Of Wolves and Ravens
by FenrisWolf
Disclaimer - I don't own anything, J. K. Rowling does - damn it.
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Chapter Six
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Draco scowled at the piece of parchment in his hands, reading the directions for the fifth time in as many minutes, before turning and making his way up the garbage-strewn passageway that led behind the shops of Knockturn Alley. Things he was just as glad it was too dark to see clearly scuttled out of his path, and the noxious fumes of rotting organic matter wafted upward with every step he took. He gagged as something unusually ripe squished beneath the soles of his shoes, and he silently resolved to dispose of his entire outfit the moment he returned home. He wanted nothing around to remind him of the depths to which he'd sunk in pursuit of his goals.
Two sharp turns and a flight of rickety stairs later he was standing before a grime-encrusted door, any trace of its original color, or even material, buried under centuries of encrusted mold, dirt and soot. His lips writhing fastidiously, he raised one gloved hand and knocked in the prescribed pattern: tap-tappitytaptap, tap, tap.
It was only a matter of seconds until the door swung inward, surprising Draco with its silence. Apparently the door's poor maintenance was cosmetic only, and he spotted the shine of freshly applied oil on the sturdy hinges and latch mechanism. The figure that opened the door was equally out of keeping with its surroundings; instead of the sort of bullyboy usually employed by people who conducted their business in the back ways of Knockturn, this fellow's appearance was neat and clean, almost foppish, and he smiled and bowed unctuously as he beckoned Malfoy to enter.
Draco applied his best 'I'm-a-Pureblood-and-my-shit-doesn't-stink' sneer to his face and followed his guide, his robes billowing in a poor imitation of his former Potions master's style. As they moved away from the door the passage steadily became less malodorous, the signs of neglect and decay fading as they moved into the structure. By the time they reached the next door the surroundings had become quite pleasant, in a reeking-of-dark-magic sort of way. The servant smiled and nodded, directing his charge to pass through the mahogany portal.
The room Draco entered was extravagantly, if somewhat bizarrely decorated. The overlying motif seemed to be a cross between an Oriental opium den and a taxidermist's nightmare, with the furnishings alternating haphazardly between the two. An overstuffed Victorian fainting couch with an overabundance of red fringe was sandwiched between a set of end tables fashioned out of a pair of Galapagos tortoises. The ubiquitous elephant leg umbrella stand was in one corner, but the unknown taxidermist had apparently subscribed to the 'waste not, want not' school of decorating, which meant that the rest of the elephant cropped up throughout the room, often in an extremely disturbing fashion. As if that weren't enough to give one the shudders, the traditional tiger skin rug that normally held position before the hearth had been replaced by something with bristly hair and eight compound eyes. The rest of the room was adorned in similar fashion, with threatening bric-a-brac struggling to find room on every surface, often battling for position with the stuffed carcasses of unusual and outré animals from around the world, both magical and not.
All that was missing to make the room complete was a maniacal husband and his vaguely vampiric wife, or at least their seven-foot tall butler. Instead, the room's sole occupant was a white-haired wizard with a clean-shaven face, ornate velvet robes and piercing black eyes. He was sitting in a large wingback chair, its chief structural support being the tusks of the aforementioned elephant, while its 'wings' were comprised of the beast's well-tanned ears. All in all it was a truly horrid looking thing, yet its occupant appeared completely at ease. "So good of you to come, Master Malfoy," he said, he voice warm and friendly.
"Doctor Scarabus?" Draco questioned. At the elderly wizard's nod he continued. "You're a difficult man to locate," he said, his tone a bit petulant. "I've been trying to contact you for months."
"It suited my plans to delay our meeting until certain other elements were in place," Scarabus replied, his own tone not even remotely apologetic. "And before you ask, no, those elements need not concern you. They have no bearing on the reason you requested this meeting."
"How do you know why I wanted to see you?" the younger wizard asked truculently.
"Come now, Master Malfoy, what sort of diabolical dark wizard would I be if I did not investigate my potential employers before meeting them? You do seek to employ me, do you not?" he asked, his eyes glittering beneath his heavy brows.
"Yes, I seek to employ you," Draco replied through gritted teeth.
"There now, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" Scarabus asked in a jovial manner that set Draco's teeth further on edge. "Now then, I will need some facts; I understand your problem involves your mother's current social life?"
"It involves the thing she insists on shagging every chance she gets, and her throwing in my face my inability to stop her!" Malfoy snarled viciously.
"Yes, that part did puzzle me a bit; after all, you are Master of Malfoy Manor, you could just throw her out if she refuses to behave-"
"I'm not the master," Draco muttered.
"I'm sorry, what did you say? These old ears of mine…" Scarabus apologized.
"I said I'm not the master. My mother is still Mistress of the House."
