, yes you're probably right, my Childe," conceded The Dark Lord, stopping his pacing mid-stride. Abruptly changing the subject, Voldemort asked, "Do you think the welcoming gifts I've chosen are too much? Or should I select more?"
Lucius would have laughed at the nervous state of his Lord but he preferred his dangly bits to remain attached where they were, thank you very much. "I believe the Emerald and platinum ring and bracelet courtship set may be a tad overwhelming to spring on the boy at this stage, Sire. Perhaps start with something slightly more neutral," he advised, pointing out the custom-made Quidditch gear and picking up the Acromantula silk-lined seeker's gloves, "These would be an excellent choice or these," said Lucius, holding up two box seat tickets for the upcoming game between the HolyHead Harpies and the Ballycastle Bats.
Voldemort frowned but took Lucius' counsel to heart...he thought it best not to mention the pair of racing Granians he recently had housed in the Malfoy stables...or the pedigree crup currently being tended to by a house-elf in his suite of rooms at the Manor.
Harry and Hermione sat on opposite ends of the chaise lounge, both looking completely knackered after their crash course in Vampire history and day to day life, well, un-life which included the current legal issues with the British Ministry of Magic.
"I never thought I'd say this," groaned Hermione, holding her head in her hands, "But I'm quite done with learning for at least a week."
A dark chuckle at her words had her scowling at the source, "For your information, Professor," she snipped, tilting her chin up in defiance. The rest of her retort went unsaid as a travel weary Rook appeared, looking equal parts relieved and sad as he spoke to Snape.
"Missy Poppy is okay's, Master, but Rook could feels the Headmaster's magics on her's," he reported, tapping his fingers to his temple.
"As I suspected, Dumbledore likely altered her memory again," growled Severus, scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration, "And what of the simulacrums, are those still functional?"
Rook smiled, "Yes, Master. Phony little Mistress and Master is fooling Headmaster. His magics on them too's. Angry female Weasley there as well, she puts nasty potions in doppelgangers' mouths."
"No, not Ginny," said Harry, upset that another friend had apparently betrayed them, even if it was a stand in.
"No's young Master," soothed Rook, patting the distressed wizard's hand, "This was the Mother Weasley. She be's yelling at Headmaster for not's fixing Rook's punishments of the boy Weasley, too."
Snape's lips quirked upwards in his version of a smile, "Albus won't be able to, either," he explained when he saw the puzzled expressions on the Gryffindors' faces, "Only another house-elf can reverse the effects of Rook's spells."
"Somehow I'm not surprised Mrs. Weasley's helping the Headmaster," sighed Hermione, looking all the world like someone had kicked her beloved familiar, "She's never liked me after Rita Skeeter wrote that article about me and Viktor Krum in Fourth year. Especially, after I was the one he rescued from the Black Lake during the second trial. She sent me a Howler claiming that I 'stole' Viktor from 'her Ginny'."
Harry barked out a laugh at that memory, "Obviously, Mrs. Weasley doesn't know her daughter that well, considering McGonagall caught her snogging Luna in an alcove at least three times that year."
"And I found them twice more in an empty classroom and on the Astronomy Tower," revealed Snape, raising an eyebrow, "They cost Gryffindor and Ravenclaw an embarrassing number of points that term."
"As fascinating as this conversation is," said Narcissa, her cool demeanor not betraying her nerves, "It's time for you two to be formally introduced to the Dark Lord. I know he's especially anxious to meet you Mr. Potter."
"Oh, Harry," groaned Hermione, rushing over to keep her best friend from face planting onto the Persian rug.
"Definitely more fainting goat than lion."
Notes:
biography. com
Elizabeth Bathory - 17th century Hungarian countess who was accused of killing 600 women; nicknamed the Blood Countess; possible source of inspiration for Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'
animals. net'fainting' goats are a real thing; they are a small domestic breed that have a genetic disorder called Myotonia Congenita and when startled their muscles seize up, causing them to fall over, it's not a true faint as they don't lose consciousness
Chapter Text
Harry awoke once again to the sight of the upside-down, worried face of his best friend watching over him. Well, there was a mixture of amusement amongst the concern, the bemused gleam in her eyes was a dead giveaway.
"Feeling alright there, Harry?" asked Hermione, oh he could definitely hear the mirth in her tone now as he slowly sat up, "Or do I need to get you a Strengthening Solution? Or, perhaps, an Anti-Fainting Elixir?"
"Cheeky witch," replied Harry and before she could stop him, he gave her a light peck on her forehead and pulled her into a gentle embrace, "But I wouldn't have you any other way."
He, therefore, couldn't understand why he sensed his sister in all but blood cringing at his typical gesture of familial affection until he heard a couple of low growls informing him that they were not alone in the room.
Slowly casting his gaze towards the door where the sound originated, he saw the frowning countenance of Professor Snape with a second dour wizard at his side. One that he'd presumed, up until an hour or so earlier, had wanted him dead. And although the man he knew to be Lord Voldemort may no longer want to harm him, he certainly appeared pissed off about something based on his current body language.
Hermione then had the audacity to giggle at him. Harry couldn't see the humor in this situation, didn't she realize they were probably in trouble? Over what he hadn't a clue, though.
The confusion on her best friend's visage only made the curly-haired witch chuckle that much harder. Between gasps for air she managed to say, "Seriously, Harry. Lady Malfoy covered this topic with us not twenty minutes ago."
Seeing that his faint-addled brain still wasn't connecting the dots, Hermione snickered as she explained, "Vampires, especially a soulmarked one, can be somewhat...tetchy until the bond with their prospective mate is initially activated, usually, by the placing of a chaste kiss on either the cheek...or forehead of their Intended in front of witnesses."
Finally, comprehension dawned and a crimson blush bloomed across Harry's face, "Oh," was all he managed to say as he hurriedly disentangled himself from her and scooched away, putting a slight distance between them.
Hermione quickly apologized for the both of them, "Sorry, Harry and I didn't mean any offense...," she paused and sighed before continuing, "Not to sound like I'm making excuses, but we've been given a crash course on everything from Ministry of Magic politics to Vampire lore and social etiquette and I'm afraid it may take us awhile to properly process everything. Please forgive any unintentional missteps we make until we sort through it all."
The scowls from both older wizards were slowly replaced with knowing smirks, it had been a lot of data to dump on the teenagers in a short period of time, "And yet you remembered the material quite readily, little lioness," drawled Severus, stepping forward and gallantly offering his hand to help her up from the chaise lounge where she and Harry were still seated.
"Well, I have the advantage of total recall, Harry doesn't," she replied, her own visage now tinged a light shade of pink with this admission, no one outside of her parents and Harry knew this about her until this moment, "He'll learn the information, eventually. He just needs your patience until that happens."
"Hrmn, so that's why you're so far ahead of everyone else in your studies," teased Snape, enjoying watching the deepening color spread down to her neck, "I can help you refine that talent through Occlumency and Legilimacy lessons, if you're amenable. It would be interesting to see..."
A loud clearing of a throat brought Severus' discussion with Hermione to an abrupt halt, "Perhaps, proper introductions should be seen to, first," advocated Lucius as he strolled into the room behind Severus, biting back a laugh at the sight of his Sire impatiently tapping his left foot, "Then everyone can retire to the solarium for some light refreshments and further conversation."
Lucius wanted to roll his eyes at the four, suddenly mute, people standing across from one another in the Blue Room. Although, he could completely understand why Mr. Potter and Miss Granger had gone quiet. The two of them having been thrown into the proverbial deep end of the swimming pool regarding the true nature of Vampires, amongst many other revelations, that would be enough to fluster anyone. But his Sire and Blood Brother also being so reticent to now speak, much less approach, their future mates (particularly, given both wizards earlier relief with the teenagers safe arrival to the Manor), left him mentally shaking his head.
Malfoy could have smacked himself when one possibility figuratively hit him like a runaway bludger to the chest. Rejection. Given the horrible circumstances of their respective childhoods, it was the most likely culprit. Especially, in Severus' case, he'd been deeply hurt by another Gryffindor witch during his school days thanks to those wretched wizards who called themselves the Marauders.
With this in mind, Malfoy changed tactics. "Why don't we start with confirming that you, indeed, have matching soulmarks," he advised, taking his wand and casting a simple slicing hex over the groups left shirt sleeves across the shoulder, purposefully ignoring the glares he received from them all, "There now, that should make things much easier."
Hermione and Severus already knew they shared the Infinity Symbol markings but went through with the pretense anyway to demonstrate to Harry (and a lingering, insecure part of themselves) that they were, without a doubt, a matched pair. Sliding the split fabrics down to expose the colorful patterns on their skin, Hermione and Severus turned around, allowing Harry, Lucius and Voldemort to get a good view of their marks.
A sigh of relief was all that Harry (and the other two wizards) uttered in response, comfortable in the knowledge that his best friend was with her true Intended, their magics having revealed that their designs were genuine when their fingers traced each others symbols without adverse effects (Hah! He did remember something from their lessons).
Glancing over at the other dark-haired wizard ('Merlin! He's even taller than Snape!'), Harry gathered his shaky Gryffindor courage together and peeled back the sleeve of his shirt to unveil the Ouroboros Symbol on his newly bared flesh. He only just heard the softly whispered, "At last" from the man before he, too, uncovered his shoulder for all in the room to see.
Harry tentatively moved closer to get a better look. "You may touch the marking, if you so desire," cooed Voldemort, giving the consent he saw being asked for in his young mate's Emerald green eyes.
Permission granted, Harry reached out and gently drifted his trembling fingers along the circular design, causing both of them to gasp - Voldemort in contentment and Harry in giddy assuredness - when their magics connected and affirmed their match.
With that matter settled, Snape took Granger's right hand into his own and asked, "May I seal our bond with a kiss, my little lioness?" he smoothed, his onyx eyes darkening with his need to officially proclaim her as his mate.
"Yes, please," Hermione replied trying to keep her voice steady, she was mostly successful. At least, she didn't squeak, that would have been embarrassing.
With a dark chuckle, Severus pulled her in close and pressed his lips gently to both her cheeks and forehead. When both her eyebrows raised towards her hairline in surprise, he drawled, "I wanted to ensure our soulbond was, unequivocally, acknowledged."
Harry didn't have much time to laugh at Hermione's response (she had promptly pounced on Snape and proceeded to cover his face with kisses 'to make doubly sure' their bond was activated, causing the usually stoic man to splutter something about, 'Gryffindor brashness') as his breath hitched, his knees nearly buckling under him when a warm presence moved to his left side and purred a similar question into his ear in a sinfully delicious baritone.
His voice having decided not to co-operate at that moment, Harry slowly nodded his head in the affirmative, to which Voldemort smiled and followed his Childe's example, settling their bond into place with three kisses, too.
A slow round of applause interrupted the couple after the Dark Lord's third kiss was pressed to Harry's forehead, "Now that's sorted. It is my great pleasure, albeit belatedly, to formally present Mr. Harrison James Potter and Miss Hermione Jean Granger to you, MiLord Tom Marvolo Riddle and to you, Lord Severus Tobias Prince."
Instead of the expected bow response from Harry, the young wizard groaned and smacked a palm to his face. "Dammit, Hermione. I hate it when you're right."
And Hermione, in lieu of curtseying, began laughing at her fellow Gryffindor, yet again.
Deciding to try the patience route as the teens requested before, Voldemort drawled, "Care to favor us with an explanation as to what's so humorous, Miss Granger?"
"Forgive my rudeness, Lord Riddle, Lord Prince," Hermione soothed, managing a wobbly bend of the knee, "But Harry just lost a bet with me," she stated as Potter retrieved from his shirt pocket a well-used, shrunken copy of 'Advanced Potionmaking' which he then Engorgio'd and handed over to her with a distinct pout on his lips.
Hermione, in turn, presented the book to their now puzzled Professor, a mischievous gleam sparking through her eyes, "I believe this rightfully belongs to you, Sir. Or should I say, to 'The Half-Blood Prince'," flipping the cover open to the handwritten note on the dedication page, the words done in his oh-so-familiar spiky script (well, it was obvious to her, anyway).
"It appears my young snake's earlier sentiment concerning you was only partially correct, Miss Granger," smirked Voldemort, one eyebrow arched in amusement, "You're not only a cheeky witch but a clever one, too. You're certainly going to have your hands full with her, my Childe."
"Indeed." ('And hopefully very soon.')
It wasn't until Dumbledore's personal elf popped into the Infirmary, to remind the Headmaster of his afternoon Floo call appointment with the Minister, that Ronald Weasley's condition was discovered to be reversible...but only by another house-elf's magics.
Dobbins had seen Mrs. Weasley's, the Matron's and his Master's growing frustrations over their failed counterspells to the younger Weasley's numerous ailments and was only too happy to help by pointing out the obvious problem.
Albus was so put out when he learned that he, the most powerful wizard since Merlin, was incapable of correcting a lowly creature's magical interference on another human being that he nearly Avada'd his overly perky servant on the spot.
However, Molly's well timed non-verbal, Bat-Bogey-Hex effectively derailed the Headmaster's tantrum, giving him a much needed pause to reconsider his options.
The process to return one Ronald Bilius Weasley back to his original form wasn't a painless endeavor, the ginger-haired teen hurled a near constant stream of verbal abuse at the tiny elf until everything had been set to rights.
"Apologies young Master, but Dobbins not family to bad house-elf that do's these nasty spells on yous," he explained, stripping the final hex from Weasley's cheeks, eliciting another round of angry threats from Ronald, "Makes things harder to fix."
"Did you recognize the other elf by his magical signature? Do you know who they belong to?" asked Albus, anxious to find out who dared to work against him in his own domain.
"No's Headmaster," replied Dobbins with a frown, casting a cooling charm on Ronald's skin to ease the severe, sunburn-like side effects from the treatment, "Only knows they's not a Hogwarts elf."
"Damn and blast," scowled Dumbledore, that wasn't the answer he wanted, "Do you think you could track down this unauthorized elf?
"Dobbins will certainly tries, Sirs."
"Excellent. If you discover their whereabouts and, more importantly, the identity of their owner, report that information back to me immediately," ordered Albus as he prepared to head back to his office, "And don't let that elf know you're aware that they don't belong here."
"Of course, Headmaster. Dobbins be's extra careful."
"Bloody house-elf peeled my skin off!" whinged Ronald to his Mum and Madame Pomfrey, "Don't you have anything stronger for the pain?" he rudely demanded, expecting special treatment given his suffering.
"Don't take that tone with me, young man,' hissed the Matron, applying a Restorative lotion to the impudent teen's face a little too vigorously, "And no, that's the strongest dosage you'll be getting, Mr. Weasley. Anything more and you'd be comatose."
"Fine," snarled Ronald, scarfing down his lunch as if someone was going take it away from him at any moment, obviously his discomfort didn't affect his appetite. ('I'll just get Pippin to steal me another phial or two of the good stuff later.')
"Alright, that's got your son sorted. It's your turn, Molly," soothed Poppy, beginning the counter to Albus' hex, his memory spell making the Matron believe it was the work of others, "I still can't understand why the Twins would do this to their own Mother."
With her and her precious Ronniekins restored to their old, unrepentant selves, Molly returned home and began plotting a bit of payback against Dumbledore for spelling away her mouth. Nothing permanent, mind you, but immensely gratifying. At least, it would be for her...the Headmaster, not so much.
"So many options, however shall I decide?" she chuckled to herself as she flipped through the pages of the family grimoire, "Ooooo, this looks promising. Praesent along with a chaser of Tentigo should do nicely for that licentious nob. I'll just have Pippin sneak into Hogwarts when the brew is completed in a couple of hours and spike his afternoon tea or, better yet, his sherbet lemon sweets, only he eats those."
"Yes, that will be far more fitting...longer lasting, too."
Notes:
praesent - erectile dysfunction
tentigo - lust, randiness, lech
Chapter 7
Notes:
Apologies on the late posting...being sick sucks arse! 😓 Especially, when it makes you accidently delete whole sections with an ill-timed sneeze! 😷
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Eventually, the relaxed conversation over afternoon tea in the solarium turned to a topic that had the two Gryffindors blushing to the roots of their hair, yet again - the consummation of their bonds.
"If it's all the same to you," began Harry hesitantly, looking at a suddenly rather interesting spot on the lip of his porcelain cup, "I would prefer to wait until, at least, my next birthday before we do, well, THAT. I mean, for Merlin's sake, I'm only sixteen right now. I don't...I...that is to say...ummm...."
"What Harry's trying to explain, is that he's not...experienced in things of an intimate nature," Hermione chimed in while checking out a similar speck of note on her shoes, "In fact, aside from kissing, neither of us have been with another person in a purely physical sense."
Two positively sinful growls emerged from the two older wizards with hearing their companions' confession, "Are you saying that we will be the first to guide our mates into the delightful world of pleasure?" drawled Severus, one raven-colored eyebrow arched in question.
('Sweet Circe and all her little piglets! That man's voice should be illegal. And who knew that eyebrows could be sexy.')
Hermione felt like she was going to spontaneously combust at this point and, from the side-glance she'd given Harry, so was he, "Yes," she finally managed to reply. ('Bloody Hell! First, I practically throw myself at my Prof...errr, mate and now I actually squeaked! Could this day get any more embarrassing?')
Seeing the growing discomfort in the teens body language, Tom and Severus took pity on the pair, "Just to be clear," soothed Voldemort, moving closer to his Intended and gently resting a warm palm over one of Harry's mildly trembling hands, "We will go at the pace you set. However, I would like permission to begin formally courting you, my little snake."
Harry didn't trust his voice at the moment and instead nodded his consent.
"In the meantime," Snape suggested, putting a lone finger under Hermione's chin and tilting her head up so he could look into to her whiskey-amber eyes, "Perhaps, a chat with another bonded pair could help ease any concerns you may have about the nature of these activities or would you prefer a more clinical approach and asking questions with a Healer? One that's trustworthy, discrete and well versed in the subject?"
"I'm usually a more self-research type of person when it comes to learning something new," she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "But in this case, I think speaking with a qualified Healer would be the better approach. Just, not right away, though. Harry and I still need a bit more time to come to terms with our recent changes in circumstances."
"As you wish," purred Severus, still watching her face for signs of true distress and not just insecurity, "And I, too, wish to start our formal courtship. With your approval, of course."
Once again, all Hermione could manage was a peeped out 'Yes.'
While Harry and Hermione were being shown about the Manor grounds and presented with their first courting gifts - the custom-made seekers gloves for Harry and a signed, first edition of 'Hogwarts: A History' for Hermione - Dumbledore was stomping about the castle in an even more foul mood trying to track down his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, he'd received no reply from the infuriatingly missing wizard to his earlier Patronus requesting a meeting. After Molly's last, albeit truncated, rant over her youngest son, he wasn't as confident in relying solely on her for his and the Order's potions needs. Although Slughorn was competent enough, the man always wanted an extravagant favor in return. No, he needed to persuade Snape to take on this task. That is, if he could only find the blasted man!
"It's four o'clock on a Friday afternoon, where could that ruddy Slytherin be hiding?" groused Albus to no one in particular as he waited on the moving staircase to settle, "It's not like he has much of a social life, not with that unfortunate nose and prickly demeanor at any rate."
Making another sweep of the DADA classroom corridor, the Headmaster finally gave in a sent a second message by Patronus, "Snape! Drop whatever or whoever you are doing and meet me in my office within the hour, no excuses. I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you."
"Now, what should I do about Molly? She's still useful but, needs another reminder about who's in charge here," he pondered, searching his memory for an appropriate 'lesson' for the Weasley matriarch. A nasty smirk soon bloomed across the Headmaster's face, "Yes, threatening Arthur's position at the Ministry should do quite nicely, I believe. She'll think twice before questioning my authority again," he smirked as he popped a couple of Sherbert Lemon drops into his mouth, not noticing the subtle change in the sweet treats flavor.
With the arrival of Dumbledore's second demand, Severus knew he had no choice but to return to Hogwarts for a short time. He'd known this was a possibility and planned accordingly, having Narcissa gather numerous containers of potions ingredients from the Malfoy greenhouses and set them aside for him under statis for this very purpose. All he need do now was change his clothing to fit the image of his contrived harvesting expedition.
Lord Voldemort watched his Childe emerge from his suite at the Manor with more than a bit of trepidation shimmering in his dark eyes. He hated that this was a necessity, putting one of his family directly in the path of that manipulative old goat in order to gain scraps of information on the Headmaster's and the Order's plans. Especially, now that the Potions Master had found his Intended. Hopefully, the spying wouldn't be required for much longer but it didn't make Severus' impending departure that any easier to witness.
As Lucius temporarily opened the Floo connecting the Wiltshire residence to Snape's Summer home, Riddle handed Severus a Goblin silver ring to place on his right ring finger, "Should the need arise, and hopefully it won't, simply think about this place and the word 'Sanctuary', this Port-Key will do the rest."
"A silent activation? Clever. Dumbledore will have kittens if I disappear before his eyes," said Severus, sliding the proffered band onto his finger, "Particularly, if I do so while in his office."
"Yes," drawled Tom, stepping back to let Snape's young mate say her goodbyes, "If that happens, make certain I get a Pensieve memory of that image, however brief it may be."
"Of course, Sire. It would be my pleasure."
Hermione and Harry observed Professor Snape as he made a few last-minute checks before his imminent journey back to Hogwarts, both dreading the moment he would disappear through the green flames of the Floo. This wizard had done so much for them in the past twenty-four hours to ensure their safety - well, since their first year at the school if they were honest. It simply rankled them that he was placing himself back in the thick of things so soon. Seeing the Dark Lord gift him with a means of escape helped to ease their distress, but only marginally.
Severus noticed the Gryffindors' shifting demeanor as they approached, "I plan to be back before dinner is served this evening," he assured them, placing the last of the ingredients containers into his robe pockets, "Should that change, I will get a message out as soon as I can."
His little lioness strode forward and wrapped her arms tightly about his waist, "I understand that you have to go, but please be extra careful, Severus," she muttered, keeping her face pressed to his chest so he couldn't see the tears threatening to roll down her cheeks, "Just know that Harry and I will be here furiously scheming various ways to storm the castle should that blue-eyed bastard do anything to delay your return."
Snape kissed the top of Granger's head, "Of that, I have no doubt, my fierce little mate," he soothed, reluctantly stepping out of her embrace and strolling towards the fireplace, "But, I would prefer that the two of you apply your destructive energies and imaginations elsewhere," he drawled, waving Lucius and Tom closer so they could pick up on his suggestion, "For instance, these two could benefit from your unique insights on matters concerning the Dursleys."
Harry's frown rapidly morphed into a knowing grin, his countenance lighting up like a child's on Christmas morning at the implication, "If by that you mean plotting all manner of nasty surprises to make those despicable people's lives a living nightmare, then count me in," he replied enthusiastically, chuckling at the feigned shock on Lucius' face.
Hermione, knowing that Severus was only doing this to distract them from his departure, rolled her eyes but played along with the change in topic for Harry's benefit, "Alright, then," she said, leaning in for a closer look at the list in Malfoy's right hand, "Let's see what you've come up with so far. Hopefully, we won't have make too many changes."
"Cheeky witch."
In the staid, cookie-cutter brick house at Number Four Privet Drive in Little Whinging, the three Dursleys - Vernon, Petunia and Dudley - along with Aunt Marge and her vicious bulldog Ripper, were just sitting down to their perfectly normal supper of Shepherd's pie when there was a loud knock at the front door.
Vernon snarled, not even looking up from his overloaded plate of food, "Don't just sit there, Petunia, answer the door and tell those pests we're not buying whatever rubbish it is they're peddling this or any other week," presuming it was just another door-to-door salesman, having already dealt with three this past week.
Mrs. Dursley muttered something unkind under her breath but no one heard it over the noise of their grazing.
The knocking started once again, only louder, before Petunia reached the door, "This better not be..." she started to say as she impatiently pulled the door open, the rest of her words temporarily caught in her throat at the sight of a tall, very fit looking delivery person standing on her doorstep with a large bouquet of flowers in his hands - purple carnations and cyclamens mixed with a variety of colorful snapdragons.
"Excuse me Madame," inquired the polite, sandy-blonde haired man, "Are you by chance Petunia Gayle Dursley, formerly Evans?"
Finding her voice once again, Petunia replied, "Yes. That's me. What's going on? Who sent those?" she asked as she pointed to the unusual arrangement, knowing full well that her husband of twenty years wouldn't have been so unexpectedly (nor expectedly) thoughtful.
The soft-spoken gentleman shrugged in apology as he handed the crystal vase full of blooms over to the flustered Petunia, "I'm afraid the client didn't leave a name, Madame. Enjoy your evening!" he said cheerfully before turning on the spot and walking away, the growing mischief in his amber-gold eyes unseen by the woman left gawping on the doorstep.
"Who was that and where did those things come from?" demanded Vernon, watching his wife place the oversized arrangement on top of the little used bookshelf in the sitting room, his right eye slightly twitching when a few petals fell off onto the floor and his sister's dog licked them up leaving a small puddle of drool behind.
"The delivery man didn't know, they're from an anonymous sender," replied Petunia, silently appreciating the unknown gift-giver's tastes, purple being her favorite color.
Eventually, the conversation around the dinner table slowly returned to mundane things, no one noticing -except maybe the bulldog - that the blossoms themselves gave a small shake or three, sending out minute clouds of pollen to drift about the room.
Within the hour, the people living in the houses surrounding Number Four Privet Drive were inflicted to an impromptu West End musical as their, normally, uptight neighbors began running amuck in their front yard in makeup and fancy dress, singing the line up from 'Cats' at the top of their lungs - horribly offkey, naturally.
When the local constabulary was called out to stop the caterwauling quartet, and their howling dog accompaniment, the officers couldn't get a coherent answer out of any of them, each claiming that 'the sparkling flowers made us do it'. Figuring that alcohol and drugs were involved, the whole lot were hauled away for testing and a night in observation. Animal control was brought in, too, after Ripper reacted badly to being separated from Aunt Marge, biting an officer on the leg earning the irate beast a trip to quarantine for thirty days.
One set of eyes in the neighborhood in particular took special notice of these events upon her return from the local shops. Strolling up to her fireplace after reaching the privacy of her home, Mrs. Figg tossed down a handful of green powder into the flames, intent on making an urgent Floo call to Headmaster Dumbledore.
Unfortunately for the Dursleys, Albus was in the midst of his own personal crisis, thanks to the doctored candies, and had closed off his office fireplace to outside communications. It would be a full two weeks before he sat down to read Mrs. Figg's report sent by owl. But by then, it was too late for him to intervene on their behalf - Vernon, Petunia and Marge had been put into the Muggle legal system, charged with possession of illicit drugs, public intoxication, endangering the life of a minor, disturbing the peace and resisting arrest with violence. And without other family to take him in, Dudley had been placed into Foster care.
Later that evening, after witnessing the Dursley's social self-destruction from the safety of the shadows on a neighboring rooftop, the 'delivery man' arrived back at Malfoy Manor, his Glamours having long since been removed.
"That was delightfully satisfying to implement," chortled Lucius, giving Harry and Hermione each a mischievous wink as he provided a Pensieve memory for them, Tom and Narcissa to watch, "Too bad Severus had to report back to Dumbledore, he'd have loved to have seen this play out first hand."
"As would I," stated Voldemort, stepping over to the runed bowl and pouring the contents of the proffered phial into the stone receptacle, "Although, it's best I didn't, the temptation to hex those Muggles six-ways-to-Sunday would have been too great to resist for long."
"Now that my relatives have experienced their first of many changes of fortunes, who's next on our 'hit list'?" asked Harry, glancing at the scroll of names in Hermione's hands.
"Either the Pink Toad or Fudge," replied Hermione, tapping her chin with the tip of her index finger, "Perhaps, a two-for-one special? Or should they get separate treatments?"
"Both at once," advised Lucius, settling on a chaise lounge and imbibing in a celebratory glass of champagne, "They're often in close proximity during Ministry meetings, especially, just before a major bill is due to be voted on by the Wizengamot."
"Excellent. I know just the thing for those two partners in crime," smirked Harry, his nervous energy causing him to practically bounce on the balls of his feet, "Have any of you heard of this concept called 'Swatting'?
Notes:
aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu : the language of flowers :
purple carnations - capriciousness (freakishness, unpredictability)
snapdragons - deception
purple cyclamen - distrust, separation, parting
A/N: I realize the term swatting didn't come into usage until much later but, this is AU so I'm tweaking the timeline a bit 😈
Chapter Text
Shortly after his arrival at his Summer house, Severus called for Rook to get an update on the situation at Hogwarts.
"Fake Master Potter and Mistress Hermione are still workings, Sir," the house-elf informed him, "But the Headmaster not wishing to see yous about them. Housekeeping elves saying that he's being upset with nasty Weasel's mum."
"While I'm pleased to hear that our ruse is still working," stated Snape as he brushed the last of the soot from the Floo off his clothes, "Did any of them happen to mention how Molly Weasley gained Dumbledore's ire?"
Rook smirked, "Mimsy says Weasel's mum argued loudly with Headmaster about her son's...accident, that he's not keepings her precious boy safe like he should, that he's failings as Headmaster."
Severus smiled to himself, a staunch Order member questioning Albus' abilities to run the school and protect favored students was good news for his Sire. Infighting for whatever reasons, by one of his high-ranking lieutenants no less, meant that Dumbledore's tightly held control over his followers was beginning to slip.
As Rook was Apparating Snape to the stone circle in the Forbidden Forest, Voldemort, Lucius, Hermione and Harry were hashing out the details for the 'Swatting' prank on Minister Fudge and Madame Umbridge.
The first part of the plan would be the trickiest, sneaking incriminating evidence into their targets' respective offices without getting caught. For this, Hermione advised that Lucius use Harry's Invisibility Cloak to get past Fudge's and Umbridge's office assistants during afternoon tea.
(Lucius had informed the teens earlier that using one of the Manor elves for this segment of their plot was out of the question because only Ministry-bound housekeeping elves could gain access to the building. And, since he had legitimate reasons to be at the Ministry during the proposed day, Lucius insisted that he was the best option for this task.)
To give the Malfoy patriarch the best chance for success, Hermione and Harry persuaded the man to use Harry's Invisibility Cloak. "The magics of the Cloak can't be overcome by a stray Finite like a Disallusionment charm," she stated as Harry handed his precious family heirloom over to Lucius, "Now all we have to decide on is what to plant in Fudge's and Umbridge's rooms, it has to be something that can't be easily explained away to the Aurors that will be tipped off to investigate."
A truly evil smirk bloomed across Tom's face, "Lucius and I have the perfect items in mind and they carry a mandatory four weeks in an isolation ward," he drawled, continuing on when Harry appeared somewhat disappointed about the relatively lackluster punishment when compared to what the Dursleys had suffered, "Their month in quarantine would provide us plenty of time to thoroughly tarnish their personal reputations and political credibility, a public hearing before the Wizengamot held in abstentia would work for starters. And as Lucius and I strongly suspect, even more compromising materials will be discovered by the DMLE when they search Fudge's and Umbridge's offices. When that happens, I have several contacts within The Daily Prophet who will guarantee the resulting legal reports will appear on the newspaper's front page, if not be the leading headline."
"Exactly what are these miraculous, unquestionable things?" asked Harry, his curiosity thoroughly piqued.
"Ostrinus Agaricum, a dozen split into two sealed containers should do the trick," drawled Voldemort, he and Lucius chuckling softly even as the color drained from Hermione's face.
"What are those?" Harry asked, puzzled at Hermione's reaction, plus not liking that he sounded so totally clueless - he certainly wished he'd paid better attention when she'd tried to teach him Latin over the last couple of years.
"Purple mushrooms, Harry," replied Hermione barely above a whisper, "Their spores are one documented source of Spattergroit. That's a..."
"I know, a highly contagious magical disease," said Harry, his visage paling, too, "I remember that much from Madame Pomfrey's health lectures. Isn't that a bit risky, though? I mean, we certainly don't want Lucius or any innocent bystanders exposed if the boxes accidentally get broken."
"That's the beauty of using the Ostrinus Agaricum in this endeavor, my little snake," soothed the Dark Lord, "That particular fungi is completely harmless. I should know, I was the one who spread that disinformation to keep those greedy Ministry-funded collectors from harvesting them to the point of extinction."
"For a time, they were more sought after than truffles," Lucius further explained, gesturing for the mildly unsettled teens to follow him to an odd-looking greenhouse not far from the solarium. When they stepped inside the temperature regulated space, the Gryffindors saw dozens upon dozens of the brightly coloured mushrooms growing in most of the planters, "As you can see, we won't have to forage in the wild for the specimens I'll require for this project."
"Might I also suggest gathering a few extra for this evening's dinner, Lucius," said Tom, plucking several from their grow pots and turning to Hermione and Harry, "You'll find that they're really quite tasty when sauteed in butter."
Hermione frowned at Harry's Intended even as she stared at the bright purple mushroom in his hand, "How has no one at St. Mungo's caught on to this deception? Surely someone in the Magical Maladies ward would have questioned their Spattergoit patients about their activities, done research and tested these fungi to find out if they truly were a source of the disease...or not."
The mischievous glint had returned to Voldemort's eyes, "That's where having some of my supporters in strategic positions at St. Mungo's and in the Ministry comes into play," he smirked, leading Harry and the others back to the Manor, "We control those particular medical records and the incident reports filed both at the hospital and the Ministry archives. Should anyone bother to check, they would find only what we wished them to about the mushrooms' connection to that disease."
"Don't look so scandalized," drawled Lucius, his lips twitching into a smug grin at Hermione's and Harry's shocked expressions, "My Sire is not the first to utilize such a tactic, Dumbledore has been doing this for decades. And Fudge and Umbridge have continued on in his footsteps. Just look at the laws they've passed over the last seven years alone because of their propaganda about vampires, werewolves and centaurs."
"And, unlike them, our misinformation was used to protect an endangered species," stated Voldemort, directing the teenagers to take a seat in the calming space of the Manor sunroom, "Now, enough chatter about information manipulation and its consequences, it's time to get back to plotting some revenge."
Whatever Severus had expected when he finally strolled into the Headmaster's office that afternoon, it certainly wasn't the sight of Dumbledore ineffectively trying to rut against the stack of decorative pillows on his settee. It took an extra-strength level of Occlumency for Snape to control the bubble of laughter that threatened to escape him at that startling image.
Loudly clearing his throat to alert Albus to his presence, Severus announced with a deceptively stoic demeanor, "Although your Patronus message said you wished to see me immediately, Albus, perhaps it would be best if I left and returned at a time that's slightly more...convenient for you."
"No! Don't you dare walk away and leave me like this, Snape!" hissed Dumbledore, his pale face twisted up in agony, his brow shining with beads of sweat, "I've been poisoned or cursed or, possibly, both. You've got to help me find a counter measure, now!" he rasped out, the look of sheer panic on the older wizard's visage causing the Potions Master to bite the inside of cheeks to keep the mirth from his voice.
"Do you have any particular suspects in mind for your current...predicament, Headmaster?" asked Severus, committing every moment to memory for his Sire to peruse in a Pensieve later that night, "Or has your list of potential enemies grown exponentially since the last time you called on me to fix one of your arbitrary issues? And, am I to presume that you are currently not in a...position to cast the diagnostics over yourself to narrow down the actual cause or likely possible culprit to your amorous need to grope your furnishings? "
"Enough!" growled Dumbledore through clenched teeth, the vein on his temple looking ready to pop, "Stop your gloating and run the scans. And when you do uncover the perpetrator, they are mine alone to deal with, is that clear?"
"As crystal, Albus."
Cornelius and Dolores were enjoying their afternoon tea, conversing excitedly about the impending execution of Madame Bathory scheduled for the following morning when an unusual alarm started blaring throughout the Executive dining suite, badly startling them and the handful of other Undersecretaries and Departmental managers present at the time.
"What in Merlin's name is that!?" yelled Umbridge in order to be heard over the annoying racket.
"I don't know," replied Fudge in an equally raised voice, his hands instinctively moving to cover his ears, "I've never heard its like until now."
He was on the verge of calling one of the wait staff over, and having them Floo call the head of the DMLE from the kitchen fireplace with a message demanding that Chief Auror Scrimgeour meet him in his office immediately with an explanation, when a small band of strangely attired wizards and witches poured into the room. They turned out to be Aurors, covered in what appeared to be modified healers' jumpsuits topped with a full-body Bubble Charm, that stopped momentarily in the doorway until they spotted their objective. Moving as a unified force, the group surrounded the Minister of Magic and his Undersecretary, separating them from the rest of the diners in the place.
The leader of this contingent, Rufus Scrimgeour himself, then proceeded to place both his confused bosses under a hefty quarantine spell, resulting in a transparent, but bright red, containment globe about the agitated older wizard and witch.
After recovering from his initial shock of this unexpected development, Fudge crossly demanded, "What's the meaning of this, Rufus? Release Dolores and I at once!"
Scrimgeour smirked down at the shorter man, "I'm afraid I can't do that, Minister," he said calmly while his Agents dealt with the handful of other patrons nearby, each soon finding themselves individually housed underneath a similar isolation bubble, "As per your own executive mandate, any person or persons found to be exposed to a highly-contagious, and potentially life-threatening disease, is to be placed into quarantine for a minimum of thirty days until it's determined that they are no longer a threat to the general public."
"What are you talking about!? Remove this ridiculous monstrosity from us at once!" screeched Umbridge, her face turning an unpleasant shade of puce, "Cornelius and I are perfectly healthy, as you can plainly see for yourselves."
Looking anything but contrite, Rufus stated, "I apologize, Madame Undersecretary, but the law dictates that no one, not even the Minister himself, are exempt from these measures."
Ignoring the near apoplectic witch next to him, Fudge pressed the Chief Auror further, "Tell us," he impatiently demanded, "What have we, supposedly, been exposed to then, Rufus? I think I would have noticed being around someone who's been ill."
"I'm afraid it wasn't a person, Minister, but rather a what," replied Scrimgeour matter-of-factly, "Your own office assistant spotted them in your in-basket when she delivered your mail to your office about ten minutes ago. In case you're wondering, Miss Tueor also been placed in isolation."
"I don't give a rats-arse about that dim-witted blonde chit!" shrieked Umbridge, pounding her fists in frustration against the shimmering bubble, "What could possibly warrant this...this...assault on my person!?"
The Chief Auror's gaze turned downright chilly, "Spattergroit. Specifically, from two unsealed boxes of Ostrinus Agaricum whose spores have been found all over both your offices."
Scrimgeour chuckled to himself as the pink-toad of a witch became pale as snow and promptly fainted, falling in such a manner as to land atop the Minister in an undignified heap, ultimately dragging the spluttering wizard to the floor with her.
"Well. That was...unexpected. ('I'm certain my Sire and cloudmates will relish the instant Karma.')"
Snape stood by the hearth in the Headmaster's office, preparing to Floo directly to the dungeons after promising Dumbledore he'd have an antidote ready for him within the next two hours, "It's a tricky brew," Severus smoothly lied, the potion would take no more than thirty minutes for him to brew, he merely wished to prolong the bastards misery for as long as he dared, "In the meantime, I strongly recommend refreshing the locks on your door and canceling any appointments you have for the rest of the day, if you haven't already seen to it. Or, perhaps, you could have Minerva take the meetings in your stead."
The look of horror on Dumbledore's face was well worth the ensuing threats to his person for suggesting such an egregiously offensive idea. (Albus' words, not his.) Gesturing to the bowl of Sherbet Lemon drops he had earlier indicated to Dumbledore were the source of his torment, Snape left the older wizard with one last paranoia-inducing thought before stepping into the green flames and disappearing from sight, "You should also look into changing your supplier, there's no telling exactly when your sweets were tainted."
Severus only just caught a handful of the colourful language the Headmaster unleashed as he spun away. And if it weren't for risking a lungful of soot, Snape would have finally given into his need to cackle at the other man's expense.
The relative quiet of Malfoy Manor was disrupted later that same day by raucous laughter coming from the guest suites on the third floor, the sound of two male voices soon followed.
"Merlin's Twisted Beard! I certainly didn't see THAT happening at the time!" gasped Rufus, between his fits of mock-horrified giggles from the replayed scene in the Pensieve showing Umbridge losing control of her bladder, soaking the Minister's trousers as she fell across his lap.
"Give me a moment to catch by breath, my Childe," stated Voldemort, the tracks of joyful tears shining on his cheeks as he grasped his aching sides, "Then we're watching it again."
"As you wish, Sire."
Cornelius glared contemptuously at the team of lawyers from his side of the containment suite of rooms he, unfortunately, shared with a still distraught Dolores.
"What do you mean, there's no way around this Sodding Merlin-foresaken law!?" he snarled, not caring if the witch noticeably flinched because of his angry tone, "I'm the Bloody Minister of Magic, dammit! Start earning those ridiculously padded paychecks of yours and get me out of here. Tonight!"
The lead barrister - one Barnabas Collins, Esq. - stepped closer to the half-meter-thick visitor's window and looked the seething man straight in the eyes, "As we explained, repeatedly, Minister. The doors on this ward are on a specialized timer lock. No one, not even the best cursebreakers we have consulted, can lift the enchantment due to the strict quarantine regulations that you yourself signed. The only thing we can do is to hire a team of investigators to track down the source of those purple mushrooms. And, quite frankly, they've informed us it'll be like looking for a proverbial needle in a haystack. Now, is there anything else we can do or get for you?"
"No! Get out of my sight, you're all fired!"
"Of course, Minster Fudge. Have fun. ('We certainly will.')"
Notes:
ostrinus - purple
agaricum - mushroomtueor - guard, protect, defend, watch
truffle.farm/truffle_prices.html
Some of these tasty (depending on who you ask) fungi can run over 200.00 U.S. Dollars/158.64 British Pound Sterling per one ounce/28.35 grams!
darkshadows.fandom.com
Barnabas Collins - vampire character from the first gothic soap opera; series aired from 1966 to 1971, later redone in movie form by Tim Burton in 2012
Chapter Text
Arthur Weasley sat in his office in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts branch of the DMLE with his head resting in his hands, blocking out the ambient light in an effort to fend off a pending migraine. When had his life become such a mess?
He let out a derisive snort which he immediately regretted as it jostled his body, adding to his growing discomfort. Arthur knew exactly when everything had gone all pear-shaped. It was during his seventh year at Hogwarts when his teenaged hormones had decided that Molly Prewitt was a fine looking witch and that he couldn't stand another day without her.
Everything had, he'd thought, started out fairly well between them, he and Molly had dated exclusively that whole last year of their schooling, gotten married that Summer after graduation and started their family soon afterwards. Things were running along, mostly, as expected - although there never seemed to be enough hours in the day to accomplish his daily work at the Ministry and spend meaningful time with his wife and children but, all-in-all he considered himself to be content...until today.
After downing a Headache-Relief potion, Arthur picked up the copy of his medical report and growled as he skimmed the results of his annual physical. Ordinarily, Molly accompanied him for these visits to St.Mungo's and now he understood why.
'An otherwise healthy wizard for his age, diet, and level of physical activity, this patient presented with an additional complaint of migraines. The normal array of diagnostic scans were then performed and the results were conclusive. He's suffering from long-term exposure to a variety of potions. Amortensia, loyalty and compulsion being the most prevalent. There's also evidence of Obliviate being performed on his person on a near annual basis. After being administered a cleansing elixir to purge his system of these concoctions, we recommended that he follow up with a Mind Healer and provided him with a copy of his records so that he may file a report with the appropriate authorities....'
