A/N: More back-story people, pay attention. Man, this is fun.
Disclaimer: See chapter one, though the user name, bio and fact that this is here should be a clue.
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16 years later…
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Obituary
In four sharp, successive "pops" that sounded through the silent night, the small group Apparated into the thicket just beyond the gates of the crumbling, old mansion. Nearly breathless, their skin still stinging from the hexes and curses sent after them, every nerve in their body alive, they tumbled as they appeared. It could not be helped, after their hasty exit and the squeezing sensation of Apparition they felt as they were being thrown. They quickly recovered though, standing and straightening their robes as they gathered their bearings… only to be startled into cover by a fifth sudden "pop".
It was a man dressed in black, tall and sallow, with dark eyes, crooked yellowed teeth and greasy black hair, and just as the others fell as he appeared. The new arrival though, stood quickly, dusted and straightened his robes, and called, "Where is Draco? I have to speak to him at once!"
Three of the four stepped back into the clearing and looked at him. No one smiled, he was not really welcome. In turn, the arrival stared right back at them; Professor Severus Snape was not a man easily intimidated and especially not by this bunch.
The first, a lumpy-looking man with a face that appeared distinctly lop-sided as he leered at him, said, "Snape come too! Snape follow, Snape kill Dumbledore! Snape kill Dumbledore, not Draco!"
His sister, a stocky woman of similar features, but not smiling as her brother now was, agreed, "Yes, Snape killed Dumbledore, instead of Draco… shut up the old fool once and for all."
The third, a large, blond man, said nothing looking at Snape, and then reached out to a nearby tree and dragged the fourth-a tall, skinny, white-blonde haired, grey-eyed and pointy-faced boy still dressed in his school robes-out before him.
He struggled against the man's grip until Snape reached for him-then he recoiled as if burned-and said, "You killed him! Y-you actually… you killed him…! I was supposed to do it! He'll kill my parents now! I was supposed to do it!"
"Calm down, Draco," said Snape. "If I hadn't done it, you wouldn't be here now; they'd be dragging you away to Azkaban."
"Me? If you hadn't done it you'd be dead! Isn't that what you said, you'd made the Unbreakable Vow… everybody knows that once you've made the Vow, you can't break it or you'll die!" Draco yelled. "But what good did it do, Professor? My mother's as good as dead now!"
Snape took a quick glance at the other three and snatching hold of Draco's collar, dragged him away, "Excuse us…"
He took him even deeper into the thicket, stumbling over stones, undergrowth and through branches, before he felt they were sufficiently enough away to say, "Calm yourself, do you wish for him to see you like this? Weak and almost snivelling like a child?"
Draco said nothing, but twisted out of his grasp and straightened his robes and hair. Just away from them they could hear the others doing the same. The brother and sister, Amycus and Alecto, were even conversing excitedly over the night's earlier events. It was as if they hadn't just lost one of their comrades, or escaped from the scene of a murder….
The night around them too, seemed to contradict the very thought of the prior events. Cool, calm and quiet, the sky above was dark, dotted by many a sprinkling of tiny glittering stars. The waxing moon offered almost no light, but that of the mansion of their hiding place glowed softly through the trees, gently illuminating their faces. An owl hooted, something burrowed nearby, an animal above jumped branches in the trees… Snape could barely imagine the chaos they had just left behind….
Eventually though, Draco said, and almost quietly, "I don't need your help."
"He gave you a mission you didn't fulfil, granted the deed is done, he could still do as he promised… why didn't you tell me what it was? Why did I have to figure it out on my own, wasting months of time, when you could have just told me?" demanded Snape.
Draco looked at him stunned, "It… it-it was my mission, mine! He gave it to me, not you, and you-and you didn't even give me the chance to-"
"To do what…? You would not have killed the Headmaster on your own and you know it, Draco. You would have waited right there for Potter to come to his senses and stop you," Snape told him.
"No, I wouldn't!" protested Draco, childishly, but unable to control himself.