"Really? But surely, when you reached your majority, control of the house devolved on you. You're what, 25 now?"
"I'm six."
Scarabus blinked, and then shook his head. "I really must have my ears checked. It sounded like you said you were six years old."
"Legally, I am. My birthday is February 29th."
"Oh, dear…"
Wizarding law had a number of peculiarities due to its necessity of dealing with the magical aspects of various events. One of the places where this was most evident was in the way the law dealt with matters of legal majority. Because of things like Astrology, Numerology, and a bunch of other ologies too numerous to mention, a witch or wizard reached their majority not at their seventeenth year, but at their seventeenth birthday. Now in most cases that made little difference, but every four years a few wizards were unlucky enough to arrive on the twenty-ninth of February. Since their actual birthdays only came once every four years, as far as the law was concerned they 'aged' at one-quarter the speed of everyone else. It was considered very unlucky to be born on that particular day, and most witches did everything in their power to avoid delivering on such an inauspicious date. still, such births did happen, and apparently Draco's was one of them.
Scarabus suddenly frowned. "Odd; by my reckoning that should make you several years younger or older than Harry Potter, shouldn't it?"
The young wizard flushed. "Mother didn't want to care for a child so soon after graduating, and neither did father. So they Moebiused me."
"Ah." It was a practice that had fallen out of favor in recent years, but in centuries past it was the custom for young pureblood couples to have their children early while they were healthy, and then raise them later. To accomplish this, the newborn was placed in a Moebius bottle, a sort of magical stasis chamber, to be 'birthed' at a later date when raising a child would be more convenient. Technically Draco would have two birthdays, the day he was actually born, and the day he was 'decanted' to begin his life. It was the sort of thing that gave inheritance solicitors nervous breakdowns, which was one of the reasons the practice had fallen out of favor as magical medical care improved.
Draco was now thin-lipped with frustration. "Mother and father never signed the documents necessary to make my decanting day my legal birthday. I know father thought it would make it easier to control me, and I suppose Mother feels the same way. She lets me run things as Master of the House, but where it comes to her own life, I have no power over her. That's why I've come to you."
"And what, exactly, am I to do? Do you wish me to convince your mother to give you your freedom?" Scarabus asked, one eyebrow arched.
Draco snorted. "No one convinces my mother to do anything she doesn't want to do; even my father had to control her with a blend of Imperio curses and domination potions. Now that's she's free of him, she's established wards and protections that will warn her the moment anyone tries to coerce her to do anything. No, I have another task for you." He paused briefly for dramatic effect. "I want you to kill Remus Lupin."
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Draco made his way back out of Knockturn Alley's twisted paths, feeling very pleased with himself. He'd found someone willing to risk Potter's fury at having someone he considered family murdered; what's more, the old wizard seemed to have no fear of Potter himself, so perhaps he might end up getting a two-for-one deal out of the situation.
Not that he could remember the exact terms of the deal…Draco paused for minute, feeling puzzled. He knew he'd agreed to something in return for Scarabus resolving his problems, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember just what he'd agreed to…or for that matter, what the old wizard had promised to do. He felt vaguely troubled about that for a moment, until a voice whispered to him that it didn't really matter. The unfortunate situation of Narcissa Black cavorting in sin with Remus Lupin would be dealt with, of that he was sure…
~~~~~
Harry stalked down the corridor to his office, his face closed and shuttered in a manner that told those of his subordinates who knew him to keep the hell out of his way. Two more! Two more ex-researchers gone missing, and the pattern that was emerging was worrying him.
The auditing department's pruning of the dead wood had been as brutal as it was efficient. Even the various division heads had been stunned by the number of what the Yanks would call 'pork barrel projects' that had been uncovered over the last few months. Hermione's position as coordinator of the auditing teams had been even more demanding than she'd expected, to the point where Harry had offered and she'd reluctantly agreed to postpone their wedding, so as to relieve some of the pressure under which she was working. Of course in typical Hermione fashion the extra time had meant she'd worked twice as hard as before, in order to justify 'disappointing' Harry.
Finally, though, the end was in sight. Another three weeks and she'd be handing the department off to her second in command, of all people Percy Weasley. Harry had been skeptical when she told him she'd requested his transfer, but as usual she'd known exactly what she was doing. Percy had learned his lesson about forming his own opinions rather than parroting those of his superiors, and he'd been almost insanely grateful to be rescued from his dead end position in the Centaur Liaison Office. He'd settled in easily, and his stiff, formal manner actually made him an ideal wizard for dealing with the prickly goblins. Combined with his determination never to be played for a sucker again, Percy approached every job like a terrier with only one rat, and he was going to make damned sure that rat was dead before he let go.