Standing up from his desk, Arthur tucked the paperwork from the Healer into his robe pocket, grabbed his travel cloak from the wall hook next to the door and left his office for the day after informing his assistant that he was leaving for the rest of the afternoon on an urgent work-related matter.
The minute he exited the Ministry building, Arthur headed towards Diagon Alley and Gringott's. Once he'd gotten that manipulative shrew removed from the Weasley family vault and their joint account, he was filing for a divorce through the Goblins' legal department. If anyone knew about contracts and how to find a loophole to break one, it would be them.
After that, he was going to pay a visit to his eldest son, William. Hopefully, he wouldn't mind putting his old man up for a few days at Shell Cottage until he sorted out what to do next.
When Ronald returned to Gryffindor Tower shortly after breakfast, he suddenly wished he was back in the quiet confines of the school infirmary. It certainly beat the unwanted attention from the Twins and Ginny. But the capper to their awkward family reunion arrived with the unveiling of a massive banner as it unfurled itself across the Gryffindor Common Room, revealing images of the various stages of his humiliation in full color for all their housemates to see - apparently, the Creevy brothers had been busy honing their photography skills at his expense.
With a howl of embarrassment, Weasley set the offending display on fire before stomping away to hide in his dormitory.
"Some people just don't appreciate the nuances of the fine arts, isn't that right Forge," commented Fred, casting a directed Aquamenti on the flames to prevent them from spreading.
"Indeed, Gred. But what do you expect from a git who has his head firmly up his own arse on the best of days," observed George, setting up a replacement banner for the rest of their fellow Gryffindors to enjoy.
"Are you sure he's related to us?" asked Ginny, watching the youngest male Weasley stalking away furiously.
"Unfortunately, yes," replied Fred and George in unison, "But enough about our prat of a brother. How did your date with Luna go last night?"
"Sorry, boys. I don't kiss and tell," stated Ginny, a mischievous gleam lighting up her face.
"Aww, but we share everything about our dates with you," mock-pouted Fred.
"And I so wish you'd stop doing that, it's difficult trying to carry on a conversation with your girlfriends when I can't look them in the eye."
Arthur had just arrived at Bill's home after hastily retrieving his belongings from the Burrow when a large red envelope accosted him at the front door. His eyes widened in shock when it dawned on him what the significance of that color meant...a Howler. But who would be sending him one of those? The notifications from Gringott's hadn't been sent to his soon-to-be ex-wife as of yet, so it couldn't be her. He hadn't offended anyone at work - not that he was aware of, anyway. All his paperwork was in order, nothing was late. Had he somehow missed an important meeting while off dealing with this personal crisis? Or could it simply be someone's idea of a sick joke?
Mr. Weasley's questions were soon answered as the booming voice of Headmaster Dumbledore vibrated the very air about him, drawing the attention of the newly arrived Bill Weasley.
For ten excruciatingly painful minutes, Albus' disembodied voice ranted, informing Arthur that his wife had the unmitigated gall to inflict grievous bodily harm upon his person - all without ever divulging the details of what Molly's potions had done to him. It was Dumbledore's parting words, however, that sent a cold shiver down Arthur's spine...the hissed command for a meeting in his office at Hogwarts at six sharp this evening with his witch ('preferably in a Full-Body-Bind and Silenced') in tow - no excuses.
"And if either of you fail to comply with my more than reasonable requests, your Ministry promotion and raise will be forfeit...Mr. Weasley."
"Bloody Hell, Mum! What have you done now?!"
As promised, Snape returned to Dumbledore two hours later with the prescribed treatment for Albus' painfully inconvenient (yet, hysterically funny) conditions. Severus also couldn't help but notice that the Headmaster looked all the world to have aged another five years from the unrelenting physical exertions and emotional duress caused by Molly Weasley's potions-laced Sherbet Lemons.
Dumbledore sighed deeply when the warm concoction took effect and sagged gracelessly down onto the settee in his office, his eyes closing with the overwhelming fatigue that was rapidly coursing through his body.
"Leave me be, Snape," he said wearily, "And remember, Madame Weasley's punishment for this...transgression is mine alone to handle," warned Dumbledore as he gave into the need for sleep.
"But of course, Headmaster. I'll be in my quarters should you require further assistance," stated Severus, turning on his heel and hurriedly striding away from the soon-to-be dozing older wizard.
('Ungrateful tosser, didn't even bother to thank me for my time and efforts on his behalf, not that it surprises me.')
If his Sire wasn't still in need of the information he gathered from his spying on the manipulative old coot of a Headmaster, Severus would be sorely tempted to say 'Fuck it all' and leave Hogwarts for good - but not before he and Rook unleashed a level of mayhem reminiscent of the Weasley Twins' most destructive pranks in their wake.
Little did Snape realize when he settled in for his afternoon tea just how close his sentiments were to becoming a reality.
The Headmaster's personal Hogwarts house-elf, Dobbins, had just finished cleaning Dumbledore's quarters - after the wizard's latest fit of temper over the Madame Weasley's devilish assault by sweets - when the wards the elf placed about the school alerted him to the presence of the not-Hogwart's elf somewhere within the castle.
Seeing the opportunity to help lighten his Master's foul mood, Dobbins hurriedly popped away in an effort to catch the interloper and, hopefully, the unauthorized elf's Master or Mistress, too.
Severus was cleaning the work station in his private laboratory after brewing an emergency order from Madame Pomfrey for his extra potent Skele-Gro and Burn Paste, calling upon Rook to deliver the supplies while he prepared the space for the next items on the Matron's long list of needed concoctions for the infirmary.
"Merlin's Twisted Beard! Was there another explosion in Slughorn's classroom that I wasn't made aware of happening?" he asked Rook, frowning down at the parchment on the preparation table that requested Nerve Tonic, Headache-Relief, Dittany soaked bandages and Calming Draught.
"No's, Master Severus," replied Rook, carefully levitating the crate of potions, "At least, none of the housekeeping elves mentioned it."
"Does Master wishes Rook to ask Mistress Healer about this," he stated more than inquired, readying to Apparate to the school's hospital wing.
"No, I'll check with Poppy later when I take the rest of her stock to her," said Snape, gathering up the ingredients for Nerve Tonic from his personal stores.
With that, the little elf popped away, not knowing that his magic was being tracked by a very determined Hogwarts elf.
When Severus strolled through the Floo into Pomfrey's office three hours later to drop off the large batch of potions and bandages, he should have known immediately that something was amiss. For an urgent order such as this one, he'd expected to hear the Matron still bustling about tending to a roomful of mournfully crying or loudly complaining patients, not this unnerving quiet - unless, of course, she'd rationed the last of her Calming Draught or put them in a magically induced coma, buying her charges some respite until he arrived with the replacement stock .
Choosing to listen to his cautionary instincts, once he secured the supplies on Pomfrey's intake shelf, Snape then Disallusioned himself before moving through the open doorway and into the main room, wand at the ready
The scene that was unfolding before the Potions Master's eyes made his heart tightly clench in his chest. Chained against the wall, with their arms spread wide and their bare backs exposed, was Madame Pomfrey and Rook, the Headmaster and another house-elf taking turns striking their already ruined and bloodied flesh with an energy whip, the sounds of their screams, and whatever Dumbledore was shouting at them hidden behind a Muffliato.
Severus knew that Dumbledore was a vicious bastard but he'd never personally witnessed him physically assaulting a witch or a house-elf, until now. Typically, the wizard ordered other people to carry out the truly nasty work.
Whatever happened to cause Albus to take matters into his own hands, so to speak, with the Matron and Rook it needed to end immediately.
Knowing that no matter how much the despised wizard deserved it, Snape couldn't cast the Killing Curse at the Headmaster or his sidekick elf, a large portion of the DMLE was still under Fudge's control and there would be a thorough investigation done should Albus meet an untimely demise. Worst still, the Minister would probably use Dumbledore's death to further his campaign against whichever magical beings he saw fit to implicate - most likely his Sire and cloudmates. For this same reason, he couldn't create Simulacrums and dispose of the real Albus, far too much scrutiny would be paid to the doppelganger and the ruse wouldn't hold for long.
With this in mind, Severus sent a wordless Somnus Trio out, putting Dumbledore, Poppy and the unknown house-elf into a deep sleep. It gave Snape some small bit of satisfaction to hear the Headmaster's nose break when the Sodding git fell to the ground face first.
Working quickly, Severus relieved Albus of all the wands on his person then tightly bound and gagged him and the other elf from mouth to feet, leaving them to lay in the uncomfortable positions in which they had fallen asleep.
Immediately afterwards, Snape canceled the Disallusionment Charm from himself, freed both Rook and Poppy from their restraints and lifted the Muffliato, taking great care to levitate them gently over to the nearest beds on their stomachs so he could better treat the damage done to their backs.
Rook cried in a mixture of relief and sorrow when he saw who had rescued him and the Matron, "I's so sorry, Master Severus. Bad elf Dobbins followed me to the hospital wing when I's brought the potions to Mistress Healer, he bound my magic the moment he Apparated into the infirmary. I's could do nothing to protects your friend."
Severus did his best to soothe the distraught elf as he began cleansing and healing the flayed skin across his and Poppy's backs, "It's not your fault, Rook. Neither of us suspected you were being traced," he assured his sobbing companion, "Why were they punishing you and Poppy, though? I admit that has me puzzled."
With a frustrated growl, Rook explained, "Those two dunderheads believed I belonged to Mistress Healer, that she ordered me to steal back young Master Harry's things and curse that Weasel boy. They's didn't believe either of us when we's told them they's were wrong. The Headmaster looked for Veritaserum to use on us but there was none," hissed Rook as Severus applied a healing balm to the newly cleansed skin, "That's when they's resorted to torture to try and break us."
"Mistress was strong, at first. Told them both to go 'Fuck themselves'," smirked Rook at that recollection, "But then he...they...they..." he trailed off, his brief moment of mirth replaced with a haunted look.
"You needn't tell me more, I get the picture," said Severus, his Occlumency shields tightly in place to control his anger. After loosely applying several strips of the Dittany-laced bandages around Rooks torso, Snape then turned his focus to Pomfrey's care. Repeating the same process of cleansing, healing and bandaging.
"So, what can we do's with them," grumbled Rook, pointing to the insensate Dumbledore and Dobbins after the Potions Master explained that they had to remain amongst the living, for the time being, "They needs to be punished for what they did to Mistress Healer."
A truly malevolent gleam flashed across Severus's eyes, "Leave that to me. I have a feeling it should meet with your approval."
Dinner amongst the staff and students that evening in the Great Hall was the usual affair of animated or subdued conversations during the consumption of food, the low hum of overlapping discussions covering a wide range of topics. But all that stopped in an instant when a loud clap of thunder announced the arrival of the Headmaster to the Hall.
"Pompous Git," muttered George under his breath so only Fred and Ginny could hear - Ron had chosen to eat in the Gryffindor Common Room once again, still too embarrassed to be seen in public after his 'accident', "What I wouldn't give to see that arsehole taken down a peg or two after threatening our Father's job, it's not his fault Mum went Mental and did whatever it was she did to Dumbledore."
(Arthur had Floo'd Professor McGonagall earlier that afternoon and met with his younger children in the privacy of their Head of House' office to apprise them of his impending divorce from their Mother...without mentioning all the sordid details, of course - those would come out soon enough at her trial, provided the Aurors could even find the blasted woman. She'd done a runner the minute the DMLE Agents had shown up at The Burrow, Apparating away with the aid of an unknown house-elf - and assured them that no matter what happened, that they'd needn't worry about a thing except their schooling. Naturally, they were all shocked but Ronald took the news the worst, stomping out in a fit of pique after loudly claiming that 'Dumbledore wouldn't do such a thing to his family', leaving McGonagall's office determined to find the older wizard and demand answers...needless to say, he'd been unsuccessful, Molly wasn't the only one who wasn't where they were expected to be, Albus having already left his office with Dobbins to capture the unsuspecting Rook.)
An unexpected snort of laughter came from Ginny, "Have you two been trying to create that Volens Cogitandi potion again?" she smirked, her eyes fixed on something behind them, "Because I think you've just been granted your wish."
At her proclamation, the Twins whipped their heads around to get a glimpse at what or who she, and now the rest of people in the Great Hall, was staring at...most with mouths agape and eyebrows sailing upwards into their hairlines.
And who could really blame them. It wasn't everyday they saw the Headmaster (at least, they presumed it was him) dressed in his usual array of brightly-coloured robes - but with the head of a goat in place of the human one - and crawling about on all fours while being lead through the aisles on a long chain leash (complete with a belled collar) by a tiny house-elf dressed in brown leather chaps, black cowboy boots and a bright orange t-shirt that boldly stated 'Who's You're Daddy?'.
"Quick. Get the Creevy brothers. They have to take photos or no one's going to believe this outside of Hogwarts."
At the back of Hall, unseen under their Disallusionment Charm was Severus and Rook.
"You's were right, Master Severus. I's approves, very much indeed."
Notes:
somnus - sleep, drowsiness, slumbers
volens cogitandi - wishful thinking
A/N: Apologies for the late posting on this rambling jumble of a chapter...the wicked weather we've been experiencing in my corner of the world has played serious havoc with everything (story files, health, etc.)...hopefully, it remains entertaining even though it runs off on a wild tangent 😏
Chapter 10
Notes:
WARNING: brief mention of injuries
A/N Apologies (again) for another late posting; still playing catch up due to continued severe weather delays
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After Dumbledore and Dobbins had spent the next half hour parading about from one end of The Great Hall to the other - giving the Creevey brothers ample time to run through several rolls of magical film - McGonagall lead the bespelled Headmaster and house-elf down to the infirmary for Madame Pomfrey to treat for their various...ailments, cackling the whole way as if she'd imbibed too much Giggle Water.
Minerva's mirth was short-lived, though, for when she strode through the hospital wing doors, she found a sprawled out Madame Pomfrey flat on her stomach in bed, her heavily bandaged torso covering the still healing scars of her most recent trauma.
"Merciful Morrighan! What happened to you, Poppy? asked Minerva, the two new patients temporarily forgotten, "Do I need to send for a Healer from St. Mungo's?"
Madame Pomfrey tried not to wince as she slowly, and very carefully, raised herself up to a seated position, pulling a soft green terry cloth bathrobe that had been draped on the foot of the bed up over her shoulders, "That won't be necessary, Minerva. Professor Snape already tended to my wounds, the only thing left for it now is time."
Satisfied that her friend had been properly treated, knowing that Snape was trained in the healing arts as part of his Potions mastery, McGonagall returned to the more pressing issue, "What happened and who do I need to hex on your behalf?"
Pomfrey cast a Muffliato about herself and McGonagall, a sneer taking over her features as she side-glanced over at the two figures now seated on a nearby cot, "That would be the sadistic Headmaster and his wretched elf, Dobbins. But as you can see, that's been sorted already, too."
"How long will this enchantment last?" asked Minerva, silently wishing that Poppy would answer 'Forever', but rationally knowing it wouldn't.
After a quick flick of her wrist to run a diagnostic, Pomfrey replied, "Only an hour longer...unfortunately."
A moment of dread then creeped up on Minerva,"Tell me he won't remember his prior suspicions about you or who did this to him?"
The Matron couldn't help but cackle," Merlin, no," she chortled, causing the tension in McGonagall's shoulders to fade, "Severus took precautions, Obliviating both Albus and Dobbins, they won't be able to recall anything about their torturous interrogation of me.Snape also replaced those memories with 'something appropriate'. Whatever that meant, he didn't exactly elaborate."
"In that case, I'll escort them to Dumbledore's office and just leave them there to come back to their wretched senses," stated Minerva, making towards the exit with the Headmaster and his elf in tow, "With all the photos the Creevey brothers took, Albus will know soon enough that he was publicly humiliated but this way he'll have an entire castle of suspects and won't know who to retaliate against."
"I know. I'm looking forward to watching him lose his shit over it."
"Oh, absolutely. I'll have the house-elves make refreshments for the occasion."
Molly was fuming as she stomped about the unplottable cottage she'd been Apparated to by Pippin.
"Yous be's safe here, Mistress," the tiny elf squeaked, "Can Pippin gets anything for yous?" wringing her hands in worry that she'd done the wrong thing in bringing the Weasley matriarch to this particular hideaway in the Cotswolds.
The witch momentarily stopped her angry pacing to glance down at the wide-eyed house-elf, "Actually, there are several things you can do for me," stated Molly, conjuring up some parchment and a self-inking quill and making a list, "Starting with going back to the Burrow and collecting my family grimoire along with my potions-making equipment. Once you return with those, I will have this list of ingredients ready for you to take to Mr. Mulpepper's to purchase. Have them draft the payment directly from my personal account," presuming that by now Arthur had cut her off from the family and joint accounts.
"As you wishes, Mistress," said Pippin with a courteous bow then hurriedly popping away to carry out her assigned task.
"Excellent," sneered Molly, stalking over to the stairs that led down to a darkened cellar, intending to check if it would suit for a brewing station, "It's time to remind the wizards of this world that Molly Prewitt is not a witch to be threatened or cast aside, starting with Albus and Arthur."
Back at the Ministry, Lord Voldemort's strategically placed supporters were taking full advantage of Minister Fudge's and Madame Umbridge's forced confinements, starting with the carefully orchestrated, yet fully legal, rescue of one Madame Bathory.
With a secured Floo call to the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Auror Scrimgeour obtained an emergency stay of execution based on the previously unheard testimony of a credible witness - one that would send Minister Fudge into a screaming fit if he were ever to find out about her continued existence. And he would...eventually.
A hush fell over the courtroom as a veiled woman was lead in by Scrimgeour and seated on the wooden chair in the middle of the chambers, quietly facing the (almost) full contingent of Wizengamot members. The accused Bathory had then been brought in, blindfolded and in chains, and secured within a silvered cage positioned three meters away from the mystery witness.
In charge of the proceedings in Minister Fudge's and Undersecretary Umbridge's stead were the ICW representatives, Jonathan and Mina Harker. Turning to the still concealed woman, Mina commanded, "Please remove your covering and state your name for the record."
With a gentle slide of cloth, the light golden skin and bright cornflower blue eyes of the sandy blonde witch appeared, a small smile gracing her face, "My name is Beatrice Diggory, the ex-fiance to your current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge."
A wizard near the middle of the group of plum-colour robed Wizengamot members stood up and cried out, "Liar! My niece was dragged off and killed by vicious blood-suckers like Bathory five years ago. This is obviously some Polyjuiced imposter just trying to delay justice being done."
Jonathan Harker brought down his gravel repeatedly to quiet the disruption Amos Diggory's outburst had caused, only just refraining from rolling his eyes at the ignorant twit ('What a dolt. Everyone knows Polyjuice doesn't work if the one to be impersonated is deceased or, in this case, undead'), "I will have order in this courtroom!" he snipped, glaring harshly at the older man, "I assure you, you will get your chance to question the witness, Mr. Diggory, but it will be done in a dignified manner or you will be removed from these proceedings.
Grumbling a disingenuous apology, Amos retook his seat, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he settled in to wait, albeit, impatiently.
Mina looked down at the younger witch before her, "Mr.Diggory does raise a valid point, Madame. Can you prove your identity to the satisfaction of this court?"
('Finally') "I agreed to take Veritaserum when I approached Auror Scrimgeour and gave my statement," stated Beatrice, holding back a sneer, "I would have thought that was sufficient but if you require more, I'm willing to add an Oath," she said, taking out her wand and casting a Sonorous, ensuring everyone within the chambers heard her clearly as she intoned, "I, Beatrice Diggory, swear on my magic and my life that the testimony I am about to provide before the Wizengamot on this day is the truth. So Mote it Be."
A soft blue light enveloped Diggory's wand and entire body before it eventually disappeared beneath her skin. Satisfied with this result, Jonathan Harker called for the Ministry Prosecutor to begin their inquiry.
It was two hours after the Headmaster's now infamous walk about The Great Hall. Severus had long since retired to his private quarters with numerous copies of the Creevey brothers photographs in his possession - each picture had captured the event beautifully. He'd then selected one and framed the artfully rendered piece to hang on the wall in his private office, the visual reminder of Dumbledore's humiliation giving him such an immense amount of satisfaction that he almost purred.
Shortly afterwards, he'd placed the remaining pictures into a wax-sealed envelope and had Rook Apparate to his Summer house and then Floo onto Wiltshire to deliver it directly to his Sire, a brief note attached on the outside of the missive urging Voldemort to 'Enjoy at your leisure'.
The Dark Lord's sudden outburst of laughter at the contents of the file Snape had sent him startled his young mate so badly that Harry nearly fell off his latest courting gift (a Whirlwind 3000 racing broom) mid- flight around the garden. Naturally, Hermione had been upset about Harry's close call, hissing like a pissed off cat at the older wizard in her displeasure (which only further added to the man's amusement) until she, too, perused the dozen or so snapshots and joined in with her own boisterous cackling.
"Please, Sir," she gasped between her fits of giggles, "May I have one for myself to put on the mantle in my reading room?"
"Of course, Hermione," smirked Tom, finally regaining his composure, "Take as many as you wish, Severus had duplicates made. I'll be sending several on to one of my contacts at The Daily Prophet, as well as, The Quibbler and The International Chronicle. Perhaps, in time to make tomorrow's evening editions."
"You know Luna Lovegood's father, Xenophilius?" asked Harry, jumping into the conversation as he safely landed, having recovered nicely from his earlier near mishap.
"Obviously," smirked Riddle, taking in the wind-swept appearance of his young mate with an appreciative glance, "The Lovegoods are distant cousins to Lucius and visit here at the Manor at least once a month."
"How did I miss that? asked Harry, smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand, "The colour of their hair alone should have clued me in that the Malfoys and Lovegoods were blood-relatives."
"Well, you were rather preoccupied with the whole trying not to die on a disturbingly regular basis," soothed Hermione, understanding his frustration, "Well that, and all those potions and spells the Headmaster had you under probably scrambled your perceptions."
"That's enough mention of what Albus did to you for one day, my little snake," cooed Voldemort, steering both Gryffindors towards the solarium for a light lunch, "After some nourishment, it'll be time for you to prepare for your afternoon lessons with your new History of Magic, DADA and Transfiguration tutor. You may remember him from your Third Year at Hogwarts."
"I'd like to think I made a rather lasting impression, at any rate," drawled a familiar voice from one of the few shadows in the sunny room.
"Remus!?"
"Hello, pup."
Dumbledore, long released from his partial animal form and transported back to his quarters by a mildly confused Dobbins, strolled down the hallway from his office towards the infirmary. He'd developed a disturbing craving to nibble on pretty much everything in his line of sight during the past ten minutes - whether it was edible or not - and he needed Pomfrey to diagnose and treat what ailed him.
The Headmaster was vaguely aware of the muttered conversations mixed with titters of laughter from both students and staff as he continued down the corridors but it wasn't until he caught a glimpse of a hastily hidden photograph by a slow to react First Year Hufflepuff that he realized the topic of such open amusement was himself.
Albus didn't take that revelation well, at all.
Severus was checking on the status of the Simalcrums while Rook distracted Poppy with the latest delivery of potions when the three of them felt the shuddering of the castle walls from somewhere outside the hospital wing.
"Sweet Circe! What was that?" exclaimed Poppy, instinctively setting about preparing the ward for the worst case scenario, "Don't tell me there's been another potions accident in Slughorn's classroom. Seriously, the man should retire or, at the very least, be allowed an assistant to help keep an eye on all his students. Better yet, just have you return as the Potions Professor, Severus, since you're still responsible for the brewing for the school."
"I'd rather not, if you don't mind," drawled Snape, securing the room with the faux-Harry and Hermione behind him as he walked out the door into the main part of the infirmary, "The current arrangement suits me just fine."
Before Pomfrey could press the matter further, a second explosion occurred, this one even closer and more violent than the last.
Severus started for the main doors but was held back by a set of surprisingly strong set of hands grasping his legs about the knees.
"Yous remains here," commanded Rook, snapping his fingers and fading from Snape's and Pomfrey's sight, "I'll sees what's happening and reports back quickly."
"Bossy elf."
Harry and Hermione were just starting their first DADA practical in the Manor gardens with Professor Lupin when, what they thought was, a rolling clap of thunder interrupted them. Mere seconds later, the true source of the disruption landed on the ground at Harry's feet with a sickening thud.
Hermione bit back a shriek the moment she recognized the two battered and bloodied forms as Severus and Rook, running forward to assess their injuries even as Remus cast a Patronus, his silvery-blue wolf racing off to deliver the message to Narcissa for medical assistance.
A swiftly applied Tergeo cleared enough blood and grime away for Hermione and the others to see that both Rook and Severus, in addition to their clothing being in tatters, had every inch of exposed skin covered in either cuts or deep bruises. The poor elf was also missing part of his left ear and struggling to breathe. And Severus, despite being unconscious, was still tightly clutching their hands together over the spent emergency Port-Key.
Dumbledore stood outside of what was left of Snape's private quarters for the better part of an hour, ranting to no one in particular. At some point during his tirade, he'd become so pissed off that he even kicked his faithful house-elf Dobbins out of sheer frustration.
McGonagall, the only one who dared approach the seething man, gently murmured "Merlin and Morgana, Albus! What happened to Severus' rooms? Is the poor lad still in there, do you think?"
The scathing look the Headmaster gave his Deputy was enough to make her flinch and take a step back out of a reflexive need for self-preservation.
"Don't speak that foul traitor's name in my presence, Minerva," hissed Albus, blasting another bit of masonry loose from the ruined doorway, "That fucking bastard played us all for fools and he'll pay for that with his wretched life."
"Exactly what did he do to warrant such a threat?" McGonagall cautiously asked.
"He turned spy for that filthy leech Voldemort."
"Bloody hell."
When he saw his solicitor briskly approaching his quarantine room, Fudge was certain that it was with the news that he was about to be released from his hellish confinement (he couldn't care less about Umbridge's fate, the witch had rapidly gotten on his nerves within the first few hours - at this point he was ready to smother her with a pillow in her sleep).
As Barnabas stopped at the designated spot for delivering messages, his countenance shifted to something decidedly cold and unpleasant.
Cornelius, not picking up on the change, happily blurted out, "So, my friend, how soon are those overly cautious Healers releasing me...us from this prison? I'm betting it's within the hour, just in time for Bathory's execution."
"Funny you should mention her," sneered Collins, motioning for two veiled women that the Minister failed to notice until now to approach, "I believe you are quite familiar with these two witches?"
The gobsmacked expression on Cornelius' face when he saw, not only, a freed Madame Bathory but his very much alive Beatrice would be a frequently requested Pensieve memory for viewing by his Sire for years to come.
Severus awoke with a massive headache and, at first, was unsure of his surroundings, his last clear memory being at Hogwarts with a livid Dumbledore destroying the infirmary walls to get to him.
A mild sense of panic began to set in as he realized he didn't have possession of his wand. Sitting up from the bed he was laying upon took a bit of effort, too, as the slightest bit of movement caused the unfamiliar room to spin and a wave of nausea to come crashing down on him.
"And where do you think you're going?" drawled Lucius, his haughty features slowly coming into focus, before they softened to show genuine concern, "You gave us all quite the scare arriving in the state that you were in, presumably, from Hogwarts."
"Now sit back and drink this," Malfoy gently ordered, handing over a crystal vial of pale pink fluid, "It should take the edge off any residual pain you're experiencing."
Snape eyed the potion warily, "Did you brew it?", pointing at the concoction.
Lucius let out an undignified (for him) snort-laugh, "Certainly not, you know I'm absolutely pants at potioneering. No, Narcissa made the Pain-Reliever."
Out of long habit, Severus uncorked the bottle, the scent of it wafting out, letting his practiced nose confirm the nature of the elixir before carefully quaffing it down, the effect near-instantaneous.
With a much clearer head, the Potions Master sighed, "Now, does anyone have a clue as to what...Rook? Is he alright?" another snippet of memory flashing through his mind.
"Relax, dear," soothed another familiar voice from the doorway, "Diamond and Amber are tending to him as we speak, he's in good hands," said Narcissa, her slight smile doing nothing to hide the concern in her eyes.
Voldemort was sitting in the parlor just outside Severus' bedroom, with Hermione and Harry pacing impatiently nearby, waiting for Lady Malfoy''s return. Although he was rather anxious to learn of his Childe's prognosis, he knew better than to disturb Narcissa while she worked her healing magics (she had an interesting array of hexxes at her disposal and he wasn't in the mood to test his immunity to her latest creations - especially not in front of his Intended).
After what seemed like days, but in reality was closer to an hour, Lucius emerged from Snape's chambers and beckoned the trio inside.
"Narcissa has dealt with the worst of Severus' injuries and he's momentarily regained consciousness," he informed them, "But he needs Hermione's help to strengthen his severely depleted magical core. Which means," he quickly added in response to the unspoken questions in her eyes, "That you simply need to set next to him and gently press your right hand to his soulmate mark. Your magic will naturally do the rest through that point of contact. And not to worry, 'Cissa will closely monitor you over the next three hours to ensure you don't drain your energy too much."
Hermione silently nodded her understanding and hurried into the room, finding her moderately healthier looking mate sitting up on his bed with his back against the headboard.
Carefully, she crawls across the duvet and settles her head against Severus' chest, wrapping her right arm around his shoulder and placing her hand over his soulmate mark. A soft gasp escapes through her parted lips as her magic begins to flow up from her chest, along her arm and out into him from her palm.
"Let things flow naturally, Hermione, don't force it," advised Narcissa, keeping a close watch on the younger witch's vital signs, "And don't hesitate to break the connection if you start feeling severely light-headed or nauseous."
"Yes, Ma'am," Hermione replied automatically, earning her a 'tsk' from the Lady of the Manor.
"Under these circumstances, call me Narcissa."
Harry curled up on Voldemort's lap seeking comfort as Lady Malfoy filled them in on the extent of Snape's and Rook's injuries.
"I'm still uncertain if the house-elf will walk again, that one slicing hex cut deep into his lower back, nicking the spinal cord," she explained, taking a small sip of tea to refresh her dry throat, "And it will take at least another two weeks before Severus is back to full health even with Strengthening Solutions and Hermione's infusion of magic."
"Have either of them remembered any more details about that day, other than it was Dumbledore who attacked them?" asked Harry, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
"Not as yet, but I believe those memories will return fully given enough time," said Narcissa, standing and preparing to leave, "Have Trinket come find me should either of my patients worsen, I'll be in the greenhouse collecting herbs for brewing."
The Dark Lord was relieved that Severus and his elf would recover, for the most part, and secretly thrilled that his little mate, despite the circumstances, voluntarily sought him out for solace.
But one thing was for certain, Dumbledore was becoming more unpredictable and it had nearly cost him the life of one of his most cherished Children.
Leaning in close, he whispered in Potter's left ear, "I think it's high time we dislodged the despot from his lofty Hogwarts tower, would you care to help me plan the Headmaster's long overdue downfall?"
"Only if I get to watch him take that final tumble in person," purred Harry, a mischievous grin lighting up his face.
"But of course, my little snake. Consider it your next courting gift."
Notes:
Jonathan and Mina Harker - characters from Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'
Chapter Text
Dumbledore's rage was in full force as he finally broke through Snape's wards on his private quarters. Unfortunately, for Albus, the Potions Master had left nothing of value behind that would point to where he may have gone.
That aggravation, coupled with Snape's proximity charmed message loudly wishing the Headmaster 'All the best' - and a heartily chuckled 'You Fucking Wanker' - in his search for a replacement DADA Professor, had Dumbledore seeing red as he sent an overpowered Bombarda into one of the side rooms, shattering an empty oak wardrobe into slivers no larger than a toothpick.
"Dobbins!" bellowed Albus, casting full-body Impervious and Protego charms about himself so that he could continue blasting random pieces of furniture into kindling without getting hit by shrapnel.
"Yes, Master Dumbledore? How may Dobbins serves you?"
"Relay this message to Minister Fudge," commanded Dumbledore, flicking a Reducto at a previously untouched, empty bookshelf, "Potions Master Severus Snape has proven himself an enemy to the Wizarding World by siding with the Vampire Lord. It is thereby my strong recommendation to you to issue an Avada-on-sight order for this cowardly traitor before the day is out."
"That is all Dobbins. Deliver it straight to the Minister and no one else. Now go."
With a slight bow and a loud 'pop' the little elf Disapparated only to return five minutes later looking sick with worry.
"Dobbins is most sorry, Master Dumbledore," the trembling house-elf said with a squeak, "Dobbins couldn't deliver message, Sir. Minister and Pink Witch in quarantine together with Spattergroit."
"Fan-Fucking-tastic," hissed Albus, blasting an old Tiffany-styled desk lamp to dust over this added inconvenience, "I'll just have to call an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot for tomorrow morning then."
"But one way or another, Severus Snape's days on this Earth are numbered."
Severus awoke with a start and instantly regretted the sudden movement. Laying back and closing his eyes momentarily to combat the dizziness that threatened to make him revisit his...dinner? lunch? unsure of when he last ate. Unfocused as he was on his surroundings, he startled when a soft hand brushed a stray lock of hair behind his right ear.
"Take it easy, Severus," soothed Narcissa, gently helping him to a gain a seated position on his bed, "You're at Malfoy Manor, remember? You and your house-elf are safe," pausing a few minutes to let that news sink in with her patient before asking, "Do you recall anything about what took place shortly before you arrived?"
After slowing replaying 'Cissa's questions in his aching head, Severus softly answered, "No. My memories are somewhat...lacking in those details at present. What happened? Is Rook alright?" he inquired after blearily taking in the bedroom, "And was Hermione here? Or did my fevered mind just dream that she was snuggled up next to me?"
Narcissa smiled down at her mildly confused friend, "She's taking a shower and then grabbing a bite of breakfast to 'recharge' as she put it. But she'll be back in about an hour for your daily infusion of magic."
Noticing the concerned frown spreading across Severus' face, she quickly explained, "You and Rook arrived together in rather dramatic fashion yesterday by emergency Port-key, both of you had sustained significant injuries. Even after treating you with a litany of healing spells and potions, yours required the additional transference of energies from your mate to help restore your nearly depleted core. You'll still need a daily regimen of Strengthening Solutions and a second transfusion from Hermione before you're fully recovered, conservatively speaking, in about two weeks time."
She took a deep breath and sighed before continuing," I'm afraid Rook suffered a grievous wound to his lower back from a vicious Slicing hex. It's too soon to say whether he'll regain function in his legs or not. However, two of our best caregiver elves, Amber and Diamond, are tending to him and as soon as he regains enough strength, hopefully in about a week, they plan to start him on physiotherapy. I'll reassess his condition after that and plan further treatment accordingly."
"Are there any potions or anything else that I can do to aid in his recovery?" Severus asked forlornly, knowing the most likely outcome of such an injury.
Narcissa shook her head, understanding her friend's need to be doing something useful, "For now, just focus on your own healing. I'll inform Rook that you're conscious and asking after him," as an afterthought she growled a warning, "And don't you dare think about sneaking out of here to see him, either. I don't need you re-opening some of your deeper wounds. It was difficult enough closing them the first go round."
Snape glared at the blonde witch but there was no real heat behind it, "Yes, Mother."
Molly was humming along to a Celestina Warbeck tune playing on the Wizarding wireless as she strolled around the makeshift potions workstation and waited for her brews to finish cooling down.
On the other side of the kitchen table, dozens upon dozens of hand-addressed silver and gold envelopes were waiting to be infused with the vindictive redhead's concoctions.
If things continued according to her schedule, this time tomorrow the special-delivery owl post would be winging its way all over Britain and towards her long list of targets, comprised primarily of wizards.
The very thought of the mayhem that her delightful potions would create throughout the Wizarding community had Molly cackling like the stereotypical wicked witch found in Muggle literature and films.
The only thing that would make her revenge even sweeter, aside from being personally there to witness things unfold, would be to have photographic proof of the potion's success. A slow, evil smile then grew across Molly's face as another deliciously wicked idea occurred to her.
"Pippin! I have another important errand for you," she said as she grabbed a bit of parchment, a quill and a pot of black ink and began scratching out an inviting proposition.
"Yes, Mistress. What can Pippins do's for you?"
Signing off on the letter with a flourish, Molly cast a drying spell so as not to smudge the ink, "Take this directly to that delightfully vicious reporter at The Daily Prophet," commanded Madame Prewitt, "Rita Skeeter is her name. And advise her to make certain her preferred cameraman, Bozo, has plenty of film on hand. They won't want to miss any part of this headline-grabbing, possibly career-making, event."
Arthur was relaxing on a soft, blue woolen blanket on the beach not too far from Shell Cottage when a distressed shout snapped him out of his leisurely morning of sunbathing.
Instantly, the Weasley patriarch was scrambling to his feet, wand in hand ready to take on the unknown threat, when he saw his eldest son's wife running towards him, her already fair skin further paling to the colour of milk.
"What's wrong Fleur?" asked Arthur, trying to keep his nerves under control, "Where's Bill?" he prompted when he saw her glance back towards the house.
"P-please," stuttered Fleur, her voice catching in her throat, "He's...h-he...", she rasped, words failing her even as she grasped Arthur by the wrist and practically dragged him back up the beach.
In the space of a few heartbeats, the two had reached the cottage and the sight that greeted them had Arthur's complexion rapidly trying to match Fleur's. There, writhing in pain on the ground in front of them, was his firstborn in the middle of what appeared to be a transfiguration spell gone horribly wrong.
"What happened, Fleur?" Arthur nearly bellowed at the young woman even as he shakily strode over to the living room fireplace and threw down a handful of Floo powder, preparing to whisk his son away to St.Mungo's.
Temporarily startled out of her anguished haze, Fleur managed to reply, "Bill was reading the morning newspaper when the owl-post arrived and THAT," she hissed, pointing at the shredded remnants of a silver and gold envelope, "Got caught in the new mailing wards. Bill was preparing to contain it further when it exploded," explained Fleur, carefully levitating the torn stationery into the box Bill had intended to use, "Whoever did this, had meant it for you," she said with a snarl, her part-Veela heritage making itself known as pearlescent claws replaced her fingernails, "I remember seeing that much of the handwriting before...when...it did this."
Catching sight of one of larger pieces prior to Fleur closing and sealing the container lid, Arthur growled, his normally friendly blue eyes taking on a stormy appearance.
"Molly," he spat vehemently, instantly recognizing the looping scrawl, "She best hope the Aurors find her before I do."
"You may have what's left of her once I express my...displeasure," scowled Fleur, her hair now liberally sprinkled with feathers the color of fire, her nose and mouth slightly more beak-like.
"Agreed."
When Hermione eventually returned to Severus' rooms after breakfast, she wasn't alone. To his chagrin, Severus found himself in the company of Narcissa, Harry and Voldemort, all of whom had taken it upon themselves to visit the, obviously, under-caffeinated person at the same time.
Fortunately, once 'Cissa had run her latest diagnostics on the worst of his injuries, she quickly excused herself and stepped down the hall to her lab to tend to a potion that needed completing.
Turning his gaze back towards the other two wizards in the room, Snape winced. He could see they were practically vibrating with excitement, like two puppies in dire need of a walk, both anxious to brainstorm their latest ideas with him concerning Dumbledore's fate...whether he was ready for them or not.
It came as no surprise then, least of all to Hermione, that the mere thought of exacting payback against his former boss was the very thing that worked to brighten Snape's sour disposition that morning.
Well, that and another two cups of strong black tea, no sugar.
To be certain, Hermione made a mental note to bottle a Pensieve memory of this mood-enhancing planning session....as she strongly suspected she'd need it for future use in dealing with her night-owl mate first thing in the morning.
Greta Greebriar had just exited the staff lounge on the ground floor at St.Mungo's after her morning tea break, and was heading back for her shift in the Artefact Accidents ward, when she heard an argument brewing between the Welcome Witch and two other people. One was an obviously distraught Father with an injured adult son in tow, the other was a highly agitated blonde witch sporting a powerful, and well practiced, full-body cosmetic Glamour.
Having heard enough of the heated exchange, Healer Greenbriar strolled forward to intervene..
"Karen!" she practically barked at the so-called Welcome Witch, "Stop being such an unmitigated arse and let these people through," Greta snipped, silently promising to submit a detailed written account of this incident to Human Resources once her shift was over, "This patient is obviously not a werewolf, you twit. Think, for once, woman! Other than it being broad daylight, the full moon was last week!"
The flustered woman reluctantly stopped, her face already an unflattering shade of puce, and muttered a half-hearted apology to the group before stepping aside, allowing Arthur Weasely past with a, thankfully, unconscious Bill levitated behind him.
Fleur, however, took a few moments to hiss her displeasure at the other blonde witch, "If your prejudicial stupidity caused my husband's forced transfiguration to become permanent because of your unwarranted delays, I will be back to deal with you personally."
"And I don't fancy your chances against me in a duel."
Healer Marshbanks was visiting her two least favourite patients at the Ministry, accompanied by Auror Tonks, to convey their weekly 'status updates', when a post-owl arrived carrying a fanciful silver and gold envelope, dropping its cargo to the quarantined Minister's incoming delivery basket and left without waiting for a reply.
Given the man's penchant for attending all manner of public and private social events, Marshbanks and Tonks didn't give the sight of this obvious invitation a second thought. At least, not until the thing erupted in Fudge's hand, spraying the startled wizard with a fine purple mist.
The two women standing outside the observation glass were shocked and dismayed, at first, not knowing how anything so potentially hazardous could have been slipped past the security wards. That is until the spray dissipated, revealing the results of this assault on the still spluttering Minister.
It was at this point Marshbanks' and Tonks' (and even Umbridge's) concerns shifted to that of unbridled amusement, too busy laughing their arses off at Cornelius' gobsmacked appearance to raise an alarm regarding this security breach.
Or should they say Cordelia, as Minister Fudge was no longer a wizard but a newly made witch, instead.
"Hem...hem. Sir. Oh, pardon me...Ma'am," tittered Umbridge, positively giddy at her boss' change of circumstance, "You best hope the Healers can reverse whatever potion that was..and before you leave quarantine."
"And why is that, Dolores?" hissed Cornelius/Cordelia, rushing towards the loo to wash off any lingering purple liquid in the pathetic hopes that would work to solve his/her current predicament...it didn't.
The pink-obsessed Undersecretary gave her quarantined flatmate an evil smirk, "Because, dearie, your male self pushed to alter certain laws five years ago, remember? Witches aren't allowed to serve as the Minister of Magic anymore."
"Well. Bugger me."
"Sorry, duckie. You're not my type."
Arthur paced about the securely warded room as Healer Greenbriar ran a full battery of diagnostic spells over his comatose son. Fleur had been given a Calming Draught after her verbal run in with that horrid receptionist and was currently the picture of serenity seated upon a nearby comfy chair.
As the Mediwitch continued her scans, the senior Weasley took a closer look at Bill's altered physical form. Gone was the trademark ginger hair, in its place was thick, black and silver-grey fur, it also covered his exposed arms and legs. His mouth was a partially formed muzzle full of sharp teeth and elongated canines. And before he had passed out, Bill's bright blue eyes had shifted to irises the color of molten gold.
On top of the more wolf-like features, were the puzzling scarlet and purple mushroom-like patches that appeared on the skin instead of fur, looking oddly reminiscent of the fungi that Arthur had seen on the trunks of trees growing near the Burrow during various times of the year.