Before Snape could respond to this though, a strange, new voice sounded through the thicket, nasty and grasping, "Where is the boy? The Dark Lord wishes to see him immediately."
It was Peter Pettigrew.
Draco blanched at once, and actually took a step back. There was some scuffling ahead and Peter suddenly appeared before them, same straw-hair, same watery-eyes-but no longer cowering, sporting a brilliant silver but ill-gained hand-and glared at Snape.
Snape's face was an emotionless mask, and Peter turned to Draco, "The Dark Lord is awaiting you… but why are you here?"
"That is none of your concern… Wormtail…" Snape replied, uttering his nickname like an insult.
Peter sneered, "I'm not your servant anymore, you are now completely one of us…" and without another word, turned, transformed and scurried away.
Snape-pointedly ignoring his jibe-turned to Draco again, "Come on, let's go."
Still pale, Draco did as he was told, walking silently back into the clearing and out of the thicket to the rusted wrought-iron, vine covered gates that led to the mansion.
The other three had already gone in with Peter, their voices though, carried over the over-grown lawn through the dying and newborn grasses, past the decaying remains of the original owners, and the stagnant, filled-in fountain to the two making their way through the now-ruined gravel path. Noticeably absent though, were the usual black-clad patrols that skirted the shadows of the estate. In fact, the silence that had permeated the air without seemed to have followed them within, no sounds of Apparition, no murmuring voices, and no sign of the one who summoned them, the Dark Lord Voldemort.
They never made it to the mansion though, for just as they were to encounter the steps an explosion ripped through the back rooms and sent flames raging through to the front. Snape and Draco were sent tumbling to the ground as a burst of fire shot out the front doors towards them.
The heat dried all moisture from their robes and singed the edge of Snape's, but when it was gone and he looked up again, it was to find Peter smirking at them.
"The Dark Lord wishes all traces of his presence destroyed…" he offered, by way of explanation. "He has gone home now, and we're to join him."
"H-home?" asked Draco nervously, rising and dusting himself clean once more.
The heat of the flames had brought a slight colour to his cheeks but did nothing to his clearly ashen appearance. He was terrified, but if he listened to Snape, would be fine.
Peter smiled, "The Heir of Slytherin is claiming his birthright as we speak… and we're the specially invited guests."
Snape made a face, "You too, Peter?"
Peter ignored him, and instead addressed Draco, "Follow me."
In the flickering orange-gold flames of the burning house, and under the mask of the choking, black smoke pouring through the windows and front door-eerily reminiscent of the scene they had just fled-they turned and followed him to the back of the house where the others were already assembled round an old sundial. It was a portkey, and once they all touched it, it would take them to wherever it was the Dark Lord had gotten to.
Draco looked distinctly ill, but there was no turning back now. "Avada Kedavra!" not by his hand, but his fate was sealed.
Peter nodded to one of the others, who flicked a glance Draco's way and took hold of the sundial. One by one then, they followed. Amycus, Alecto, the large blond Death Eater, three men with their hoods almost completely obscuring their faces, a beautiful young woman with long, dark red hair, Snape, Draco, whose hand trembled as his fingers grazed the gilt edge until he tightened his grip, and then finally Peter. There was a nauseating tugging at their navels, Draco gagged, and they tossed into a dizzying spin before finally tumbling-well Draco and Peter at least-into another clearing in a forest, but this time, miles away from their first location.
Staggering to their feet, and ignoring their clothes while they tried to steady themselves, the first thing they noticed about the place was that it was cold. Colder than their former North England base, the area was draped in a mist just heavier than the Dementors' breeding fog and quieter than a usual forest at night. The paranoia of its new host was no doubt responsible, and also for a faint flickering of light through the trees in the distance, but above them. They were on a hillside it appeared, craggy, forested and cold… which could be anywhere in England, Scotland or Wales.
Snape actually began to wonder aloud, "Was it Wormtail who set up this portkey… I think we're lost…."
Peter snapped at him at once, "We're not lost! This is the home of-"
And finally the missing black-clad patrols appeared.