No, neither Hermione nor Harry had any qualms about her replacement, which was going to make her transition to her new job far less stressful than it could have been. After months of comparing opportunities, staff and facilities, Hermione had settled on a research position at the Cures for Magical Maladies Department. An affiliate of St. Mungo's, the CMMD's focus was on those ailments that had plagued wizardkind for centuries beyond count. Things like Vampirism and Lycanthropy were only poorly understood, and only the most primitive of treatments had been developed for them.
Hermione's ability to synthesize raw data and produce new approaches made her perfect for the job, and she'd approached the department head with the idea for a new research project. Harry didn't know any of the details, as she'd said she wanted to surprise him, but the department director had seemed enthusiastic. If only they didn't have this other business hanging over their heads…
To date, three score research wizards had been disciplined, reassigned or released, and already the changes in morale and productivity in the various divisions was marked. According to the reports, of the thirty who had actually been released from their positions, four had retired, eight had found similar jobs in the wizarding world's version of the private sector, and four others had changed careers completely.
And twelve had vanished.
Harry sat down behind his desk and pulled out the list of missing wizards. Unsurprisingly, Rosencrantz and Gildenstern were at the top of the list, but there were other names now. Greengrass, Nott, Zabini, the list went on; all wizards steeped in learning and power, and everyone a Slytherin.
"I hate being right," he muttered.
A knock sounded on the frame of his door. "Wotcher, Harry!" a familiar voice called.
Harry's frown disappeared and a huge grin appeared in its place. "Tonks! When did you get back? And how was Romania?" he asked with a smirk.
Tonks gave an exaggerated shudder. "Just this morning, and don't ask. Good thing I'm a metamorphmagus, or I'd be growing my hair back for a year!"
If possible, Harry's grin grew wider. "Oh? Charlie's dragons getting a bit frisky, were they?"
Tonks wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him. "Ha, ha, very funny; if I'd known he expected me to stay with him at that dratted camp of his, I never would have gone; I think one of the Hungarian Hornbacks was jealous of me!" She crossed to his desk and craned her neck to get a look at the parchment unrolled before him. "So what had you all worked up a minute ago? I haven't your expression looking that black since before you and Hermione wised up. What is it, problems with the guest list?"
He looked at her blankly for a moment, and then made the connection. "If only it were that simple," he snorted. He then proceeded to giver her an over view of his concerns, ending up by handing her the list.
Her sometimes flighty exterior notwithstanding, there was nothing wrong with Tonks's skills as an Auror. The list of names was instantly recognizable; while none of the people on it had been Death Eaters themselves, many of them had had family members who were. Having the people on this list vanish from sight was not a good sign. "So, what are you going to do?" she asked at last, handing the list back.
"Besides trying to get Hermione to be more careful and watching her like a hawk? There's not much I can do. None of these people have committed a crime; for all I know they could be together at a pity party on Pago Pago."
"But you don't believe that."
"Not for one bloody second," he admitted. "Someone is up to something, I can feel it, but without any activity to measure against, how do I know when and where to react?" He glared at the list, and Tonks flinched nervously as the parchment turned brown and started to smolder. "I hate being the reactive one, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hermione doesn't want me to know, but I can tell she's worried about it, too." The smouldering paper burst into flame and quickly reduced itself to ash, leaving a sooty residue on the top of Harry's desk. "I just get so sick of all this shyte!" he snarled.
Tonks nodded, and reached out and gave one of his clenched fists a friendly squeeze. "You want me to see if I can find anything out?" she offered. "It's been a while since I tried out some new faces; I could do a bit of pub crawling, see what's being whispered…"
Harry looked up at her, his expression both guilty and hopeful. "Are you sure, Tonks? You still have another week's leave due to you, I don't want you selling yourself short…"
"Pfft!" she puffed, waving a hand. "With Charlie back at work and me here, I'd be bored to tears with nothing to do. Besides, I have a vested interest in making sure nothing happens to Hermione." At Harry's puzzled look she smirked. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited to be someone's bridesmaid? I'm the only person I know who can color coordinate her hair to her bridesmaid's gown, no matter what color it is!"
Harry joined her in a brief laugh, and then sighed. "All right, Tonks, I'll admit to being a lot happier knowing you'll be looking around. Just…be careful, okay? I have a really bad feeling, like I know who's behind all this, but I just can't place them."
"No worries, Harry, you know how careful I am," Tonks replied, somewhat spoiling the effect by tripping over her own footprints in Harry's thick carpeting.
Harry watched her pick herself up and make her way out of his office, her stride confident, and he sighed. "Yes, I know how careful you are, Tonks, I just hope you're careful enough. I hope we all are."
~~~~~
Blaise Zabini rapped the gavel smartly and intoned, "This meeting of the Unofficial Harry Potter Fan Club is now called to order."