A softly cleared throat brought Arthur's gaze back to Healer Greenbriar's face, a slight smile greeted him when he looked up.
"The good news is, the young Mr. Weasley had an allergic reaction to whatever potion was contained in that exploding envelope," explained Greenbriar, pointing to a slightly yellow marker on her patient's chart, "That's easily treated with an injection of Epinephrine. However, his lupine features are going to take a day or two longer to reverse due to a pre-existing issue. As I didn't find the Ministry's registration tattoo on his neck, I take it he was only recently attacked by a Lycanthrope outside of the full moon?"
"Not to worry," she quickly added at the mildly panicked looks on Arthur's and Fleur's faces, "Nothing you tell me leaves this room and that particular tidbit won't make it into the hospital records. I completely understand the need for secrecy, a dear friend of mine suffered a similar fate years ago. It's one of the reasons I became a Healer."
Before either of them could answer, Greenbriar pulled a business card from a hidden pocket in her lime-green Healers robes and handed it to Fleur, "Should either you or your husband require medical care in the future, go to this address and present this calling card," she said, giving the younger woman a knowing wink, "I and several others run a discrete clinic for magical Sentient Beings and it'll be a far safer option for you two. Especially, when you're ready to deliver your child, Madame Delacour-Weasley."
Fleur's cheeks flushed a bright pink even as the words registered with her father-in-law, "I'm going to be a Grandfather!?"
Between cautiously given hugs from Arthur, Fleur finally managed to ask, "But, how did you know?"
With a tap and twist to the golden band on her right index finger, Greta's more human features fell away to reveal a Wixen with delicate Volpine traits about her eyes, ears and nose, "As a fellow Sentient, I've had numerous years of experience in treating pissed-off pregnant Beings, Veelas in particular. But I knew for certain when your Glamour briefly flickered after you challenged that twit Karen. You really should consider anchoring that spell to a wearable item, it's not taxing on your magic and a stray Finite won't accidentally remove it. I can do that spellwork for you, if you wish, before you leave."
Looking to both Arthur and Fleur as she shifted back to human form, Greenbriar changed the subject and stated more than asked, "And from both your earlier reactions when you brought in Bill, I take it you know the person responsible for this vile device," holding up the container with the envelope fragments, "It's a monstrous piece of Dark Magic and I have no choice but to report it to the Aurors, especially, considering it would have killed either of you if you'd come into contact with it instead of Bill."
A dark gleam flashed through Arthur's eyes, knowing that Molly could've inadvertently murdered his daughter-in-law and first grandchild, "Show me the paperwork and I'll gladly fill it out for you."
Hermione was settling in for a kip next to Severus' after his last infusion treatment had ended when Harry and Voldemort rushed into the bedroom, a mixture of amusement and exasperation showing on both their faces.
"What's going on?" she whispered, carefully sitting up in an effort to not to wake her equally exhausted mate.
"It seems we have a new ally, albeit, an unintended one," stated Tom, looking overly smug almost to the point of being giddy.
"I just received a message from one of our contacts at St. Mungo's," he hurriedly added when Hermione impatiently gestured for him to get on with it, "It appears Molly Prewitt - the former Madame Weasley - has been rather busy expressing her displeasure with certain members of the Ministry and Hogwarts."
"For Merlin's sake," grumbled a now wide awake Severus, "Spit out your obviously delightful news so some of us can get back to recuperating in peace."
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" teased Lucius, silently strolling into the room behind Harry, easily dodging the Stinging hex sent his way by a furiously blushing Hermione.
Malfoy's tone became slightly more somber as he continued, "Apparently, I was one of Molly's targets, but the Blood wards surrounding the Manor prevented her little potions infused correspondence from slipping through with the other special-delivery post. As we speak, Narcissa's submitting a report to Auror Chief Scrimgeour, along with the deactivated envelope as evidence, to help strengthen their growing case against Prewitt for assault."
"With the exception of Lucius and three others who have similar wards on their properties," said Voldemort, his toothy smile growing wider by the second, "The remaining members of the Wizengamot, as well as the Minister, have been rather creatively removed from their political posts due to their new, ineligible status either as women or easily identified Creatures on the Ministry Registration lists - predominantly, Veelas and Werewolves."
"And with this unexpected power vacuum," purred Tom, the sound causing Harry's body to shudder pleasantly in response, "It gives us the perfect window of opportunity to legally move our supporters within the Ministry into these Wizengamot vacancies as many have valid claims to these positions, being as they are the next male heirs in the line of succession. We'd then control the majority vote on future legislation."
"I take it you've already contacted everyone and have begun the process?" drawled Severus, unsuccessfully attempting to hide a yawn behind his hand.
"Yes, Barnabas Collins is taking care of all the notifications and walking each claimant through the proper forms and protocols," stated Voldemort, looking like the proverbial cat who got the cream, "By this time, three weeks from now, the new Wizengamot will be firmly ensconced."
"And their first order of business will be to call for the election of a new Minister."
"And what about Dumbledore?" asked Hermione, her fatigue momentarily forgotten with her curiosity fully piqued, "Surely he'd have been at the very top of her list of targets given their recent...falling out."
A deep rumbling chuckle escaped from Voldemort, Lucius and Harry joining in seconds later with their own cackling, "That's the best part," smirked the Dark Lord, wiping a few tears of laughter from his cheeks, "He's currently a guest in the isolation ward in the Department of Mysteries as they haven't a clue as to what he's become. For now, he's loosely classified as a 'Chimera'.
"Please tell me you have pictures," said Severus, suddenly far more invested in the conversation.
"Naturally," drawled Lucius, reaching for his robe pocket then pausing, an absolutely devilish gleam lighting up his silver-grey eyes, "What will you give me for them in return?"
Snape growled at the blonde but it was Hermione who countered with, "How about you hand over those pictures now, Lucius, or I'll send a Patronus to Narcissa informing her that you're causing her favourite patient undue amounts of stress."
Lucius mock-glared at the curly-haired witch even as he handed over the coveted photos to an eagerly waiting Severus, "Careful there, Hermione. You've been hanging around Slytherins far too long, you're in danger of losing your status as a Gryffindor."
"Considering that's Dumbledore's, Ronald's and Molly's house, I don't think I'd mind being claimed as a Slytherin," she stated matter-of-factly.
"Are you sure you don't mean claimed BY a Slytherin, Hermione?" asked Harry, after strategically positioning himself behind Voldemort, "If that's the case, I wholeheartedly agree with you."
Despite her embarrassment, Hermione still managed to land a Jelly-Legs Jinx on Harry, causing him to nearly drag Voldemort to the ground with him. "Incorrigible, the pair of them," drawled Lucius, rolling his eyes at the teenager's antics, "I blame both your mates for corrupting your impressionable minds."
The shrilly screeched "What in the name of Circe and all her little piglets is going on in here!!" from Narcissa worked better than a mass Immobulus on the two pairs of duelists and their one referee.
During the ensuing deathly quiet, 'Cissa got a better look at the state of the guest room and it's inhabitants. Feathers from shredded pillows covered almost every surface, two or more expensive vases lay in small pieces about the floor, Severus was sporting a shade of Turquoise hair that she'd only ever seen on her Metamorphmagus niece and Harry had a duck bill in place of his human mouth which made verbal casting somewhat of a challenge. Hermione's ears were high-elven in shape and Tom's robes had been replaced with a bright pink tutu, complete with ballet slippers. Lucius appeared to be the only one not affected by spells, simply covered with a fine layer of feathers from the destroyed pillows.
Pointing her wand at the still somewhat stunned group, Narcissa began hissing out orders, "You three. Out! Now!" indicating Harry, Tom and Lucius, "And make it snappy or I'll be wearing your bollocks for earrings at the next Manor party."
Needless to say, not even her Sire doubted her threat as the trio heeded her command and hurriedly vacated the room.
"And you two," tsk'd 'Cissa, setting the room to rights before ushering Severus and Hermione back to bed like a pair of wayward toddlers, "Are supposed to be resting not possibly adding to your list of injuries."
"Honestly, it's like dealing with a roomful of five year olds on a Summer sleepover," scowled Narcissa, shoving a phial of Strengthening Solution at Severus, which he took without further prompting.
"Now, I'm spelling this door shut so that only Diamond and I can enter or exit for the next five hours," she warned, her stern expression promising some form of punishment if they messed with her wards, "And to ensure that you both comply with my medical advice this time..." she smirked, her conversation trailing off into a silently cast Somnus, the sleeping spell dropping the two like a couple of felled trees onto the mattress.
After removing the minor transfigurations from the lightly snoring couple, and rearranging them into a more comfortable position on the bed, 'Cissa stepped out of the room, intent on tracking down her husband, the Dark Lord and Potter and giving them a proper scolding for their careless behaviour.
"On second thought, I have a much better idea," she muttered to herself, conjuring up parchment and a quill to write a short message to the trio of wizards.
Five minutes later, a house-elf delivered 'Cissa's notes, causing Lucius and Tom to groan in unison when they read them but leaving Harry a touch confused.
"I don't understand. What's this 'Iron Maiden Round Robin' mean? Is it some sort of Wizarding card game? I'm fairly good at those," he asked hopefully, garnering himself a look of sympathy from the two older wizards.
"Unfortunately no, Harry," Lucius sighed in resignation, "It means my dear Lady Wife, and a pair of witches of her choosing, are going to wipe the floor with us in a duel.
Both of Harry's eyebrows sailed up towards his hairline, not believing that anyone could out maneuver his mate in a fair fight.
"Trust us in this one thing, my young snake," said Voldemort, scrubbing a hand over his face, "Witches, particularly when they are highly motivated, are extremely formidable Beings. Something we wizards often forget, to our detriment," handing him the second set of photographs Lucius had made of Dumbledore and the Wizengamot members, "This is what a publicly humiliated and dispossessed Molly Prewitt just accomplished with a Dark potion, some fancy stationery and the special delivery owl-post...twenty powerful wizards brought to their figurative knees for the next eight weeks."
"Bloody Hell," exclaimed Harry as he stared down at the pictures, his mind having somehow pushed aside what the former Weasley Matriarch had done once his teasing of and mock-battle with Hermione and Snape had begun, "We're so fucked."
"Indeed. I suggest a fair bit of heartfelt groveling and expensive gifts of contrition before Narcissa's guests arrive. It's our only hope of surviving with the tiniest sliver of our male...anything intact."
Chapter 12
Notes:
A/N Apparently, this is no longer a gift fic (the person who asked me to write this work for them deleted their account out of the blue 😬).
On that note...I will be continuing this piece, but I'm changing the title...😏
And for anyone who wishes, I will gift it to you...just leave me a comment and I will make the necessary changes 😎
WARNING: Sexual innuendo
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The next couple of weeks went by painfully slowly, at least, according to Severus' estimation. He hated being practically bedridden, unable to do any brewing or much of anything else. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He and Hermione took those days of recuperation to learn more about one another's likes and dislikes, from hobbies and interests to childhood experiences and career plans for the future. Being confined as he was currently wasn't the typical nor ideal way to go about courting one's mate, but Severus didn't have much choice in the matter, not with Narcissa hovering about fussing over the two of them like a Mother hen...a truly scary one at that.
However, for the most part, 'Cissa left this pair of bonding soulmates alone.
The same couldn't be said for Voldemort and Harry. Lady Malfoy took her role as chaperone rather seriously where the younger wizard was concerned, much to the Dark Lord's chagrin.
"I don't want to hear it, MiLord," growled Narcissa, seemingly for the tenth time that particular day, "You wanted my personal and professional counsel with regards to your young mate and I have given it. NO physical intimacies beyond holding hands and kissing, on the face and hands only, until he turns seventeen. You BOTH agreed to this, so the Castitas Charm I placed on you two will remain until he reaches his Wizarding age of majority on his birthday in July."
Lucius knew better that to openly laugh at Voldemort's predicament, but it wasn't an easy task.
"If I may interject," drawled the Lord of the Manor, "Perhaps you two could take a page out of Hermione's and Severus' book and utilize these few short months to learn more about each other. Start with something simple, such as, discussing your favorite foods and drinks and taking your mate out to dinner or having the house-elves cater it here. Ginger and Sage would love the chance to impress you both with their culinary skills."
"While that's a lovely notion, I have a better suggestion," said 'Cissa, the smirk in her tone plain for all to hear, "There's the matter of the upcoming court hearings for the Dursleys and Minister Fudge to consider. You could use this as an opportunity to teach Heir Potter more about legal proceedings, both Muggle and Magical. After all, he needs to become more familiar with them in preparation for when he eventually claims his Lordship and the Potter seat on the Wizengamot."
Voldemort hated to concede the issue, although Lady Malfoy had brought up an excellent point. Harry's - and, for that matter, all Muggle-raised magical children's - educations in a number of subjects, particularly Wizarding traditions and law, had been deliberately eliminated from the curriculum through Dumbledore's and Fudge's machinations. While Harry and Hermione were receiving private tutoring to correct these oversights, the rest of the student population at Hogwarts weren't so lucky.
With the Headmaster's present status as a XXXXX Creature and Fudge's ongoing legal woes, it was time to take the next steps to correcting these two former men's underhanded tactics, starting with the appointment of a new Head of Hogwarts.
Thanks to Barnabas Collins' impeccable work, the twenty replacement Wizengamot members and five Board of Governors, had already been sworn in - a full week ahead of schedule.
Their first act, naturally, was to rescind that horrid law enforced by Fudge's administration five years ago that prevented women from holding positions of higher office. Within hours after overturning this statute, the Board of Governors had sworn in the new Headmistress and Deputy Headmaster - Professors Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick. (Apparently to the larger Wizarding public, Goblins or half-Goblins were acceptable non-human magical Beings as no one was daft enough to argue with a race that controlled the magical banking industry or that had a proven track record of mounting numerous, successful Rebellions at the drop of a hat).
In addition to this attention-grabbing change of leadership at Hogwarts, several highly qualified individuals - both male and female - were being considered as candidates for the Minister of Magic post.
The current front-runner was a formidable witch by the name of Millicent Bagnold. Not only had the woman an impeccable record, working her way up through the DMLE ranks, only to have her career stonewalled by that discriminatory bit of legislation, but she had earned degrees in both Muggle and Wizarding law.
To circumvent any protests that the 'old guard' still in positions of power throughout the Ministry might raise over the nomination of a witch to this highest level of government, the new Wizengamot strategically paired Bagnold with Dedalus Diggle - a politically neutral Pureblood who had been a member of the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures for the past ten years.
They would initially present Diggle as the candidate for Minister with Bagnold as his Deputy-Minister. Once elected, and after a predetermined period of time had passed, Dedalus would then step aside under the pre-text of an underlying health issue and Millicent would take over in his stead. A perfectly licit maneuver that even the staunchest of critics couldn't legally challenge as they'd, most likely, had a hand in crafting the bylaws regarding the succession of office.
Voldemort practically purred his approval over this strategy.
"Deviously wonderful," he drawled, shaking the hands of each of the twenty gentlemen who now controlled the Wizengamot, particularly their unanimously elected Chief Warlock, a wizard by the name of Dirk Creswell, "I couldn't have arranged this bloodless coup any better myself. Although, Molly Prewitt's actions did accelerate our timetable by several months."
"And it was a good thing she did, too," chuckled Creswell, knocking back a shot of Ogden's Finest, "At the rate Cornelius was going, I don't know how much longer he would have lasted as Minister before someone was tempted to Avada his smarmy, chauvinistic arse."
"True," agreed the Dark Lord, "For such a career politician, he was remarkable lacking in the finer skills of diplomacy and self-preservation."
When Rook finally awoke from his magically induced sleep, he - like Severus - had no memory of how he'd gotten to the safety of Malfoy Manor. But other than that worrying thought and the growing concerns for his Master, he soon became distracted by a more disturbing issue when he attempted to stand and found that he couldn't get his legs to move. It was as if they belonged to some other elf.
Before he could cry out in distress, two females house-elves appeared at his bedside and started fussing over him in such a familiar way that he figured that they must have been tending to him while he was comatose.
After giving him a series of potions to take and bringing him breakfast, the two who he now knew to be Amber and Diamond, started going over what had happened since his and Master Snape's arrival. What he learned had made him wish he hadn't eaten anything as his food threatened to claw its way back up his throat.
"No one is looking for yous or Master Snape," reassured Amber, her face lighting up with mischief as she revealed what the former Mrs. Weasley had done to Dumbledore and numerous other people, "The Headmaster and most of the Ministry are rather preoccupied by trying to fix what her potions did to thems."
"As for yous legs," continued Diamond as she and Amber prepared Rook for physiotherapy, "Missy Hermione has some...unique ideas, something about mixing charms with Muggle leg braces. Though, she's only just started researching."
"In meantimes," said Amber, levitating the now bathing suit clad Rook into the Manor's nearby indoor swimming pool area, "Yous needs to keep yous muscles flexible, potions only does so much to helps."
With that in mind, Amber gently lowered Rook into the slightly cool waters, herself following closely behind her patient after transfiguring her uniform into a suitable bathing costume.
Diamond, however, went a different route with her attire, jumping into the pool about three meters away from the other two elves completely starkers.
Rook's bat-like ears flushed a bright pink as his eyes roved over Diamond's form for the few moments before she dove into the pool. He was so focused on her that he startled slightly when Amber leaned in behind him and whispered in his left ear, "I will helps your legs to move while yous pulls yousself through the water with yous arms."
Rook nodded his head in silent agreement. Eventually, he regained his voice, "What will she be's doing?" he rasped, still in a bit of shock at Diamond's actions.
He couldn't see Amber's face but the tone in her words was rather clear, "Diamond's be's yous...incentive to do yous best," she purred, taking her position behind him to begin manually moving his legs in a freestyle kick form, "If yous catches her, yous gets to have yous wicked ways with her."
Although shocked by the two female elves' boldness, as well as with the news of his prognosis, Rook's suddenly blood-deprived brain was more than pleased to note that a certain appendage of his was still in working order.
And he fully intended to make good use of it when he caught up to the teasing she-elf who was currently bobbing up in the water, giving him another eye full of her gloriously rounded curves.
"I'm ready," he growled somewhat huskily, "Yous best be starting now, Diamond. I plans to collect my reward...sooner rather than later."
Diamond, pleased that her and Amber's motivational ploy was working so well, merely smirked, "Catch me if yous can," she laughed before taking off like a shot.
Not one to be outdone (or in this case out swum) so easily, Rook used his magic to his advantage, transforming himself into a dolphin, and taking off after his delectable quarry with Amber in tow flexing his non-functioning tail fluke as she would his legs.
Amber, once she got over her surprise at their patient's spur-of-the-moment solution, chuckled to herself. Whether Rook caught up to Diamond or not didn't matter, preventing him from falling into a depressive state about the nerve damage to his legs had been today's true goal.
The possible outcome of sex at the end of this morning's endeavors would simply be an added (and most welcomed)...bonus for the three of them.
To ensure that this would, indeed, be the result, Amber sent a silent Impedimenta in Diamond's direction, believing that her sister would approve.
And if she didn't? Well, Amber had no problems with having Rook all to herself.
Two weeks after Molly Prewitt had sent her 'poison pen' letters out to their targets, she had ordered her house-elf to venture out into the public to collect information from numerous sources, starting at Hogwarts.
She had purposely held off sending Pippin before then as to allow time for the public panic to settle down. By then, Molly believed that no one would think twice about another Being asking questions or engaging in gossip about her lovely messages or the wizards who'd received them.
But now, her helpful little elf had returned from her task after being absent from the safe house for several hours and was looking rather nervous about approaching her.
"Well, don't just stand there, Pippin," barked Molly, her anxiety mixed with giddy anticipation making her even more impatient and snippy than usual, "Tell me about everything you found out."
The first thing Pippin did was to hand over several past editions of The Daily Prophet. As it turned out, Rita Skeeter had indeed heeded Molly's advice and was nearby when the majority of the Wizengamot had received their special deliveries.
And Dumbledore's current situation as a Department of Mysteries lab experiment was simply the best icing on the proverbial cake.
"This is wonderful news!" exclaimed Molly with more than a little perverse glee at what her potions-laced letters had accomplished, "Now why are you so nervous to tell me more?" Apparently, it never occurred to Molly that her revenge methods could've failed at any point.
Pippin knew she couldn't delay any longer and steeled herself for her Mistress' explosive temper. "Lords Malfoy and Greengrass and two other wizards escaped the transformations," she squeaked, keeping her eyes firmly looking at a spot on the floor, "And Arthur Weasley's still alive. He was seen talking with the Twins at Hogwarts yesterday and heard bragging he was to be a Grandfather."
"No!" shrieked Molly, knowing that it would be impossible to punish these five men through the same method, they'd no doubt have set extra security measures on their mailing wards after her failed attack by now.
"Dammit! It should have worked," she whinged, pouting like a spoilt child who'd been told 'no'.
"Never mind," grumbled Molly, determinedly taking a quill to parchment and scratching out a few ideas, "I'll simply have to devise something far worse for them."
As to the news of a grandchild, Molly's nose wrinkled in undisguised digust, knowing that it was likely her own firstborn Bill's and that vile French Creature he'd up and married against her wishes.
In her mind, any offspring they produced were abominations that couldn't be allowed to exist.
The problem now was how to remove these things from her Pureblood lineage and not get caught in the process.
It wasn't until this point that Molly became vaguely aware that her house-elf was still fidgeting about, wringing her hands in distress.
"What is it now?" scowled Molly, continuing to map out her next plan of attack, "Can't you see I'm rather busy."
"Pippin be's sorry, Mistress," cringed the little elf, "But there's more to tell yous."
"Well, spit it out then," hissed Molly like an irritated snake, "I haven't got all day."
Pippin nodded her head and blurted the remaining news in one breath, "Before the Headmaster transformed, he be's dueling the Potions Professor and trying to kills him," she squeaked, "Other peoples and elves heard him shouting that Professor Snape be's a foul Greasy Git, that he be's a snarky, sneaky, cowardly Bastard."
Molly let out an undignified snort, "Is that all?" surprised that Dumbledore hadn't done something like this before to the disrespectful, smart-mouthed Bat of the Dungeons.
"No, Mistress," squirmed Pippin, "Headmaster be's calling Professor a traitor before Potions Master escaped Hogwarts with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."
"What!? Why did Snape do that, everyone knows he hates those two brats almost as much as Albus," squawked Molly, the surprise plain to see on her face.
"The Headmaster yelled that Professor Snape be's a true slimy Slytherin Snake, a spy for Lord Voldemort."
"Bloody, Buggering Hell, Albus!" screeched Molly, causing Pippin to cover her sensitive ears at the noise, "You Sodding old fool, you've ruined everything!"
While Molly was busy figuratively cursing the very air that Albus Dumbledore breathed for his idiocy in not implementing enough measures to ensure loyalty amongst the Order, especially when it came to Snape (she had never fully trusted the Greasy Bat), the traitorous wizard in question was equally preoccupied with observing his and The Dark Lord's young mates being put through their paces in their latest DADA practical by their instructor Remus Lupin.
Although Severus would never admit it out loud, he was rather impressed that the werewolf utilized a combination of Muggle and Magical techniques in varying environments (today was in a freshly watered section of the gardens) to prepare his students should they ever encounter a hostile human like Dumbledore and his ilk- it was something he would have done himself.
Lost as he was in his thoughts as his little lioness pinned Potter to the wet ground for the third time that day, he startled when an amused voice chuckled near his left ear, "I bet you wish that were you in my young snake's place," purred Voldemort, laughing even more when his Childe's cheeks flushed a light pink, "It doesn't take an accomplished Legilimens to hear what you're thinking when your eyes give you away so easily."
Before he could sputter out a futile protest, an excitable young elf named Trinket interrupted the conversation, "Trinket so sorry to disturb my Masters but Mistress Malfoy said you must go to her study at once."
Knowing that the witch wasn't one to make such an urgent demand over anything frivolous, Snape hesitantly asked, "Did 'Cissa mention what was so important that it required our immediate attentions?"
Trinket wrung her hands together as she replied, "Urgent Floo call from Master Auror. He says someone snuck into the Ministry and freed old Fudgie and the others from their holding cells, he suspects the Order. But, they failed to gets to Dumblydores."
"Dammit!" snarled Snape, moving to follow his Sire back to the Manor, "Those Gryffindor twits don't know when to give up."
"With all the changes going on because of the new Wizengamot," drawled Voldemort, looking unruffled despite this news, "I'm just surprised that they waited this long to act."
A few days before Voldemort and Snape rushed back to the Manor to find Narcissa, another Gryffindor was making a strategic move at Hogwarts. Nothing nefarious, mind you, more a matter of self-preservation.
With Dumbledore's conspicuous disappearance, his Mum a wanted fugitive in hiding Merlin-knew-where, and that mangy old cat McGonagall now in charge of the school, Ronald Weasley found himself to be an almost daily target of retaliation from all those people he had previously pranked (read bully) without consequences.
Remaining in the castle was no longer an option for him, not if he wanted to survive to his next birthday with all his bits intact.
When the majority of Hogwarts' inhabitants were at lunch, Ronald finished packing the last of his belongings into his school trunk. He then shrank the thing and slipped it into his robe pocket. With one last look around the dormitory to make sure he'd not forgotten anything, Weasley then grabbed his broom and headed out of the Gryffindor Tower portrait hole.
His plan, should anyone bother to ask where he was headed, was to simply lie about getting in some Quidditch practice - given his near-obsessive nature for the sport, it would certainly be a believable excuse.
Weasley need not have worried about being caught leaving Hogwarts. Due to the ongoing excitement generated by McGonagall's announcement that afternoon about the sweeping changes to made to the curriculum, no one noticed the lone ginger-haired teen walking out of the Great Hall on his way to the main gates.
Ron didn't know if he should be insulted or relieved but, in the end, went with the latter. It's not as if he'd truly miss anyone's company after all. They were all simply a means to an end, a bit of fun to be had until graduation and then he'd start living the life he wanted as a member of The Chudley Cannons Quidditch team.
Well, that was the original plan at least until his Mum went off her nut and tried to murder his Father. For now, he'd have to lay low some place other than The Burrow until that mess died down.
With that in mind, Ronald hopped on his broom and headed towards the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. From there, he'd Floo to The Leaky Cauldron in London, procured a room for the week and then made his way towards Diagon Alley - Knockturn Alley being his eventual destination, specifically, the office of one Mundungus Fletcher.
He knew the wizard to be an Order member but, he impressed Ron as being one who had his eyes and ears open for any form of opportunity that came along, particularly, those that would line his pockets with a few extra galleons, no questions asked...which was exactly what Ron needed at the moment as he knew his meager savings at Gringott's wouldn't last him long after paying for his rent and meals.
As it turned out, it was perfect timing for Ronald - or so he believed. Fletcher was in the middle of procuring some...questionable items for an upcoming Order mission and the older wizard willingly accepted Weasley's offer to help - after a bit of shameless self-promotion on Weasley's part, of course.
Ronald took it as a good sign that the twitchy man recognized him as a valuable asset to the Order's cause. In reality, Fletcher knew that should the mission to free Cornelius and Dumbledore go sideways, that all the blame could easily be shifted in the teen's direction.
In light of what his Mother had just done, Ron would make the perfect scapegoat.
A flash of Emerald green flames preceded the arrival of Chief Auror Scrimgeour, the ordinarily stoic wizard obviously rattled by what had just happened.
"It's not that we weren't prepared for the Order or some other group of sympathizers to try something like this," stated Scrimgeour, his lips pressed tightly into a thin line, "But it's what my scans found afterwards that's the cause for my deep concern," pausing to take a deep breath to steady himself, he then continued, "None of the guards on duty at the time of the breakout remember any details because they were under the influence of the Potentas Persuasionis potion."
The bark of laughter coming from Snape as a result of this disclosure was not the response the Chief Auror expected and he scowled in return, "I fail to see the humor of this situation, Severus. Explain yourself, quickly, or I swear I'll set you on fire and hex you into next week."
Getting himself back into control, just barely, the Potions Master replied, "While I grant you the Order's use of this particular concoction was unexpected, there's several reasons why it's not more widely used. Starting with the obvious, it's illegal to have it in one's possession. As you well know, Rufus, if caught with it on your person or in your home, it's an automatic five years in Azkaban."
"Aside from that, it's obscenely expensive to make due to the rarity of most of the ingredients needed to brew it," added Severus, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "Which means, that unless they plan on robbing a bank, they won't be able to afford to procure a second phial of it anytime soon."
This prompted a snort of derision from Scrimgeour, "The Order could simply utilize it to gain all the funds they need from the Gringott's Goblins or a Muggle bank employee or a wealthy individual like Lucius," he countered, his hands clenched into fists at his side.
"Hardly," drawled Snape, placing a calming hand on the agitated man's shoulder, "Aside from the potion having an extremely short shelf-life and window of usage - a week and an hour respectively - it doesn't work on anyone except Wixens who are fully human. The tiniest fraction of Creature blood, of any type, in their veins would render it useless against them."
A dark chuckle escaped from Voldemort at this revelation, "Well, that certainly explains why they failed to rescue Dumbledore," he smirked, giving Rufus a knowing wink, "The DoM is staffed almost entirely of those with a so-called Beastly nature, either inherited or later gifted like us.
"Besides, there's the unpleasant side effects to contend with as well," said Severus with a smug grin, "Once the other members of the Order realize what's in store for them, I seriously doubt anyone else will voluntarily imbibe the next vial, should they somehow manage to procure it."
"But, for your peace of mind, Rufus," advised Voldemort, "I recommend pairing your human Aurors with a Creature-blooded partner on every shift."
The tension in Scrimgeour's demeanour finally eased, "Of course. I'll make those arrangements immediately when I return to my office," he said, preparing to take his leave. Just as he was about to toss in the pinch of Floo powder into the flames, Rufus turned to Severus, "Out of curiosity, what exactly are the side effects to that potion?"
The smile that spread across Snape's face was one of pure impish delight, "The imbiber will take on the form of either their worst nightmare or most loathed enemy. Whichever emotion happens to be the strongest in them at the moment the potion's effects begin to fade will decide the transformation. If they're lucky, their altered state will last for one full lunar cycle, if not, they'll retain their new physical persona for an entire year."
Rufus cackled at the images that sprang to his mind, "Merlin! I would pay a hundred galleons to see what happened to that clueless Order volunteer. Can you imagine the sheer panic they would create if they became the spitting image of our Sire in the midst of their Headquarters?"
'They'd either shite themselves or Avada the twit on sight," smirked Voldemort, his eyes shining with unshed tears of laughter, "Or quite possibly both before they realized what they'd done."
Mundungus stood rooted to the spot in abject fear as the massive, ginger-coloured Acromantula chittered and scurried towards him. What in all the Nine Circles of Hell had happened? One moment the Order was celebrating the rescue of Cornelius Fudge (Umbridge was deliberately left behind as no one liked the witch) and twenty members of the Wizengamot from the Ministry holding cells and the next, people had started screaming and running for the doors in a blind rush to escape the strangely coloured monstrous spider that suddenly appeared within their midst.
"Help Me!" screeched Ron, running towards the closest Order member for assistance. Well, that's what he had intended to say but it came out as a series of clicking noises instead.
Before he could take another shaky step in Fletcher's direction, a beam of angry red light hit Ron across his hairy spindly legs, cutting several of them in two. Crashing to the floor in a rapidly widening pool of near-black blood, the Ron-Spider screamed in pain. His last coherent thought before the darkness of unconsciousness claimed him was 'What did I ever do to deserve this?'
Notes:
castitas - chastity, purity, innocence
harrypotter.fandom.com
Millicent Bagnold - Minister of Magic from 1980 to 1990 in canon
Dedalus Diggle - part of the Advance Guard who helped Harry escape the Dursleys in 'The Order of the Phoenix'
Dirk Creswell - Muggleborn wizard, head of the Goblin Liaison office
my fevered brain was over-taxed at this point so I borrowed a few more names from the HP lexicon 😏
potestas persuasionis - power of persuasion
Chapter 13
Notes:
WARNING: brief description of traumatic injury, violence
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Before Stanley Shunpike could end the life of the twitching, injured Acromantula in their midst, Alastor Moody grabbed the younger wizard's arm and hissed, "Idiot boy! Look at it! Have you ever known an Acromantula to be that colour?" he scowled, shaking his head at the foolhardiness of this young recruit, "I'd bet my last knut it's that Weasley lad, he has hair that particular shade of ginger."
A few others, naturally a safe distance from the unconscious arachnid, heard Moody's words and quickly looked about the room to see for themselves that the younger volunteer for tonight's mission was, indeed, missing from the crowd. The deciding factors came when Hestia Jones discovered Ronald's wand where it had fallen against the wall during his transition and Alastor's diagnostic charm confirming the wand's owner.
"Now that's settled," snarked Moody, pocketing the transfigured red-head's wand for safekeeping, "Does anyone here know how to properly reattach a severed limb...or two?"
Harry was fussing with his Muggle tie when Hermione knocked on his bedroom door and entered, the anxious look on her face giving way to one of exasperation as she took out her wand and finished the Windsor knot he'd been struggling with for the last ten minutes.
"For Circe's Sake! Get a wriggle on, Harry. The hearing starts in less than half an hour," she huffed impatiently, returning her wand to it's arm holster, "So, stop futzing about, we're supposed to meet with Mr. Shrewsbury before we head into the courtroom."
"Don't remind me," groaned Harry, remembering the shocked and then pitying looks the prosecuting attorney for the case against the Dursleys had given him after reading his medical history and personal statement, "I know he means well but I swear if he tries to pat me on shoulder again or says 'Not to worry, mate' one more time, I'll hex him into next week."
"Just have Tom or Severus glare at the man," smirked Hermione, tugging on her friend's arm to get him moving out of his room, "That'll sort things out."
"Merlin's sake, Hermione! I just don't want him to touch me," mock-chided Harry, running a hand through his unruly hair, "Not traumatize the guy."
Seeing the tension leave Harry's shoulders, Hermione smirked at her best friend, "Feeling better now? Good, let's round up the rest of our entourage and be on our way."
"I can't wait to see the looks on the Dursleys' faces when we show up. Care to wager if one or all of them will piss themselves when we walk into the courtroom together?"
"Damn, Hermione. You've been hanging around Severus and Lucius too much," chuckled Harry, jogging slightly to keep up with the curly-haired witch.
"Actually, Narcissa's the one who started up the betting pool," said Hermione, her eyes sparking with mischief.
"I don't know if I should be impressed or scared," replied Harry, trying to reconcile his image of the posh Lady of the Manor doing something as mundane as gambling.
"Probably both."
Dolores Umbridge was furious. Those Order of the Phoenix Wankers had freed the now former Minister and the deposed members of the Wizengamot - and were in route to rescue Dumbledore from wherever he was being detained - but they'd purposely left her behind. How dare they! She was the one who truly ran the Ministry, not Cornelius. That Git couldn't find his way out of a paper bag without a map! (At least, that's how she viewed things.)
Fortunately, Dolores didn't have long to fume about all those smugly smiling Bastards who'd abandoned her to her fate.
From out of the dimly lit hall outside the Ministry holding cells strolled a lone, obviously female, figure. One that Umbridge knew only from the front pages of The Daily Prophet.
"Well, hello, Madame Umbridge," smoothed Molly Prewitt, her wand drawn and pointing at the locks to the pink clad witch's cell, "It appears you've been let down by the man in your life, too. I propose we work together to remind them we're not to be pushed aside and ignored."
Dolores stared at the redheaded witch for all of two seconds before answering, "Count me in, Madame Prewitt. Where do you suggest we start?"
"With our respective ex's, of course. The rest? We'll simply toss a coin to determine who's next. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
As she sat in The Three Broomsticks downing yet another glass of cheap sherry, Sybill Trelawney pondered at how quickly her life had become such a shambles. Not only had her beloved Tall, Dark and Snarky Severus turned out to be a traitor, cowardly ambushing their leader Dumbledore and fleeing back to his Master, that foul and unnatural Vampire Lord, but he'd scampered away with the still unconscious Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, and the boy's tart of a Muggleborn girlfriend, Hermione Granger.
She couldn't wrap her head around why he'd chosen to take the comatose Wixen students instead of simply killing them while they lay helpless in the school infirmary. Unless, he and You-Know-Who planned something else for the two hapless teens. Disgusting blood-sucking perverts, the lot of them!
On top of that shocking betrayal, that meddling cat of a newly appointed Headmistress and her questionable choice for Deputy had the gall to sent her on a mandatory sabbatical from the school until, at least, the Fall term - citing that she had a drinking problem and strongly suggested she not return until she'd brought back proof that she'd sought out help and sobered up. The absolute nerve of those two!
Phft! Didn't McGonagall and Flitwick realize that she needed her little tipples of sherry every now and again to help her focus her Inner Eye?
Then, to add insult to injury, Minerva and Filius had reclassified Divination as an elective and only students who had tested to have an affinity for this form of magic could sign up for the course. And, they were bringing in one of those horrid Centaur creatures to co-teach. Fir? Or was it Fire? Whatever their name was, it was an affront to her sensibilities and talents...she didn't need a teaching assistant, no matter what they thought.
Sodding Arseholes! If Dumbledore were here, she wouldn't have to put up with any of this nonsense!
While Sybill ordered another bottle of fortified wine to further drown out her perceived woes and contemplate what to do next, a pair of heavily Glamoured witches wandered into The Three Broomsticks, taking up residence in the empty booth closest to Trelawney, careful to not draw attention to themselves.
Harry's knees nearly buckled in relief when the jury returned with a guilty verdict for all three Dursleys - not that he doubted the outcome, just that it was finally over. His Aunt and Uncle got the maximum sentence of ten years each while his cousin received only five years - the court having also opted for mandated therapy for Dudley, hoping that some of his aggressive behavior could be unlearned. Not that it mattered to Harry, he was never going to have to deal with any of them again after today.
Naturally his Uncle Vernon was a vicious arse to the very end, loudly cursing the very day his freakish nephew was left on their doorstep even as he was being led out of the courtroom in restraints.
Petunia and Dudley, fortunately, were much more subdued, moving quietly and without resistance, not sparing the slightest glance in Harry's direction.
"Now that unpleasantness is over, lets go out to celebrate," purred Tom into Harry's right ear, "Perhaps we could even get in a bit of shopping for your next courting gift, too? Where do you wish to begin, my little snake?"
Harry glanced over at Hermione and they both smirked, causing Severus to experience an uneasy feeling in his gut - it was never a good sign when those two smiled in tandem, they were decidedly Up.To.Something.
"Harry's never been to the Cinema, why not head to The Odeon at Leicester Square?" suggested Hermione, looking far too innocent to be believed, "He could pick the film to watch once we get there."
"That sounds perfect," agreed Harry, far too readily for Snape's liking, "Afterwards we could get dinner at that Chinese Restaurant you were telling me about, Hermione."
"Joy King Lau," she said, nearly bouncing on her toes with anticipation, "My parents took me the weekend before I left for the new term at Hogwarts every year. I've tried a number of items on their menu but so far my favourite has been their shredded, crispy Roast Duck."
"Personally, I don't care what it is they serve. I could eat a roasted Hippogryph at this point. Just lead the way, sister mine, and I'll follow."
Voldemort, much like Snape, was a touch wary of the teen's exuberance so soon after the stresses in court. Then again, it warmed his heart to see Harry moving on from his ordeal with the Dursleys. Perhaps this change in his plans to return to the magical side of London could wait a while longer.
Besides, he was rather curious about this Muggle form of entertainment. Not once in all his years had he ventured out to experience it, either not having the time nor the inclination to investigate it, until now.
At worst, he'd simply hate it. But at best, it could develop into another area of interest over which he could bond with his younger mate.
Tom had to stifle a chuckle when he glanced over at his Childe. As with anything new or out of the man's comfort zone, Severus looked as if he were preparing himself for a walk towards the gallows, his long practiced scowl firmly in place.
Subtly nudging the dour man with his shoulder, Riddle mock-chided, "Cheer up, Severus. Think of this as a reconnaissance mission to uncover some of the delightful things that Miss Granger enjoys. Perhaps it will provide you with some valuable new insights through which to court her. Or, better still, maybe discover venues where you can...stimulate her tantalizing mind, body and soul.
Snape paused for the merest blink of an eye before striding forward, lightly grasping a startled Granger by the elbow and weaving his way through the crowds of Muggles towards the nearest Apparation point.
"Well, don't just stand there like a bunch of moon-struck Mooncalves," he called back over his shoulder at his Sire and Potter, "We've places to go and things to do."
Molly frowned at the various bits of parchment scattered across her kitchen table - each contained numerous rambling scribblings all intended for the purpose of revenge - and huffed out an aggrieved sigh. No matter what she came up with, nothing would work without the aid of at least two other people.
Given her current circumstances, Molly couldn't exactly reach out to anyone by owl post or Floo call, the risk of Aurors tracking the messages back to her safe house was simply too great. So, she'd have to think outside the box on who would be sympathetic to her cause and have her house-elf hand deliver a message.
Any of her previous associates from the Order were strictly out, they'd love nothing more than to collect the substantial reward for her capture. Not that she'd blame them - well, not entirely - she'd likely do the same in their shoes for the five-hundred galleons.
A frustrating hour or so later, the possible solutions arrived in the forms of the latest gossip gathered at Hogwarts from her returning house-elf Pippin and the morning edition of The Daily Prophet.
The former Weasley Matriarch wrinkled her nose at the thought of dealing with the pink-obsessed Dolores Umbridge and the, more often than not, sherry-soused Sybill Trelawney. But, while neither were ideal, Molly couldn't afford to be overly choosy at this point.
Grumbling to herself as she tossed aside the newspaper, Molly then reached for another piece of parchment and set about plotting the recruitment of the two other spurned witches.
For all their shortcomings, they each had access to information that could prove invaluable to her schemes - and Molly was determined to exploit them all.
Madame Pomfrey glared at the young Auror taking her statement concerning her two missing patients, causing the young wizard to seriously regret his career choice (angry Mediwitches were seriously scary!).
"Mr. Savage," she snipped, folding her arms tightly across her chest in a gesture of growing irritation, "For the last time, I don't know how Professor Snape escaped with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. As I said before, I was knocked unconscious shortly after Dumbledore barged into the infirmary and started fighting with the Potions Professor. And no, I haven't a clue as to where he could have gone with the two students. But I am certain about one thing, that he had good reason to leave with them," growled Poppy, standing from her seat and leaning over the table with her hands pressed to the wooden surface, "The Headmaster was the one who was the threat to their health and safety, not Professor Snape. Now, if you will excuse me, I have an entire section of the ward to repair. Good day."
Knowing that he wouldn't get anything further from the Matron, Auror Savage thanked Madame Pomfrey for her time, packed up his notes and headed out the doors. And if the Chief wasn't satisfied with his report, he could just find someone else to come back and interview the Healer. He valued his bollocks far too much to risk her hexxing them off should he show up again to question the witch.
Cornelius/Cordelia Fudge stood quietly in the corner observing the other people in the room. Aside from the disturbing appearance of that ginger-coloured Acromantula, the atmosphere was one of carefree celebration. Which was why they had retreated to this darkened area of the dining room in the first place. Sodding gits were a handsy bunch, even when sober, and they wouldn't be surprised to have bruises on their arse by morning.