Surrounding them immediately, wands drawn and curses at the tips of their lips, their leader commanded firmly, "Identify yourselves."
Peter spoke quickly, "Lower your wands, it is only us, the boy has come."
No one moved, the leader spoke again, "You are trespassers here unless you identify yourselves, who are you?"
Snape sighed, "The loyal servants of the Dark Lord with good tidings…"
"So I've heard," a voice behind them sounded, "the most unearthly din. It appears that someone has killed the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…. I wonder who it is."
The little colour he had acquired in the flame drained from Draco's face and he went stiff where he stood, though the others, including Snape, immediately bowed.
Out of the shadows, dressed in dark robes, came Lord Voldemort himself-or at least, the new version of him-red eyes gleaming evilly, grey skin glinting in the faint light of his lit wand and smiling at them. Long gone were the handsome features of Tom Marvolo Riddle, lost with his body that night in Godric's Hollow. It did not matter though, not that ever did, he liked the new-and also ill-gained-serpentine visage and the fear it instilled. For example, take Draco.
Not entirely sure if he should speak or not, Draco stammered, "Y-yes sir, he's dead… as promised."
"So I've heard," was the reply, and then Lord Voldemort walked over to him and lowered his wand, only to draw it up to his chin and say, "But not by your hand… as promised."
Draco swallowed, then stiffening his chin, said boldly, "I was going to, sir, I had him cornered sir… but… but he stopped me."
He pointed across to Snape and all turned towards him. He gave no response.
Voldemort left Draco and looked at him, "What's this? Severus killed Dumbledore…? You, Severus, killed him…?"
Snape bowed, "Yes, my Lord."
Voldemort laughed.
"Oh, I can barely imagine the look on his face! The surprise… the realisation of the betrayal… did he plead?" he asked, greedily, quickly stepping over to Snape.
But he didn't wait for his answer to say, "Oh, I'm sure he did… possibly in a long speech… or maybe a few short words for you to 'remember who you are'…. Tell me… was Potter there? Did the boy see his great mentor's fall?"
"Yes my Lord, he did, and the boy saw him," replied Snape.
"Hah!" declared Voldemort, gleefully. "The great Dumbledore, 'the only one he ever feared', they called him… and he falls, pleading for his life before the boy they call 'the Chosen One'. We should celebrate this… we must… and isn't it wonderful that I have the perfect way to do it! Come, come see what I have found… after years of searching, come…."
With a sweep of his robes he turned and went back the way he came, the others quickly following, Snape and Draco at the head of the group.
Draco had gained some colour again, but in his eyes Snape could see his fear. The Dark Lord had said nothing about his parents….
Nearly there, the flickering light becoming steadier and stronger with each new step, a strong wind picked up, bowing the branches of the trees above them, whipping their robes around their legs. Already braving the low-lying branches and twigs, the craggy forest floor and the unnatural silence, the wind did nothing to comfort nerves. Peter actually squeaked when a branch scraped his cheek. But as it had begun, it suddenly died… just as they came out of the trees before the entrance of what, at first, looked a cave.
It took them just a second more, to realise what they were actually looking at.
It was a castle, cut into the rocky mountainside, buried for centuries among the trees. Partially built off from a rise that could have once been a cave, its walls were of rocks taken from the hillside. Despite the wrought-iron windows and entrance door, now slightly covered in the natural vegetation it seemingly disappeared into the landscape before their eyes. As far as they could see in the dark though, there were four towers, two forward, two against the back, four to five stories tall, the castle itself being a mere three. The pathway leading to it then was a series of oddly-cut steps lit by a dozen brilliantly burning torches that ended at a gate on which was carved a coiled serpent. And all around it was still.
Voldemort halted just ahead of them, and turning to face them on the bottommost step with arms raised, declared, "After years of searching, I have finally found it. Welcome, all of you, on this most wonderful night, to the home of my ancestor, the great Salazar Slytherin. When he left Hogwarts, this is where he retreated, and when he died it was lost, my family 'scattered to the winds' as they say…. But now, it is lost no more, the Heir of Slytherin has come home."