Actually, the true name of the group, coined by one of its founders, was the 'Our-families-would-kill-us-if-they-knew-but-we'd-really-like-to-shag-his-brains-out Harry Potter Fan Club', but that was too cumbersome for regular use. So the Secret Unofficial Harry Potter Fan Club was born. Some people might have considered the idea of a second such club a bit superfluous, but there was one huge difference: SUHPFC was comprised entirely of Slytherins, both current and former.
Blaise looked out at the gathering of glum faces and sighed. It wasn't as if any of them had ever really had a shot at Harry; even setting aside house rivalries and the little matter of some of the Slytherins being Harry's mortal enemies, there was the ultimate obstacle to Ultimate Harry-ness; Hermione Granger. She'd been smart enough to set her hooks into him before the Hogwarts Express reached Hogsmeade their first year, and Gryffindor or no, Blaise had to admire the way Granger had never let go. Even when she was involved with that Weasley (and no one could figure that one out!), she still kept Potter on a leash; Zabini rather admired her for that.
But so long as he'd stayed single, there was still a chance one of them might snag him. There'd been every sort of scheme, plot and machination hatched to bring that about, both in school and after. Barring that one incident with Cho Chang, all his attention had been focused on his bushy-haired friend, and the others hadn't stood a chance.
The question was, what did they do now? With Harry and Hermione finally admitting they were crazy about each other and getting married, the chances of SUHPFC's mission statement being fulfilled had gone from remote to nonexistent; hardly seemed to be a reason for meeting anymore. Of course, one could still dream…Blaise herself had any number of items whose performance characteristics were vastly improved by the visualization of a pair of intensely green eyes, not to mention the rest of the package…
She shook herself out of that particular fantasy and turned her attention back to the meeting. "As you all know, our last quarterly gathering was somewhat somber due to the news that became public just the week before. Unfortunately, there has been nothing reported to cast any doubts on the validity of those reports. Oh, and before I forget, Daphne, thank you for your devotion and hard work in producing the monthly update scrolls. I think I can safely say I'm saying I speak for all the members when I say we appreciate your efforts."
Daphne nodded, accepting the praise as her due as any good Slytherin would. She opened her mouth to speak, but a strident voice interrupted her. "So, what are we going to do about her?" it asked.
"Do?" Blaise asked, shifting her gaze with a slight sneer to Pansy Parkinson. "I don't quite understand your question, Pansy. If you're suggesting we should somehow be interfering with their wedding, there's nothing we can do, nor should we."
Blaise frowned at Pansy's angry splutter. She'd never understood why Parkinson had joined SUHPFC; her contempt for Harry had been universally accepted. Then she'd come back from a long weekend in Draco Malfoy's company, walked up to Blaise and asked, "Where do I sign up?" while Draco glared daggers at her back. Blaise never did learn what happened that weekend, though hearing Pansy mutter about 'wanting someone who didn't think a cat o'nine tails was foreplay' painted an image she could have well done without.
Parkinson had gotten her temper sufficiently under control to speak. "Are you serious? We're actually going to let him pollute his bloodline further with another mudblood? Wasn't it bad enough that his mother was one, without repeating the mistake?"
Blaise rolled her eyes, and noted with a bit of satisfaction that most of the other members were doing the same. "In case you missed the owl, Pansy, that whole line of Pureblood purity and perfection went out the window when Potter offed your precious Lord Voldemort-who was a half blood himself, if I recall correctly…"
"Lies! All lies! The Dark Lord was a god-"
"He was a goddamn pain in the arse!" Blaise snapped. "Now sit down and shut up so the rest of us can get on with things!" She glared at Pansy until she subsided and then, satisfied, continued to speak. "Now, barring insane notions of sabotage, are there any suggestions for what, if anything, we should do to show our support for them?" A hand appeared at the back of the room. "Yes…?"
"Artemis, Artemis Gordon," the blond woman replied. "I know the perfect gift we can give them, all things considered." At everyone's (well almost everyone's Parkinson was still sulking) expectant look, she continued. "We can help make sure the wedding takes place as planned, with no interruptions."
Blaise frowned as a murmur ran around the room. "I take it you have a reason for thinking it might not go as planned?" she asked.
Artemis nodded. "I overheard my uncles, Rufio and Matthias, talking. Their brother has apparently brought in a hit wizard from Italy, specifically to break up the happy couple."
"No!" "How terrible!" Those bastards!"
Blaise shushed the other Slytherin women and turned her attention back to Artemis. "Well, you've known about this the longest. I'm guessing you have a plan?"
The smile on Artemis's face grew wicked. "As a matter of fact, I do…"
~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTES - Muahahaha! The Slytherin fan club just sort of snuck up on me; I certainly didn't expect them to be helpful. Hope you enjoyed it, and more will follow soon!