What Fudge couldn't be certain about was whether they were being singled out because of their previous position as Minister or if the Order members were that desperate for their companionship. After all, Cornelius/Cordelia hadn't noticed any of the rescued Wizengamot contingent being groped and propositioned. Then again, they were all significantly older than anyone else present, except maybe Elphias Doge.
Whatever the reason for the unsolicited attention towards their person, Fudge was determined to keep a low profile until Moody and that Healer, Hestia Jones, returned from wherever they'd taken the spider-Weasley for safekeeping (until a Potions Master could be found to, hopefully, brew an antidote to reverse the younger wizard's condition, the boy-Creature had to be isolated for everyone else's continued health. Forced Transfiguration or not, his fangs were still lethal).
Once Healer Jones arrived, she promised to give Fudge a second opinion of their current condition. With a bit of luck, they and the Wizengamot members would be back to their original masculine selves by morning.
Until then, they needed to plot how to regain control of the Ministry - those younger Wixen now in charge were rapidly dismantling all their hard work and they wouldn't stand for this offense to continue.
McGonagall cackled as Pomfrey recounted her handling of Auror Savage over afternoon tea, it took the edge off a long day of Ministry meetings (she'd left Flitwick in charge of interviewing prospective personnel for the new term, a task he took great pleasure in doing as they'd far more qualified candidates applying now that restrictions had been lifted on who they could hire - his first successful recruitment had been Firenze from the Forbidden Forest herd to co-teach Divination and the new course on Centaur Culture...it was simply an added bonus to inform Sybill Trelawney of the upcoming changes, her indignant spluttering reaction was a joy to behold).
"That pleasant distraction aside, how are you really doing Poppy?" asked Minerva, double checking her wards to insure privacy, "I know you briefly expressed some concerns but the Aurors arrived and interrupted."
Pomfrey took a deep breath before retrieving a couple of copied files from her pocket and handing them to her oldest friend, "Apparently, I've been attempting for some time to get Mr. Potter out of his Muggle relatives custody, I found these records in a specially warded drawer. But, obviously, those plans were interfered with on a regular basis by that twinkly-eyed Bastard."
Minerva's expression darkened the more she read, "Do you believe Severus discovered these atrocities or that you took a chance and shared things with him? That, perhaps, he was in the process of aiding you but Albus found out and tried to interfere?"
Poppy sighed heavily, "I'll never know for certain, the Oblivates I've been subjected to over the years guarantee those memories are unrecoverable. However, my gut instincts tell me 'yes', Severus would have done everything possible to help given his history of abuse from his Father."
"The only question now is," stated the Matron with a concerned frown, "Why hasn't Severus bothered to contact either of us to say that he, Miss Granger and Mr. Potter are alright or when they are returning to Hogwarts? After all, Dumbledore's in DMLE custody and no longer poses a threat, you're Headmistress and the school is, once more, a safe place with all the security measures you've put into practice."
"Given Dumbledore's tempestuous history, and knowing Severus developed a seriously cautious nature as a result, I'm not surprised he hasn't reached out," replied the Headmistress, her lips pressing into a tight thin line, "He's likely waiting for the outcome of Dumbledore's hearing before sending a message. That, or given the severity of the damage to the infirmary and his quarters, it's quite possible he's still recovering from injuries at wherever that illegal Port-Key landed the three of them."
"I truly hope that's the case and not a dreadful alternative, Min."
"I agree, but only time will tell."
Hermione and Harry exited the cinema a few paces ahead of their mates, they'd barely stepped foot outside before their tightly held in laughter finally broke free.
"Oh, my stars!" exclaimed Hermione, shivering slightly when she felt Severus' magic wash over her, a silent and wandless Muffliato settling about the group so they wouldn't have to censor themselves in the Muggle crowd, "The looks on your faces," she giggled, holding onto Harry's shoulder to keep herself steady, "I'm certain that'll be my new happy memory to conjure up my Patronus."
Severus scowled at Hermione, not the least bit amused over her mirth at his and his Sire's expense, "You'd choke on your popcorn and fizzy drink, too, if a movie villian reminded you of one of your worst childhood bullies and member of the Order."
"You need to get your eyes checked, Snape," teased Harry, his cheeks flushed from trying to catch his breath between chuckles, "Zorg looked nothing like the photos I've seen of Sirius Black."
"It wasn't his appearance," growled Severus, pinching the bridge of nose to stave off a growing headache, "It was the voice and his attitude that was disturbingly similar. But yes, there were a few visual characteristics that were the same, his eyes for one."
"Enough, you three," chided Voldemort, although, he had wholeheartedly agreed with his Childe - that Oldman fellow was remarkably like Black in many ways, "Let's not spoil the rest of our afternoon out together. Now, where's this eating establishment, Hermione. I suddenly find myself a bit peckish."
Harry leaned back in his chair and groaned, "Merlin! I ate too much," he sighed, stroking his slightly stretched stomach to soothe the mild discomfort of over indulgence, "I must have gained half a stone."
(Voldemort, however, was pleased that his little snake had a better appetite. Since their escape from Hogwarts, both Gryffindor teens' overall health had improved but Harry was still far too thin for Tom's liking. It also secretly thrilled him that his mate's over full abdomen made him look slightly pregnant. But that hidden desire would have to wait. They were in their courtship phase, after all, still learning each others quirks and habits and discussing their dreams for the future, there would be time later for starting their family).
"Here, drink this, Harry. It'll help," said Hermione, discreetly handing him a phial of Stomach Soother.
He gratefully downed the potion and slipped the empty bottle back to her, "Where were you hiding that and how did you know I'd need it?"
Hermione simply shrugged, a tiny smile making the corner of her mouth twitch, "You forget, I've seen how you eat in The Great Hall over the past six years. And while your table manners were not as atrocious as the youngest male Weasel's, you still snaffled food like it was all going to disappear tomorrow. It's only logical that you'd hold to that pattern and over do things while on our excursion, so I came prepared," she said, holding up a familiar looking beaded bag, the sound of crystal vials clinking together in the shrunken purse barely reaching his ears.
Voldemort chuckled, "I see Severus has rubbed off on you Little One. He plans for all manner of...contingencies, too."
Hermione's cheeks flushed, the man's words having conjured up a whole other set of images in her mind, "Well, it is practical, you never know what types of situations might arise."
Dear clueless Harry piped up, inadvertently saving his friend from teasing by his mate, for the moment at least, "I don't know about anyone else but I certainly need to walk this meal off," he sighed, gently rubbing his stomach, "Would it be alright if we made our way back to The Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley? I'm itching to stop by Quality Quidditch Supplies, I'm hoping they have the outcome to the match between the Falmouth Falcons and the Tutshill Tornadoes."
Hermione's face lit up, "Could we check Obscurus Books, too? They're supposed to have gotten in the latest edition of 'Arithmancy Monthly' today."
While both older wizards feigned restlessness, they were more than happy to indulge their younger mate's spur of the moment requests, they were courting after all, "Fine," sighed Snape, throwing in an eye roll for good measure to keep up the appearance of disinterest, "But we can't linger. The Order likely still has spies lurking about the Alley and I, for one, am not in the mood to deal with any of those Wankers this evening."
"I don't know, Severus," drawled Voldemort, brushing a nonexistent piece of lint from his shirt sleeve, "An impromptu duel might be just the thing to burn off a few extra calories."
"There are far more pleasurable... activities to accomplish that," smirked Snape, enjoying the returning blush to Hermione's cheeks, "However, a walk will simply have to suffice... for now."
A strangled squeak from Potter indicated that he'd finally caught on to the underlying nature of the other three's conversations, the intensity of his flushed visage rivaling that of his fellow Gryffindor.
Unfortunately, the joyous mood of the quartet was soon soured by the unwelcome appearance of three hooded figures blocking their path to the designated Apparation point.
Severus and Voldemort instinctively stepped between Harry and Hermione, causing the robed persons to cackle and howl with laughter.
"Well isn't this a delightful surprise," sneered the obvious leader, her cloak falling away to reveal Molly Prewitt's affronted gaze, "The traitor and his Dark Lord have Gryffindor pets and children at that! I always suspected you Bloody leeches were perverted Bastards and now we have proof."
"Enough chatting, woman, let's finish them and be on our way," hissed Umbridge, readying a wicked Incendio Ternus to fling at Voldemort's face.
Only, she never got that chance as the next sounds leaving her mouth were a horrified scream.
Harry actually snarled when it registered that Dolores Umbridge was one of the three people blocking their path but he quickly stopped when he heard a deep, threatening growl coming from behind him where Hermione had been hastily moved by Severus.
He turned to say something to her but the words stuck in his throat as he saw a great tawney-coloured Manticore crouched low to the ground where his sister in all but blood once stood.
In the blink of an eye, the she-beast leapt past Voldemort and headed straight towards Umbridge, causing the pink clad witch to piss herself in fright even as she frantically attempted Apparating on the spot, resulting in a catastrophic Splinching - the panicked woman having left behind her right leg from the mid-thigh down.
Based on the amount of blood gushing from the severed limb and pooling on the ground, Harry honestly believed that would be the last time anyone saw the despised witch alive.
And that morbid thought alone caused a genuine smile to bloom across Harry's face.
When the trio of witches first appeared in front of the quartet, Sybill made a beeline towards Snape and wasted no time hurling flasks of uncorked potions at the wizard, screeching 'Die, you filthy traitor' at the man as she did.
Severus readily dodged and deflected the incoming barrage of bottles without much fuss but he failed to notice Hermione moving in closer, preparing to cast shields between him and his former colleague. And in doing so, she wound up being splashed with an unknown blue-tinted potion from a stray vial that shattered at her feet.
At first, the liquid didn't seem to have any effect. But then, the painful muscle spasms started and Hermione's joints began to pop as they twisted and stretched. She tried crying out only for her human voice to give way to animalistic whimpers, her thoughts immediately flashing to the memory of Professor Lupin transforming into a Werewolf during her Third Year.
Hermione was most aggrieved at this prospect (not that there was anything wrong with being a Were-being just that, like so many others, she wasn't given any say in the matter), having every intention to show the Divination Professor just how much she objected to forced Transfiguration. However, her thoughts were abruptly pulled back to the ongoing confrontation as she heard what sounded like Harry's answering yowl to her distress call from somewhere in front of her.
Opening her eyes against the agonizing changes still wracking her body, Hermione spotted the real cause of Harry's grumblings.
('Umbridge') Hermione snarled to herself ('Hrnm, definitely more cat than wolf') even as the loud, sullen growl left her altered throat.
Without a second thought, Hermione leapt between Harry and the pink-clad witch, her amplified protective instincts driving her to protect her younger, chosen sibling.
"Severus, please," whinged Sybill, pleading for mercy from the wizard currently digging his wand into her neck, "We used to be good friends until you were led astray by that...leech."
He sneered down at the cringing woman, "We were never friends," practically spitting the last word, "You've done nothing but harass me since I first started teaching at Hogwarts. And now you come here with those two vile witches, trying to destroy us and you have the nerve to beg me for leniency after you've attacked my mate!?" he roared, his onyx-coloured irises temporarily flashing to red.
Sybill blinked twice as Severus' words slowly sank into her, sort of, sober brain, "Her!? Impossible, she's a mere a slip of a girl," she weakly protested, hoping that she could stall long enough for either Molly or Dolores to come to her aid, not realizing Umbridge had already fled (well, most of her at any rate) and Prewitt still had her hands full with Voldemort and the recently transformed Hermione Granger.
"Now, Sybill," hissed Snape, moving his wand to the captive Trelawney's temple, "You're going to show me everything you know about what's in those phials and you'd best pray to every deity you believe in that I can create an antidote."
"Legilimens!"
With Umbridge no longer a concern, Hermione turned her attentions onto the ginger-haired witch dueling Tom. Surprisingly, Molly seemed to be having no trouble holding her own against the Vampire Lord, exchanging increasingly nastier hexxes and curses as the seconds ticked on.
It was then that Hermione spotted the familiar blue-tinged potion dripping from Tom's bare left hand and that his usual alabaster complexion was slowly turning a pale pink flesh tone. Not only that, but Voldemort's whole demeanor seemed...off in some manner that she couldn't quite put her finger... paw...whatever on.
But rather than waste time getting bogged down sorting this puzzle through, Hermione quite literally sprang into action once more, this time landing less than two meters away from Madame Prewitt.
The Banshee-level screeching that commenced moments later made Hermione wish she had Mandrake-proof ear muffs to help cancel out the noise.
In preparation for Molly's latest scheme, Trelawney was heavily dosed on Hangover and Sober-Up potions - and numerous cups of black coffee - she'd been tasked to call upon on her only true Divination related talent, the art of Scrying for a 'lost person'. It came as no surprise to the former Mrs. Weasley that the Snape-obsessed witch had something of the traitor in her possession (in this case, a few stands of raven-black hair she'd 'accidentally' plucked from his head as she'd manhandled his person during a staff Christmas party) in which to focus the rune-carved crystal now dangling from a silver chain over a map of Britain.
As Sybill worked on the finicky tracking ritual, Molly and Dolores finished brewing and bottling the latest treasure Prewitt had uncovered in her family grimoire - the Intutus potion. According to her many-times removed Grandfather Ignatius' notes, it rendered Dark Creatures vulnerable long enough to safely capture or kill them - a rather handy elixir to have when harvesting potions ingredients from things like Erumpets and Merpeople that were resistant to spells.
Molly was certain it was a sign from the gods themselves that she'd found this recipe. And with it she'd rid her world of all the filthy beasts that didn't belong in society around proper Wizarding people.
It was this same concoction that Molly now planned to use to eliminate that treacherous Creature calling itself Severus Snape - she no longer held any doubts that he'd been Turned...and if any other known leeches happened to be nearby when they cornered him? Well, she'd made sure there'd be plenty of the potion to go around for them, too.
What Molly failed to notice, however, in her unbridled giddiness in celebration of finding the Intutus formula - that miracle solution to Britain's Dark Creature infestation woes - was her Grandfather's hastily scribbled warning on the following page of the grimoire...'unpredictable results when used on human test subjects, use with extreme caution'.
Molly was livid, those two associates of hers had one job. One! And they'd both fucked it up in spectacular fashion.
So now here she was, on the brink of success with a momentarily weakened Lord of the Vampires about to succumb to her superior spellwork when Trelawney stumbled over one of those damned overlong scarves she always wore - giving Snape the opening he needed to swoop in like the oversized Dungeon Bat that he was and disarm her - while Dolores buggered off in a blind panic, leaving her to contend with, not only, Voldemort but a Sodding Manticore, to boot!
Where had the beast even come from? It would be just her luck to find out that these leeches apparently used these Bloody cat-things as pets. Fucking Wankers! They couldn't be bothered to have something normal.
But, there was nothing for it, she'd have to use another phial of her precious Intutus potion on the snarling beast if she was to have any hope of subduing it before finishing off Voldemort. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Molly uncorked a single bottle and hurled it at the rapidly approaching creature, landing it directly on it's snout.
Unfortunately (for Molly anyways), the miracle elixer didn't have it's expected outcome as before her gobsmacked eyes, the great beast shuddered and shifted forms, becoming something even larger and far more dangerous.
This time when the ear-splitting screaming commenced, both Harry and Voldemort wore a wicked smile on their faces.
After all, it wasn't everyday they got to witness a ginger-haired bigot being set on fire by a Hebridean Black dragon with such style.
Notes:
hp-lexicon.org/currency
500 galleons = 2500 British pound sterling, 2885.35 US dollars, 2900.77 Euros
Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg - 'The Fifth Element' - character played by Gary Oldman
ternus - triple, threefold
intutus - unsafe, unguarded, defenceless
Chapter 14
Notes:
WARNING: description of injuries, character death
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sybill sat down, hard, onto the cold cobblestone ground of Diagon Alley and held her aching head in her bound together hands. At least, temporarily. Within seconds, she found herself to be completely unarmed and then fully trussed up like a Christmas goose, unable to move without possibly toppling over in an undignified heap.
Trelawney managed a glance upwards at her captors, crying out in pain as she did. Unbeknownst to her, Severus had previously taken the liberty of removing the images of the Prewitt family grimoire - the Intutus recipe, in particular - from her memories...and he'd not been the least bit gentle in the process.
"Now, Sybill," hissed Severus, sounding like an angry puff adder, "Whatever shall we do with you, hrnm? Perhaps, I should let my mate decide, after all, it's your fault she's in the altered state she's in at the moment," stepping aside and letting dragon-Hermione lower her enormous, shiny black-scaled head so that the two witches were staring face to snout.
It didn't help her pounding headache but Trelawney couldn't stop the loud quavering shriek that left her mouth at the sight of the brassed off, forcibly transformed witch.
Nor could she halt her spluttering begging, "Noooo! P-P-Please, Severus, don't l-l-let her hurt me. T-This w-w-wasn't my fault. Molly and Dolores..." the rest of her simpering was cut short when the beast-witch growled, fiery drool falling to ground between them, causing the cobblestones to steam, further emphasising the sounds of the Potions Master's hissing response.
"I wouldn't mention your cohorts' names again, if I were you" warned Snape, smirking as he pointed to the blood-splattered leg remnant to his left and the still smoking body behind him, "Or you could wind up the worse for wear."
Sybill's nerves couldn't take anymore and she toppled, face first, onto the cobblestones with a sickening crunch, having likely broken her nose in the process.
"Well, at least she's stopped her insipid caterwauling," stated Tom, sneering down at the unconscious woman, his disgust evident on his pink-toned visage.
"Indeed," replied Severus, raising his hand and gently cupping dragon-Hermione's cheek, "Whatever shall we do with her now, my lioness?"
Turning her head slightly so that her purple reptilian eyes looked directly into his onyx ones, Hermione managed to push her thoughts directly into his mind with a nonverbal Legilimens, "I suppose I could turn her into a human-shaped charcoal briquette but that's rather unimaginative since I've done that once today already. What do you suggest?"
Snape's answering chuckle was sinfully delicious to her small wing-like ears, "I'm certain we'll devise something...appropriately creative."
Department of Mysteries director, Amelia Bones, briskly walked into her office that morning, a cup of freshly brewed black coffee held in her left hand and Chief Auror Scrimgeour's updated report on the Ministry jailbreak in her right.
As infuriating as this security breach had been, in had pointed out an unknown flaw in the DMLE shift pairings - an oversight which Rufus had immediately corrected.
Fortunately, that wasn't an issue in any of the Mysteries departments - thank Nimue for small favours! No, the 'chimera' that was once Albus Dumbledore currently remained safely ensconced within the DoM's medical research facilities, trying everyone's patience as he constantly attempted to convince the Healers that it was all in their best interests to set him free.
That was absolutely the last thing the Wizarding public needed - a manipulative, blue-eyed old prat running loose with his ragtag Order of the Phoenix minions, causing Merlin knows what kind of damage to the community as he used whatever means at his disposal to regain control of Hogwarts and the Wizengamot.
A mischievous gleam sparked through Amelia's eyes as she took a deep sip of her coffee. Albus was unlikely to be an issue for some time - whatever potion Molly Prewitt had used on the Sodding Wanker, it wasn't showing signs of wearing off - so far, all efforts by the DoM Potions Masters and research teams to create an antidote had been unsuccessful.
And wasn't that simply tragic...not.
Mind-melting, searing torment overwhelmed all of Molly's thoughts and senses. That is, at least, until the nerve-endings in her top three layers of skin had been destroyed, leaving her a weakened, of hardly recognizable as human, lump of flesh crumpled on the ground, her wand a pile of grey ash near the red and black charred mess that was her right hand.
Minutes that felt like hours passed before Molly cautiously turned her head to glare out of her one remaining blue eye over at the group that had inflicted her with this intolerable misery. Madame Prewitt then slowly rolled to her, mostly, undamaged left side, determined to make her remaining strength count before calling on her house-elf Pippin to Apparate her to the safe-house so she could soak in a bathtub full of burn salve and healing potions.
The smouldering wreck that was once the proud Weasley Matriarch didn't make it very far, though. As she raised her left hand in preparation to throw one of her cursed daggers she'd brought to make the killing blow on the physically vulnerable Vampire Lord, Molly's actions were noticed by a pair of malevolent purple reptilian eyes.
As the, temporarily fully human, and injured Tom was being fussed over and treated by Harry and Severus was busy tearing through Sybill's mind for information, Hermione caught a faint movement at the periphery of her dragon-enhanced sight and reacted in the space of a few heartbeats, placing her large scaly body between her three companions and the surprisingly still alive Molly Prewitt.
With a grumbling roar, Hermione alerted the others to the unexpected danger and then proceeded to remove the problem with two swift precision snaps of her jaws, leaving the older witch to scream in horror at the sight of the freshly severed hands on the ground - one that still clasped a rune-covered dagger as blood poured from both points of amputation.
The sound of Hermione's warning caused Severus to drop the partially Obliviated and Incarcerous'd Trelawney from his grasp like a sack of potatoes and instinctively rush to her aid...not that Hermione truly needed it in her current form but still, he wanted to lend his mate assistance or comfort in any way she might require it.
Upon seeing, and hearing, the source of the no longer imminent threat, Snape wandlessly Silencio'd the despised Madame Prewitt, taking the opportunity to Legilimise the once ginger-haired witch's unguarded mind for the location of the grimoire he'd seen in Trelawney's memories.
Satisfied with the answers he retrieved, he murmured in his mate's small wing-like left ear, "Finish her, my lioness. She's of no further use to us."
Hermione didn't need to be told twice, breathing out a gout of flame that engulfed the still silenced Molly. In mere seconds, Madame Prewitt was no longer anyone's problem.
Well, maybe the DMLE's or St.Mungo's...neither set of Vampires or their mates intended to stick around to clean up this Sodding mess.
Aurors Proudfoot and Savage were on patrol duty that afternoon in Hogsmeade and were approaching the outskirts of the village near the Hogs Head Inn when the thunderous 'Crack' of Disapparation - followed closely thereafter by a loud yelp and a stream of foul language from a startled Aberforth Dumbledore - drew their attention.
From Abe's ongoing colourful fussing, the two approaching Aurors learned that some poor sod had, obviously, Splinched themselves badly during their Apparation and that they'd succumbed to their massive injuries shortly after their unexpected arrival without ever regaining consciousness.
Ordinarily a magical Transportation Accident event, such as this one, would simply involve securing the scene, confirming cause of death was indeed accidental, identifying the deceased, escorting the body to St.Mungo's morgue and notifying any next of kin afterwards.
Only, as Proudfoot and Savage drew closer and the person's visage came into their view, the two wizards knew immediately who the pink clad witch was without performing a single diagnostic spell.
The problem was, the last that they knew, this horrid woman was supposed to be in custody at the Ministry awaiting trial.
"Bloody Hell!" exclaimed Savage when his scans determined that the body was indeed Umbridge, "The Chief's gonna have kneazles over this, that is, if he doesn't already know she's escaped custody."
"I'll start the paperwork, Eric," stated John matter-of-factly, pulling a standard report parchment and self-inking quill from his pocket, "Go contact the Boss with the bad news."
Savage unsuccessfully bit back a groaned expletive, "I should've never agreed to a coin toss to decide who had that honour," he grumbled, preparing a secured message for delivery.
"It's not my fault you're on a losing streak," smirked Proudfoot, continuing to scratch down notes, "But, I'll treat you to a pint as soon as we're off duty."
"Deal," said Savage, Transfiguring the missive into an origami falcon and sending it on its way to the Chief Auror, "I have a feeling we'll both need one after Scrimgeour finishes yelling at us in the post-briefing."
"Indeed."
Scrimgeour was finishing up a few last minute reports before heading out for the evening when a tiny paper bird flitted into his office, landed on the middle of his desk and began adamantly fluttering it's wings for attention.
Rufus let out a deep grumbling sigh having instantly recognized Auror Savage's unique method of a 'Your Eyes Only' communication. Whatever had happened, his Agent deemed it time sensitive, too, as the parchment avian let out a 'Scree' in addition to tapping on his hand with it's sharp little beak.
"Alright, no need to get your feathers in a twist," he admonished, suddenly feeling a touch sheepish for speaking with an enchanted piece of paper.
But Scrimgeour didn't have long to feel foolish when he finished reading the communique.
Grabbing his traveling cloak even as he Incendio'd the missive, Rufus warded his office, stalked over to his fireplace and tossed down a pinch of Floo powder, calling out 'The Three Broomsticks', muttering under his breath just before he disappeared in a flash of green flames.
"This had better not be someone's idea of an elaborate prank or they'll wish they'd never been born by the time I'm through hexxing them."
After Scrimgeour arrived in Hogsmeade and hurriedly made his way towards the Hogs Head, he quickly realized that Savage's message was decidedly not a hoax - but this sense of relief was to be short-lived.
Despite his two Agents having magically cordoned off the immediate area surrounding the now shroud-covered body, curious onlookers - both locals and visitors to the village - had gathered all about the perimeter hoping to catch a glimpse or a stray bit of conversation regarding the obviously deceased person laying on the ground, making it rather difficult for Scrimgeour to get through to his Aurors and discuss their preliminary findings.
With a few loudly barked out promises of having them all arrested if they didn't step aside immediately, the annoying crowd of busybodies quickly parted and let the Chief Auror past.
He smirked in satisfaction as the groups dispersed like so many colourful leaves scattering on a brisk Autumn breeze.
Proudfoot had just disclosed that he and Savage were having difficulties tracking Umbridge's Apparation point of origin as her wand had snapped at some point.
"Probably when she landed on poor Aberforth," surmised Proudfoot, holding up the evidence bag containing both pieces of the broken wand, "We've begun..."
The rest of the younger Auror's report to the Chief was disrupted when an excitable lemur Patronus bounded up to the trio and announced, "Sir! We've had a major incident in Dragon Alley. Numerous witnesses claim that the Vampire Lord was involved in an altercation leading to, at least, one death. Hurry, sir. The crowds here are demanding that he be hunted down and burned!"
"Merlin's twisted beard!" exclaimed Rufus, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, "Alright. Proudfoot, you and Savage finish up here and transport Umbridge to the morgue. Leave your files on my desk, I'll have to read them later," he commanded, preparing to head back to Floo at the Three Broomsticks, "As, apparently, I have a bloodthirsty mob to quell."
As their boss waded back into the gathered onlookers, Savage shook his head, "Suddenly, I no longer envy that wizard his job."
Proudfoot merely 'hrnm'd', focusing on their assigned task - although, he whole heartedly agreed with Eric's sentiment. He'd take a simple 'death by Splinching' case over wrangling an angry hex-happy rabble any day of the week.
Severus had just added the finishing touches to Trelawney's punishment when Hermione gave a low warning growl.
(His still dragon-shaped mate had suggested placing an anchored Charm on the older witch - in this case it meant tying the chosen spell into a loose bit of cobblestone that they'd drop into the ocean later on, making the effects virtually impossible to counter.
Hermione requested that Severus render Trelawney mute unless she was imparting a true Prophecy - so, basically, her voice would likely never again be heard by anyone during her lifetime - and an Obliviate would take care of her remembering any helpful details about her predicament.
Snape, however, didn't think that was a sufficient enough chastisement and tacked on a second enchantment that would cause every alcoholic beverage Sybill tried to drink to randomly morph into either a hot weak Butterbeer, ice cold water, tepid unsweetened tea or warm kneazle piss the second she took a swig.
'This will continue to happen until Sybill gives up on the booze entirely - which, if she's anything like my sot of a sperm donor, I don't see happening anytime soon.'
The last embellishment Severus gifted to his former colleague was a head full of non-venomous, Slytherin green snakes in place of her hair that would periodically bite Sybill in the face, causing her to break out in painful, festering pustules that spelled out the words 'Fraud' or 'Liar' in glowing blue letters across her forehead which would last for a week each time.
'It's perfect, Severus.'
'Obviously.')
Glancing around, the Potions Master saw a small contingent of Wixen approaching, including, a couple of Aurors he didn't recognize - which was not surprising considering all the staff changes made lately by Scrimgeour.
As they moved in closer, however, Severus and Hermione could clearly see the sloppily done transfiguration work on the deep burgundy robes and badges - counterfeit accessories for equally phony DMLE Agents.
Not taking his eyes off the gathering crowd - those two fake Aurors, in particular - Severus whispered to Hermione knowing that her enhanced hearing would easily pick up his conversation, "Well, my little lioness, it appears that your flight lessons will have to start sooner rather than later."
"But first, a bit of fire to light our way, if you would be so kind."
Despite Harry's hesitance to leave Hermione, Tom side-a-long Apparated the two of them from Diagon Alley to Malfoy Manor. And once his mate was safely ensconced in his suite, Voldemort had every intention of returning to assist Severus in teaching Hermione how to fly, that's if her dragon form was still persisting - the last thing they wanted was for some panicky Wixens to call in the MacFusty clan to capture her and drag her away to their Hebrides Island Dragon Preserve....Severus would skin the entire family of dragon handlers alive before he'd allow that to happen.
A messy situation certainly to be avoided at all cost.
However, that possible concern would simply have to wait as, five minutes after the pair arrived, Narcissa and Lucius saw the changed state of their Sire and put their collective feet down on his leaving the security of the Manor.
"You're far more vulnerable than you even realize, Sire," firmly stated Lady Malfoy as she read over the diagnostic charms on her reluctant patient, "And don't you dare try to argue otherwise, you can read your scans results as well as I. For your mate's sake, and your own, you must remain here until the symptoms of that insidious potion wears off."
Lucius struggled to hide the knowing smirk on his face at his Sire's expense, he'd been on the receiving end of his wife's tender, yet temperamental, treatment more times than he cared to admit.
But in this instance, Malfoy wholeheartedly agreed. A fully human Voldemort, however long this condition lasted, at the mercy of Wixens sympathetic to the Order of the Phoenix or the old guard Ministry would be disastrous for the Family.
In the end, it was a distressed Harry who convinced Tom to stay put and let Severus take care of Hermione... well, him and a certain pair of Malfoy house elves.
"She'd never forgive herself if something happened to you because you were distracted while helping her," said Harry, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around Tom's chest and hips, clinging to him like a baby Koala to prevent his Intended from leaving, "Besides, you know Amber and Diamond will have their backs," he added, glancing over his right arm to the smirking elves who were ready to depart.
The two sister elves enthusiastically nodded their heads in agreement, "We's will protects the young Miss and Master of Potions and brings them home safe," they promised in unison, each wearing a sturdy brown leather bandolier across their left shoulders, each holding a variety of potions vials in the loops. And nestled through the last near their hip was a fierce looking Goblin-forged silver dagger, "Anyone's who tries to stops us will be's wishing they hadn'ts."
Then, with a respectful bow, Amber and Diamond left in a loud 'POP' of Disapparation.
"On that note," murmured Narcissa, her silver-grey eyes sparkling as she watched the young wizard snuggling his older mate for comfort, "We'll see ourselves out. I suggest both of you get some...rest while we wait for the others to return."
Once out of sight and earshot, Lucius chuckled softly, "You don't think that they will actually...?" leaving that thread of suggestion to trail off.
Narcissa smiled in reply, "Perhaps. I know I would if it were you in need of distraction."
Lucius's eyes darkened with mischief, "And if I suddenly found myself in such a... need, dear Wife?"
As Narcissa grabbed Lucius' wrist and swiftly Disapparated them away to their own bedroom, the family portraits lining the walls broke into raucous laughter at their antics, a few placing bets amongst themselves. Would the Dark Lord and his young snake consummate their bond early? How many people would Severus and Hermione (or even the house-elves) maim or dispatch before escaping Diagon Alley? And, most importantly, which couple would be announcing the news of a pregnancy first.
When Amber and Diamond arrived at the Apparation point in Diagon Alley, all Hades had broken loose. For a few seconds they watched as Severus alternated between holding a shielding charm over himself and dragon-Hermione's lower half and flinging non-lethal jinxes, hexes and curses at an ever growing angry mob who weren't so inclined to hold back with their spellwork.
Hermione, they saw, had set up an enormous perimeter of red-orange flames - periodically, she'd lash out with her tail, flap her wings to fan the blaze and loudly growl and snap her jaws in displeasure to drive the throngs back. She'd also made certain that Trelawney and the remains of her two colleagues were on the outside of the fiery barrier, giving them three less things to keep track of while fighting - unfortunately, it didn't allow enough time for much else, like flight instructions.
With snarled cries of 'Backs off, you Bloody Wankers!' Amber and Diamond grabbed the daggers and a single phial from their bandoliers, tossed the Shrinking Solution over a dozen members of the crowd and jumped into the fray, slashing at as many of the un-potioned Wixens' knees, ankles and wand arms that they could manage to reach.
They may be little, but they were fierce...especially, in defense of their Masters' and Mistress' family.
Hermione let out a pained roar even as she internally cheered for joy at the sight of the two feisty elves coming to hers and Severus' aid. Although the Wixens' spells caused her little physical damage due to the thickness of her scales, the overpowered impacts of the curses still stung like the dickens.
And it was starting to thoroughly piss her off. But with her rising frustration came a moment of clarity and a possible solution to their predicament.
Nudging Severus as he cast another shield bubble over them, she pushed the idea into his mind.
'Blindfold me,' she respectively ordered, the unusual and oddly timed demand causing his frown lines to deepen.
"Whyever would you want me to do such a thing?" he scowled, reinforcing the Protego as a particularly strong volley of slicing hexxes bounced off the barrier.
'Trust me, Severus. It will help my concentration,' she pleaded, gently rubbing her warm muzzle against his back, 'I'm simply over-thinking this whole flying ordeal when I should just be listening to my form's instincts on the whole process,' she hastily explained, 'Plus it will keep me from panicking over seeing just how high off the ground I truly am. So, climb on my back, cast the obscuring spell and let's leave these Sodding twits behind before I'm tempted to start eating some of them for daring to attack you, my mate.'
'And given how most of them smell like they haven't bathed in days, I'm certain they'd wind up giving me indigestion.'
Amber and Diamond paused momentarily as they first felt, and then saw, the young Missy Hermione-dragon tentatively flapping her large blue-black leathery wings, testing them out for her maiden (and probably only) flight out of the Alley with Severus firmly attached to her back with a temporary sticking charm.
Over the roaring shouts of, and the ever increasing spellfire from, the near-rabid horde of wannabe vampire and dragon slayers, the two elves barely heard Snape's order for them to withdraw to safety as soon as he and Hermione were out of range of the injured rabble's line of fire.
As the dragon-witch shakily rose into air, eventually retreating from their sights over the rooftops with her precious cargo astride her back, Amber and Diamond redoubled their efforts, tossing down several phials of Peruvian Darkness Powder and a Portable Swamp to cover their escape.
When both house-elves were certain their Missy Hermione and Potions Master Severus were a safe distance away, they tossed their last two crystal containers into the already disoriented crowd - the Weather-in-a-Bottle unleashing a snow storm mixed with bolts of lightning, causing the mob to temporarily forget the loss of their targets and scramble for cover.
Satisfied with the resulting panic they'd created, Amber and Diamond Disapperated with a thunderous 'Boom!', cackling like the descendants of Imps that they are with a parting warning.
"Next time, we won't be's so nice."
Notes:
harrypotter.fandom.com
The MacFusty clan - wizarding family from Scotland that have cared for the Hebridean Black dragons for generations on the Hebrides Islands
Misquoted from Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' ; somehow it seemed fitting for Amber and Trinket - 'Though she be but little she is fierce'
Chapter 15
Notes:
WARNING : brief descriptions of torture
A/N: apologies for another late posting...and the rambling nature of this chapter...lack of sleep and pain meds have been playing havoc with my fevered brain...🤒😷
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chief Auror Scrimgeour arrived at the Diagon Alley apparation point just as a Hebridean Black dragon, carrying a person astride their back, flew over the rooftops of the area shops and slowly disappeared from sight.
Scrimgeour couldn't say for certain because of the distance, but he believed the raven-black haired man to be Severus Snape. And if that was the case, Rufus was relieved that they'd escaped from the hex-happy mob that was now scurrying for cover from the effects of a weather spell.
But if it truly was his Cloudmate, why in Merlin's name was Severus not flying on his own in bat form? Had he suffered a serious injury that prevented him from transforming? Alas, it was a mystery to solve at a later time. Right now, he had other concerns that required his focus...like those remnants of two (or was it only one?) bodies laying on the ground nearby and a distressed looking witch who was frantically, and silently, waving her arms about trying to gain his attentions.
Already he could feel the need for a headache potion coming on.
Former Minister Fudge sat in a darkened corner of the Order Headquarters, after a thoroughly bland evening meal, glumly nursing a glass of Firewhiskey. While he and the other fugitives from the Ministry holding cells had finally, thank Merlin!, reverted back to their original forms, they were still in a state of legal limbo, leaving them with no other recourse but to remain in hiding amongst the zealous, and rather boisterous, Dumbledore supporters - he knew without having to ask that most of them were Gryffindors.
It was almost enough for Fudge to consider turning himself in to the DMLE in an attempt to regain some semblance of peace and quiet...almost.
Especially, after the overly handsy Lord Sirius Black had propositioned him just seconds before he'd reverted to his proper state. And even after the shift, the randy Bugger didn't seem too put out by his change in circumstance. Seriously, this man-child was such a dog when it came to satisfying his baser urges.
It would be mildly amusing if the whole situation weren't so pathetic.
When Tom emerged from Harry's rooms about an hour later, he sported a supremely smug cat who got both the cream and the canary expression on his, once again, alabaster hued face.
Voldemort had initially meant only to stay and comfort his young mate long enough for him to settle down and fall asleep. Afterwards, he'd every intention of heading back out to assist his Childe and the dragon-witch.
It was an irrational desire, he knew, given that they and the two house-elves should've had no major issues defending themselves against the inept mob of shopkeepers and barflies. But as Severus' Sire, he couldn't help worrying for him and Hermione.
Fortunately, Harry was well aware of what Tom might try to do, despite having promised him and the elves to the contrary, and snuggled even more tightly into his mate's chest.
Harry then proceeded to do his best to shut down Tom's higher brain functions by whispering suggestively in his right ear.
"After everything that's happened today, I find myself in desperate need of a warm bath," purred Harry, lifting his hands up to begin slowly unbuttoning both their shirts, "And wouldn't you agree that I'm quite the...dirty boy?"
The sudden hissed intake of air from Tom told Harry his words had managed their desired effect - and so, he pressed on.
"Then once we're all squeaky clean, perhaps you'll help me to get filthy again? But in a much more pleasant way, of course."
Harry's teasing banter quickly morphed into wanton groans as Tom flipped them around, pinning the younger wizard firmly against the closest wall.
"Minx! You are playing with fire," growled Tom, gently nuzzling Harry's neck with his aqualine nose before firmly latching onto the skin with his lips and teeth, leaving behind a sizeable love bite.
"But, I think you already knew that," he drawled as Harry reciprocated, a matching mark now blooming on his own left shoulder.
Despite loving the direction things were heading, Voldemort paused and looked in Harry's eyes, "Are you certain about this? I thought you wanted to wait until your birthday?"
"Sorry...changed my mind...now hush up and strip!" panted Harry, his cheeks turning pink at his boldness.
"As you wish, my bossy young snake," cooed Tom, guiding them towards the bathroom, "Just remember, if you wish to stop at any point, simply say the word."
"I know. Now, let's get naked already," demanded Harry, wriggling impatiently in Tom's strong arms.
"Slow down, love," chuckled Tom, garnering him an adorable pout from his mate, "Trust me, anticipation is half the fun."
In the end, Harry wound up having second thoughts about fully consummating their bond that evening, especially, after getting an eye full of his vey well endowed mate.
Blushing a bright red as he gawped, "Bloody Hell! That's never going to fit!" he almost squeaked.
Despite wanting to preen at his mate's assessment of his manhood, Tom soothed, "I assure you, with a bit of careful preparation, it will - eventually. Now if you will allow it, Harry, we could start with something a touch less...daunting for you? And I guarantee, you'll love every minute of it."
Voldemort stood in the doorway and sighed in contentment as he took in his sleeping mate's form sprawled across his bed, his right wrist sporting the latest courting gift as it gleamed under the dimmed mage lights.
The platinum cuff bracelet had at it's center the stylized forms of a lion and a snake intertwined to create the Oroboros symbol. And nestled between the image were two one-carat gemstones - one a ruby, the other an emerald.
The sight of this, combined with Harry's soft snores, made Tom smile as he made a mental note to thank Narcissa for the design suggestion with a pair of tickets to the opening night of whichever play, ballet or opera she wished.
Unfortunately, the Vampire Lord's good mood was to be short-lived as the Malfoys hurriedly approached moments later, the worry evident on their faces, and informed their Sire that Severus and Hermione had yet to return to the Manor.
"We sent Amber and Diamond out to search for them but they both returned not long afterwards saying that they couldn't track their magical signatures," explained Narcissa, wringing her hands nervously, "Which means that they are either too far away for the elves to lock onto them or wherever they're currently at has exceptionally strong masking wards."
"Severus did mention that they needed to retrieve the Prewitt family grimoire, so that's likely where they've gone," drawled Voldemort, taking a deep breath to steady his own rising anxiety, "And given that the Aurors themselves had difficulties in rooting out that odious witch Molly from her hideaway, it's reasonable to presume that's where they're headed."
"I should contact Lupin, as well," stated Lucius out of the blue, causing Narcissa and Tom to glance at him with raised questioning eyebrows, "He's rather adept with the Patronus Charm," he continued, trying hard not to roll his eyes, "Plus it would be much faster than sending an owl that could be blocked by those same security wards. And if that doesn't work, he's also extremely talented at tracing people with his enhanced Werewolf senses."
A slight smirk graced Voldemort's lips, "Just don't tell him that he's being used like a Muggle bloodhound, you know how sensitive he can be," he said, his demeanor quickly shifting to a more serious tone, "But reach out to him now, I don't want to explain to my little snake that his chosen sister is missing."
"Consider it done, Sire."
With a few minor adjustments, Severus and Hermione managed a relatively smooth flight once they cleared the rooftops of Diagon Alley, leaving behind the angry curse-happy mob.
Steering his blindfolded dragon-witch northward, Severus leaned in and soothed, "You're doing beautifully, my dear. At this rate, we'll be at our destination in less than half an hour."
('And exactly where are we headed?' asked Hermione, flicking her tiny wing-like left ear.)
"Northumberland, the town of Morpeth to be exact," replied Snape, tapping her on the right shoulder even as he verbally signaled her to turn in that direction, "That's where Molly's cottage and her family grimoire are hidden."
('Is it secret-kept?' inquired Hermione, dipping slightly lower towards the ground when her wizard instructed, "How will we access the place if it is? Prewitt would've left her book under extra nasty protections, too, I'm certain.')
Snape chuckled, the deep vibrations felt through her back where his chest was pressed firmly against her, "That won't be an issue as Sybill 'invited' us there while I was strolling through her muddled mind. It's as if she handed me bit of parchment with the address scribbled down on it. As for the grimoire, we'll figure that bit out once we get a better look at it. If need be, you can simply burn everything to the ground."
('As much as I hate the thought of destroying a book, I agree it's best to obliterate it completely than have some other demented Wixen get their hands on it.')
"Indeed."
Scrimgeour, for the first time in - well, it had been a while - felt ill at ease a crime scene. After securing all the twenty or so Wixen that he had personally witnessed casting borderline illegal curses at the retreating dragon and it's rider it had taken him and his entire team of Aurors nearly thirty minutes to corral and calm the remaining crowd before they could safely begin to collect evidence, including, the two sets of remains he'd put under a quarantine shield upon his arrival to preserve them until they could be formally identified.