Draco actually looked strangely relieved, despite the fact that 'home' was really a menacing fortress hidden deep in the middle of nowhere.
No sooner than had Lord Voldemort finished speaking though, than a woman's voice sailed down to them in reply, "Yes my Lord, your greatness has brought you here where the unworthy cannot enter…."
They looked up to the top of the steps just as she started down to them. Robes of black, lank, long black hair cascading her shoulders, beautiful dark eyes staring curiously out of a pallid face, it was Bellatrix Lestrange. She moved with the grace of a hostess and stepped down past the Dark Lord with a respectful bow before turning to the others and finding her nephew.
At once she asked, "Draco, is that you? But then the deed is done, isn't it?"
Her expression was almost as greedy as Voldemort's had been.
And then she spied Snape, "What are you doing here?"
"Professor Dumbledore is dead," he told her, "His Lordship has invited us to celebrate."
"Yes, all of us are," said Voldemort, smiling slightly. "Come boy, you and I must talk… and all of you must see my home."
Draco unsteadily stepped forward with Bellatrix; Voldemort turned away from them and began to ascend the steps, the others following in turn. And yet, the only sounds any could hear as they went were the crackling flames of the torches, their footsteps tapping against stone, the rustle of their robes as they walked and their own breathing. Magic and its design was keeping all else out, the patrols must have taken care of the rest and Slytherin's castle had become a fortress. Hidden away wherever it was, Voldemort had found the perfect hiding place.
Up the stairs and past the gate, they first came to a small courtyard in the centre of which was a towering statue of Slytherin himself. The courtyard was lined with arches giving a view of the land around: They were on a hillside, high in the forest of a mountain with a large lake in the valley before them. And as they knew when they first arrived, that could be anywhere in England, Scotland or Wales.
Out of the courtyard they came to another wrought-iron gate that opened to the main hall of the castle. There was a grand staircase at the end, but all along the hall smaller ones led off to the towers and upper rooms.
A few Death Eaters could be found within them now, patrolling the halls and staring curiously after the new arrivals with a bow to the Dark Lord as he passed them.
Lining the walls were serpentine torches, portraits-some of which heavily featured Muggles trapped in various devices of torture-that glared at them and suits of armour bearing the most gruesome of weapons. The arched windows were high above them and once past the outermost area of the castle, disappeared entirely so that even in daylight finding one's way depended heavily on the torches. This was the stuff of the darkest nightmares and Voldemort was leading them deep into the bowels of it.
Finally at the staircase, Voldemort dismissed the others and proceeded to the second floor with Draco, Bellatrix, Snape and Peter. They were going to his personal chambers, the place where among his followers, only his 'Inner Circle' could enter.
Draco could not bring himself to be cheerful about it. The further into the castle they went, the weaker his chances of escape should the Dark Lord see it fit to kill him.
At the top of the stairs they walked straight ahead down another, though smaller, hall to a pair of grand double doors that opened to a room larger than the Hogwarts Great Hall. But there was no enchanted ceiling, no windows and no other furniture save a large semi-circular main table along which were chairs enough for those high in his favour, a throne-like seat before it at the head of the room where Nagini, his snake, lay coiled at the foot, and a large metal cage to their left.
At Draco's curious stare, Voldemort announced, "That's where I intend to put Potter, Nagini needs a pet."
Where normally he would agree, he still just could not bring himself to smile. He didn't know why, but he just couldn't.
But their tour was over, and Voldemort turned to him, "Now that you have all seen my home, tell me exactly what happened tonight, how did the headmaster die?"
And for the millionth time for the night, Draco felt ill. He had no desire whatsoever to recount, relive or otherwise remember what happened in Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower for as long as he still breathed.
He was supposed to kill the Headmaster-his Headmaster-Professor Albus Dumbledore on the orders of the Dark Lord Voldemort. That had been the plan for all the past year, and he had gone through a lot of trouble for it. It was his idea to use the poisoned necklace that got Katie Bell instead. It was his idea to use the poisoned mead from the Imperiused Madam Rosmerta that Weasel drank. It was his idea to use that Vanishing Cabinet that brought the Death Eaters into the castle-that one actually worked. And when finally it came down to it, his moment to prove himself… Snape did it. Without waiting for him, Snape had just come in and taken over….