Once those had been officially documented and sent on to the Ministry morgue for additional processing, the task of weeding out the other active participants versus curious onlookers in the detained rabble began...the undertaking made slightly easier when a handful of the agitated Wixen threatened to have the lot of them fired for letting the 'murderous leeches and their freakish pets' escape justice.
Rufus tuned out most of the ranting, having heard similar each time his Sire and Cloudmates were the target of scornful discussion, but the mention of Snape and the others being protected by a Manticore that later transformed into a Hebridean Black dragon was something unexpected and it piqued his interest.
Could Severus' Intended be an undocumented Metamorphmagus? Or was this the simple blustering of a Wixen trying to rationalize his hurling of dangerous spells at someone's back?
Paying closer attention so as not miss any pertinent details, Scrimgeour made a quick mental note to visit the Manor soon and ask the young witch in person about her impressive display of Transfiguration.
If Miss Granger was indeed this unique type of magical Being, he'd want to be the first to attempt to recruit her for the DMLE before Amelia Bones got wind of her abilities and snapped her up as an apprentice with the DoM. He'd already lost out on the opportunity of having Miss Tonks as part of his team, he wasn't about to miss on another chance.
By the time Severus directed Hermione to the ground to land, presumably, as close to Prewitt's cottage as possible without risk of being spotted by Muggles, Hermione had begun shifting back into her human form - well, mostly.
While her eyes had returned to their previous whiskey-amber colour, the pupils retained their reptilian slits and her fingernails were still more talon-like, although, now they were a pearlescent white instead of black. Then, there were the black leathery bat-like wings and elongated incisors. They'd shrunken down considerably - more proportional with her petite stature - and the wings were folded neatly away against her back but they, and her other remnant dragon features, showed no further signs of receding.
Not having the luxury of time to worry about whether or not her altered appearance was permanent, Hermione latched onto Snape's left wrist, encouraging him to move.
"Come on Severus," she stated, tugging on his arm, "Since you're the only one who can see this place, you'll need to lead the way."
When Snape didn't respond straight away, Hermione glanced up at her mate to discern the cause for delay, not expecting the smouldering gleam in his eyes as those dark orbs slowly roved over her human-hybrid form.
"Although I truly appreciate that my current state doesn't repulse you," she sighed with relief, "We have an important task to complete," she said, carefully pushing him to walk towards where she hoped the cottage was located, "I promise we'll talk about any other topics that catch your fancy once we're safely back at the Manor. Agreed?"
"As you wish, my little lioness," Severus all but purred, reaching out to gently caress her folded wings with the backs of his fingers, the sensation causing shivers to race down Hermione's spine, "I look forward to our...discussion."
Both Hermione and Severus hissed in displeasure as they drew near the perimeter of Molly's hideaway, the viciousness of the wards setting their teeth on edge.
"So much for hoping we could simply stroll in and take the grimoire," she said dryly, casting diagnostic charms to reveal the various and layered spells.
Severus 'hrnm'd' in response as he set about dismantling the security charms, the first one crumbling within ten minutes, "At least we won't have to contend with that odious Prewitt witch popping in on us unannounced."
Hermione let out an unladylike snort, "Not unless it's as a ghost."
"A Banshee, more likely," smirked Severus, snapping a second strand of spellwork that surrounded the cottage, "Even then, she'd have to escape Tartarus first before she could take up haunting the living...or the undead."
"And I don't fancy her chances of accomplishing that feat anytime soon."
Off in the realm of the Underworld, two witches - one with wispy patches of red hair on her burn-scarred head and the other with a toad-like face wearing torn, piss-stained robes that may have been pink at one time - awakened to the harsh realization that they hadn't passed beyond the Veil into Elysium but were, instead, in the lower depths of Hades despite their vehement protests that they didn't belong there.
"We're not the evil ones here! Those monstrous leeches and their foul pets murdered us!" shouted one until her face turned a bright shade of puce.
"Everything we did was to protect our kind, we deserve to be rewarded not reprimanded!" bellowed the other, flecks of foam flying from her mouth, giving her the appearance of a rabid dog.
After a detailed review of their egregious deeds, which categorically proved them wrong, the pair were dragged kicking and screaming into the first of many custom-made torments.
For the spirit of Molly Prewitt, one of her days started with being doused with copious amounts of the potion she'd intended for her former husband, Arthur. And when enough of her charred and disease riddled flesh peeled away and her whimpering for relief began in earnest, in place of a refreshing shower of cool water, she was thrown into a tub of acid to finish stripping the meat from her bones...only for it to regrow and the whole process to repeat itself.
Dolores Umbridge's soul, on the other hand, spent her morning transformed into a pink dog of indeterminate parentage that was released from a temporary cage only to be chased down by an enthusiastic party of skeletal hunters on horseback before eventually falling to their pack of accompanying hellhounds. Once pinned to the ground, she was then skinned alive, her fur taken and used as a rug while the rest of her was eaten and later shat out by the beasts.
Their shrieking eventually pitched high enough to shatter glass.
From the comfort of their tower overseeing the torment of these particular newcomers (it wasn't every day a Wixen darkened their threshold in Tartarus) was Lord Hades, Lady Persephone and a few select imps and demons serving them refreshments.
"Such delicious lamentations we've managed to drag out from these two today," drawled the King of the Underworld, his voice tinged with curiosity, "And yet, they still proclaim their innocence," pausing to consult his lovely bride, "Whatever shall we try next, my Lady Wife?"
One of the newer demonic guards took the chance and spoke up, "My Lord and Lady, forgive my interruption. But some of the humans these two called Muggles have created something truly insidious that may just break them in record time."
"Have either of you heard of a song called 'Baby Shark'?"
Notes:
mythopedia. com
Tartarus - the deepest part of the Underworld; place of darkness and punishment
Elysium or Elysium Fields - section of the Underworld/Hades, a paradise for the souls of the heroic and the pure
Chapter Text
It had taken another forty-five minutes before the last ward sputtered and fell away from Molly Prewitt's cottage, revealing the quaint looking house to Hermione's eyes for the first time.
"Well, that's certainly not what I expected to see," admitted Hermione, her forehead crinkled by a frown, "How did such a horrid and twisted woman manage to create this charmingly sedate little sanctuary?"
"It might help you accept that disparity of images if you recalled the witch with the gingerbread house in the story of 'Hansel and Gretel', smirked Severus, the amusement clear in his tone, "All sweetness and light on the surface but sour and rotten underneath."
Hermione started to ask if he was referring to the unlamented Molly or her house but her words were abruptly drowned out by the shrieking of a rather distraught house-elf who suddenly appeared in their path, intent on blocking their entry into her Mistress' cottage.
"Yous shall not pass!" squeaked Pippin, wielding a frying pan in her hands and waving it menacingly at the unwanted guests, "My Mistress not expecting visitors, not since..."
It as if someone flipped on a Muggle light switch as Hermione and Severus watched the young elf emotionally crumble before them, the cast iron skillet noisily clanging to the ground as it slipped through her tiny pale fingers.
"Mistress is...is gone, isn't she?" softly muttered Pippin, her large bat-like ears drooping forlornly alongside her face, "She and hers...friends never comings back here...Pippin be's without a family...again," she sobbed, fat tears rolling down her cheeks and splattering on the ground near her feet.
Severus and Hermione shared a glance with one another, both wearing similar expressions of awkwardness over what to do with the distraught elf. And, of course, there was still the pressing matter of getting inside the cottage to retrieve the Prewitt grimoire before anyone in the area realized a new building had popped into existence seemingly overnight.
Seconds ticked slowly by with nothing but the sobbing of the heartbroken house-elf to break the silence. Hermione was the one to speak up first, for which Severus was infinitely most grateful, as he knew little about comforting a crying female no matter what the species.
Handing the tiny elf a conjured handkerchief to wipe her face, Hermione asked, "Would you like to come home with me and be my...our house-elf? I'm certain Rook won't mind, will he, Severus?"
Snape bit back a snort of laughter, "Given that he's often preoccupied with physical therapy these days, or rather...distracted, with his therapists, Amber and Diamond," he smirked, a single raised eyebrow emphasizing the implications, "I sincerely doubt he'd notice a new addition to the staff anytime soon."
The effect of Hermione's offer to Pippin was immediate - her weeping stopped and her tears ceased to fall, and a hopeful, beaming smile replaced the frown on her face, "Pippin will be's such a good elf for yous," the tiny Being enthusiastically gushed, "Is there anythings Pippin can do's for yous now?"
More than pleased with the house-elf's unprompted offer to help, Hermione smiled, "Well, there's one extremely important task we could use your assistance to complete."
"Yes, Mistress. What is it yous needs?" squeaked Pippin, practically hopping on her toes in excitement.
"There's a dangerous grimoire that belonged to Madame Prewitt," stated Snape plainly, gesturing towards the interior of the cottage, "We could use your aid in locating it in a timely fashion so that we may dispose of it before anyone else uses it's contents to attempt to harm us...again."
Pippins eyes comically widened in surprise before narrowing with displeasure, "Pippin knows of this nasty book. Follow me's," she said, leading her new Master and Mistress further into the gloom of the soon-to-be abandoned house, "Old Mistress had Pippin hides it away from her...guests before theys left."
"Excellent. Thank you, Pippin. You are, indeed, a very good elf."
Lord Sirius Black staggered up the stairs of Grimmauld Place having just returned from the Order celebrations over the rescue of Fudge and the Wizengamot members from the Ministry holding cells, he was so exhausted that all he wanted to do was shower off and crawl into bed to recuperate for the next week.
No sooner had Sirius dried off and stepped into his bedroom, wearing only a towel draped low on his hips, than a deep voice spoke up, startling Black rather badly.
"For Fuck's sake, Moony, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" rasped Sirius once he managed to slow his heart rate back down from a hummingbird rattling madly about his ribcage levels, "I swear I'm gonna tie a bell about your neck to keep you from sneaking up on me."
"And where would be the fun in that, Pads," smirked Remus, a single eyebrow raised in amusement, "Now, what do you have for me?"
"What? I don't rate a kiss or dinner first?" teased Black, pulling on a warmed cotton bathrobe and sending the towel to the dirty linens hamper for Kreacher to collect and clean later, "Or are you afraid of making my cousin Dora jealous and getting your bollocks hexxed off?"
The change in Lupin's demeanor was immediate as he growled out through clenched teeth, "Don't you dare mention her name so casually in my presence, not after what you and Wormtail did to her. To this day, Tonks can't shift forms completely without it causing her pain."
Raising his hands in surrender, knowing that a riled up Moony could readily kick his arse even without the use of a wand, Sirius however still snipped back, "Oi! It's not like we knew that she wasn't the real Snivellus when we threw those curses at him...errr, her," he said, attempting to rationalize his long ago actions while taking several steps back from the agitated werewolf, trying to put some distance between them, "If we had... "
"I'm not interested in hearing your pathetic excuses again," interrupted Lupin, his now completely amber coloured irises shining with contempt, "Now, did you carry out your mission or not?"
Sighing heavily as he nodded in the affirmative, Black replied, "Yes. It was disgusting, but I managed to place the trackers you gave me on the entire lot of escapees. I even tagged a few of the older Order members as a bonus," he added somewhat smugly, "So, you and your other...associates should be able to follow them once they leave their current accommodations. But," he cautioned, "Moody will probably have them stay put for at least another week before risking transferring them elsewhere."
"Good, I'll inform my other colleagues tonight," said Remus, shrugging a shoulder to release a bit of the tension that their conversation had caused, "Remember..."
Waving a dismissive hand at Lupin, Sirius sneered, "Yeah, yeah. I know. Tell no one or you'll hunt me down and make me regret it...repeatedly," he waspishly interjected, "Now, does this square my debt to you for keeping me out of Azkaban over the incident with Dora?"
"Not even close."
As Pippin led the way through the brightly lit corridors of the late, unlamented, Molly Prewitt's cottage, Hermione and Severus did their level best not to accidentally brush up against anything along the way...not that any of the items were cursed, mind you, (they'd obviously had the sense to cast diagnostics ahead of time) but the heavily perfumed, eye-watering decor of dark gold paisley curtains, forest green wallpaper, cherry red chintz-patterned furniture with ivory lace drapings made their skin crawl.
"I, for one, definitely vote for burning this place to the ground when we're done," grimaced Hermione as she spotted yet another cherub-themed, ceramic knick-knack on the sitting room book shelves.
"You'll get no argument about that from me."
Lucius was in his study preparing to Floo Remus when the fires in the hearth flared a brilliant Emerald green and the Wixen in question's voice was heard asking permission to step through to the Manor.
"That contact I mentioned last time I was there came through for me on that important...side project we discussed," drawled Lupin, the smugness abundantly clear in his tone, "But I don't wish to elaborate on a Firecall, you never know who may be listening in."
Malfoy rolled his eyes, not that the other wizard could tell, although, he understood the need for discretion, "By all means, you may enter, I've unlocked the system for you."
"I'll let my esteemed guest know of your imminent arrival, too, as I'm certain he'll want to hear of your progress first hand."
"Of that, I have no doubt."
Before Lupin finished relaying his report, a large fruit-bat Patronus flew through the walls of Lucius' study, delivering the anxiously awaited news from Severus that he and Hermione were safe, that they'd procured the dark tome from Molly's hideaway and that they were returning as soon as the distasteful building was set ablaze, obliterating any trace of their presence.
"Also, it appears as though we've, rather, Hermione has acquired a new house-elf through this endeavour," drawled Severus' voice through the wispy silver-blue construct, "They bonded almost immediately, not that I can blame Pippin," the smirk clear even on the messenger's image, "I should also warn you that Hermione has undergone some rather unexpected...enhancements because of that blasted potion Umbridge splashed over her. However, she doesn't wish for me to say any more than that - something about 'not spoiling the whole surprise'."
Lucius chuckled even as Voldemort scowled, "The two of them are certainly well suited, equal parts brilliant and infuriatingly cryptic."
After a quick, but thorough, inspection of the entire cottage by Hermione and Serverus, they found that, beyond the grimoire, there was nothing of further value contained within any of the other rooms.
(And it wasn't as if they were planning to linger for very much longer as, despite her being deceased, Molly's magic had left a distinctly unpleasant residue over the whole house, making the atmosphere of the deceptively cheerful, albeit gaudy, looking place rather stifling.)
Having secured the Prewitt family grimoire - minus the four pages containing the Intutus potion that they'd torn out and incinerated - within a specially charmed leather satchel that Pippin had provided (a brief scan of the tome's contents showed a number of recipes that Severus was simply itching to brew and experiment with) Hermione and Severus, along with their new house-elf, cast a series of Incendios at the center of the cottage and then Disapparated together with a resounding 'Crack', the nearest neighbor home at the time mistaking the sound for thunder and lightning from the fast approaching thunderstorm.
Former Minister Fudge stepped out of the Order safe-house loo after taking a much needed shower - he still shuddered at the memories of Sirius Black taking liberties with his then female person - sighing in relief as he dried and dressed himself for bed.
He and his colleagues were free from those usurpers now in charge of his Ministry but he had every confidence that with a few more allies like Alastor Moody they would soon be back in control, setting things back to rights.
Unfortunately, his optimistic mood was about to be tossed into the proverbial crapper.
Chief Auror Scrimgeour slumped gracelessly back into his leather office chair, letting out a soft groan, partly from exhaustion and the rest due to disgust.
It had taken several hours to fully wrap up things in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade and he wasn't looking forward to the resulting paperwork that still had to be filed.
Most of the rabble in Diagon had been quickly charged with simple crimes, such as, being drunk and disorderly. Those people were assessed fines for any damages they may have caused, too, before being dropped off at their respective homes to sleep off their inebriated states and that was the end of the whole debacle for them.
There were two bastards, however, that were currently taking up space in a couple of holding cells awaiting trial - former Auror wannabes that had washed out of the training program only three months prior.
Even after providing statements under Veritaserum, these Wankers proclaimed that they were simply doing the right thing, what any 'good citizen' would do to stop leeches from attacking 'defenseless' Wixen. Rufus hadn't even attempted to hide his snort of derision over that load of thestral shite, "Defenseless, my arse," he'd sneered at Messrs. Andrew Dalziel and Peter Pascoe, causing both men to flinch at his intensely gruff tone, "Madames Molly Prewitt and Dolores Umbridge were wanted fugitives. And if it weren't for those 'leeches' as you call them, those two witches could have escaped justice, yet again."
Before the other wizards could raise any further protests, Scrimgeour snarled, "Right now you both should be more concerned with the charges you're facing for impersonating DMLE Agents, inciting a riot and the casting of Unforgivables...the latter of which, if you had paid any attention during your Auror training, carries a minimum sentence of ten years."
"So, I suggest keeping your gobs shut until your legal counsel arrives."
The profound silence that followed had Rufus smiling for the first time in hours.
It was this pin drop quiet atmosphere that Remus and Tonks strolled into moments later with a handful of Silencio'd and Incarcerous'd prisoners in tow, levitating behind them like an oddly shaped collection of children's party balloons - Cornelius Fudge being the most prominently featured of the bunch.
"Wotcher, Boss?" asked Tonks cautiously, having never witnessed the Chief Auror in such a good mood before now, "Where do you want us to park this lot?"
The grin Scrimgeour sported on his face grew even brighter at the sight of the former Minister in magical restraints, "Put them all in separate quarantine cells for the time being," he practically purred, "I don't want them comparing notes, so to speak, before they're interviewed."
"Of course, Sir. Anything else?" inquired Remus, smirking at the uneasy expression in Dora's eyes over Scrimgeour's radically improved demeanour.
"Yes," drawled Rufus somewhat smugly, "Make certain the Wizarding Wireless that pipes in entertainment to our...honoured guests from the outside world into those rooms is locked on that new station the teen Wixen have been raving about lately. You know the one I'm talking about?"
Lupin bit back a snort of laughter, "You mean the one that plays Muggle music after the news breaks?"
"That's the one," stated Scrimgeour, his demeanour now bordering on devilish, "They're featuring something called Thrash Metal this week. I'm betting our detainees will be begging to confess all their sins by morning...with or without Veritaserum."
(...somewhere off in the depths of the Underworld, Lord and Lady Hades were giving this enterprising associate of the Vampire Lord a respectful nod of approval for his chosen method of torture...errr, interrogation.
"Perhaps when his time on Earth is over, dear Husband, we should offer him a job here alongside our other delightfully creative demons?"
"I'll take it under consideration. But don't think I haven't noticed your...appreciation for his form, Wife...not that I can blame you. He does have an especially nice arse."
"Indeed.")
The creature-human hybrid that was the former Headmaster of Hogwarts stalked about his magic dampening holding cell, his grumbled whingeing a mixture of bestial noises and human speech.
"(snarl) Traitors!" his leonine muzzle drawn back to reveal an impressive set of sharp white fangs, "I'm Albus Wulfric (bleat) Percival Brian Dumbledore! How dare they treat me (hiss) like some common criminal!"
A gruff voiced Auror standing outside the warded room sneered back, "Maybe not common, but most definitely a criminal...Sir," snipped Proudfoot, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "Now settle down - or do we need to tranquilize you again?"
While Albus continued his pacing and griping, albeit, quieter to avoid being sprayed in the face with a Calming potion, no one took notice of the scruffy brown, common garden rat scurrying amongst the shadows along the outer wall past the Aurors on guard duty.
Chapter 17
Notes:
A/N Apologies for the posting delays...family illnesses have continued to throw everyone for a loop... hopefully, things are finally taking a turn for the better and I will slowly return to a regular writing schedule
Chapter Text
"This isn't Malfoy Manor," stated Hermione once the uncomfortable squeezing-through-a-tube sensation of Apparation had stopped.
"Obviously," drawled Severus, barely keeping himself from smirking and rolling his eyes at his young mate, "As you've no doubt noticed, we're back at my Summer residence in Lancashire. I thought you might wish to freshen up a bit before returning to the Manor."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but quickly changed her mind, "Perhaps, that would be for the best," she conceded, the scent of dragonfire, sweat and other pungent fragrances clinging to her skin having just now wafted up and smacked her in the nose, "Do you have anything I can transfigure to change into after I shower?"
"Of course," he purred, imagining her in nothing but one of his button-down shirts, a certain part of his anatomy twitched wholeheartedly in agreement ('Down boy, there'll be plenty of time for that later'), "I'll return momentarily with a selection of clothing for your perusal."
Skin freshly scrubbed, teeth brushed and wrapped in nothing but a couple of large bath towels - one for her body and the other for her hair - Hermione finally took a closer look at her changed appearance in the full-length mirror standing in corner of the bathroom - fortunately, it wasn't magical in nature, the last thing she needed was unsolicited commentary about her newly enhanced features.
Surprisingly, Hermione didn't mind the slightly elongated incisors, after all, Severus had those, too. But the rest - reptilian pupils, talons instead of fingernails, and those wings - would take some getting used to if they were truly a permanent part of her now.
That was the problem in a nutshell, were they to be long-term features? And how would her parents cope with all of these changes...not just the physical ones but the whole notion of her having a soul bonded mate? It had been difficult enough for them to accept that she was a witch and wouldn't be following in their footsteps to become a dentist.
Without her realizing, several tears began to glide down her cheeks and fall to floor.
While the wayward Ministry escapees were being rounded up and all but dragged out of the Order safehouse by their shirt collars, Peter Pettigrew turned up, becoming a silent witness to the resulting chaos.
(Fortunately for him, he always approached the place in his Animagus form - no one suspected a stray, common brown garden rat of being anything else. And as would often happen, he'd claimed the best spot in the place for himself at these gatherings to listen in on the latest gossip before anyone realised he was there.)
Being an illegal Animagus, particularly in this case, was to Pettigrew's distinct advantage. For not only did he avoid being captured along with the former Minister and his Wizengamot cronies (and was that an Acromantula in that cage?), but he now knew for certain there had to be a spy amongst the Orders' ranks.
This discovery came to light when an odd-shaped metallic disk accidentally dropped from Auror Savage's hand as he checked Fudge for any weapons, aside from his wand, and the coin-sized object rolled under the low coffee table where Peter was hiding, coming to a stop on his front paws.The strange looking device crackled with its subtle tracing spell, giving Pettigrew proof of the traitor's identity by way of their lingering signature...and distinctive scent.
And wouldn't Moody pay him a handsome fee for that information...after the older wizard stopped ranting, of course.
Once the DMLE Agents and their collection of fugitives had left, and it was safe for Pettigrew to return to his human form, the rat-like wizard wrinkled his nose in disgust, all but stomping his feet like a petulant child as he pocketed the metal disk. Before Apparating away to find Moody, thoughts of revenge had already begun skittering about and taking shape in his brain.
"Ungrateful mutt," he growled under his breath, preparing to turn on his heel to Disapparate, "And after all the trouble Dumbledore and I went through to separate him from unsavory influences, too. Especially, from that creature-loving, goody-two-shoes chit, Lily."
Peter fumed as the unwanted memories of the former Ms. Evans continued to flood his mind. After all these years, he still was blaming her for destroying James' future by turning him against Dumbledore, the Order and, more importantly, his friends.
"Sodding cow just had to ruin everything, and for what? A bunch of Bloody leeches she thought deserved equal rights like any other Wixen! Stupid bint. At least she got what she deserved."
Unfortunately, that final lesson for Lily had come at the cost of James' life as well. The former colleague having chosen to sacrifice himself to protect his wife and their mewling offspring that fateful night in Godric's Hollow...not that it did any of them any good in the end.
('Well, except for the boy,' Peter sullenly muttered to himself.)
It was too bad Albus had other plans in mind for the brat as Pettigrew would've loved nothing more than to snuff out the traitorous Potter line in one fell swoop that Halloween evening.
After he emerged in an alley close to Moody's last known residence, Peter continued to reminisce, a wicked smile slowly blooming across his visage. There was an unexpected upside to Dumbledore being indefinitely incapacitated - the cantankerous old wizard was no longer around to stand in his way, he could pick up where he left off all those years ago, especially, since Albus' schemes for the Potter heir were in the proverbial crapper.
The only problem now would be in tracking down James' spawn as the last anyone heard of the brat was when Snivellus escaped from Hogwarts, taking the boy and one other teenager with him.
Cowardly Bastard that the Greasy Git was, Peter had no doubt in believing that the filthy Slytherin was tormenting the kid out of spite for all those great pranks the Marauders pulled on him at school.
It might take some extra effort, but Pettigrew was determined to 'rescue' the lad from Snape's grubby hands. After all it was his mission to end the Potters' bloodline, not the Dungeon Bat's.
And if he got to Avada the Slytherin twit in the process? That would be the proverbial icing on the cake.
But, first things first...time to take one Lord Sirius Black down a peg or two.
Severus was still in the midst of selecting a handful of clothing options for Hermione - including, one of his black, button-down Oxfords - when a distraught Pippin appeared before him wringing her hands together.
"Pippins so sorry to interrupt, Master," she blurted out before he could ask a single question, "But Missy Hermione be's in her bedroom cryings, Master. She won't tell Pippins what be's wrong."
Snape, having already tucked the clothes he'd gathered into a pocket after shrinking them down, grabbed his nearby Potioneer's cloak that contained his emergency Medi-kit then ordered the house-elf to Apparate him directly into Hermione's room.
Just as the hook-behind-the-navel sensation dragged them out of sight, Severus' thoughts were swirling with the myriad possibilities of what could've happened in the relatively short time since he'd left his young mate's side...the most prominent being that Molly's damnable potion had inexplicably resulted in some horrid time-delayed injuries.
Merlin! What if that infernal concoction was slowly killing her and he'd missed the warning signs with his diagnostic scans? After all, the Grimoire's notes had mentioned that the side effects were thoroughly unpredictable when used on non-Vampires.
No! He refused to go down that fatalistic rabbit-hole of thought. His little lioness would stay on this side of the Veil...even if he had to do the unthinkable and Turn her early.
Remus shuddered involuntarily as Dora released the bright red Acromantula - the young Wixen formally known as Ronald Bilius Weasley - into a heavily shielded DoM cell next to the Dumbledore-Chimera.
While spiders in general had never truly bothered him, this larger than normal and unnaturally blue-eyed specimen - the result of a poorly brewed potion or transfiguration gone wrong, he didn't know which - sent chills down his spine.
When Dora turned to ask her partner in all things what he was in the mood for dinner wise, she found Remus staring uncomfortably at the DoM's latest 'guest'.
She chuckled at her mate, "Seriously, love. You think that Weasley-Spider is unnerving? Wait until I tell you what Healer Soulstone told me after my latest checkup this morning."
Well, that cryptic bit of news certainly got Lupin's attention, "Are you alright? What did Sabine say?" he asked, grabbing Tonks gently by the wrist and leading her out of the containment area for some privacy before twirling her about, slowly checking her over from head to toe for any signs of previous, healing injuries when a stray thought popped up, "Is this about you getting sick last week when we ate at that new Italian restaurant in Horizont Alley?"
Dora smiled, "Something like that," she teased, reaching up to cup Remus' cheek with her hand, "But, not to worry. It's a benign condition that will resolve itself in about seven months."
She chuckled softly at his now scowling face, "Why that long? Can't she just fix the problem today?"
Tonks cackled at him, causing the frown lines on his forehead to deepen, "Now, Moony. Is that anyway to refer to our future son?" patting her abdomen for emphasis, "Although, he might just be a handful later on if he acts anything like you when it concerns your chocolates stash."
Remus blinked once, then three more times before the meaning of Dora's words sank in to his short-circuiting brain, "Wait, what?" he stammered, glancing down at the hand on her stomach, his eyes widening comically, "You mean you...I'm...we're..."
"Yes, love. I'm pregnant, we're going to be parents," she beamed, an expression that rapidly changed to one of quiet exasperation as her usually calm-under-pressure mate passed out cold onto the stone floor of the Ministry hallway.
Tonks shook her head as she pulled out her wand and levitated Remus towards the nearest office with a fireplace to Floo home, "Don't worry Little One. With any luck, you'll turn out more like me."
By the time Pippin Apparated Severus to the guest bedroom on the other side of the Summer house, Hermione had crawled to the middle of the rooms large sleigh bed and curled up into a tight ball, the only parts of her visible (aside from the tips of her wings) were a few strands of her nigh-sentient chestnut hair that escaped over the edge of the downy soft duvet she'd wrapped around herself for comfort.
After Severus confirmed through a few discrete scans that Hermione wasn't suffering from a physical illness or injury, he whispered instructions to Pippin to return with a pitcher of chilled ginger water and a selection of dark chocolate truffles that his mate favoured. Once the tiny elf had done as requested, she popped into the nearby bathroom to clean and repair the torn dirty clothing her new Mistress had left discarded in the hamper and freshen up the still steamy space.
Snape, in the meantime, cautiously approached his obviously distressed soulmate and drawled softly, "What's happened, my little lioness?" he soothed, gingerly reaching out to peel the duvet down to reveal Hermione's tear-streaked visage, the sight making his heart tightly clench with worry, "Has Molly's potion caused some new issues that aren't visible to my medical scans?"
"No, nothing like that," Hermione replied morosely between sobs, not providing more details despite Snape's gentle urging.
Thirty minutes passed before Hermione calmed enough to explain the cause of her anguish, "It's my parents," she began, clinging to one of the large bed pillows as if her life depended on it, "They haven't been comfortable around me since they learned I was a witch, that I would be entering a world and learning of things they could never fully be a part of or understand," she sighed heavily.
"And now, with my undeniably changed features, plus the fact I have a soulmate who's also a Vampire, I'm afraid they will completely cut me out of their lives. Or worse, simply pretend I never existed."
Severus, never having experienced a loving family in his childhood, was somewhat at a loss for words with these professed concerns. Would Hermione's parents truly be so cold as to reject their only child over something as shallow as her physical appearance? To be fair, they were some rather unusual and significant changes but, underneath it all, she was still the same person they dropped off on Platform 9 and 3/4 at the beginning of school term.
Holding back a grumbling snarl at the mere thought of the Drs. Granger spurning their own daughter, Severus carefully gathered Hermione into his lithe arms and pressed his prodigious nose into the hair at the crown of her head, subtly breathing in her freshly showered scent of lavender and vanilla mixed with the saltiness of lingering tears, "No matter what your parents decide, know that you're not alone, my dear lioness - you will always have a family here with me or at the Manor with Tom, Harry, Lucius and Narcissa."
"Even Draco?" she asked, her words slightly muffled due to her snuggling her face against his chest.
Rolling his eyes at her sudden cheekiness (although he was secretly pleased that Hermione was less distraught than she was half an hour ago), "Yes, love. Even Draco." "However," said Severus, the humour evident in his tone, "It might short-circuit Draco's brain to learn that you're now his godmother by default due to our status as bonded mates," the growing smirk causing the corners of his mouth to twitch upwards.
A startled chuckle escaped from Hermione's lips at the images this unexpected sentiment evoked, her worries over her parents slowly fading into the background.
"Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's return to the Manor and properly introduce me to my newfound godson."
Harry anxiously paced about the main sitting room at the Manor waiting for his best friend, and claimed sister, to arrive from hers and Snape's mission to retrieve the Prewitt grimoire.
When Tom casually mentioned that Hermione had retained some of her draconian features from that vile potion Umbridge had repeatedly splashed on her, Harry didn't know what to expect. But when she, Snape and their new house-elf (and hadn't that been a surprising development) finally popped into view, all he could manage was a gasped "Wow!" before staring open-mouthed at the large, black wings tucked against her back.
Another five minutes would pass before Harry's brain registered the other changes to Hermione's eyes, teeth and fingernails. Unfortunately, his mind didn't confer with his mouth and he blurted out an unfiltered reaction.
"Bloody Hell! You look like an overgrown bat!" spluttered Harry, completely missing the disapproving glares being directed his way by Severus, Tom and Lucius (Narcissa missed their entrance, having been called away by a last minute Floo call from Hogwarts by Draco - which was probably for the best for Harry's continued health, at the moment.)
"Gee, thanks, Harry," sarcastically snipped Hermione, a small puff of smoke along with a sliver of blue fire escaping from her lips, a clear warning of her growing irritation to everyone present...except Harry, obviously, "Tell me what you really think."
"Why don't we adjourn to the terrace gardens before continuing this conversation," suggested Lucius, hoping to mitigate any potential damage to the Manor even as he subtly shook his head in exasperation at the teen, "The fresh air and light refreshments will do everyone wonders."
Voldemort nodded in approval while hurriedly steering Harry away from the noticeably agitated young witch, "Excellent idea, Lucius. We'll meet the rest of you there," pushing his young snake through the nearest door for a crash course in the art of apologizing and keeping one's bits intact.
Hopefully, his Intended was a quick study with this particular social graces lesson.
But given the nature of Harry's faux pas, perhaps an apology gift would be advisable....maybe, two.
Ordinarily he'd ask Narcissa for her input on such matters but, given the circumstances, he knew better than to risk stirring up her soon-to-be considerable ire with Harry...after all, he wanted his mate to live to see his next birthday relatively unscathed.
Sirius was awoken suddenly by the persistent, staccato tapping of a Post-owl at his bedroom window. Knowing that the bird wouldn't leave until it delivered its apparently urgent message, he reluctantly rolled out of bed to let the winged pest through the wards.
No sooner had he thrown back the curtains and opened the casement, allowing the feathered messenger access, Sirius grabbed up the plain white scroll from the owl and proceeded to unroll the missive.
But as soon as his hands touched the dark green ribbon, Sirius found himself being abruptly whisked away by the disguised Port-key.
And when the unpleasant spinning stopped, Sirius was face-to-face with the drawn wands of a rather disgruntled looking Alastor Moody and a smugly grinning Peter Pettigrew.
"What the Fuck, you two!?" snipped Black, taking a small step backwards, his movements somewhat limited given the tiny dimensions of the room where he landed, "Where am I? What's going on? And can you please lower your damned wands?"
Moody snarled, his wand arm showing no signs of dropping anytime soon, "We'll be the ones asking the questions...Traitor," he spat, his blue magical eye spinning wildly in its socket, "Starting with when did you decide to betray your fellow humans for those ruddy leeches!?"
('Bloody Hell, Remus! I'll strangle you with my bare hands if I ever get out of this mess alive.')
Chapter 18
Notes:
WARNING: Brief mention of torture, blood, injuries
almanac.com/flowers-meanings-language
aster - symbol of love, daintiness
morning glory - affection
woodlands.co.UK
nature.scot/landscapes-and-habitatsGlen Affric - Nature Reserve that's one of the many pockets of the Caledonian Forest left in Scotland
A/N Apologies for the delayed chapter...still working on catching up through ongoing family illnesses...please enjoy
Chapter Text
Fortunately, for Harry that is, Lucius managed to intercept Narcissa on her way back from her Floo call with Draco and, for the most part, was successful in convincing her not to hex the Vampire Lord's mate six ways to Sunday for upsetting the already nervous Hermione.
However, Malfoy couldn't cool his Lady wife's famed Black temper - the teen wizard was still suffering through Narcissa's impassioned tirade thirty minutes later...not that Lucius could fault her for that. The boy truly was a complete numpty when it came to censoring his thoughts and formulating more tactful responses.
One could only hope, perhaps, that this incident would finally be the turning point in the Potter Heir's foot-in-mouth problems - but Lucius wasn't daft enough to bet any galleons on it.
Sirius held back his groans of pain for as long as he could, not wanting to see the look of perverse satisfaction on Pettigrew's repulsive rat-like face. He refused to let the Bastard find pleasure in his torment, for being the one able to pull those sounds of anguish from him through his repeated use of the Cruciatus on his already shattered knees.
('Sodding Wankers! The pair of them,' he hissed to himself, the disgust he felt towards both his former mentor and one time school mate plain for anyone to see.)
Moody sneered at the bound younger wizard, his magical eye swirling around so fast in its artificial socket that it was a wonder it didn't fall out and skitter across the floor.
"Enough, Pettigrew!" he growled impatiently, stomping over to a nearby cabinet, roughly rifling through a handful of drawers before locating the desired crystal phial, "We'll be here until next week at this rate," he snipped testily, "It's time to do things my way," popping the cork from the bottle and forcing the clear liquid down Sirius' unwilling throat.
"Hrnmmph," mock-scowled Peter, "Where's the fun in that?"
Sirius spluttered, attempting to spit out the tasteless potion but, it was an exercise in futility as he felt the Veritaserum inevitably take effect.
The moment Sirius' eyes took on the telltale glassy appearance, letting Alastor know the truth potion had taken hold, Moody smiled down at Black, a rather disturbing effect on the Auror's face given the severity of his numerous scars, "Now then, Lord Black," he stated in a condescending tone, "Who gave you those tracking devices?"
Sirius tightly clenched his jaw, mumbling his compelled reply.
"What was that?" demanded Moody, backhanding Black across the mouth to loosen his lips, "Speak up boy, don't be shy. Tell us who convinced you to betray the Order, your brothers-in-arms? I want all their names you pompous twat!"
Sirius struggled to not comply, but only managed to delay the unavoidable outcome, "You Fucking Arseholes!" he hissed, sounding more like an enraged feline than someone with a canine Animagus form seemed capable of doing, "I hope you both rot in Azkaban when this is all over."
"You first, Traitor," sneered Pettigrew, kicking his former friend on one of his broken kneecaps...hard, finally prompting the desired sounds of pain from Black.
"But not until we have our answers."
Thirty minutes after Tonks Floo'd his unconscious arse home from the Ministry, Remus was sitting up on the settee where his bemused mate had settled him.
Lupin was the very picture of flustered as he sat silently perched on the edge of the sofa with his face cradled in his hands, his sandy-brown hair mussed from repeatedly running his fingers through the strands when he woke three minutes earlier.
His frantically swirling thoughts didn't help his growing anxiety, either. Merlin's Twisted Beard! He was going to be a Dad and Dora a Mum! Remus knew nothing about being a good Father, his own having been a right cold-hearted Bastard to him and his Mum, Hope, emotionally distancing himself from them ever since the day he was bitten by a Werewolf when he was five years old.
(Honestly, what had Lyall Lupin expected would happen after he and that small contingent of Aurors raided Fenrir's den, rounding up over half the Lychanthrope's pack - including all the pups - and hauling them away to be experimented upon by a number of unscrupulous wizards in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!? And the Werewolf Registration Act that he spearheaded before then just exacerbated things. Sanctimonious Git!)
What the Bloody Hell was he and Dora supposed to do now? This pregnancy hadn't exactly been planned after all.
But as his thoughts continued to spin about contemplating all the 'what if's', Remus' eyes began to glaze over, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the tantalizing memories of one particular Friday night after work surfaced, the sultry images playing out on a loop in his brain.
The sudden clearing of a throat brought him crashing back to the present, a faint blush colouring his cheekbones at having been caught daydreaming, "I see you've recalled our passionate discussion on Creature rights at The Three Broomsticks over drinks and our heated exchange of...ideas at home afterwards - and in practically every room," smirked Tonks, her hair a bright Bubblegum pink, "Not that I'm complaining, mind you," gently rubbing a hand over her still flat stomach, "Especially with this welcome result."
"And before you start panicking or fainting again," quickly added Dora, handing Remus a slip of paper with a recognizable Healer's mark on the letterhead, "I've received confirmation from a highly reputable, thoroughly discrete, source that our son doesn't have Lycanthropy."
"You're the only wolf in this pack, Love."
With Severus' help, Hermione had finally calmed down enough so that Harry was no longer in danger of being severely hexxed...from her, at least - it was still a toss up as far as Narcissa was concerned, though. Despite the pair having retreated from the room, they overhead everything as the older witch berated the hapless teen concerning his tactless behavior.
Hermione, at one point, considered going to Harry's defense...almost. But when the ordinarily posh and composed Lady Malfoy started swearing like a drunken sailor on shore leave, it was simply too deliciously entertaining to interrupt.
Once that happened, it didn't take long for Hermione's tears of frustration to give way to full blown belly laughter at her fellow Gryffindor's self-made predicament.
Severus, naturally, was a touch more reserved with his expressions of mirth but it was enough for Hermione to take notice - her bondmate's deep, rumbling chuckle causing her breath to hitch for a whole other reason.
Hermione's heart felt as if it were about to escape her ribcage as she took in the sight of her Intended's features as he laughed. His seemingly fathomless onyx-coloured eyes sparked with a wicked dark fire, his shoulders no longer scrunched with tension and his face was relaxed and more open, having lost its pinched expression from dealing with Molly and her fellow crones over the past few hours.
Hermione was so distracted by these welcome changes that she failed to immediately react to Severus' question of 'Are you alright?'
After Snape repeated his inquiry, it was Granger's turn to leave her wizard momentarily flustered as she breathily replied, "After everything that's happened to us recently because of Dumbledore, Trelawney, Umbridge and Molly, I don't want to risk waiting until July to bond with you, Severus," then grabbed her gobsmacked mate by the hand, hurriedly leading him towards her quarters, "I want to fully claim you as mine.Today. Now, in fact."
"Do you have any objections to that?"
Severus opened and closed his mouth a couple of times until he eventually managed to regain his voice, "Not in the slightest, my little lioness," he drawled, the stunned look on his face shifting to something a touch devious and feral, "Should we inform the others now or later regarding our mutual...absences from dinner this evening?" he practically purred.
Without slowing her pace, Hermione chuckled impishly, "I recommend sending Pippin with our sincerest apologies to our hosts along with a strong suggestion not to disturb us for the next couple of days," she said, a glint of mischief flitting across her eyes, "To be safe, we should probably set a few jinxes on my bedroom door, the hallway just outside and the windows. I wouldn't want to be interrupted just as we're getting to any truly passionate...discussions between us."
"Agreed."
Stepping back from the fireplace, Draco turned and stiffly thanked Headmistress McGonagall for the use of her Floo then hurriedly strolled out of her office - in his haste, Malfoy failed to notice the bemused, knowing smirk his former Transfiguration Professor directed at his retreating back.
Once the young blonde wizard was out of sight and hearing range, Flitwick emerged from the shadows near the rooms heavy oak bookcase where he'd discreetly hidden himself, a simple precaution in case the teen responded poorly to the information relayed during his Mother's firecall.
"So, Min," chuckled the diminutive Deputy Headmaster, "How do you think Mister Malfoy will react to the rest of the news about Severus when he returns home for the Summer hols?"
Ever the opportunist when it came to certain things, McGonagall smiled, a hint of mirthful glee in her voice, "Care to make a wager on the outcome, Filius?"
"Naturally, Minerva," he replied, removing a small bag of coins from his robe pocket and tossing it onto the Headmistress' desk, "Ten gallons that he thinks his parents are pulling an elaborate hoax."
"That would've been my first impression, too, if I hadn't seen Severus' medical scans that Lady Malfoy provided under wand oath to prove that he survived that explosive altercation with Dumbledore," admitted Minerva, placing her own stack of golden coins alongside her Deputy's, "Thankfully, that's not the case. So, I'll take that bet and counter with Mister Malfoy challenging Miss Granger to a duel for believing that she slipped his Godfather a Befuddlement Potion."
"I accept your wager," sealing their bets with a handshake, "Plus, should it come to an exchange of hexxes between those two, I contend that Miss Granger will have the Malfoy Heir yielding to her within twenty minutes."
"And I say that duel won't last beyond ten minutes," purred the Animagus, her figurative whiskers twitching in delight at the imagined altercation.
"Deal."