Not that, if he wanted to be perfectly honest, he would have actually done it in the first place. But it was the principle of the whole thing, it was his mission.
"I'm waiting, Draco," said Voldemort, jerking him from his thoughts.
Draco swallowed heavily, took a moment to compose himself and said bravely, "After two failed attempts sir, I-I I managed to trap the Headmaster in the Astronomy Tower. I relieved him of his wand and he-he… when I was going to… the others had come up to us and… Snape burst in and killed him."
Voldemort looked from Draco to Snape, then back again, and said, "Hmm."
Draco felt the need to properly explain himself, "Professor Dumbledore had gone out for the evening sir, so I called the others to take care of the Aurors and lay our ambush. On our way out though, Potter's friends stopped us, they had been waiting for us but we fought them off and got away. By that time the Headmaster was back and while the others kept up their distraction I went up to the tower and disarmed Dumbledore. There was no sign of Potter anywhere sir, and Dumbledore didn't put up much of a fight. Instead of even trying, he started some nonsense about-"
Voldemort cut him off coldly, "The great Albus Dumbledore just let you disarm him? And his little champion was no where to be found?"
"Well, not really sir, I-I had caught him by surprise, but Potter was somewhere in the Tower. After Dumbledore… fell, he was right behind us all the way out," replied Draco.
Voldemort turned to Snape, "He fell?"
"After he was hit by the Curse, my Lord, his body fell off the tower. Quite an audience was assembled after," said Snape, keeping his head at a respectful bow.
Between them, Bellatrix was staring after her nephew with a mixture of disappointment and disdain.
"And all of you escaped?" asked Voldemort, rising from where he had rested on the table and walking to his "throne".
"Unfortunately my Lord, Fenrir Greyback did not. I expect they must consider this some sort of victory in the face of the loss of the Headmaster," Snape replied. "Of course, this opens the werewolves towards a new leader, a complication I know you have foreseen."
Voldemort gave no answer to this, but instead turned to Draco and said, "The Headmaster is dead. Not by your hand, one of my Death Eaters has been captured, but the Headmaster is dead. So, does this mean that your parents should be spared?"
Draco wanted to nod, profusely, but knew better. Though his tone was consultative, there was danger behind it.
Voldemort turned to the others instead, "Tell me Severus, should we spare his parents then? Bellatrix, your sister, brother-in-law…? Peter… well, this does not concern you, but do you think I should kill them? Imagine if they were the Potters…."
Finally, Draco could take it no more and began to plead, "Please sir, the Headmaster is dead as you wanted, I did everything I could to stop him! Potter-"
"Everything you could? You didn't kill him! Severus here did it for you," snapped Voldemort.
Draco fell silent and looked at his feet.
Voldemort stared at him a while, and then continued calmly, "But you did do something, so… do you still believe in us, still desire to be one of us?"
Draco looked up again and nodded quickly.
"Then I will give you one more chance, your parents are spared for now," he told him. "But the next time I give you an order, you are to do it… Crucio!"
No one had noticed when he had drawn his wand, but Draco felt it. The thousand white-hot, jagged edge daggers tearing through flesh that felt salted, under skin that felt constricting, through clothes that felt suffocating were a little hard to miss. Someone had screamed, was begging mercy but he doubted it was him, he could not speak, he could barely breathe. His lungs were near bursting, he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms, something warm, wet and metallic, blood, filled his mouth, he was going mad… and then it was over.
As sudden as it had begun the pain fell away and his body collapsed against the cold stone floor. But he barely had time to rest before he was being dragged upright and forced to stand by some sadist while a distant voice commanded them, "Take him away Peter, he's had a long day, he needs to rest… and we have to talk."
Before he was completely out the door he collapsed.