After making the long trek down to the dungeons, Draco was met by the anxiously waiting Slytherin Sixth Years in their Common Room. The questions regarding their missing Defense against the Dark Arts Professor and former Head of House beginning once he appeared in the doorway.
"Well, don't keep us in suspense, Drake," blurted out Millicent Bulstrode, her violet eyes skimming his face for obvious signs of distress, "Is Snape still alive or not?"
"Don't be daft, Mills," snarked Theo Nott, "It would take more than that demented Dumbledork to take down Snape," he said with more confidence than he actually felt, "The real question is, why did Snape risk going to the Infirmary and taking Potter and Granger with him instead of simply escaping from that twinkly-eyed git when he had the chance?"
Nervous snorts of laughter escaped from Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe as Pansy Parkinson added in her two knuts worth to the conversation, "Obviously, it was to gain even greater favour with the Dark Lord by handing over His longtime enemy and his pet slag," she sneered, flicking an imaginary bit of lint from her school robes, "Personally, I hope He's busy torturing those two pieces of filth - especially, that know-it-all bitch, Granger."
"Merlin! Give it a rest, Pans," groaned Draco, finally getting a word in edgeways, "I know you're still pissed off that our betrothal contract was nullified, but Granger's not the one responsible for it. THIS is, remember?" he said, rolling back the cuff of his shirt sleeve to reveal the metallic blue Celtic knot pattern that now encircled his left wrist, "But if you still feel the need to blame anyone, target the Weasel, that is, if you find wherever he's scampered off to hide. After all, he's the one who caused that cauldron explosion in Slughorn's potions class that day."
"But honestly, and I can't believe I'm saying this, you should be grateful for Weasley's stupidity," he added with an aggrieved sigh, "Because if it weren't for that ginger git's monumental cock-up of a prank, no one would've been aware of just how many students' bondmarks Dumblefuck had altered or outright concealed to suit his twisted purposes."
Pansy glared at her former fiance and then at the back of her right hand where a circular design of intertwining purple asters and blue morning glories currently resided, "That Gryffindor cow could still wind up being your gods-be-damned Intended and you know it!" she hissed, drawing her wand out of a sense of growing jealousy and betrayal, a number of offensive spells at the ready.
Draco, with a wandless and wordless Protego in place, couldn't help prodding the proverbial bear of a witch glowering at him from across the room, "Granger could just as easily be YOUR future mate, too, Pans."
Parkinson's face flushed crimson in the blink of an eye (whether out of embarrassment or anger was anybody's guess) before she let out a banshee-level screech, a flurry of blue and red-coloured curses following shortly afterwards, none of which hit her wickedly cackling, blonde prat of an ex-betrothed.
Slughorn had just finished grading a stack of Fifth Year's essays when the sounds of Malfoy's and Parkinson's duel spilled over from the Slytherin Common Room, demanding his immediate attentions.
With an exaggerated sigh, Horace levered himself up from behind his desk, drew his wand and hurriedly made his way out of his office - this would be the second such incident during the past week where he was having to resolve in a conflict between his snakes.
While he and the other Professors were inordinately pleased that Dumbledore's influence over the Hogwarts' students was shattered, it had understandably led to an increased level of teenaged angst for them to sort through and handle...particularly, when it came to dealing with the fallout from broken, albeit criminally fake, soulmate bonds and their resulting voided betrothal contracts.
Fortunately, for Horace that is, once the last student boarded the Hogwarts Express next week, his part in all this added drama would be done - his replacement having been hired only last night, his long awaited retirement was finally within his grasp.
"Come on, Horace, you old sod. It's just five more days, you can manage that easily enough ," he muttered to himself, "After that, nothing but peace and relaxation under the Tuscan sun. It'll be Heaven."
"But first, a few more melodramatic teen crises to avert and broken hearts to soothe. And being of my own House, these students should be a dawdle to placate."
He'd never been more wrong.
The perimeter wards about The Brambles (Remus' and Nymphadora's cozy little cottage on the edge of the Glen Affric Nature Reserve) pinged around tea time, letting the young couple know that a visitor had arrived outside the gated pathway leading towards their home.
"You expecting someone, Dora?" asked Remus, heading in the direction of this new arrival.
"No," replied Tonks, following him out the front door, her curiosity piqued but her instincts automatically on alert and her wand in hand, "And the Boss would've sent us a Patronus if an urgent case popped up."
Like Dora, Remus' wand was in his hand before he strolled out the door towards their unannounced visitor, "Alright, let's see who this is then and send them on their way as I had certain plans for us this afternoon."
Tonks 'hrnmm'd' her approval even as her imagination conjured up a few ideas of her own, "Agreed, the sooner they're gone, the better."
"But I'm warning you now, Love," grumbled Dora, "If it's that's slag Raina from the DRCMC coming to 'welcome us to the area' again, the Ministry's going to be short one member by morning."
Remus chuckled at the obvious wave of jealousy wafting over his mate, causing Tonks to scowl at him, "What!? That witch had her grubby paws all over you the last time...and right in front of me, too!"
"All which I warned her was unwanted and unprofessional and would be reported to HR if she did anything like that again," soothed Lupin, placing a brief kiss to Tonk's forehead to calm his agitated mate, "But, it's not her...not unless she's taken to wearing men's aftershave," wrinkling his nose at the strong fragrance assaulting his nose.
"Well, now I'm curious," said Dora, the person not readily identifiable as their form was slightly obscured from the shadows of the overhanging pines near the gate. But even so, there was something oddly familiar about them.
And not in a good way.
With his longer stride, Remus approached the wrought iron gate first, "Sirius, what are you doing here?" he asked, concern laced with wariness evident in his voice.
The figure of his best friend remained silent as he staggered forward. No longer under the cover of the trees, the bruises and other injuries on Black's body became visible to the startled Lupins.
Not thinking twice, Remus raised his wand to lower the wards, intent on getting Sirius to the safety of their cottage and Floo'ing him to St.Mungo's for treatment.
"Wait!" hissed Tonks, interrupting her husband's wand movements mid-cast, "How do we know that's really Sirius? Ask the security questions, first."
As much as he wanted to protest, Remus nodded his head in agreement before turning back to stare at the other wizard, "What's the last thing we said to James and Lily as they prepared to go into hiding?"
Sirius frowned but replied, "Don't tell Peter where you're going, he's been acting strange lately."
Glaring at Tonks as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, he added with a put upon whinge, "That good enough for you, my dear little Cousin?"
Dora chuckled in return, irritating the man further, "It's standard security protocol and you know it you Wanker," she teased as Lupin started to lower the protective enchantments once again.
Moments before the final ward was set to drop, Dora yanked Remus' arm back at the last second, screeching in his ear to 'Stop! That's not Sirius!', just as a bright yellow flash of a Bombarda struck the walls of the Protego from somewhere to their left, striking with enough force to crack the defensive shield and throw the couple off balance, nearly to their knees.
"You always were a tad slow on the uptake, 'Cousin', " sneered the faux-Sirius, his face bubbling and changing shape as they looked on in disgust mixed with horror, "Which is good news for us, it seems," he gloated as a second blasting spell emerged from the trees and tore through the ward like tissue paper.
"Run, Dora!" yelled Remus, pulling her to her feet and pushing her towards the cottage, "I'll hold these Bastards back," he growled as he was now looking into the faces of his former friend, Peter Pettigrew, and ex-mentor Alastor Moody.
Hurriedly stumping past the two younger men who were grappling like Muggles in bar fight - their wands laying lost amongst the pines needles on the forest floor - Alastor took aim and cast an Incarcerous towards the fleeing Metamorphmagus, the spell just missing the witch as she shifted into a cheetah form dropping herself out of the line of fire.
"Fucking Hell! I didn't know she could do that!" groused Moody, sending another flurry of containment spells flying in the rapidly escaping Tonks' direction.
"Forget about that Freak!" yelped Pettigrew, Lupin having landed a glancing right hook to the left side of his jaw, the pain causing stars to explode and dance across his vision, "This traitor is the one we really want. We'll deal with her later, maybe even have a bit of fun with her, too, while he watches."
It was a taunt too far, one that he'd soon come to regret.
Remus saw red at Peter's implications, his inner wolf snarling at the threats to his mate and unborn pup. In return, he did what came naturally and latched onto Pettigrew's throat with his slightly sharper than normal human teeth, ripping into the tender flesh.
Pettigrew's resulting bloodcurdling screams were cut short as Lupin crunched down hard on the despised man's larynx, violently shaking his head back and forth as he went, the vicious onslaught by Remus only stopping by Moody's late intervention.
But the damage was done. Peter lay there mutely clutching at his ruined throat, pressing both hands tightly over ribboned flesh in a desperate attempt to stem the blood flow while Alastor finished restraining the wildly combative Remus with no fewer than three Full-Body Binds.
Adding a muzzle and a Silencio to the creatively cursing Lupin for good measure, Moody then turned his attentions to his fallen colleague.
The former Auror grimly shook his head even as he cast the few healing spells he knew over Pettigrew.
"Sorry, lad. It's the best I can do until I can get you to a proper Healer. I know a discrete one in Knockturn Alley," he stated gruffly, knowing that it was unlikely that Peter would ever speak again...provided he survived his gruesome injuries.
The only consolation in this he thought to himself - if the younger wizard lived, that is - was that the bite wasn't given on a full moon night.
Small mercy, that.
Narcissa had just begun winding down her rant at Harry when a frantic wolf Patronus loped up, placing itself between the beleaguered teen and the emotionally drained Lady of the Manor.
Nymphadora's stress-filled plea emerged from the magical messenger soon afterwards, "Apologies for the interruption dear Auntie," said Tonks, the voice spilling from the blue-silver construct was noticeably breathy as if she'd been running, "But Remus and I were attacked less than thirty minutes ago by Pettigrew and Moody. Worse still, Sirius apparently was taken sometime before then, tortured and subjected to a Veritaserum potion to the point of poisoning. I've given him a bezoar but he needs more extensive care than I can provide here."
The ethereal image paused a moment, the messenger obviously taking a brief pause to catch her breath, "I'll have a house-elf bringing us to the Manor in...five minutes. It's bad, Cissa. We made need the Black Family magics to save him."
"See you soon."
Harry was owl-eyed as he looked up at Narcissa, "Bloody Hell!" he exclaimed, unsure of what else to say.
"Indeed, Mr. Potter," agreed Lady Malfoy, snapping her fingers to summon an available house-elf. When Gem appeared, Narcissa gave her a list of tasks - starting with notifying Severus that his potions skills were urgently required and to meet her in the Manor infirmary in two minutes.
"I don't care if he's in the middle of a shower," instructed Narcissa, transfiguring her Summer robes into more suitable Healing attire, "Throw some clothes on his pale arse and get him to the infirmary laboratory, pronto!"
"And if he complains, you have my permission to threaten to hex his bollocks off," she smirked, pulling her hair into a low bun to keep her field of vision clear.
"Now, off with you. Time is of the essence."
With a knowing smile and a quick bow, Gem disappeared with a loud 'Pop'.
Turning towards Harry - who hadn't dared move a muscle during this whole exchange between Mistress and elf - Narcissa sighed heavily, "Well, don't just stand there staring like a moon-addled Mooncalf, Harry. Return to your Intended and inform him of what's happened."
Not waiting for a response, Narcissa then Disapparated, landing in the infirmary just in time to be snarled at by an extremely disagreeable Potions Master.
"This had better not be a sick prank, witch!" growled Severus, his eyes glaring figurative daggers at the side of Lady Malfoy's head for disrupting his long awaited bonding with Hermione, "Or I won't hesitate to hex you bald and transfigure your entire wardrobe chartreuse!"
Whatever Narcissa was going to say in response to his stronger than normal snarkiness was interrupted by the arrival of an equally crotchety house-elf, a distraught Metamorphmagus and the unconscious - and obviously severely injured - form of one Sirius Black.
"Well, Bugger me," drawled Snape, taking in the deathly ashen complexion of another member of the self-proclaimed Marauders, "Apparently, you weren't exaggerating. My sincerest apologies, Cissa."
Lady Malfoy nonchalantly waving off his words as if swatting away an annoying insect, "Express your regrets later, Severus. Time to get to work."
"Indeed."
Chapter 19
Notes:
WARNING: brief mention of violence and injuries, character death, kidnapping
AN: Apologies for the long absence...ongoing family and personal health matters have taken up most of my energy and focus these days....
I hope this extra long chapter was worth the wait...😊
Stay safe everyone!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sirius lay in a bloody heap on the cold stone floor. Unable to hold himself upright any more in the chair Moody had bound him to, he'd toppled over without uttering so much as a whimper.
"Leave him," snarled Moody giving Black's semi-conscious body a vicious kick to the ribs before reaching down and roughly yanking several strands of hair from Sirius' head, even that didn't elicit a sound from the downed wizard, "We've got everything we need from this wretched piece of traitorous filth."
"Can I Avada him now?" asked Pettigrew with a sickening giggle as he stepped closer to his former friend.
"No!" snapped Mad-Eye, grabbing the pouting younger man by the collar and dragging him from the room, "He doesn't deserve a quick death. The Veritaserum overdose will be slow and excruciatingly painful. That's a far more satisfying fate, wouldn't you agree?"
"Well, when you put it like that, most definitely," cackled Peter, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow. Who would have ever guessed that torturing people was such hard work? Immensely gratifying, but exhausting nonetheless.
"Alright, then. On to the next two-faced Bastard," commanded Moody, slipping the procured dark hairs into a vial of greyish liquid and swirling it about for good measure before thrusting it into Pettigrew's eagerly awaiting hands, "Don't take that until we get there, it won't last the usual hour."
"I know, I remember," impatiently huffed the rat-like wizard, "It's not the first time I've used Polyjuice, after all."
Mad-Eye merely 'hrmm'd' in response and Disapparated with Pettigrew following closely afterwards, a horrid blood-chilling laugh ringing loudly in his wake.
Dora half-stumbled, half-ran until she'd made it back to the safety of their cottage. But for how much longer until that wasn't the case? With Sirius obviously compromised enough to give up the Apparation point of The Brambles, Tonks knew she had no choice but to grab a few things and leave before Moody and Pettigrew started breaking through the wards on hers and Remus' home, the process would hold them off but not indefinitely.
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Dora then pulled a sturdy canvas rucksack with an Undetectable Extension Charm from the back of the bedroom closet and began summoning, shrinking and packing their personal belongings - clothes, framed photographs, the handcrafted music box from the fireplace mantle - anything that might leave a clue as to where she'd go next.
Once that task was completed, and with another sharp flick of her wand, Tonks slid open a hidden door at the back of the hall closet and stepped towards the emergency portal connected to Grimmauld Place, knowing it was her best option for escape as even her Cousin hadn't been made aware of this added safety feature.
Without a backwards glance as she crossed the portal's threshold, Dora muttered aloud while holding a hand to her still flat stomach, "Please come back to us in one piece, Remus."
Tonks had barely set one slightly stumbling foot into the receiving room at Grimmauld Place before she'd begun testing the existing wards about the house and layering additional - some borderline illegal - enchantments over them, anything to prevent Moody and Pettigrew from entering the house and surrounding gardens, especially, if they were Polyjuiced or Glamoured to mimic Sirius' visage. Dora even went so far as to include an Auror-strength Finite that would remove all known compulsion charms from any Wixen sent in as an unwitting accomplice.
That task done, Dora took a few moments to run a tracing spell over the property, the diagnostic slowly going through every nook and cranny looking for any clues as to how Pettigrew or Moody had gotten past the perimeter security measures and taken Sirius from his safe haven in the first place (although, she suspected it was more likely that the despicable pair of wizards had caught her Cousin off guard coming out of one of his favourite pubs). So when her wand lit up with an unmistakable red, indicating a positive result, it surprised the witch.
Tonks followed the pull of the tracker to its source, scowling down at the scrap of a torn envelope.
"Those crafty Bastards," she muttered under her breath, levitating the offending bit of paper to further examine it, the remnant of a Port-key shimmered faintly at her from a short distance at eye level before she safely enclosed it within a warded evidence bag (as her old Auror instructor had drilled into her, 'Aways keep some handy no matter what you're wearing. In our line of work, you never know when you may need them')...the irony wasn't lost on her that it was Mad-Eye Moody who had spoken these words, the same person that she was now using this knowledge against to collect proof of his crimes.
And she couldn't wait to see the look on his face when she mentioned this fact at his trial... provided, if course, that Remus let him - or Pettigrew, for that matter - live that long.
Those satisfying thoughts were, unfortunately, interrupted by a loud crash accompanied immediately with a spine-chilling yell coming from the direction of the kitchen.
"Bloody Hell! Is that you, Remus!?" responded Dora as she sprinted towards the unknown cause of the ruckus, calling for the resident house elf, Kreature, as she ran.
The 'pops' of Apparation had barely faded before Sirius cracked open his less swollen left eye to take a peek about the room for his wand. A raspy sound of frustration left his Cruciatus-caused sore throat when he spotted the familiar piece of wood on the other side of the space, laying broken against the wall in three sections.
"Fuck!" he grimaced, quickly glancing around to ensure that the two other wizards were indeed gone before he tenderly scrunched forward into a tighter ball where he still lay on the ground on his side. Stretching his unbroken left thumb and index finger until he reached the tips of his boots, Sirius then began pressing down on the middle of the steeled-toe until a hidden compartment slid out from the heels. One contained a small bezoar which he carefully pinched between his digits, bringing it carefully back up to his mouth where he promptly swallowed it - the emergency measure wouldn't completely counter the effects of the Veritaserum overdose that Moody had given him but it would definitely buy him a few precious minutes until he found help...that was the plan, at least.
Even as Sirius choked down the slimy pebble-sized bezoar, his thumb and finger scrabbled back down to the second open heel panel to retrieve the metal toothpick kept hidden there for just such a contingency. Securing it as tightly as he could between the visibly trembling digits, Sirius groaned out 'Portus, Grimmauld Place'.
In the flash of blue light from the activated - and wholly illegal - Portkey, the horrifically injured Lord Black disappeared from his captors' torture chamber, an echoing scream of pain bouncing off the four walls a rapidly fading reminder of his last few hours of torment.
Tonks barely held back the rising bile in her throat at the sight of the battered and bleeding mess of a wizard that lay writhing in agony on the kitchen floor.
Not stopping to second guess her decisions, Dora snapped out an urgent Patronus to the one healer she trusted to tend to (who she now recognized was Sirius) the gravely injured wizard without pressing for answers - there would be time enough for that later, once their mutual Cousin was stabilized.
Knowing that she wasn't in the right frame of mind to Side-Along Apparate the two them (it was the only option as it would take far too much time, time that Sirius didn't have, to connect Grimmauld Place's Floo to Malfoy Manor), Dora shouted out for her wounded Cousin's cantankerous house-elf Kreature, her fingers crossed that the contrary elf would assist them without his usual routine of long-winded, spiteful grumblings.
The elf in question was, surprisingly, co-operative for once, taking in the state of Sirius' body with raised eyebrows before doing as Dora asked, whisking the three of them away to Wiltshire with a sharp snap of his gnarled fingers even as he asked "Will Kreature be given clothes should the Master not survive?"
"Now's not the time to ask, Kreature," snipped Dora, wincing slightly as she grabbed onto Sirius' bloodsoaked left shoulder with one hand and Kreature's outstretched fingers with the other, "Just get us to my Auntie 'Cissa's home before anything else happens."
"As you wish, Mistress Wolf."
Initially, Hermione had been as perturbed as Severus when their bonding plans had been so rudely interrupted. But those feelings were quickly replaced by shock when the person behind the disruption appeared in Narcissa's healing chambers. If she hadn't been forewarned, Hermione was certain she would've broken down in tears at the sight of the battered and bloodied state of Sirius Black.
As Narcissa, Lucius and Severus got to work assessing the extent of the damage and treating Sirius' myriad bloody wounds, Cruciatus nerve damage and multiple broken bones, Hermione took it upon herself to lead Tonks out into the sitting room and ordering up tea with a Calming Draught chaser for the older witch. Once Hermione had Dora somewhat settled in, she then hurriedly made her way towards Harry's and Tom's rooms to apprise them of the current happenings inside the Manor.
Because despite still being miffed at him for his less than stellar reaction to her transformations, Hermione knew she needed to prepare Harry for the possibility that he may lose his Godfather.
As it turned out, Hermione needn't have fretted so much about breaking the tension between her and Harry, he'd pulled his sister in all but blood into a breath-stealing hug the moment she stepped into his and Tom's quarters, muttering heartfelt words of apology for his earlier horrible behaviour towards her.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he rasped, his shame over causing Hermione undue distress causing his throat to tighten, making it difficult to talk, "I was a complete and utter git to you. I should have..."
Hermione gently placed her index finger over Harry's mouth to prevent him from rambling, contemplating just how much to reveal to him about Sirius' condition, not wanting to add to her best friend's growing discomfort. But it couldn't be helped, Harry needed to know, and sooner rather than later.
"Please, take a seat Harry," she encouraged, gesturing to a nearby wingback chair, "I need you and Tom to listen and not interrupt," began Hermione, her eyes flitting between the two wizards, waiting for them to settle before continuing, "There was an incident earlier involving Sirius, Mad-Eye Moody and Peter Pettigrew," the mention of those particular Order member's names causing Harry to flinch and Voldemort to mutter a few choice obscenities under his breath, "Narcissa, Severus and Lucius are tending to Sirius as we speak but," she paused a moment before continuing, "....I'm afraid Sirius was critically wounded from the encounter, Harry..."
"He's going to be alright, though," interjected Harry, unable to stay quiet any longer.
Hermione sighed deeply, "I honestly don't know," she replied calmly, however, her eyes betrayed her sadness.
"I want to see him, now," stated Harry, his voice steadier than he felt.
Hermione slowly shook her head, "You don't want to remember him like this, Harry, he's..."
But Harry wasn't having any of it, jumping up and running out the door, heading down the hallway in the direction of the healing chambers with Tom and Hermione following close behind, ignoring their calls to wait.
The bloody sight that greeted Harry as he crossed the infirmary threshold would haunt him for ages. His knees buckled as the air left his lungs in an anguished cry, but he never made contact with the ground, Tom having caught him in his arms before that happened.
Looking to the young witch with an unspoken request in his eyes as he settled Harry onto a nearby settee, Voldemort left his mate in Hermione's care then hurriedly strolled over to the trio frantically tending to Lord Black. From the expressions on their faces, Tom knew things were dire.
Narcissa spared a quick glance at her Sire, "We're doing everything we possibly can," she whispered so that the two Wixen on the settee couldn't overhear, "But his injuries are too extensive. At best, we've given him an extra couple of days so that he can get his affairs in order."
Voldemort closed his eyes, this news would devastate Harry. And that he wouldn't let happen, not when there was an alternative. But, the drastic solution needed Black's consent.
"Is he coherent enough to understand me?" asked Tom, his gaze now settled upon the pale-as-milk face of Narcissa's latest patient.
"He is, although, we'll need to place him into stasis soon...once we give Harry the chance to speak with him," replied Narcissa, the strain of seeing her Cousin in such a state starting to show on her furrowed brow, "That should give us the time needed to gather his friends round to say their goodbyes."
"I'd best make this quick then," Tom said more to himself than to anyone else in the room as he stepped closer to the struggling younger wizard. ('Merlin, please let him say 'yes' to this plan.')
Thorfinn Rowle stretched lazily like a cat in a sunbeam, his 'old' bones cracking with a satisfying pop as he stood up from the negotiations table, he and his business partner and Cloudmate, Mihail Sanguini, having just successfully brokered the purchase of the Chantilly Elf-made Winery and Vineyards near Alsace in France.
With such a profitable day at a close, the Viking-like blonde wizard couldn't wait to retreat to his hotel room to celebrate. Sanguini glanced over at the younger man and smirked, knowing exactly what Thorfinn had in mind to mark the occasion.
But neither would have the opportunity to peruse the local 'blood-bars' for a willing companion for the evening as a distressed house-elf popped into existence next to them clutching a small phial of blood and an urgent message from their Sire in her hands.
Sanguini grabbed the note, reading through it quickly, his eyebrows sailing upwards towards his hairline.
"Well, what does it say, Mihail?" hissed Rowle when several minutes had passed without Sanguini relaying any information.
The older Vampire opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, giving the impression of a landed trout. Eventually, he managed to reply in a whispered breath, "There's to be an emergency Turning. Those of us without a mate or an Intended bond mark are being asked to open this vial and scent the contained blood to determine if we are compatible for this person. If the charms on the phial register that our magics are sufficiently complimentary, then it will activate the inlaid Port-key, taking us directly to ritual chambers in Wiltshire."
Knowing that their Sire deemed this person worthy of joining their bloodline spurred the two Vampires into action.
"You go first, Mihail, you've been waiting the longest to find your mate" urged Thorfinn, flicking his wand to hurriedly pack their travel bags and handing Sanguini his belongings, "And may Fair Fortune smile upon you old friend."
"Enough with that 'old' nonsense," huffed Sanguini as he carefully popped the cork and inhaled deeply, "I'm still practically a teenager as far as Vampires go."
But whatever retort Thorfinn responded with was entirely lost to Mihail, his senses being solely focused on the alluring fragrance that wafted up from the open vial, filling his nose with the seductive aroma of fresh air after a Summer storm. Neither did Sanguini have time to verbalize more than a rumbling growl of 'Mine' before the Port-key activated, whisking the man away in the blink of an eye.
"Lucky Bastard," muttered Rowle as his business partner vanished, surrounded by the blue glow of the Port-key, his mock-annoyance doing nothing to hide his anxiety for his friend.
As Thorfinn prepared to Apparate to the French Ministry and take the International Floo home to Britain, his last thoughts as he popped away were 'Please let him arrive in time.'
Moody landed with a wheezing grunt of discomfort in the same small hovel where he and Pettigrew had interrogated Sirius Black, unaccustomed to Side-along Apparating with two other people, one of them struggling against his bindings the whole way.
Only when the mild dizziness passed did Alastair notice that they were missing their previous 'houseguest'.After he settled the unconscious Pettigrew onto a hastily conjured cot, Moody turned and growled at Lupin.
"Seems your traitorous friend managed to escape our hospitality," he sneered, his magical eye swirling wildly in its socket, "Not that it matters, the effort most likely finished the wretch off. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say."
But the snarky sentiment didn't have the desired effect on his latest captive. Instead, the Werewolf merely grinned at the heavily scarred ex-Auror (well, as best Remus could manage within the latticework muzzle covering his mouth).
"What are you smiling at, you foul, wretched Beast!?" demanded Moody, taking a step closer to the bound wizard, "Didn't you understand what I just told you? Your friend Black is dead!" he practically spat.
Lupin continued irritating the older man with his unwavering smirk, "While I've no doubt that Sirius is in dire straights," drawled Remus, not taking his eyes off Moody's twitchy wand hand, "What's amusing me is the fact that you're absolutely clueless about the precarious nature of your situation."
Alastair's prosthetic blue eye stopped spinning and fixated on Remus' face, "And just what do mean by that?" he hissed impatiently.
In answer, Remus' smile turned feral behind the muzzle, his hazel eyes shifting to yellow-gold as his bindings snapped in the space of a single heartbeat. Moody didn't even have time to mutter the first syllable of a curse before Lupin had all his limbs pinned to the ground under his suddenly larger, and decidedly shaggier, body.
"Lycanthropes don't need a full moon to turn once they've made peace with their inner wolf," growled Remus, the last shreds of the torn restraints falling to the ground, "You'd have known that if you'd bothered to learn anything about us instead of systematically trying to eradicate us from this world."
Moody struggled as his now captor spoke, muttering foul epithets about protecting true Wixen from the 'taint of vile creatures' under his breath, attempting to throw Lupin off balance.
"Pathetic," tsk'd Remus, his larger canines gleaming in the low light of the blood-spattered interrogation room, "But fortunately for you, I don't have time to claim my pound of flesh in retaliation for your threatening my pregnant mate."
"I'll leave that pleasure for my biological Father, Greyback. You remember Fenrir, don't you Mad-Eye? After all, he's the one that gave you all those interesting scars when you and Dumbledore raided our den and kidnapped me when I was just a pup," sneered Lupin, savouring the horror-struck expression now present on Moody's paling face.
"Oh yes, Alastair. I recalled...everything a year ago," gloated Remus, reveling in the Auror's growing discomfort beneath his crushing weight, "It's simply amazing what a Vampire's bite will cure even in a creature-born Wixen. Too bad that pompous twit wasn't aware of that fact when he sent me on that mission to sniff out Voldemort's lair."
Moody made one last effort to free himself from Lupin's grasp, naturally, it was a futile struggle, the younger wizard pressing down all that much harder onto Alastair "s limbs.
"Enough!" snapped Remus, his temper flairing, "You've sealed your own Fate in siding with that wretched excuse of a man. It's time for you and Pettigrew to face the consequences of your actions."
With a wordless twitch of his fingers, Remus retrieved his wand from Alastair's pocket, thankful that the grizzled former Auror hadn't snapped it in two when he'd bound him back at the Brambles - he hadn't relished the idea of attempting to Apparate using Moody's wand, it would likely be as cantankerous as its owner.
Another swift flick or three of his reclaimed wand had both of Lupin's would-be tormentors wrapped up like mummies from mouth to feet, wands and daggers (or other items that could be used as makeshift weapons) confiscated - he wasn't certain of their wandless or wordless casting skills either and wasn't taking any chances.
Satisfied that neither Pettigrew or Moody were in danger of escaping, Remus set a tracking mark onto the hidden property so that he or others could find it later, break down the unplottable wards surrounding the place, then further investigate the area before burning it to the ground.
A feral grin proceeded to light up Remus' features as thoughts of the agonizing days of torment Greyback would surely inflict upon the pair drifted across his mind. Too bad that he wouldn't be able to stick around for the entire celebration with his Sire and Packmates, he had a pregnant witch he was anxious to return to, besides, he was eager to inform Voldemort of this evenings' turn of events, that He and Harry had two less enemies to be concerned about.
Grabbing onto the wrists of his blissfully silent prisoners, Remus spun on his heel, the three of them swirling out of sight with a thunderous 'Crack!' of Apparation, a cackle of joyous laughter accompanying their departure.
In the darkest depths of the Ancient Caledonian Forest three days later on the night of the New Moon, the rising chorus of Werewolves howling in celebration was heard, causing any Wixen unfortunate enough to be camping nearby to shiver in their tents.
Meanwhile, at the den of Fenrir Greyback, the Pack Leader tossed the last bits of shredded flesh - the final pieces of the earthly remains of the foolhardy wizards known as Peter Pettigrew and Alastair Moody - into the large bonfire at the center of the encampment, his smile of immense satisfaction gleaming in the firelight.
Fenrir's smirk, along with many of the other adults present, turned to snorts of laughter as a handful of the Pack's teenaged offspring broke out in a fair (well, at least loud) rendition of 'Another One Bites the Dust' when the smoking remnants of their two enemies crumbled away to grey ash.
Revenge had never tasted so sweet.
Sirius awoke feeling as if his head was stuffed full of cotton. As his bleary vision cleared, mild confusion followed...this was definitely not his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. ('Merlin! I have got to stop drinking those Muggle cocktails on my Friday night pub crawls!'). It was the third time in as many months that he'd awoken in unfamiliar surroundings.
Eventually, Sirius made a shaky effort to sit up in the luxuriously plush bed - that is, once he had disentangled himself from the decadently soft, deep blue silken sheets. It was an action he quickly regretted, his stomach and brain protesting immediately, the flip-flopping sensation threatening to cause an embarrassing revisiting of his dinner...or was it lunch when he'd last eaten?
From somewhere to his left, a low-pitched voice chuckled and soothed, "Careful now. You're still recovering from our Bonding Ritual," purred the sinfully rich tones, "And it'll be a few more hours before your Healers, especially the Lady Malfoy, will permit you to wander out of bed...not that I mind that last part in the slightest."
Never would he ever admit to making such an undignified noise, but Sirius let out a startled 'meep!' while swirling about grasping for his wand holster and wand that wasn't where he normally kept it as he slept - the wave of dizziness washing over his mind from the sudden movement didn't help his befuddled thoughts, either.
Finally though, Sirius' brain shook off the fog and the memories of the previous few days came barreling back to him, particularly, of last night - the resulting, and rare, blush that coloured his cheeks only served to endear him more to his new mate.
Reaching out, Mihail softly caressed Sirius' face, causing that lovely flush to deepen to crimson. "Simply beautiful, Amore mio," crooned Sanguini as his hand continued its exploration along Sirius' jawline and further down his bare arm, stopping briefly to clasp his hand and bring it towards his lips, planting a featherlight kiss to each knuckle, the sensuous and loving gesture causing Sirius' breath to hitch in his throat.
"So responsive, my Pet," drawled Mihail, his eyes growing darker with longing mixed with a touch of lust, "Shall we pick up where we left off last night, Love?"
Sirius' brain was threatening to short circuit as his blood supply rapidly rushed southward. But one thing he did know clearly, he wanted more of his mesmerizing mate's touch. Right. Now!
"Merlin, yes please," rasped Sirius, his throat suddenly dry.
"As you wish, my insatiable Minx."
Severus and Hermione collapsed onto their bed in an exhausted, graceless heap, their hair still damp from their shared shower - it had seemingly taken ages to scrub off all of Sirius' blood from their skin. And they were so drained of energy that their ablutions were strictly for practical purposes, not even a glimmer of anything more intimate had crossed their weary minds.
Hermione yawned as she snuggled into Severus' side, her eyes slowly closing, a soft chuckle leaving her lips, "I don't think I will ever forget that gobsmacked expression on Sirius' face when Mihail portalled into the room demanding to be with his 'precious' mate."
"Nor I," smirked Severus curling his body protectively about Hermione's tired form, "It's not everyday that Black is rendered so thoroughly speechless. But enough about the Mutt, he's Sanguini's concern now."
"True," drowsily muttered Hermione in agreement, "Just as Harry's health and well-being is solely Tom's responsibility from here on out. Well, mostly. Trouble just seems to find Harry...and land on whoever is standing near him at the time."
"That trend will likely cease as Dumbledore's no longer able to manipulate his or anyone else's lives," drawled Severus, gently tucking a stray curl behind Hermione's left ear.
"We can only hope."
"Indeed."
In another part of Malfoy Manor, Voldemort sat in silence as he watched his young mate finally succumbing to sleep.
("Thank Nimue for Calming Draughts!") muttered Tom to himself, his tensions slowly drifting away as Harry snuggled around something Hermione had called a 'body pillow' (she'd transfigured it from one of his shirts, making certain it carried the Vampire Lord's scent). And although it looked nothing like a body or a pillow - at least to Voldemort's thinking - it seemed to comfort Harry and that was all that mattered.
As Tom's mind drifted back over the events of the past few hours, a slight smile began curling up the left corner of his mouth. Although the occasion had been rather unnerving for Harry, the impromptu Turning of Sirius Black by his Childe, Sanguini, had been a most welcome sight for the Vampire Lord, knowing that Mihail's decade's long search for a mate was finally at an end.
With that thought in mind, the Dark Lord made a mental note to have Severus and Hermione begin brewing the necessary potions for Sirius' inevitable pregnancy (Tom hadn't been so preoccupied with Harry that he'd not taken notice of THAT particular hopeful gleam in Sanguini's eyes)...and maintain a steady, larger than average, stock of Calming Draughts for the rather excitable younger wizard.
Perhaps a trip to this years Quidditch Cup playoffs would be in order, too? - anything to help soothe Harry when he learned of his Godfather's delicate condition, that Sirius would be the newest bearer of a brood of batlings for the Wiltshire Cloud of Vampires (and given the strength of Sanguini's and Sirius' combined mating magics that he'd sensed despite their rooms extensive privacy wards, Tom was anticipating a near-future announcement of twins for the newly bonded couple....possibly, even triplets).
('Maybe a whole bed full of those silk-covered 'body pillows' wouldn't go amiss, either'.)
The first person to greet Sirius and Mihail when they emerged from their bonding suite was a mildly sassy Remus Lupin.
"Well, it's about damned time you two randy beggars surfaced for air," mock-chided Remus, breaking into a chuckle when Sirius' cheeks flushed a light pink, "But especially you, Sirius," his voice shifting to a more sobering tone, "You had us all extremely worried."
"If it helps," stated Sirius, "I was worried for me, too."
Lupin rolled his eyes, the relief evident in his demeanor, "You're still a giant prat though," smirked Remus, tugging his fellow Marauder by the arm towards the garden terrace where Tonks was, somewhat, patiently waiting for the small group of wizards to arrive and a couple of house-elves were busily flitting about serving a sumptuous lunch.
The Werewolf noticed his friend's apprehensive gaze in his wife's direction and sighed, "She's forgiven you over that wretched prank that affected her Metamorphmagus abilities...mostly. It's amazing what your almost dying did in that respect," he sincerely claimed, "But another heartfelt bit of groveling wouldn't hurt either."
"And, perhaps, an Oath to never do anything so reckless again might seal the deal, so to speak?" suggested Mihail, having learned of his mate's not-so-youthful indiscretion only the day before during a rare session of conversation between their rounds of sexual exploration.
It pained the perpetual jokester to contemplate this notion but eventually he conceded, "Consider it done.... after we eat, though. I'm starving."
Sanguini's pointed smile turned heated, "Oh, yes, my Pet. We must keep up your strength for tonight. I have something extra...vigorous planned for your delectable body."
Sirius' entire face turned crimson even as Remus whinged, "Eugh! Please, no more details. I'd like to keep my appetite, thank you very much!"
"Such a spoilsport. But, I'll agree to your request...for now."
Now that Dumbledore was no longer there to manipulate things for his own selfish purposes, Hogwarts had once again become a thriving center of higher learning, running along (relatively) smoothly under the guidance of Headmistress McGonagall and Deputy Headmaster Flitwick - gone were the days of blatant favouritism for Gryffindor House's inhabitants, acts of bullying becoming practically non-existent within a month. For certain, the odd prank or three would still crop up periodically but the jokes were never malicious nor was one particular person singled out from amongst their peers.
(The colour-changing 'mood hair" on staff and students alike had been a huge hit during that years Leaving Feast in the Great Hall.)
The only hiccup of note in McGonagall's and Flitwick's new regime had been the major brouhaha that occurred in Slytherin House two weeks prior, resulting in Professor Slughorn's earlier than expected retirement as Potions Master due to the number of hexxes he'd caught in the crossfire between his arguing Snakes, it took the staff some time to sort out the whole mess.
Unexpectedly, one good thing resulted from this temporary chaos - well, in actuality, two things. At the height of the fracas, the small group of Aurors on site to aid in the upgrades on the castle's wards were called in to help break up the fight. Pansy and Draco, being at the epicenter of the spellfire free-for-all, were the first pair figuratively dragged away for questioning. But as soon as the two Agents set to escort them into the makeshift interview room next door to the Slytherin Common room made eye contact with the mildly disheveled teens, time seemingly skidded to a halt.
"Merciful Morgana!" hiss-whispered the statuesque blonde Auror named Abigail Dumont as she caught sight of the markings on Parkinson's right hand, holding up her own right arm to reveal a matching pattern of intertwined purple astors and blue morning glories, "I believe we have more to discuss this evening than a mere duel, don't you think, Ma Fleur?"
Pansy simply stared at the slightly older witch. Her voice having abandoned her, Parkinson could only nod her head in silent agreement as her cheeks flushed a bright pink.
Draco, being the opportunistic git that he was in that moment, opened his mouth to smugly comment on this surprising development. But he was deftly sidetracked when the second Auror - a raven-black haired wizard called Vincent Krum (cousin to the famed Quidditch player Viktor Krum) drawled in a sinfully deep baritone, "As do we, Moyat Drakon," seductively rolling up his left shirt sleeve to display a metallic blue celtic knot design on his wrist, the mate to Draco's mark.
To which Malfoy so elegantly replied 'Meep!'
Pansy, having slightly recovered from her own shock, smirked, "I can't wait for his Father to hear about this!"
Time, as it was so want to do, marched steadily forwards, and life in the British Wizarding World settled into a much less frenetic pace....well, more often than not.
This especially held true for all those who resided in, or merely visited, Malfoy Manor these days.
For instance, Hermione, once she and Severus had thoroughly sated their need to bond (all but the Turning bite, that is), decided that returning to Hogwarts for her Seventh year simply didn't appeal to her anymore. So instead, she'd contacted her former Head of House and arranged to set her N.E.W.T.'s at the end of August at the Ministry's recently restructured Department of Education.
These ambitious plans to complete her education early greatly eased Severus' mind as it would not only grant Hermione access to a wider range of post-graduate options that much sooner but this accelerated schedule continued to allow them to be together during the evenings at either the Manor or their Summer home - he'd gotten used to cuddling his young mate at night and he'd dreaded the idea of being alone once more.
Plus, given the now confirmed outcome of Sanguini's and Black's enthusiastic bonding the week prior, there was a higher-than-normal probability (despite all the extra precautions that they'd taken) that Hermione was also pregnant, especially as their combined magics were even stronger - although they needed to wait another three days to cast the Graviditas Charm, the extreme likelihood that the test would turn out positive had Severus flitting about like a nectar-drunk hummingbird scouting out optimal nesting locations for their future progeny, his near hyperactive level of activity almost getting him hexxed twice by Hermione that first day alone.
After witnessing the chaotic baby-drama as it swooped down and engulfed Sirius, Hermione and their respective partners' lives during the past month, Harry emphatically informed Tom that their planned consummation of their bond on the night of his 17th birthday was postponed for at least another year (unlike his unnaturally brilliant friend, Harry had opted to return to Hogwarts for his Seventh year and the prospect of waddling around the castle with a swollen belly was not remotely on his to-do list.)
"I just want the chance to experience a normal school year, one that's free from Dumbledore's twisted manipulations highlighted with life-threatening events," explained Harry, his heart clenching in his chest at the emotionally blank state of Tom's face, "And, you know I won't be able to focus on my studies if you knock me up the first time you shag my brains out."
"Please say you understand, that you don't hate me for wanting to wait?" pleaded Harry, when Tom remained silent.
It took all of three heartbeats for Voldemort's stern pretense to crumble and pull Harry into a comforting embrace, "Oh, my Little Dove," he soothed, even as he felt the tension ease from Harry's trembling body, "I could never hate you. Be frustrated at times, but hate? Never," he assured his young mate, "And I agree. You should have every opportunity for a normal academic experience without the added pressure of impending parenthood."
"Now, enough with the fretting and teenage angst. We've much more interesting pastimes to explore before you return to Hogwarts," drawled Tom with a salacious smirk, taking Harry by the hand and purposely leading him towards their private quarters, "Starting with a multitude of ways in which we can fulfill one another's hidden...desires that won't result in pregnancy."
Harry's face flushed crimson, his words rushing out in a breathy pant, "Merlin! Yes, please. Can you teach me everything tonight?"
A deep, rumbling chuckle escaped from Voldemort, "So eager, my Pet. But not to worry, we have plenty of time to expand your knowledge of...sensual delights."
"Fuck. Me." whimpered Harry, his brain short-circuiting with all the possibilities Tom's suggestive words conjured up in his imagination.
"In due time, Love."
Months steadily ticked by...some crawled painfully along while others seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. And with them arrived inevitable changes, the good outweighing the bad, for the most part.