All through this though, neither Bellatrix nor Snape had moved.
In the silence that followed his departure, Nagini slithered her way up to the arm rest of her master's chair and allowed him to stroke her gleaming dark green scales. Bellatrix stared emotionlessly after the door through which her nephew had just vanished, and Snape as well, before both turned back when Voldemort said, "I said we were going to celebrate, and we should, and shall. Order of Merlin awardee, Wizengamot member, the man who defeated the great but terribly misguided Grindelwald, Hogwarts Headmaster, former Transfiguration teacher, and of course, mentor to my young nemesis, Harry Potter, Professor Albus Dumbledore is dead. And more than that, taken by a man he vehemently defended in the face of the Ministry of Magic… this is something to celebrate indeed…."
He rose and walked down to them at the table, "But there are other things as well…. Severus, your loss as a spy on Dumbledore and his Order is regrettable, but then also inevitable. A man of your talents should not waste his life away on a teaching position. I assure you that I have great plans for you, with much better pay. Right now, out there, they are mourning a 'great blow' to their resistance. A 'symbol of strength, hope' has been killed… and by the time they realise the truth, that they are in more trouble than they think, it will be too late."
"The Dementors' mist has been doing damage to the Muggle crops… their 'yields' this year, from those out of the greenhouses, are down. Their livestock aren't going to have a good summer, electrical supply-the very backbone of their existence now-seems to be in trouble, and everything is a bit… too cold. And then there are the unexplained attacks, 'violent, grotesque murders', the 'unfortunate' collapse of a castle ruin on a group of Muggle tourists, a 'wildfire' in the North Highlands that levelled a number of farms and sheep. The Muggle government would easily buckle if I wanted them to, what is the name of their military academy… Sandhurst is it? But these things take time, and of course, I must get through the Ministry of Magic first. Still, these assassinations, though effective, are taking far too long for my liking."
"And yet, all the while this has been going on, when my opponents would think I have little time for any else, I was researching my noble roots… a search that led me to this fine place, and from here I can rule the world. The wards around it are ancient; rivalling Hogwarts in intensity and quantity, no enemy can easily trespass. At least, not without a price…. I am almost invincible now, and once Potter is behind that cage, waiting to die at my hand, I will be. Tell me, was he full of righteous rage at the loss of his beloved Headmaster, did the dear sainted 'Chosen One' once again attempt an Unforgivable?"
He directed his cold red gaze at Snape, who stared blankly back and replied, "Yes my Lord, useless, the boy is far from ready for any respectable fight. It is clearly pure luck alone he's made it this far, I wouldn't be surprised if he accidentally kills himself in his sleep."
"One never should underestimate their enemies," Voldemort reminded him, gravely but with not the slightest trace of concern.
Snape nodded his concession, "But then, one should never overestimate them either, and Dumbledore clearly did so… foolish trusting old man."
Bellatrix scoffed, softly, and turned to Voldemort, "Should we then begin with the next phase of our plan, my Lord?"
Snape brows furrowed slightly, Voldemort replied, "Yes, yes, but give them a few days to mourn, Dumbledore deserves a proper burial. After all, he did, unlike me, die."
"Next phase?" asked Snape, his curiosity finally getting the best of him.
"The Muggles' police force. And maybe I should add their military as well…" replied Voldemort, casually. "Pity, they are so weak and powerless, they don't stand a chance… it is almost 'inhumane' to dispose of them."
"Wouldn't this open them to their enemies, my Lord, and especially those determined to make themselves nuisances?" asked Snape.
"It might… but they will be a bit too busy with a few problems of their own," said Voldemort with a smile that relayed everything but amusement. "I have more under my power than a bunch of rabid, ragged werewolves; I will not be thwarted again."
My, what a busy little Dark Wizard he was.
"Now, enough talk of this, I feel like celebrating," said Voldemort suddenly, clasping his hands together and walking on towards the door. "A great adversary has fallen, and by default, another seriously weakened. We can have a night off, and tomorrow… tomorrow young Draco can tell me about Potter's friends."
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