Unsurprisingly, Hermione had sailed through her N.E.W.T.s, surpassing both Severus' and Voldemort's previous record of seven with her impressive collection of nine. But, not one to rest on her laurels, the newly graduated witch dove straight into her next project, creating a way for Severus' loyal house-elf and friend, Rook, to walk again using a combination of Charms and Muggle biomechanics. It would take extensive research and a lot of trial-and-error experimentation but Hermione was hopeful that she'd have a working prototype for the brave elf by the New Year.
(Whether the device ever became a reality or not, Rook wasn't truly concerned as he, Diamond and Amber had long found...satisfying ways to compensate for his lack of working legs, so much so that he'd became the proud Papa to a pair of elflings - Rose and Thistle - a daughter and son by Diamond and Amber, respectively on Boxing Day. And, at the rate they were re-engaging in his...physical therapy, they could have more elflings by Summer.)
While Hermione was delving into her mobility device project, Severus was preoccupied with preparing for the arrival of his and Hermione's own brood (2 boys - Sebastian Severus and Lucien Alexander - and a girl - Astrea Jasmine - due in March, February if they decided to be contrary and arrive early).
To this end, he first contacted the Goblins at Gringott's and finally claimed his Lordship title, vault and properties as the last male heir (well, at least until his sons were born) of the Prince family (he been completely oblivious of this financial windfall until Dumbledore had been ousted and the mail wards at Hogwarts had been repaired, returning all correspondence to its rightful recipients). Once that business was concluded, Severus then owled Headmistress McGonagall and officially resigned, providing her with a list of five potential and competent (by his standards) replacements.
His growing family's financial future secured, Snape - rather, Prince - returned to Hermione and the others at Malfoy Manor to celebrate the good news and continuing his search for the perfect 'nest' for his brood.
(At least this time, Severus remembered to wait until Hermione was at a stopping point in her research for the day before entering her makeshift office in the library -avoiding her alarmingly creative hexxes was rapidly becoming second nature if he wished to remain unscathed by his increasingly irritable young mate.
'You try growing three humans inside of you at the same time and see if you don't occasionally act all jumpy and hormonal, you overly fertile old fossil!...Severusss!' Hermione's mock-chiding swiftly sliding into a surprised squeal before devolving to a breathy moan as Severus quickly scooped her up in a bridal carry and salaciously purred in her right ear, 'I'll show you 'old', Madame...thoroughly and repeatedly' before he carefully Apparated them away to parts unknown.
Ahhh, to be young and in love....with a touch of playful lust thrown into the mix.)
Just before the start of term, Harry and a small contingent of students from the returning Second to Seventh years, Hermione included, took up Headmistress' McGonagall's offer to be re-sorted by a now uncorrupted Sorting Hat.
Most students remained in their current Houses, although, there were a few predictable changes - Neville Longbottom, for instance, was now sporting the yellow and black of Hufflepuff and Professor Sprout couldn't be happier, beaming with pride from the High Table down at her soon-to-be apprentice.
But there were two new placements that had a number of galleons exchanging hands between those who bet on the outcome and lost. However, for Harry and Hermione - the latest members to the house of Slytherin - it was a long overdue and welcome outcome.
One thing did puzzle Harry as their robes and ties shifted into the appropriate colours, "Why bother with this ceremony at all, Hermione? I mean, you've already set your N.E.W.T.s and will be graduating as soon as you receive your results, you won't even be attending Seventh year with the rest of us."
"True, but I wanted my academic achievements to be a credit to the House I should have been in all along," explained Hermione as she smiled and waved in the direction of the High Table where her vigilant mate was standing guard, having agreed with his accompanying her to this event as a precautionary measure (both well aware of Harry's tendency to be a magnet for trouble).
Whatever Harry was going to say next was interrupted by a certain platinum-blonde wizard - himself a newly minted Ravenclaw - who'd strolled over and heavily clapped a hand onto Harry's left shoulder, "Well, at least we won't be squabbling over who'll be Seeker for Slytherin House when Quidditch season starts this term," stated Draco, straightening his blue and bronze tie.
"Everyone knows it would've been no contest, I'd have won that fight hands down," smirked Harry, causing Malfoy's eyebrows to twitch at the snarky challenge.
Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes at the pair of posturing males, "I'll just leave you two to compare wand sizes, shall I. Besides, I've much more interesting things to do with my time."
"Yeah, like my Godfather, Granger?" Malfoy smugly stated, casting a knowing glance at her barely rounded abdomen, "You're already..."
Out of nowhere, a large shadow swooped down, seemingly drawing all the warmth out of the area, "I'd recommend choosing your next words carefully, Draco," drawled Severus, his imposing black-clad figure towering over the trio of younger Wixen, "Or Godson of mine or no, you'll be drinking your meals through a straw for the foreseeable future."
"On second thought," mused Severus with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "Perhaps I should leave your...discipline up to your Intended, Vincent."
Malfoy's face cycled through a series of colours, starting with pale pink then shifting to milk white and finally settling on a flaming scarlet, "I just remembered," he hurriedly muttered, "I'm supposed to be meeting up with Pansy to discuss a surprise party for Abigail," with that blatant lie, Draco turned on his heel and made a hasty exit from the Great Hall.
It took all of two seconds before Harry burst out in laughter, Hermione joining in moments later. Severus, as ever, maintained a controlled demeanor...but only barely.
"Well, as much fun as that was to watch, I'm knackered," said Hermione when she managed to regain her composure, "Would you mind terribly if we left the celebration early?"
"Not at all, Love," drawled Severus, gently pulling Hermione towards him, "Although, we should say our goodbyes to Minerva and Filius first, then we'll Apparate to the Manor. That means you, too, Harry, so no dawdling."
Out of habit, Harry responded to Snape's professorial tone with a prompt, "Yes, Sir," causing the older wizard to chuckle under his breath.
"Music to my ears."
With the mildly humorous incident involving Draco now over, Hermione sincerely believed that they'd managed to dodge any major Harry-related troubles, making the Re-sorting Ceremony a wholly pleasant and rousing success...but she'd soon discover she'd been premature in her presumptions.
While Severus and Harry were busy conversing with McGonagall, Flitwick and a handful of the other Professors, Hermione excused herself from the group and slipped away to use the loo. On the way back to the Great Hall to rejoin the others, she'd begun mulling over her latest project, the development of a house-elf compatible mobility device for Rook. And because Hermione was so deeply distracted by the myriad directions this research could take, she'd not noticed the extra shadow following behind her, nor did she see the bright red spellfire of a Stupify heading towards her.
The Stunner cast at Hermione struck her mid-back and she would've fallen flat on her face if a muscular arm not reached out and grabbed her. As she faded in and out of consciousness, Hermione felt herself being roughly half-pulled half-dragged outside into the warm Summer night air and down a grassy pathway before the cold wash of anger-fueled magic prickled over her skin as they crossed the threshold into an Earthy-smelling room, warning her that not just privacy wards were already in place.
No one would hear her screams for help.
Notes:
Sorry for the cliffhanger...my fevered brain insisted the chapter should end here 😎
youTube.com
'Another One Bites the Dust' - Queen
amore mio - Italian for my love
ma fleur - French - my flower
moyat drakon - Bulgarian - my dragon
graviditas - Latin - pregnancy
thequeenmomma.com/star-name-for-girl
Astrea - Greek goddess of justice and innocence
flowermeaning.com
Jasmine - love, good luck, beauty, purity
Chapter Text
Before her head fully cleared and her eyes came back into focus, Hermione heard a vaguely familiar voice jeering next to her right ear, "Brightest Witch of Her Age, my arse," the bleary image snarked, "You're nothing but a disgusting Mudblood bitch who doesn't know her proper place. But since you're important to that traitor Snape, and he's one of Voldemort's favourite bootlickers, you're going to be the Order's ticket to rescuing Dumbledore from wherever that puppet Minister is keeping him."
Hermione then bit back a hiss of pain as the fuzzy visage of a wizard grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled, hard, as he tilted her face towards him, "But until I hear back from my associates, what say we have some fun," roughly tearing her wand, holster and all, from her arm then taking great pleasure in snapping the vinewood in front of her eyes before setting the broken pieces and the leather fittings on fire.
"There now, just as you should be...powerless and on your knees, groveling in the dirt in front of your betters," he then callously shoved her down onto the cold, moss and grime covered stone floor, ripping her shirt in the process.
Her vision finally clearing, Hermione glanced up at her captor, unsurprised by who she saw towering over her semi-prone form, "Cormac McClaggan," she snarled, her nose wrinkling as if she smelled something particularly foul, "It figures that you would be one of Dumbledore's sycophants, you always were such a brown-noser when it came to that power-mad despot."
"Don't you dare speak his name, you filthy Slytherin whore!" growled McClaggan, back handing Hermione across the face and splitting her bottom lip, "I think it's past time someone taught you some manners," brandishing his wand in an overly dramatic fashion and, eventually, conjuring up an electrified bullwhip.
Hermione merely raised a single eyebrow at the malevolently grinning wizard, "Is that supposed to frighten me? I'll have you know, I've taken etiquette lessons from Lady Narcissa Malfoy, you're a rank amateur at intimidation compared to her."
"We'll see about that, you slag," jeered Cormac, cracking the whip mere inches away from the tip of Hermione's nose. He wasn't at all amused when she didn't automatically flinch backwards in a fearful response.
"Think you're so tough, do you?" he hissed, readying the lash for another strike, "We'll just see how strong you are after a few rounds of punishment...say twenty strikes to start?"
Hermione stared up at the young wizard and smirked, "I don't think so, Cormac," moving her neck from side to side in an oddly snake-like fashion until she felt the satisfying 'pop' of released tension.
"Oh? And how are you going to stop me, Bitch?" his arm moving in an overly exaggerated arc, preparing to snap the fully charged whip across her exposed left shoulder.
The smile Hermione gave the petulant teen was positively devilish, "I'm afraid that would spoil the surprise, not that you will be enjoying it, mind you," she cryptically warned as a small plume of silver-black smoke escaped from between her lips, her eyes radiantly shining in a vibrant, deep purple.
It was only then that the hapless McClaggan noticed her pupils were narrowed vertical slits like those of a dragon.
"W-what the actual Fuck!?" he exclaimed, monetarily forgetting all about the weapons in his hands.
"You should probably run while you still have the chance."
Draco was casually chatting with Luna Lovegood and a handful of his other soon-to-be Ravenclaw housemates when Harry ran up to the group looking highly agitated and slightly out of breath.
"Have any of you seen Hermione lately?" he said in a frantic rush, "She went to the loo nearly thirty minutes ago and hasn't returned. And before you ask, Ginny and a few other witches have already checked all the nearby bathrooms and Gryffindor tower, she's not in any of those places. Severus and Madame Pince already searched the library plus the courtyard where she liked to sit and read when the weather was nice. It's...it's as if she's simply vanished into thin air."
Most of the Ravenclaws sadly murmured 'No', but Luna tilted her head slightly to the side as if observing someone or something interesting standing behind Harry's left shoulder, "Have you considered checking the outside storage buildings for the school? There are several between the castle, the Whomping Willow, Black Lake and Hagrid's old hut," she gently suggested, "It's where I would go if I needed some privacy."
Harry had never been quite sure what to make of the blonde witch's quirky mannerisms as Luna had always had her own unique way of viewing things, but she had brought up a plausible new direction to hunt for Hermione and that was all that mattered to him in this moment.
"Thanks, Luna," said Harry, turning to seek out Severus and the other people involved in the search parties, "If...we'll let you know when we find Hermione. Thanks again."
Harry's heart clenched in his chest as he moved further away from the Ravenclaws, his gut screaming at him what his mind didn't want to acknowledge - someone or something had abducted Hermione, for whatever reason, and it wasn't going to end well.
But for whom, he didn't know.
"Severus, you need to calm yourself. We'll find Hermione, you'll see," soothed Minerva, although, her tone belied her own worries for her former Gryffindor student, "Now stop your pacing before you wear a hole in the Sodding floor."
Voldemort and Lucius stood still as statues in the shadows of the Great Hall, close enough to Severus that they could feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves - they'd come to assist in the search for Hermione, leaving Narcissa back in the Blue Room at the Manor should the younger witch make it back to Wiltshire and her Healer skills be required.
(Remus and Tonks had returned to The Brambles earlier that morning before word of Hermione's disappearance had reached the Manor. With the aid of one of the Malfoy house-elves, they'd strengthened the perimeter wards and begun other security improvements about their home while Mihail and Sirius had left to do the same at Grimmauld Place - the overprotective fathers-to-be not wanting to risk a repeat of the Pettigrew and Moody incident).
The Vampire Lord didn't want to admit it, but he was disquieted when he first arrived at Hogwarts. Presuming that Hermione was still somewhere on school grounds, Severus - or he and Lucius, for that matter - should have been able to pick up the pregnant witch's unique scent and follow it directly to the young woman. Even the Marauder's map that Harry had asked him to bring didn't reveal her location.
But, whichever Order member (and there was doubt in their minds that it was one of Albus' followers) that had absconded with Hermione was brighter than the typical Dumbledore acolyte because they had somehow managed to supress both her scent and magical signature, leaving them with not even a glimmer of a trail to follow.
As a result, they were having to investigate all the storage buildings that the Lovegood witch had suggested needed to be checked. Even after splitting into pairs to cover more ground, their progress was unbearably slow and it was making them all a touch more...feral. Severus, in particular, was figuratively foaming at the mouth, ready to sink his teeth into the culprit.
If they didn't find Hermione soon, Voldemort had no doubts that his Childe would unleash his darker side upon the Order members currently in custody sitting within Ministry holding cells awaiting trial to find answers.
And he wasn't certain that he would attempt to stop him.
Whatever enchantments had been placed on the room played havoc with Hermione's human-dragon hybrid senses, she'd not realized anyone else had entered the place. Nor did she have any warning of other spells being directed at her back, these two landing solidly between her wings.
The first had her wrapped tightly in a Full-Body-Bind, the second causing her muscles to painfully spasm, making her unable to do much else in response but screech in agony. Although in excruciating pain, Hermione's primary thoughts were for the health and safety of her babies.
(Unbeknownst to her, having never been pregnant before, Mothers' Magic automatically kicked in at the moment of conception, causing a Praesidium shield to wrap about her womb. But, being unaware of this naturally occurring phenomenon, Hermione focussed on her limited repertoire of wandless and wordless spells and placed a Protego over her midsection, she only hoped it would be strong enough to prevent lasting damage to her developing little ones).
"Seriously, McClaggan!? We leave you alone for a few minutes and come back to you almost being savaged by this disgusting abomination? And you call yourself a wizard," haughtily scoffed the new male arrival, his tone indicating that he was the one in charge.
"You could've lost us our leverage over that treacherous leech Snape. And for what?" admonished a second voice, this one a decidedly spiteful female, "A bit of petty revenge for being dumped by this Freak at one of Slughorn's Christmas parties?"
Hermione finally managed to crane her neck to the side enough to catch sight of the two newcomers. It took great restraint on her part not to gawp in surprise.
"Percy Weasley? Marietta Edgecombe?" she gasped in obvious disbelief, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two. She wanted to ask them 'why' and a host of other questions but was cut off before she could form the words.
The third oldest Weasley sibling hissed at her, "That's Lord Percival Dumbledore-Prewett to you, you filthy Beast," tightening the magical bindings wrapped around her limbs with a vicious slash of his wand, "I discovered my true parentage after you murdered my Mother."
Well, that certainly explained his reasoning for abducting her but not Edgecombe's noticeable displeasure. Hermione barely had contact with the older Ravenclaw witch during group study sessions in the Library and, especially, now as Marietta had been on track to have graduated from Hogwarts at the end of last term.
Marietta sneered at Hermione, sending another 'Crucio' at her back.
"You and your leech friends cost me my dream career at the Ministry," Edgecombe explained unprompted, "I had a plum assignment as assistant to Madame Umbridge, I would've been her replacement as Undersecretary to the Minister when she became the Executive Head of Departmental Affairs next year, but you killed her!" she scowled, sending yet another Crucio at Hermione, hitting her in both legs below the knees, "Then I was transferred to the Secretarial Services in Magical Contracts when that Sodding cow Bagnold replaced her and she restructured the whole Bloody office!"
Hermione did her best not to roll her eyes at the petulant witch, "Umbridge died because she Splinched herself and I can hardly be held accountable for Bagnold's decisions. What she..."
"Silence, you filthy liar!" screeched Marietta, storming over and slapping Hermione across the mouth, hard, drawing blood as her already damaged lower lip was split open yet again, "My Mother was in Diagon Alley shopping at Twilfitt and Tattings when you and those horrid leeches attacked Madames Umbridge, Prewett and Trelawney. She saw you turn into a Manticore and charge after Dolores."
Hermione spit out the small amount of blood accumulating in her mouth and snapped back, "We were minding our own business when those three witches ambushed us," she growled, her eyes glowing brighter with her building ire, "I was defending my family and myself. And the only reason I..."
"Enough!" shouted Percy, glaring down at Hermione, "We don't want to hear any of your pitiful excuses," flicking his wrist, he fashioned a leather gag, wrapping it tightly over Hermione's bleeding mouth to silence her.
"There, that's better," he sneered as he turned to his two associates, "Prepare to leave, our Port-key activates in ten minutes," glancing over at their captive, Percy smiled, "And then the real fun begins."
McGonagall was so furious she was practically vibrating with the force of her barely restrained rage. She and Flitwick had taken great pains to ensure that the Hogwarts re-sorting ceremony was a safe and successful event, and still they'd failed. It had purposely been an invitation-only gathering, limited to the soon-to-be returning second through seventh year students and their immediate family members. They'd also implemented perimeter charms around the entirety of the school grounds that wouldn't let anyone through the main gate if they harboured the slightest ill intentions towards any of the staff or attendees.But somehow, someone had managed to slip past the enchantments.
Since all the Professors and students were accounted for, it was only logical to conclude that Hermione's captor had been an accompanying guest, but that still left the problem of just how they had managed to circumvent the other security measure (it was a preventative enchantment heavily influenced by Sirius Black's recent experiences and the violent mindset of his abductors...fat lot of good that it did, though, as it turned out).
As the Headmistress paced about the Great Hall puzzling over this dilemma while awaiting the return of the first of the search teams, the answer hit Minerva like a Bludger to the face. Merlin's Twisted Beard! The Headmistress felt like such an utter numpty. Why hadn't she thought of this before?
After Dumbledore's epic temper tantrum destroyed Snape's quarters, compromising numerous wards about the castle and the grounds in the process, they'd required additional outside assistance to repair the extensive damage. The kidnapper could've easily been amongst those collaborating on the restoration project, crafting themselves a hidden 'back door', so to speak, effectively bypassing the latest security charms through this unaffected point of access.
But regardless of how they'd accomplished this breach, whoever it was that had absconded with Hermione, they'd best hope that the Aurors tracked them down before she and the entire Cloud of Wiltshire Vampires discovered them, otherwise, there'd probably not be enough left of them to fill a matchbox.
The ongoing petty arguments between Hermione's three captors would've been grating on her last nerve by now if she'd bothered to give them her full attention. Instead, she was focusing her mind and magic towards creating a means of escape. And she needed it to happen before the Port-key in Percy's clenched left hand activated in the next five minutes. If not for the looming deadline, Hermione was fairly confident that she could overcome the trio should she break the taut Body-Binds, but she couldn't risk the possibility of still getting pulled into the translocation spell as there was no telling how many Order members were awaiting their arrival on the other side of that portal.
No, Hermione knew her and her children's best chance of survival was to extricate herself with even a hastily made Port-key...she only prayed to all the deities that may be listening that she didn't Splinch her womb in the process.
The Care of Magical Creatures Professor, Rubeus Hagrid, slowly strode through the Forbidden Forest on his way back to his cottage at the Western edge of Hogwarts territory. It had been a long and tiring couple of months for him since Dumbledore had been ousted from the school. And with it had come a number of eye-opening revelations for the half-Giant.
For starters, Hagrid discovered that he hadn't been the one to release Aragog, and his mate Ariadne, into Centaur lands. That had all been Albus' doing, the right twinkly-eyed Bastard.
Worse still, the former Headmaster had found a way to Imperio him then anchored the curse to the pink umbrella that contained his broken wand, effectively making Hagrid an unwilling acolyte, one that Dumbledore had shamelessly used to intimidate his detractors whenever the mood struck him.
Fortunately, Dumbledore's influence over Hagrid went up in literal smoke, the obnoxiously pink umbrella (with its attached Unforgivable) bursting into flames the very moment the old scrote of a wizard transformed into a Chimera. With those days of enslavement now over, Hagrid could move on with his life, starting with the relocation of the Acromantula population back to their native Borneo. Tonight had been the last transport of the semi-Sentient creatures and Rubeus (but, especially, the Forbidden Forest Centaurs) was glad of it.
For with this task being finished, Hagrid was now set to start training his replacement - the naturally talented Beast Adept, Charlie Weasley. And once the young wizard was fully certified, Hagrid would finally be free to move to France and be with his Intended, Olympia Maxime - the alluring giantess and Headmistress of Beauxbatons had promised lots of wickedly pleasurable... activities for their first night together.
But, contemplating just what those physical pursuits might entail would have to wait as all Hagrid had the energy for tonight was taking a long, hot soak in his custom-made bathtub and falling into his monstrous-sized bed for a much needed nights rest.
Well, that had been the plan, at least, until he noticed that there were lights on in the supply shed next to his hut...lights he knew for a fact that he hadn't left burning.
Hermione was rapidly approaching a point of quiet desperation. She needed at least another minute to finish the charms for her Port-key and it was time she simply didn't have anymore as Percy, Marietta and Cormac were already moving closer to her in preparation to leave.
She began squirming backwards as best she could given the severe restriction of the multiple Body-Binds, but Hermione knew it would buy her only scant seconds before Percy and the others were close enough to grab hold of her arms and whisk them all to parts unknown.
What she and her babies needed right now was a Bloody miracle.
"Time for you to face justice, Freak," sneered Marietta, stalking towards Hermione in step with Cormac and Percy, "And I, for one, can't wait to hear you begging for the mercy you aren't going to receive."
The Ravenclaw sent yet another 'Crucio' rushing towards Hermione, this one directed towards the Gryffindor witch's abdomen. Horror flashed across Hermione's face as she recognized the direction the Unforgivable was taking, twisting herself as best she could given the numerous Binding spells. But, it was enough to cause the curse to strike her along her lower back instead of her stomach.
It was a maneuver that didn't go unnoticed by Edgecombe, suspicion making her eyes gleam with malicious glee. Casting a somewhat sloppy diagnostic spell over the bound younger witch, Marietta cackled when her hunch was proven correct, "Well, isn't this an unpleasant surprise, for you that is, you wretched Creature."
"I can't wait to see how many Cruciatus Curses it takes before you expel those horrid monstrosities from your body," she smirked, relishing in the brief wave of anguish washing over Hermione's face, "I hope it's a painfully long time."
But Edgecombe's maniacal new schemes of torment were to be short-lived...and possibly her along with them.
Time seemed to grind to a near standstill as Hermione watched Edgecombe's determined approach, her wand already moving in the horribly familiar pattern of the Cruciatus Curse. Hermione drew in a shuddering breath through her nose, steeling herself as best she could for the incoming torment, but it never arrived.
In the next beat of her heart, the entire building surrounding her and her trio of captors exploded in a mixture of colourful sparks and pulverized stone, sending her toppling backwards into a veritable wall of protective warmth. A gently rumbled 'I've got ya 'ermione' revealing that it was Hagrid who had her cocooned within the welcoming grasp of his massive arms.
The thick dust cloud from the overpowered Bombarda (courtesy of Voldemort) may have partially obscured Hermione's vision, however, she didn't need her full sense of sight to recognize her other three rescuers, the dampening enchantments haven fallen the moment the walls of her temporary prison imploded. And Merlin's Twisted Beard!, were they the image of royally pissed off - a sentiment that she readily shared.
Severus had Hermione freed from her overly tight gag and body restraints with a quick Finite, allowing her to rasp out a warning, "Percy's holding a Port-key in his left hand, it's about to activate!", the beginnings of the tell-tale shimmer of blue light confirming her hurried words.
In the blink of an eye, Lucius sent a Slicing spell sizzling through the air towards the ginger-haired wizard. This was instantly followed by an agonizing howl of pain from the injured man - having a hand neatly severed from one's body would tend to do that to a person - not that Hermione could be arsed to care. The Sodding Wanker, and his associates, deserved far worse in her opinion.
To her surprise, though, the Port-key proceeded to wink out of existence towards its pre-set destination, taking Percy's freshly detached limb with it.
What she wouldn't give to see the gobsmacked faces of the awaiting Order members when that lump of flesh arrived in their midst...regrettably, her vivid imagination would have to suffice.
Hagrid shifted his grip, tenderly handing over his young friend to her anxiously awaiting mate.
"You take really good care of our 'ermione, Severus," he teasingly cautioned, knowing full well that the dark-haired wizard would sooner destroy his entire potions laboratory than harm his Intended, "Now, if you two don' mind, I 'ave some feckless Order members to terrorize...erm, help question," he said with a mischievous gleam in his beetle-black eyes.
As their half-giant friend stepped away to aid Malfoy and Voldemort in interrogating Percy, Marietta and Cormac, Severus wasted no time in wrapping his arms and cloak about Hermione's slightly trembling form. She wasn't cold, she was barely restraining herself from following through with her instincts to eviscerate her trio of captors for daring to threaten her family, but that pleasure would simply have to wait until after Lucius, Tom and Rubeus had stripped every last scrap of information from them.
And as Marietta had wished for her only a few short moments ago, Hermione hoped the Mind Magics were exceptionally painful.
Three figures waited anxiously in the shadows of a heavily warded and windowless basement, each with drawn wands in one hand and suppression cuffs in the other, all in preparation for the arrival of their unwilling houseguest, their hearts soaring in triumph when the blue-white glow from an incoming Port-key brightened up the dimly lit space.
But their elation rapidly turned to horror when the light faded and nothing but a disembodied hand landed with a wet 'splat' on the cold, stone floor between them.
A piercing shriek emerged from the lone woman in the group, effectively breaking the two flabbergasted men from their shocked stupor.
"We have to leave. Now!" commanded the oldest of the wizards, "Return to your own safe houses and wait there until I contact you with further instructions. Hurry! We don't know how long it will take before our three young colleagues break under interrogation."
"What's the point, Diggory?" scoffed the witch, although, she still prepared to leave "The Order is finished, you just don't want to admit it," she chided, "We're the only ones left who aren't incarcerated in Azkaban like Hestia Jones or dead like Moody and Pettigrew. It's time to cut our losses and move on with our lives elsewhere."
"Unfortunately, Bertha's right, Amos," sighed Ludo, shoving his set of suppression cuffs into his robe pocket, "We no longer have the numbers to search the Ministry to find Dumbledore and free him, provided he's still being kept there, nor the support to overturn the latest policy changes approved by the new Wizengamot," he stated, the resignation evident in his voice, "And with the shift of public opinion towards the Leeches and other Sentient Creatures, I'm leaving Britain for the States. I've a Cousin who lives in New York who's asked for my help in running his Wizarding tours business and I'm accepting his offer. And if you know what's best for you, you'll join your wife and kids in France, our time here is done."
"You and Jorkins can turn tail and run, Bagman, but I'm staying," hissed Diggory, pulling another Port-key from his shirt pocket and preparing to activate it, "My boy Cedric deserves justice and I won't leave until I wring it out of every one of those Bloody Leeches responsible for his death!"
"Now leave before I curse the pair of you!" snarled Diggory.
"I wish you luck, Amos. You're going to need it."
Ludo and Bertha activated their Port-keys simultaneously, both wanting to quickly distance themselves from the cantankerous Amos and any angry Leeches that may potentially already be heading in their current direction.
Only, nothing happened. Despite the Port-keys glowing brightly in their clenched fists, they remained where they were in the basement.
Nervously, Bagman and Jorkins glanced about the space and discovered that Diggory, too, remained in the same position as before, his Port-key also glimmering uselessly in his hand. And he looked to be contemplating murder as the seconds ticked rapidly past.
The stranded pair belatedly remembered that it would be a futile effort to try Apparating away as Diggory had placed numerous wards about the property to prevent their intended captive from escaping in that manner. Plus, none of their safe-houses were linked to the Floo system, either, so that was yet another option closed off to them. The only choice left was to exit through one of two doors upstairs, fully realizing that those pathways were likely already heavily guarded by the Leeches biding their time, patiently waiting for them to make an appearance.
Well, if that was the case, Diggory was determined to go down fighting, preferably sending a few of the Bloody Bastards beyond the Veil and straight into Tartarus before he finally succumbed.
It came as no surprise to Ludo, Bertha and Amos when they emerged from the no longer safe-house to find that they were completely surrounded by a large contingent of Vampires, and in short order disarmed and bound. At the forefront of the gathering was the despised Lord Voldemort flanked by two of his Lieutenants, Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy. But what was truly unexpected, and confusing to the remaining Order, was the appearance of the Mudblood, Hermione Granger, standing at the Vampire Lord's side tightly clinging to his, and not the traitorous Potion Master's, arm. Had their intel been wrong? Was she Voldemort's pet whore and not Snape's?
Absolute silence filled the area and the tension it created finally prompted Bagman to snap, "Well, what are you waiting for? Kill us like you did Marietta, Cormac and Percy...get it over with already!"
Several eyebrows raised in response to the shouted demand. "I assure you, all of your colleagues are very much alive and in the custody of the DMLE awaiting their hearings before the Wizengamot," drawled Voldemort, his countenance the picture of serenity.
"Liar!" bellowed Amos, struggling against his restraints, "Why spare them or us when you murdered my boy Cedric without a second thought?!"
Voldemort sighed heavily through his nose as he withdrew his wand from his robe sleeve, causing the bound trio to reflexively flinch. But instead of the anticipated Killing Curse, Tom calmly proclaimed, "I swear upon my magic and my...un-life that Miss Edgecombe and Messrs. McClaggan and Dumbledore-Prewitt are alive, UnTurned, and in full control of their mental faculties. Furthermore, I declare that neither I nor any of my Cloud were responsible for the death of the young wizard, Cedric Diggory," the accompanying flash of blue magic settling across his pale skin confirming that his words were the absolute truth.
But Amos was having none of it, "Lies! That's nothing but an elaborate trick!" he barked, his eyes gleaming with a malevolence born from long held grief and anger, "Albus himself told me Pettigrew witnessed your crime. And now he's dead, too, killed by your pet Werewolf to silence him!"
Bertha had seen and heard enough, "Stop it, Amos!" she hissed, "You know better than most from hearing cases before the Wizengamot that wand oaths can't be faked. And Lady Magic herself would have stripped Voldemort of his power and destroyed him where he stood had he told a falsehood."
"You're siding with these Leeches now!?" sneered Diggory, "Groveling won't save your pathetic hide."
"I believe you're missing the larger point, Amos," grumbled Ludo, his shoulders slumping as the heavy significance of Voldemort's oath set in.
"And what would that be, Bagman?" Diggory spit angrily, glaring daggers at his soon-to-be former colleagues.
"That someone else murdered your son," Ludo replied sadly, "And Dumbledore altered that fact to suit his purpose, setting Voldemort up to take the fall."
Hermione honestly tried to maintain her empathy with Amos Diggory (Marietta having tried to deprive her of her own future little ones instantly striking a chord with her growing maternal instincts) but his blatant denial in the face of Tom's oath given truths was trying her patience. It also didn't help matters that her hybrid dragon-form was demanding sustenance, and rather loudly at that.
Surprisingly (or maybe not), it was Severus who tempered Hermione's rising lust for retribution - much like Lucius, Voldemort and Hagrid had previously done for him, preventing him from shredding Percy, Marietta and Cormac into pieces no larger than a thimble.
"Easy, my bloodthirsty little Minx," he crooned in her left ear, draping his arms and cloak about Hermione's shoulders, "While I agree it may be satisfying in the short term, we don't want you getting indigestion from gnoshing on a questionable food source."
Hermione slowly relaxed, the tension easing from her bow string tight muscles, "Spoilsport," she sighed, but reluctantly conceding that Severus was right...not that she'd admit it aloud, "So. What should we do with this lot instead?"
Lucius chuckled darkly beside them, "Let's give them what they want before they are bundled off and sent to Azkaban," he drawled, flicking his wand and placing blindfolds on Jorkins, Bagman, and Diggory.
"And what might that entail?" asked Voldemort, his eyes gleaming with devilish curiosity.
"Why, taking them to their leader, naturally," smoothed Lucius, "I believe they would benefit greatly from what he has to say. Don't you?"
A clear image of Dumbledore flitted across Voldemort' mind. In the few short weeks previous, the effects of Molly's potion had worn off...mostly.
For some odd, and as yet, unknown reason, Albus' body stubbornly retained certain aspects of his chimera form - specifically, the startling rectangular irises, curled horns, cloven feet and the occasional 'bleat' of a goat.
"Hrnmm. That idea does sound rather intriguing."
"Yes, indeed."
Notes:
Praesidium - protective
A/N Again, apologies for the long delay in posting. Ongoing family health issues are taking up most of mine and my husband's energies.
I hope this extra long (often rambling) chapter makes up for my time away.
Enjoy!
Chapter 21
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The strange entourage that arrived at the Ministry later that afternoon had many a Wixen doing a not-so-subtle double take at the unusual contingent of humans, Werewolves, Vampires - and the human-hybrid that was Hermione Granger - as they paused from going about their daily business.
Leading off the group were Aurors John Savage and Kingsley Shacklebolt and their small collection of prisoners - consisting of Ludo Bagman, Amos Diggory and Bertha Jorkins - under a modified Incarerous and the very Magic-suppression cuffs they'd planned on using on Hermione. Following closely behind them were Aurors John Proudfoot and Penelope Fawley and the younger trio of conspirators - Cormac McClaggan, Percy Dumbleore-Prewett and Marietta Edgecombe, with Percy having a newly healed and reattached hand - trussed up in similar fashion as their elder counterparts. All were being steered towards the bank of Ministry lifts to be taken to the Department of Mysteries on Level Nine to visit their erstwhile leader Albus Dumbledore, none of the self-proclaimed saviours of the so-called pure Wizarding kind having a clue of what they were about to witness.
For the most part, the detainees were rather subdued, the fight having left them upon their capture. As to be expected, there were two very vocal exceptions - Amos Diggory and Percy Dumbledore-Prewett. They were shouting their displeasure to everyone within hearing range. Well, at least they had been until a Silencio was finally placed over the pair by Shacklebolt and Fawley. Kingsley sighed, a tired but relieved sound with the sudden peaceful quiet.
"Now, you lot will all behave from this point onward," he warned, his voice a deep, rumbling growl, "Or we will simply remand you to the holding cells without the privilege of visiting with Dumbledore. Is that understood?"
All six quietly nodded their assent, although Percy and Amos punctuated theirs with obvious infuriated glares.
"Good, now that's settled," added Savage, pressing the Call button on the wall next to the nearest lift with a stronger that needed stab with his wand, "Let's get this unpleasant business over with, shall we? I've a pressing engagement with my lovely partner this evening and he gets rather...testy if I keep him waiting for dinner."
"How is Carlisle doing these days? I haven't seen him around much since you two Bonded five months ago at that boisterous Full Moon celebration," inquired Kingsley, pointedly ignoring the looks of disgust on the faces of their prisoners at learning that, at least, one of their Auror escorts was a Werewolf.
John's demeanor shifted to one of patently smug male pride, "Practically bursting at the seams," he drawled, his dark brown eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and happiness, "Which is quite normal considering he's carrying our triplets, all boys."
Before Kingsley could respond with a warm smile and offer his sincere congratulations to his colleague over his surprise announcement, Shacklebolt's face turned thunderous, mirroring his inner distaste as he sharply turned his focus on the Silencio'd captives, "I can read lips, you know," he growled, pointing his wand first at Amos and then Percy, "And your odious comments about this joyous family occasion are not only unwarranted but also no longer tolerated under the new laws passed by unanimous vote only three days ago by the Wizengamot. Or haven't you been paying attention to the shift in social climate and political news here of late?" he asked, knowing that the likely answer would be 'No', not that it mattered, their ignorance-fueled and unremorseful brand of bigotry would serve only to lengthen their sentences in Azkaban.
A gentle hand placed on his shoulder by his work partner, temporarily broke his attentions from the two quietly fuming wizards, "It's alright, Kings. Their attitudes no longer bother me or Carlisle, they haven't in a long time. Now, let's get these...gentlemen to Dumbledore. And the sooner the better, or I'll have a rather...what was that Muggle phrase? Oh, yes. A decidedly 'hangry' mate to contend with soon."
"We can't have that, now can we," chuckled Kingsley, his foul mood dissipating quickly, "Lead the way, my friend."
Albus Dumbledore agitatedly paced - or rather, clomped - about his magic-suppression holding cell in the Department of Mysteries. Mere moments ago, he'd been informed the last six members of his Order of the Phoenix were to be visiting him in this vile place, three of the Old Guard and three of the newer recruits, and the very thought of this unexpected meeting had his stomach figuratively tying itself up in knots. (As it turned out, the late Molly Prewitt's potion had not only transformed Dumbledore's physical appearance, but it had left him unable to lie. If any of them, or their Auror escort, pressed him with questions he'd be unable to prevent the truth from spilling forth like a babbling brook.)
He'd tried, obviously unsuccessfully, to refuse the visitation but his request had fallen on deaf ears, the Bastards! Now he was faced with undoing all his hard work from his very own mouth, curse Molly Prewett to Hades and back! (The irony of that sentiment was lost on him, however, as he'd yet to learn of hers and Umbridge's fates. Not that he'd truly cared if he had known, they were simply more pawns to be manipulated to carry out his Grand Scheme of ridding the Wizarding World of its' Leech and Sentient Creature infestation.)
"Bloody, Buggering Hell!" he vehemently yelled aloud, a pointless exercise but it temporarily made him feel mildly better, "My plan for The Greater Good was perfection! How could everything go so horribly wrong so quickly?"
Obviously, humility was never this wizard's strong suit. And his hubris was finally going to bite him squarely on the arse.
Keeping a modest ten paces behind the Aurors and their prisoners as they progressed through the Ministry Atrium that afternoon was another group that had the crowds gawping and gossiping as they passed. Of particular interest was the unique-looking witch at the center of the well-dressed entourage.
A low rumbling growl emerged from deep within Severus' chest, "If these people don't stop their ogling, and soon, I'm going to start hurling more than just rude hand gestures and caustic comments in their direction," he hissed through clenched teeth, his jet-black eyes tinged with a ring of red around the iris and his extended fangs on full display, a clear warning of his growing displeasure to anyone paying unwelcome attention to Hermione.
A pair of soft, amused snorts of laughter greeted Severus' ears from the platinum-blonde couple close behind him, making his wand hand twitch from restraining himself into not hexxing his two longtime friends.
"And just what do you find so humorous, Lucius, Narcissa?" he snipped not taking his attention off the milling crowd of Wixen giving Hermione curious, or more often, salacious glances.
"You, my dear ridiculous friend," drawled Lucius, a smile causing the corners of his mouth to twitch upward, "Or have you so easily forgotten how I behaved when 'Cissa was pregnant with Draco," he stated more than asked.
"I finally had to threaten to hex everything he owned orange before he stopped hissing and spitting at other Wixen, but especially wizards, like a dragon guarding its golden hoard," said Narcissa, her grey-blue eyes glistening brightly at the fond memory, "And you, Severus, are reacting in a similar manner with Hermione."
"It's the pregnancy, you see," she continued, waving her hand at the faint golden particles that floated in the air about the younger witch, "Her natural scent is heightened, and it not only inspires you to protect her as her mate, but it makes others around her less hostile, possibly even attracted towards her as an added means of defense. It's quite an interesting phenomenon to behold, to say the least."
"If that's the case," scowled Severus," Then why didn't her...scent affect those Order of the Phoenix sycophants in a similar, favourable manner?"
Narcissa merely shrugged, "It's not an exact science, Severus," she admitted, her brow scrunched in thought as she considered this puzzle, "Perhaps their staunchly held bigotry simply overwhelmed the positive effects of Hermione's pheromones?"
"Anyway, calm yourself, Severus," advised Lucius, softly tapping a hand on the raven-haired man's shoulder in a show of empathy, "Hermione's your Intended, and no other Wixen in their right minds would willingly interfere with such a Magically-Blessed bonded pair - of course those six are an exception," he said, sneering at the Orders members being ushered into the lifts, "They aren't exactly overflowing with common sense."
"But, enough about their many failings as human beings," he added, swiftly guiding their small group towards the next available lift carriage, "We need to hurry if we don't want to miss their reunion with Dumbledore. As I, for one, simply can't wait to see their reactions to what he's become, it promises to be most...entertaining."
"Indeed. Particularly that of Mr. Percy Weasley's...correction, Mr. Dumbledore-Prewitt's surprise at discovering that his dear old Dad is far more Creature than any Vampire or Werewolf could imagine."
Arthur and the remaining Weasleys stood in the Ministry Atrium, watching on in disbelief as Percy was led away in restraints, his vicious declaration that he was never 'one of them' ringing loudly in their ears.
"No real loss there, Gred," stated Fred. "Too right, Forge. He always was a bit...different. And now we know the real reason as to why," said George, guiltily flinching when he saw the pained look in his Dad's eyes. He began to splutter out a hasty apology, but Arthur stopped him in his tracks with a brief, dismissive wave of his hand, his focus now drawn toward his only daughter whose face was tightly scrunched up, her eyes staring off in the distance at nothing in particular, obviously lost within her thoughts.
"What's troubling you, my Treasure," he soothed, fearing that Percy's words had affected her more deeply than expected.
Turning her gaze towards her Father, Ginny sighed heavily, "What if...and I know it's probably a low chance...but what if...," she faltered, hesitant to give voice to her growing doubts, "What if Percy's not the only Dumbledore-Prewitt in our family?"
Arthur closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow to a more normal rhythm, it was a concern he had too but hadn't wanted to bring up the possibility to his other children. And they were ALL his children as far as he was concerned, no matter what Percy had said. He had raised them all, clothed and fed them, tended to their hurts whether physical or emotional, all the important things that mattered as a Dad. He told them all as such, "You are my daughter and sons," proclaimed Arthur firmly but gently, "No matter who Sired you, all of you are mine, my family from the day you first drew breath. And nothing will ever change that fact."
"However," he paused, steadying his nerves, "Should any of you still wish to know for certain about your bloodline, we can go to Gringotts now and have a Lineage test performed."
It was Bill who spoke up first, "That might not be such a bad idea, Dad," the smirk on his face turning downright devious, "Because if any of us were that Bastard's offspring, we would have a legal claim over everything - and I do mean anything - that He owns...vaults, properties, his extensive library..." he paused to let this news sink in, hoping his siblings and Dad would see his suggestion for what it truly was, a means to strip all the physical wealth from the wizard that had hurt, and not just them, so badly.
Arthur had, indeed, cottoned on to his eldest's meaning rather quickly, his growing smile mirroring Bill's, "Excellent idea, Bill. How say the rest of you?" he asked, taking his time to.glance at each of his children in turn to gauge their reactions, "Shall we take that manipulative old goat for all that he's worth?"
Charlie, the Twins and Ginny answered as one with an enthusiastic, "Yes!"
"Excellent! Then, it's off to Gringott's we go!" proclaimed Arthur, gesturing towards the nearest exit with a broad sweep of his arm, "Bill, if you please, lead the way. As you work there, you'd know best who to speak with on such matters."
"With pleasure, Dad," Bill practically cheered, "Alight you lot, follow me and don't dawdle."
Aberforth Dumbledore had always prided himself as being a fairly levelheaded wizard when it came to most things in life but after discovering what his 'dear' older brother had done to him...let's just say it was a good thing that the Ministry had the despicable man in custody already because it would not have ended particularly well for the twinkly-eyed Bastard.
As it stood, it had taken an intensive week of treatment by the cursebreakers at Gringott's to rid him of all the compulsions that Albus had subjected him to, the most insidious having been that wretched fascination with goats that began nearly thirty years ago. While nothing untoward had ever happened between himself and the beasties, the rumours still spread throughout Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. It would take a miracle to salvage his tattered reputation...not that there was much left of the Dumbledore name to recover once Albus' disgusting schemes of Creature-Human genocide had been revealed to the larger Wizarding community.
Still, Abe was determined to make a fresh start, beginning with the complete renovation of the Hogs Head Inn, the finishing touches due to complete in three days' time - but as of yet, he'd no plans to rid himself of the herd of Anglo Nubians comfortably corralled near the pub as he'd developed a small, but profitable, side business from selling their milk to Madame Rosmerta and Gerald Fortescue (she made a variety of cheeses from the milk which were a huge hit with her Sunday Brunch crowd at the Three Broomsticks and he created a specialty line of frozen desserts that were especially popular during the Summer months). Besides, it would be a large 'Fuck You' to Albus when word got back to him (and Abe would make certain that it did) that his curses hadn't permanently derailed his younger sibling's life.
The one lingering regret for Aberforth was that he had no heirs to leave his future legacy to (that prat of a nephew, Percy Dumbledore-Prewitt didn't count as the foolish boy had chosen to follow in his Sodding sire's footsteps). And he felt far too broken to seek out a witch young enough (or, more importantly, willing) to begin a relationship with his aged self and start a family of their own.
He was not-so-silently cursing his brother's name for the tenth time that day when two Post-owls arrived, each carrying a letter containing unexpected news that would turn his world upside-down once more.
Bramblemire stood behind his portion of the long service counter in Gringott's waiting for the next customer to step forward and state their business with the Bank. Only, as he glanced up, there wasn't just one Wixen standing before him but six ginger-haired humans. One eyebrow twitched upwards as he motioned them closer. To his great surprise, one of the young wizards bared his teeth in Goblin fashion and proclaimed, "May your enemies fall in despair at your feet." A traditional Goblin greeting to which he promptly responded with, "And may your vaults ever be filled with golden galleons."
Pleasantries exchanged, Bramblemire took a closer look at the young human, finally recognizing him as one of the apprentices in their Cursebreaking program. "Apprentice Weasley, how may the Bank be of service to you and, presumably, your family today?"
Casting a subtle glimpse about the crowded lobby, Bill lowered his voice, "Perhaps we can take up this conversation in someplace a bit more...discreet," he suggested with a barely audible whisper.
"Of course," replied Bramblemire, carefully stepping back from the counter, casually gesturing for the Weasley entourage to follow him towards an empty room nearby, "My personal office is just this way, and I assure you it's suitably secured with the most stringent of wards."
"That's sounds perfect," said Authur, his calm voice hiding the turmoil twisting his stomach into knots, "As we have a few matters of some delicacy to discuss."
"We pride ourselves in keeping the confidences of our clients, your secrets will be safe with me."
In the outer office where visitors (or more frequently, interrogators) were received before being admitted to see what was left of the failed wizard Albus Dumbledore, two guards halted the mixed entourage, stating that there would be a temporary delay.
"Nothing major to worry about," hurriedly claimed John Proudfoot, waving them towards a selection of comfortable chairs to wait, "Chief Auror Robards merely said that another group was to be joining you lot in about ten minutes."
"Any idea as to whom we should be expecting?" asked Severus, his clipped words bordering on rudeness.
"Sorry, Professor Snape... errm, Sir," was the stuttered reply from Marcus Flint to his former Head of Slytherin House, "The Chief simply said he received an urgent Floo Call requesting that you remain here until this other contingent arrived, that you'd understand why once they got here."
"Then, I suppose we have no choice but to await the appearance of these mysterious guests," snarked the dour Potions Master, "Preferably before this evening is over and the morning sun greets us all."
"Now, Severus. It's not Mr. Flint's fault for the delay," soothed Hermione as she gently wrapped her arms about his waist from behind, "Besides, it's not like you'll disappear into a puff of smoke should that happen," she lightly teased, earning herself a low growl from her grumpy mate.
"Really, Hermione," smirked Severus, slowly turning about in her grasp and lightly pinching her bum in a flirtatious chastisement, "Reciting a crudely inaccurate presumption about us Vampires as a distraction?"
"Did it work?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Obviously."
The large fireplace in the receiving area just outside Chief Auror Gawain Robard's Ministry offices flared a brilliant green, signalling the arrival of the latest group of visitors determined to confront (and positively unnerve) the captive Albus Dumbledore.
Gawain couldn't suppress his large smile as his old friend, Aberforth, stepped through the Emerald flames, for at his side was his newly discovered family - and, more importantly, Abe's freshly acknowledged and appointed Heir Prewitt-Dumbledore.
"Albus is absolutely going to lose his mind when he sees the pair of you walking through his cell door," smirked Robards broadly, gesturing for the other two wizards to step aside so that Arthur Weasley and his remaining children could join them in the rapidly crowded room.
"And not to worry," he chuckled, pulling a shrunken magical camera from his shirt pocket and restoring it to normal size, "I'll be certain to capture the moment on film to be savoured for years to come."
With a rare bark of laughter, Aberforth approved, "And I'll want at least ten copies, Gawain...to share with my regulars at the Hogs Head, of course."
"Naturally. Now, let's not keep the others waiting any longer, some of them getting rather... testy."
Narcissa and Hermione sighed heavily and rolled their eyes at their respective mates, Lucius and Severus both having taken up pacing about the receiving room as the time ticked slowly by while waiting for these mysterious 'others', as Chief Robards designated them, to join their company.
"Sit down, the pair of you," commanded the Malfoy Matriarch, pointing an elegantly manicured finger towards a set of wingback chairs, "You'll wear a path in the stone floor at this rate. Besides, you're making me dizzy just watching you silly wizards fretting over nothing."
Before either frustrated wizard could respond with a snarky remark, they were interrupted by the smug looking Chief Robards casually strolling the door followed closely thereafter by Aberforth Dumbledore, Charlie and Arthur Weasley, then Fred and George with Ginny bringing up the rear, closing the door behind her.
As one, Narcissa, Lucius and Severus moved to place themselves between Hermione and the newly arrived group, their wands all pointed directly at Aberforth.
"Have you taken leave of your Sodding mind granting him clearance, Robards?" hissed Narcissa, giving the Chief Auror a disapproving side-glance, "For all you know, he plans to free that Bloody disgrace of an ex-Headmaster."
Aberforth, who had instinctively drawn his own wand in self defense, slowly tipped the point of his wand at his own heart and proclaimed, "I, Aberforth Princeton Waterford Benjamin Dumbledore, solemnly swear on my magic and my life that I will never willingly provide aid to my, now disinherited, arse of an ex--brother Albus. So Mote It Be." The blue-white shimmer of magic settling over, then into, Abe's skin indicating that his Oath was not only heartfelt but truthful.
The room remained pin-drop silent for several seconds before someone cleared their throat, breaking the tension of the moment, "Well, that certainly was unexpectedly...enlightening," drawled Lucius, tucking his wand back into his arm holster.
"Now that those awkward formalities are out of the way," interjected Charlie, the corners of his mouth twitching in a barely repressed smile, "I say it's high time to confront my Bastard of an Uncle and a total Git of a Brother and absolutely ruin their day," he said gleefully.
"Wait! What?!"
Notes:
A/N Apologies for the extended absence. Unfortunately, our family had to say a tearful goodbye to our beloved family Matriarch after her two-year battle with failing physical health, including Dementia, and we've been dealing with the emotional and legal aftermath.
My writing will be slow to return, but I assure you I've not abandoned any of my WIP's.
Take care everyone...be safe.
Chapter Text
Of the six prisoners impatiently waiting for whomever it was to join their contingent, only two were still loudly protesting about this unnecessary and, to their minds, suspicious delay ( the Aurors having lifted the Silencio after two of the captives suffered a severe panic attack from the verbal restraint).
"I knew it!" accused Amos Diggory, glaring at Auror King last as he struggled against his bindings, "You never had any intentions of taking us to see Albus! Just admit it!"
At nearly the same moment, another prisoner gave voice to their grievances.
"I demand you take me to my true Father at once!" demanded the equally incensed Percival Prewitt-Dumbledore, "It's my Merlin given right as his only son and Heir!".
"Ahhh, that's where you're sorely mistaken, dear Brother," interrupted Charlie, casually strolling through the door to stand before and tower over the seated Percy, "It appears that our mutual...sperm donor," he inwardly shuddered in disgust, "And our unfaithful bearer (he'd never again refer to Molly as 'Mother') failed to enlighten us of that little fact."
"And as the elder sibling," he continued, "I'm the legal Heir, not you. You pretentious, deluded prat," he practically spat, his sneer morphing into a smirk as his pronouncement began sinking in, the younger wizard's demeanor rapidly shifting from anger to one of confusion.
The effect, unfortunately, didn't last for very long.
"Liar!" hissed Percy, sounding like a steaming tea kettle, "I'm the only son. You're simply trying to steal my inheritance by fraud!"
"He's telling you the truth," softly rumbled a wizard stepping into the room, a grey-haired man who looked disturbingly similar to Albus, except for the darker shade of blue of his eyes, "Speaking as your Uncle, and the newly appointed Lord Dumbledore, I can confirm Charles is the rightful Heir to the Prewitt-Dumbledore line and all that entails."
"No! That's my money, not his!" shouted Percy, his face flushed with rage, "He'll probably waste it on useless things like...them," he sneered, giving a short tilt of his to indicate Arthur and the other Weasleys who were now crowded behind Charlie and Aberforth, "That legacy was meant for a far better purpose."
"Let me hazard a guess," scoffed Abe, shaking his head in disappointment at Percy, "You intended to further Albus' genocidal agenda in Britain by funding the purging of any and all Sentient Beings who weren't 'normal' or 'human' enough by his twisted standards."
"While that's certainly one possibility," agreed Charlie, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "Percy's also had his black little heart set on becoming Minister of Magic, it's been his ambition since he was a student at Hogwarts. If he'd gotten his greedy claws on that inheritance, he'd probably start his career ascent with bribing Wizengamot members for favourable votes."
"Too bad the current Minister has already weeded out those particular corrupt politicians," chuckled Bill, the cheerful sound irritating his dour younger Brother, "You wouldn't have gotten two sentences out before you were arrested."
"Fortunately, the Fates appear to be in our favour," added George. "And your poor planning and nasty temper did the rest," gloated Fred.
"Good thing, too, from what I've heard," smirked Ginny, giving Percy a two-fingered salute, "Seriously, what were you thinking abducting hexxing a powerful witch like Hermione? Oh, wait. You obviously weren't. And to think, the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Ravenclaw."
"Enough!" growled Percy, glaring at his disowned family before turning his attention back to Charlie, "It's not over yet, I'll contest everything. You won't get a bent Knut by the time I'm through dragging you through the courts."
"I think not...Brother," sniffed Charlie, doing his best to look the part of a bored, wealthy Pureblood wizard of leisure, "You'll be far too preoccupied trying to avoid the Dementor's Kiss for assaulting a pregnant witch to bother with such trivial things as money."
Percy visibly paled, having not considered the actual consequences of his actions until this moment, panic settled in rather quickly, and he desperately began looking for any way out of his self-made predicament. Glancing over at Arthur, the older wizard had remained silent during this exchange between the siblings, "You have to do something! Help me!" he nearly squeaked.
"I'm sorry, Percy. But seeing as how you've repeatedly, and vehemently, pointed out that I'm not your biological Father, you're legal woes are no longer any of my concern."
Albus knew his proverbial goose was well and truly cooked the moment he saw his younger Brother, Aberforth, stroll into the containment center wearing the signet ring and navy blue robes officially announcing his status as the new Lord and recognized Head of the Dumbledore family.
But before either man could say a word to the other, angry accusations were hurled at them by a spitting mad Amos Diggory.
"What the Bloody Hell is going on here!?" he hissed, pointing as best he could within his magical bindings at the Being pacing behind the security wards, "That..that Beastly thing is NOT Albus, NOT our missing Leader. You've lied to us, yet again! I knew we couldn't trust anything you Freaks had to say. Now take us to see Albus Dumbledore this instant! We demand to speak to him face-to-face."
With great restraint on his part to not hex the obnoxiously loud wizard, Aberforth lifted his wand and made another Vow, "I, Lord Aberforth Dumbledore, do solemnly swear on my life and my magic that this," now pointing his wand towards the goat-person behind the faintly shimmering glass-like wards, "Is my older Brother, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore...your former Headmaster of Hogwarts, denounced Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and deposed Leader of the now defunct Order of the Phoenix."
As the blue glow of the Oath settled about Abe, Diggory abruptly slumped to the ground like a marionette that had its strings suddenly cut, the irrefutable evidence that Albus was indeed the Abomination staring out at them from the containment cell was the last straw, he could no longer deny the truth that was staring him in the face with those weirdly shaped, yet still familiar, twinkling blue eyes. Their cause was irrevocably lost, broken beyond repair.
"What have they done to you, my old friend?" he muttered more to himself than of anyone else in room. But, it was enough to compel a direct response from Albus.
"They did nothing to me but remand me to this temporary prison cell, Amos. ('bleat') That wretched, vindictive harridan, Molly Weasley, was the one responsible for transforming me into this... this ('bleat') unnatural form!" grumbled Albus, emphasizing his displeasure by stamping one coven hoof-foot to the floor, "She's...she's..."
"That's Molly Prewitt, actually. And she was my Mother," interrupted Percy, cutting Albus off from saying anything more unpleasant about the deceased witch, "And you're my...Father," he hesitantly declared, "She had to have told you. Is that why you never claimed me as your child?"
Albus' tone turned as icy as his blue eyes, "No, she never informed me about your true parentage. And even if she had, I would've made her get rid of you. I couldn't allow any... mistakes to roam free, you understand," he sneered viciously, "To be used against me to extort money or political favours. Or worse, showing up at an inopportune moment to challenge me for the leadership of the Order or my seats on the Wizengamot...I never planned to share any of it with anyone. It's also the reason why I cursed Aberforth."
Marietta, having eventually gathered up her nerve, finally asked the question that she dreaded to know, "Was anything you told us about Vampires and Werewolves true?"
"Not a word of it ('bleat')," said Albus, sneering at her shocked gasp, "It was pure propaganda. The British Wizarding community needed a common enemy, a scapegoat for all their perceived life's woes. And I provided them a convenient target simply by telling all those imbecilic sheep what they wanted to hear."
"Merlin! You're a right miserable Bastard, aren't you," hiss-growled an agitated female voice, the owner of which stepped from the shadows behind Aberforth and into Albus' line of sight, her disturbingly violet, snake-like irises glaring at the unrepentant wizard.
Hermione's demeanor softened momentarily when she gazed back at her mate, "I find myself suddenly in the mood for roasted goat, Severus," she teased lightly, snapping together her jaws, the elongated incisors gleaming with saliva for added effect, "Do you think anyone would mind if I indulged myself with a quick...snack?"
Severus' deep, rumbling chuckle sent a delicious shiver down her spine,"I wouldn't if I were you, my Dear. You don't where all he's been. Besides, you'd likely end up with severe indigestion."
"(Bleat!) Keep that Sodding monstrosity away from me!" shrieked Albus, awkwardly clomping and stumbling his way to the farthest corner of his cell, "Shacklebolt, you've sworn an Oath as an Auror. It's your duty to protect me from those filthy, Bloody Freaks of nature!"
"Don't you just love the irony?" smirked Kingsley, giving Hermione and Severus a knowing wink as he gently ushered them out the door, "Calm yourself, Albus," addressing the older wizard in passing, "We can't have you keeling over with a heart attack or a stroke before your scheduled hearing before the Wizengamot, now do we?"
"(Bleat!) That's not even remotely funny, you arse!" snipped the former Headmaster, keeping a wary eye on the dragon-witch and her entourage of Leeches as they leisurely strolled from the room.
"Absolutely no sense of humour, that one," muttered Auror Savage as he lead the now silent and crestfallen Order members away from their ranting Leader's presence and towards their own holding cells to await trial.
"Perhaps Albus simply needs company, he has been isolated for some time," suggested Kingsley, a mischievous grin steadily brightening his demeanor, his appearance taking on a more imp-like quality, "And I believe I have the perfect candidate in mind.
Ronald Weasley was pacing about in his room on the Infirmary ward like a caged ginger tiger. Although he was physically back to normal (thank Merlin!), he was still being held prisoner in this place without so much as a copy of the Daily Prophet to keep him occupied. It was torture for someone so used to picking up a broom and flying around a Quidditch pitch or any open field whenever the mood struck him.
It was also too soon for another quick wank in the shower, he'd seriously risk chafing if he gave in to that persistent urge for stress relief. And that was not a conversation he was willing to undergo with that wretched, nosy Mediwitch assigned to him.'Bloody Cow' he snarled under his breath, a sentiment he meant quite literally as the Creature-born...Beast had patterned skin and a swishing tail like a Sodding Guernsey!
So imagine his surprise when two Aurors approached him about a change in scenery. Without giving Kingsley or Savage the chance to go into further details, Ron blurted out, "I accept! Anything to get away from that Freak of a Healer!"
"Excellent," smirked Shacklebolt, practically purring in smug satisfaction, "Albus will no doubt be delighted with the news of your imminent arrival."
Ron was momentarily stunned speechless. He was soon to be sharing quarters, albeit still a prison cell, with his esteemed Headmaster? He couldn't believe his ears.
"Finally!" he crowed, "The company of a real human being! And one who already knows how to play a decent game of Wizards Chess. It's my lucky day."
High-pitched screams, interspersed with loud 'bleating' and increasingly colourful cursing, ..soon echoed throughout the halls leading to Albus' containment cell, causing several nearby prisoners to wince in discomfort..
But for Aurors Shacklebolt and Savage, it was cause for celebration.
"Hnmmm, don't you simply love the delightful sounds of Karmic payback."
"Indeed, old friend. Such sweet music to my ears."
Chapter 23
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
All-in-all, the outcomes of the Order members' trials were nothing out of the ordinary, most receiving sentences ranging between five and ten years, depending on the number and severity of their offenses.
Naturally, there were a few notable exceptions - Cormack McClaggan, Marietta Edgecombe and Percy Dumbledore-Prewett were facing twenty years each in Azkaban for the abduction and torture of the pregnant Hermione Granger. Amos Diggory, on the other hand, was sentenced to Life in prison as he was the one to coordinate the Order's targeted attacks, in particular, the planned assassinations of Severus Snape and Lord Voldemort along with the intended destruction of the Wiltshire Cloud of Vampires - the only reason Amos didn't receive the Dementor's Kiss was due to Albus Dumbledore's direct involvement, he was deemed accountable for Amos' hate-fueled actions through his shameless manipulation of the vulnerable man, a strategic misdirection made possible through Diggory's grief over the loss of his son Cedric...a crime for which Albums was also found guilty of orchestrating through Peter Pettigrew.
As for Albus-too-many-names Dumbledore, whether you call it Fate, Karma or Lady Magic (or one devilishly wicked young Muggleborn), Justice wasn't done with Her retribution...much to (nearly) everyone's delight and amusement.
Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Dirk Creswell, rubbed his fingers against his temples in an effort to stave off his growing migraine. That morning's court docket had been particularly distressful, full of the hearings against Order of the Phoenix members and former Wizengamot colleagues, each one proclaiming their innocence, the majority firmly believing they were doing what was right and necessary for the preservation of their Wizarding society. That is, until Albus Dumbledore was brought in heavily shackled and confessed his sins (his goat-like features thoroughly glamoured so as not to throw everyone on trial into a panic) informing them all that their actions were based on the elaborate lies he'd told, that they were simply a convenient means to an end.
All the defendants wound up being dragged away in restraints and in tears (both wizards and witches alike), their beliefs torn to shreds with Albus' blunt revelations.
Creswell and the rest of the Wizengamot did their best to be fair in their rulings, being as lenient as the law allowed in each case. But the weight of their decisions were still hanging heavily on their minds.
And their day wasn't over, yet. Far from it. As next on the court calendar had been the Former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge's, trial.
At one point, during the reading of the charges against Fudge, one of the Wizengamot members, the formidable Lady Agatha Rookwood, hurled an actual book of Wizarding Law at the man, barely missing making contact with his head....while amusing, and a much needed break for everyone, she recused herself from the remainder of the proceedings, for which Cornelius was visibly grateful.
In the end, it hadn't mattered that Rookwood had left the courtroom, Fudge's extensive list of infractions spoke volumes all on their own and were quite damning, ranging from bribery to extortion and fraud, sprinkled liberally with the use of the Imperius and Cruciatus Curses.
His verdict was a whopping forty years to Life with no possibility of parole...he would be spending the rest of his remaining miserable days in Azkaban.
Several long months had passed in Wizarding Britain and it was now nearing the end of January. Hermione was well into her third trimester, heavily pregnant with the triplets. But that was not what had Severus hovering about her in a hyperactive protective state.
Tomorrow morning he was due to testify before the Wizengamot in Albus Dumbledore's long delayed trial, his cohort of (ridiculously expense) defense attorneys having exhausted every appeal imaginable on his behalf, it was time for him to finally face the courts and be judged.
But nothing Severus said or did could dissuade his determined mate from her firm need to attend the hearing, to show the arrogant wretch of a former Headmaster that they had not only survived Albus' demented schemes and were thriving but that Wizarding Britain, as a whole, was far better off without his toxic influence.
"Besides," she practically purred, her once again whiskey-amber eyes glowing with mirth, "I'm meeting with Aberforth, Charlie and the Chief Warlock later today to discuss an alternative to the Dementor's Kiss as punishment for that raving Arsehole. It's something that I think Creswell will enthusiastically approve and recommend to the other members of the court."
"And what, pray tell, might that entail, my dear?" he drawled against the crook of her neck, sending an delightful shiver racing down her back.
Hermione smirked, "I can't tell you that, I don't want to jinx it until Creswell and the others agree to my plan. Anyway, I want it to be a surprise."
Severus mumbled something under his breath that Hermione didn't catch but he pulled her in tight to his chest and sighed, "Fine. But I don't want you anywhere near that Bastard even if he's in maximum security restraints."
"Not to worry, Love," agreed Hermione, giving a quick peck to the tip of his nose, "Pippin will be by my side the whole time. And if Albus should be daft enough to attempt to harm us, she'll 'Rain the wrath of Hecate down on his head'. Her words, not mine."
"Now that I would pay good galleons to witness. The once mighty Albus Dumbledore put in his place by a vengeful house-elf."
"Indeed. We should be so lucky."
True to form, Albus remained adamant that his 'Greater Good' was what was best for magical Britain and the Wizarding World, showing absolutely no remorse for the many lives that he had so ruthlessly destroyed.
"They were Blood Traitors that stood in my way ('bleat')," he sneered when asked about Lily and James Potter's deaths. Tom had to restrain Harry, although, he agreed with his mate's sentiments that the 'Bloody Bastard deserved to die slowly and in the most pain possible'.
"Easy, my Love," he soothed as he gently wrapped Harry within his arms, "I know it's difficult to hear but the more Albus speaks, the worse his punishments will be."
Harry slowly let out a soul deep sigh, "While I know that's true in my head, the rest of me seriously wants Hermione to give him the same treatment as she did Dolores Umbridge and Molly Weasley, only messier and more...creative."
Hermione took that moment to gave a decidedly unladylike snort of laughter, causing everyone about her to raise a single questioning eyebrow at her.
But it was Severus who answered for the now softly cackling witch, "Apparently, my devious minx of a partner was successful in her conversations with Aberforth, Charlie and the Chief Warlock regarding Albus' sentencing. Unfortunately, she's unwilling to share this obviously delightful bit of information as she wishes it to remain a surprise for everyone."
As if they'd heard them speaking, the Wizengamot took that moment to return from their brief, but thorough, deliberations and handed over the scroll containing their verdict to Creswell to read. The slow smile that made its way across his face had everyone in the courtroom (aside from Hermione) anxiously wondering about the outcome - thankfully, they didn't have long to wait.
Taking in a measured breath, Creswell began to speak slowly and with deliberate calm, "It is by a unanimous verdict that we find Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore guilty on all charges. However....," he paused slightly, more to compound the growing discomfort of the newly convicted wizard than for dramatic effect, "His sentence for these numerous crimes will not be a lifetime committed to Azkaban, nor will he be given the Dementor's Kiss."
Startled gasps of disbelief and grumbling shouts of outrage started to fill the courtroom, at least, until Creswell performed a Sonorus Charm and bellowed, "SILENCE!"
"We grant that this comes as a nasty shock to most of you, but, Albus will not go free nor will he escape punishment," assured the Chief Warlock, a devilish gleam making his eyes light up like a child's on Christmas morning, "For what happens next, we have the tacit approval of his family, Lord Aberforth Dumbledore and Heir Charles Dumbledore-Prewitt, and Lady Hermione Granger-Prince, his latest intended sacrifice to his 'Greater Good."
"It is also thanks to their rather creative collaboration and beguiling sense of persuasion that the Wizengamot imposes the following penance upon Albus Dumbledore," he continued while flicking his wand with an elaborate flourish, the ensuing spell engulfing the deposed Headmaster in a bright purple cocoon, temporarily obstructing everyone's view of the disgraced wizard.
When the spell dissipated seven minutes later, the hybrid-human that had once been Albus was gone, replaced by a fully formed white and grey haired goat...a noticeably female one.
Crewswell smirked, enjoying the stunned silence of almost all those present, "Albus, or I suppose now, Alba, will be spending the rest of their natural life as a cud-chewing, milk-producing Bovidae in a magical petting zoo, certain to be visited daily by the very Creature-born they loathed. In addition, Alba's magical core has been permanently modified. So even if someone were to come to his, pardon me, her aid out of some sense of misplaced loyalty or even through an act of accidental or wild magic in the future, she would remain powerless, a magically bereft Squib...and a knutless, homeless, and decidedly friendless human being at that."
"And, to ensure that she can't kick, bite or head-butt anyone, especially, children in this current form, she will be fitted with a magically enhanced Muggle shock collar. If Alba so much as thinks of inflicting harm on anyone, she will be...dissuaded in an immediate and spectacular fashion."
The courtroom was pin drop silent for all of three heartbeats before all those present erupted into a roar of laughter and approval of Albus/Alba's fate.
"You devious little witch," chuckled Tom, pulling her gently to him for a congratulatory hug, " Remind me to never get on your bad side."
Harry merely smirked at his Intended, "I've told you lot, repeatedly. Hermione's brilliant...but scary."
In the meantime, no one seemed to notice that the goat who was once the power mad Albus Dumbledore had fallen over in a dead faint... not an uncommon thing, as it turned out, since he was now one of the Myotonic breed of this species.
Well, all except for the particularly ecstatic Aberforth Dumbledore. He'd never laughed so much in his life.
However, their raucous celebrations were soon cut short, Hermione causing all manner of chaos to break free with a sharply exhaled "We need to leave. Now! My waters just broke."
Notes:
https://discoverwildscience.com
Myotonic or fainting goats are a real thing, athough, they don't lose consciousness when they are startled or stressed.
Chapter 24
Notes:
A/N Finally, a finished work! Hopefully, I've done this in a satisfactory manner for all those who've been waiting for a conclusion of this long-delayed story.
Please enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The birthing room at Malfoy Manor was abuzz with activity, yet again.
Three years ago, this space had first seen the arrival of Edward Theodore Lupin. He came howling his displeasure into the wee hours of the morning with a tuft of vibrant crimson hair that later softened to a golden brown, signifying that he had inherited his Mother's Metamorphmagus gift.
While a welcome sight, it wasn't the only good news the young family received that day. From the overabundance of Mother's Magic that flooded Tonk's system for her to safely deliver her precious son, it had also restored her own magical core to normal, it was as if the injuries she suffered from Sirius' prank years ago had never existed.
And no one was more relieved to hear this than Padfoot himself.
Following along a couple of months later, that same momentous day in court that saw old Albus getting his much-deserved comeuppance, were the Prince triplets. They were in such a rush to join the rest of the world that Hermione and Severus, along with Narcissa and Lucius acting as midwife and healer, barely set foot into the soothing atmosphere of this sanctuary before the first of the little ones started crowning.
In less than an hour, Sebastian Severus and his siblings, Lucien Alexander and Astrea Jasmine were resting in their parents' arms.
As Hermione was busy feeding Sebastian and Lucien, Severus held his sleeping daughter. The sight of this tiny bundle with his dark hair and her Mother's curls thoroughly unraveled his control and for the first time in ages he wept.
"Severus, are you alright? What's wrong? Is something the matter with Astrea" Hermione asked quietly, her voice was soft but obviously full of concern.
It took a few attempts before he found the means to speak. "I...I never thought I could have all this, a life with you and children. Because of that interfering old Bastard, we came dangerously close to losing everything," he replied, his words thick with emotion.
A slow fire started burning within her whiskey-amber eyes and a devious smirk tugged at her lips, "Thankfully, after today, Albus will no longer be a concern. But that's not the best bit," she soothed, gently placing her milk-sated sons into their bedside Moses baskets and motioning for Severus to bring their daughter over and sit next to her, "Creswell didn't get the chance to inform you or the others that Albus, rather Alba, will not be relegated to the magical petting zoo on her own, she's to have a certain ginger-haired companion. A former acquaintance of mine who's also been transformed into a goat...a distinctly male one."
Severus' eyebrows soared towards his hairline with this news, his tears quickly replaced by a sharp bark of laughter, it having escaped his lungs before he could think to control it, "And pray tell, my devious little minx, just whom might this lucky individual be to receive such a distinct...honour?
As she settled their daughter in her own Moses basket, Hermione didn't hesitate and gleefully disclosed, "One Ronald Bilius Weasley, false-friend, Albus Dumbledore sycophant and Order lackey. The very embodiment of the term Dunderhead."
Several heartbeats of silence passed before Severus began a full on belly laugh which continued until his sides began to ache (fortunately, he instinctively thought to cast a Silencio between himself and their sleeping little ones so as not to disturb their slumber.)
"My brilliant, beautiful witch," purred Severus, pulling Hermione in close to place a firm, lingering kiss to her forehead, "Whatever am I going to do with you."
Lustful heat filled her gaze but the effect was ruined by a jaw-breaking yawn, "I'm certain we can come up with something that's mutually gratifying, but first, I need a hot shower and a long nap."
"As you wish, Love."
Three weeks after Prince triplets, almost to the same exact hour, Sirius' and Mihail's twins made their grand entrance to the world. A little girl they named Lyra Nichole (after Mihail's adoptive Mother) and an equally tiny boy they named Regulus Belenos (in memory of Sirius' younger Brother, one of those lost because of Albus' ambitions).
Mihail smiled down at their little ones nestled on Sirius' lap as the infants eagerly nursed on the warmed bottles of milk brought from the Manor kitchens by one the Malfoy house-elves. Leaning down to place a soft kiss to his mate's temple, he cooed, "Such a wondrous sight, my Love. And I wouldn't mind a few more joining them as soon as you feel...up to it."
Sirius' head snapped up so quickly he nearly made contact with Mihail's nose, "You'd best be keeping your dangly bits away from me if you know what's good for you," he warned, although there was no real anger behind the words, "For Merlin's Sake, I only just gave birth thirty minutes ago! You'll just have to be content with only these two."
The older wizard's grin turned positively feral, his voice dropping into a deeper register, "Is that a challenge, dear one?" he purred, drawing the younger man in for a passionate kiss, "I'm fairly certain I will be able to...persuade you in changing your mind at least once, maybe, twice more."
A strangled sound rumbled in Sirius' throat but whether it was a whimper of exasperation or a moan of consent neither man was quite certain at that moment.
Mihail, however, was counting on it being the latter.
Now, three years later, it was Harry's and Tom's turn in making use of the birthing center within Malfoy Manor. And much like his predecessors, Harry's chuffing breathing was interspersed with colourful language directed solely at his Mate's various appendages. Narcissa had repeatedly assured Voldemort that this was a common sentiment amongst those about to give birth, especially, to multiples...in their case, a set of triplets.
"Sweet Circe and all her little piglets!" exclaimed Harry as another round of labour pains coursed through him body, "Get these babies out of me. Now!" he growled out the demand, giving a pleading look to Narcissa and Lucius as the older couple set about readying the receiving bassinets and potions he would soon need.
The warmth of a diagnostic charm flowed through Harry's aching and trembling limbs, "Your almost ready," assured 'Cissa as she read the scan results, her calming tone doing absolutely nothing to ease Harry's discomfort, "Five more minutes and it'll be time to greet your family. Just take slow, calming breaths and don't push until I tell you."
Lucius approached and gently steered the younger wizard onto the birthing chair, his hands on Harry's shoulders, guiding him for the briefest of moments. It was still enough to cause Tom to growl at the blonde man. Lucius didn't flinch in the slightest, having been at the receiving end of such possessive gestures from nervous Fathers-to-be numerous times before.
It only took an hour of additional time for the couple to welcome their three little ones to the world, two girls and a boy (they hadn't wanted to know beforehand but were prepared with a list of possible choices).
"What names did you finally decide upon?" asked Hermione when she and Severus visited the new family later that afternoon bearing gifts...a tray of favourite snacks for Harry, the traditional celebratory cigar for Tom and a set of handknit, pale green cashmere blankets for the triplets.
Gesturing to the snoozing infants in turn, Tom proudly murmured, "This is James Harrison, Lillian Carina and Jeanne Nashira."
Harry looked to Hermione, the emotions clear on his face, "I wanted to name them after my parents...and my best friend," he said in a whisper, "And, hopefully, their Godmother...if she agrees."
With shining eyes, Hermione leaned over to hug Harry, "Of course I'll be their Godmother. I'd be honoured." Tears of happiness now trailed down her cheeks which she wiped from her face as best she could between congratulatory hugs from the others in the room.
"Don't mind my weepiness," she stated with a sigh, "I blame it on the pregnancy hormones and that fertile old fossil over there," she mock-glared at Severus who merely smirked and preened in returned.
"Merlin's Saggy Balls! Hermione," declared Harry, staring in disbelief at her, "When? How many? Where are you going to put them all?" he spluttered, they already had a houseful as it was for Circe's Sake.
Hermione rolled her eyes at her flustered friend but before she could reply, her extremely smug looking Mate answered, "If you're referring as to when Hermione's due, that would be around the fifteen of November. Should you, however, be inquiring as to the time and location of conception...well, there was that lovely evening about a month ago at the Potioneer's Convention in Paris..."
"Stop!" yelped Harry, waving his hands in surrender, "I don't need those details, thank you very much."
"As to 'where we'll put them all' as you put it," stated Hermione, "I assure you that there's plenty of space at the Summer House for everyone...with ample rooms to spare."
"While we don't know the genders, as yet," she added, smiling when Severus stood behind her and wrapped his arms about her middle, his hands resting low on her abdomen, "Narcissa informed us that we're having twins this time round...maybe."
Harry frowned in confusion, "What do you mean 'maybe'? Surely the diagnostic charm would be more specific, even this early."
It was Hermione's turn to smirk, "Well, the last time we didn't know about Lucien until I was three months along...apparently, he'd been hiding behind Sebastian and Astrea during previous scans. So, we won't know for certain until about the same time."
"Not to change the subject but, has anyone seen Mihail and Sirius lately," asked Lucius as he packed away the potions kit, "The twins are due for their annual checkups and so are they. And for some reason, they've not answered my owls or Floo calls to schedule an appointment."
As if summoned, the couple in question arrived with their little ones in a double pram, Sirius hissing like a rain-soaked cat at Mihail the whole way, "This is all your fault," he snarked, pressing the tip of his index finger firmly into the middle of Mihail's chest.
But before he say anything further, Sirius turned a startling shade of pale and dashed towards the nearest loo with a hand clapped tightly over his mouth.
All eyes turned to look at Mihail who simply shrugged, "What can I say, I'm a prime example of male virility," he drawled, the smugness coming off of him in waves.
Harry, with his face covered by both hands, groaned, "Not you, too? Did somebody slip a fertility potion into the water or something?"
Mihail's eyebrows sailed towards his hairline even as he glanced about at the others gathered around Harry's bed, he needn't ask the question when his gaze landed on Severus' cat-who-got-the-canary expression.
"Congratulations," he offered, clapping a hand to Severus' shoulder in mutual admiration then bending down to engulf Hermione in a gentle hug.
He chuckled softly as to not wake Harry and Tom's sleeping triplets, "By the way, I heard from Remus and Tonks just yesterday. It seems they have a second pup on the way as well. Due in August. Fenrir was beyond pleased at the news of another addition to their pack. "
Harry sat up straighter in bed and stared directly at Tom, "You are getting snipped at the first chance possible," looking to Narcissa and Lucius for support. It wasn't forthcoming, instead, he got unhelpful bemused looks.
"We'll talk later in private, Love," assured Tom, his eyes softening as he took in the panicked expression on Harry's face, "I promise to listen patiently to your concerns and suggestions if you will grant me the same consideration," glancing towards the doorway where Sirius had disappeared in a nauseated huff and giving a brief side-eyed glare at Mihail, silently cursing both wizards under his breath for unsettling his mate over the mere suggestion of a future pregnancy so soon after him giving birth.
Harry had easily agreed to this plan.
Voldemort, on the other hand, was silently contemplating increasingly creative ways in which to hex the pair of Dunderheads and not leave any evidence of his involvement.
Time continued to tick by, as it was so want to do, with ten more years having passed in a seeming blink of an eye.
During that particular Summer, Malfoy Manor and its residence had been seen hosting a wide variety of celebrations, starting with the 5th birthday party for the Malfoy-Krum twins - Scorpius Draco and Thoth Vincent - on the 15th of June. It was a chaotic affair, to say the least, for the invited families attempting to reign in their rambunctious youngsters but, all-in-all, a successful, albeit exhausting, event. The biggest hit, as far as the birthday boys and their cousins were concerned anyway, was the water balloon fight that began about the large outdoor swimming pool near the gardens, even the adults had gotten involved once the latest Muggle toy (something called a Nerf Supersoaker water blaster) was brought out by Lord Prince of all people. No one was safe, not that anyone truly minded...it was a scorcher of a hot day, after all.
The entire month of July was a whirlwind of activity centered around Hermione Granger-Prince's achievements in the brand-new field of magical-biomechanics - the most gratifying of which, at least as far as she was concerned, had been her long-promised hybrid Charm which gave back the heroic house-elf Rook's ability to walk. Even the more stoic Severus had unshed tears in his eyes when Rook casually strolled into the Manor ballroom during the Ministry Honours gala and then proceeded to waltz the with his mates Amber and Diamond.
But, by far, the most personally satisfying event took place in August when a large contingent of family and friends gathered together before setting out for a day-long visit to Regent's Park, specifically, the magical section of the London Zoo. It was a yearly tradition that had begun the year Teddy Lupin, the Prince triplets, and the Sanguini-Black twins turned five. Even now, the somewhat broody fifteen-year-olds took part in this family occasion, setting aside their angsty concerns for their sake of their younger siblings and cousins.
A familiar guide met the large group from Wiltshire as they arrived at a specially designated private entrance to the Zoo.
"Hello everyone, I see some new faces this year. I take it these are the most recent birthday celebrants?" kindly asked the retired Care of Magical Creatures Professor, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank. When the wide-eyed Scorpius and Thoth silently nodded, Mina smiled, "Well, let me begin by saying this is a safe space. Nothing you see or touch here can harm you, no matter how frightening the animals you are about to see may look. Now, step lively dears, we've a lot of ground to cover today."
Eventually, the group wound up near the petting zoo section, the parents figuratively vibrating out of their shoes from anticipation as they approached, never knowing what to expect when they rounded that last corner and came into full view of that one particular exhibit. And they were, once again, not the least bit disappointed when the Fainting Goats sign caught their children's gaze.
The expected litany of questions immediately began flying about, "Why do they faint? Can't the magizoo...magic zolol...umm, animal healers fix that? What's a cud? What do they eat? Are they always so...gassy?" Finally, the novelty of the particular pair of animals wore off and the youngsters were ready to move on to the next enclosure of wondrous creatures.
As the rest of the group made their way out of sight down the winding corridor, murmuring excitedly as they went, a handful of people lingered in front of the increasingly agitated goats. Wicked smiles and unrepentant laughter broke out when the shock-collars on the two beasts activated, as it invariably did whenever they visited.
Hermione stepped forward, being the first of two designated speakers this year, "Hello boys. I see you two have been rather...productive this year, as always. What's this make, your fourth pregnancy in as many months, Albus...pardon, Alba? I've heard the expression about being 'horny as a goat' before but seriously, this is bordering on the ridiculous. Perhaps it's time to speak to the caretakers about neutering you, Ronald," she mused aloud, resulting in another loud, sizzling 'SZZAP' of the collars when the red-haired goat that was once the human wizard Ronald Weasley attempted to head-butt her for suggesting such a horrifying thing.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Ronald," chided Hermione, once the Ron-goat recovered enough to hear her again, "It simply means no more offspring, you'd still be able to...function as normal. Honestly, why are some males so sensitive about their bits getting snipped?" nearly choking on a snort of laughter when she glimpsed all the men accompanying her instinctively moving to shelter their groins with one or both hands. With a hard roll of her eyes at them proving her point, Hermione stepped back so that the next person could address the former humans.
Making a sweeping gesture towards his companions, Lord Voldemort smugly stated, "As you both can clearly see, humans and Creature-born are thriving and all the happier without your wretched influence on their daily lives. What's more, the magical world barely remembers either of your names anymore, you've both become insignificant footnotes in British Wizarding history. And doesn't that fact just piss you off to no end, especially, you Dumbledore? No legacy whatsoever. Nothing left for you but this miserable existence, one brought upon yourself for your hubris. It's rather sad when you think about it. All that brilliance and ambition and you had to go and waste it on such trivial, fleeting things as garnering political power and collecting monetary wealth."
"I'd pity you, but the sentiment would be wasted. As we all know that, without a doubt, if you were released from this prison of your own making, you'd return to the same plots, the same tired old plans of attaining ultimate control over the Wizarding World."
"Enjoy your remaining days, Albus. I know we certainly will...each and every time we visit this place."
With their peace being said, the group turned as one and left, rejoining the rest of their family and friends moments later in front of the Mooncalf enclosure, the younger children squealing in delight when the wide-eyed animals bounded over to be fed by their hands.
It was an absolutely perfect ending to their outing on a warm Summer's day.
...but there was always next year.
Notes:
celticmythology.com
Belenos - Celtic - meaning bright one or the shining one - Sun god of Celtic mythologywww.constellation-guide.com
Lyra - the harp or lyre of Orpheuswww.star-facts.com
Nashira - star in the Gamma Capricorni A cluster - meaning the lucky one or the bearer of good newswww.mythopedia.com
Thoth - Egyptian - god of the moon, medicine, science and magic
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