BROKEN MIRROR
or The World That Never Was
Chapter One: The Senseless Passage of Tortuous Days
The soot black canine was prowling the area as he had done the past few weeks. It sniffed at the ground suspiciously as though looking for a bone to chew on for food. He would find many here, for these were the Death Eater Headquarters, the stronghold of His Eminence, Lord Voldemort. The propaganda issued to the world outside secured the people's belief that the bones belonged to rebel fighters or resistance leaders who had betrayed the trust of their grand Lord, who ruled them with a gentle wand. It did not escape notice that their lord held one of the most powerful wands of all time, but they were sure he used it for good.
Death Eaters, dressed in their customary black and grey dress robes, their faces obscured with black masks that ensured their anonymity, patrolled the stronghold. The Lord Voldemort did not visit often, for he was too honoured to visit such a decrepit place where people unfit to look in his face were taken and terminated. He was the great Heir of the Lord Grindelwald, the Emeritus, who had passed away a long time ago in a battle with the most powerful Rebellion leader, Albus Dumbledore. Months of mourning later, Lord Voldemort ascended the throne and continued to bring the wizarding world to new heights. Even today, people whispered his name in awe as he paraded through the streets to offer his respects to his late mentor, Grindelwald.
And wonder of all wonders was - he was stopping in front of the Headquarters! Surprised by the honour, the Death Eaters on guard at the door fell to their knees, kissing the hem of their Master's regal robes. He merely gave a dismissive wave as one particularly ambitious but brainless Death Eater clutched desperately at the fabric, and was incinerated with a quick spell. They left the smoking ashes alone, instead moving on into the Headquarters. The dog barked almost derisively, as though it could understand human language, and padded softly away in the wild grass that surrounded the stronghold. There were no barbed fences, no force fields. The Death Eaters seemed secure in their belief that no one would harm them unless they let them. The Resistance was dwindling; Lord Voldemort's silent executions steadily increasing and the death toll piling higher and higher. Already the Blacks had almost been entirely eradicated for being members of the Resistance, otherwise known as the Rebellion. The dog dug a deep trench in the soil, as though trying to appease his anger at the unfairness. The world was one of fear. He shot plods of soil all around and some hit a figure standing behind him. He turned, barking ferociously at the companion he abruptly had.
"I won't harm you," the man said quietly, his face crinkling into a smile. He was young yet, likely a new graduate from the indoctrination centre that went by the name of Hogwarts today. Durmstrang linked strong arms with Hogwarts, and Beauxbatons had been destroyed in a mysterious fire said to be set by an arsonist. Those who could see the truth knew the Death Eaters had done it. The man was clad in black forbidding robes, the colour alone identifying him as a Death Eater. Only those of the privileged order directly serving the Lord himself were allowed black robes. The others made do with grey, green or other colours which were downright gaudy. The man patted the dog's head with a gentleness that was in lacking in many Death Eaters around. The dog barked, wagging its tail. He looked as though he could be trusted, and the dog decided to believe his instincts.
"You're a feisty big guy, aren't you," the man praised, kneeling down in the wild grass, his hair unkempt in the dry winds that swept the Headquarters from time to time. "It's a waste to have you as a stray." The dog nuzzled at the man's knee, tickling him slightly with his wet nose as he barked in a friendly way. "MacNair would like you very much. He says Helena is worried about thieves."
The dog glared at him angrily, as though shocked that he would be sending him to an inhuman beast like MacNair. The chief executioner enjoyed murdering animals, and people even more. Only those who were of value were spared his powerful Killing Curses. The Death Eater grinned in a way uncharacteristic of his peers, boyishly rubbing the dog's ears. "I was joking, old boy. Didn't mean it. MacNair's a beast. I won't want to send you to suffer his company." The dog stared at him cautiously, as though sizing him up before settling back in his lap. "You're coming with me. The attacks on the Blacks were bad enough; I don't want anything to happen to Mom and Dad. You'll make a nice guard dog." The dog roared three times as though to prove he was fit to yap loud enough and get rid of any thieves or Resistance fighters. "Come, let's go."
The man stood up as the dog reared up on its haunches, barking loudly as he nuzzled his boot affectionately, wagging its tail energetically with newfound energy. He almost had a happy expression on his face.
"You're a funny little guy," the man smiled as he began to walk out of the compound. "I think I'll call you Padfoot." The dog barked an affirmative, shaking his head as though his ears were about to fall off, his tongue hanging out. "Oh, you like it…"
"By the way, I'm James Potter," the man smiled. The dog's eyes widened slightly, giving him a cute pout which only served to endear him to the Death Eater. He trotted along the path of his new master, whose identity would be very convenient indeed.
*
The house was a quaint two-story establishment, much unlike the lavish holdings of other rich pureblood Death Eaters who had as much money to throw around as the fabulously wealthy Potters. It was set in a simple neighbourhood, but they would be forced to move soon. According to what James had told him previously, the Lord himself had assigned him to watch over a few Muggle-borns who were exhibiting powers and apparently, learning how to use magic. There had been a report on their appearance in Diagon Alley, and the Lord was livid. Padfoot paced around the meticulously tended garden, sniffing at the unfamiliar ground and waiting for the rest of the family to leave. They had been invited to a party at Reginald Malfoy's mansion to celebrate his only son, Lucius' birthday, and were leaving in minutes.
"James, do you have your insignia?" Geraldine Potter called from the front of the house, where they were preparing to take a Portkey to Malfoy Manor. She had kindly features with almond brown eyes, and the darkest shade of midnight hair Padfoot had ever seen on anyone but his own family. She looked exactly like the kind of woman who would not harm a hair on someone else's body, but was once a very dangerous Death Eater who had acquired a record of murdering more than a thousand Rebellion fighters. Looks were deceiving, indeed.
"Yes, Mom, I'm coming!" James' boisterous voice could be heard from inside the house, where he was presumably sprinting down the stairs and trying to catch up. His father, Quentin Potter, only sighed and shook his head. He, too, had a respectable air around him, his hair nearly all white from age. Quentin was much older than Geraldine, as he had heard, and had been a valued member of the Daily Prophet staff for many years. He was still on the board and wielded great authority. Another one who had plenty of power but did not look the part. Even James, blessed with his mother's dark locks and sweet brown eyes, together with a generally misleading grin, was a vicious Death Eater who had joined the force a few months after graduating from Hogwarts. They were the typical brainwashed suburban family in the Voldemort regime.
"Are you ready to go?" Quentin smiled, the laugh lines showing around his eyes as they all got ready to touch the Portkey.
"Of course, Dad," James answered, returning the grin. "Why would the Malfoys invite us? I mean, it's really wonderful, they're such a respected family…"
"And one loyal to your lord," Geraldine added. "Perhaps it is because you were schoolmates and stayed in the same dormitory. It's wonderful that they abolished those pointless houses…For goodness' sake…Hufflepuff?" Both Quentin and Geraldine burst into laughter. James looked slightly offended.
"Mom, it's a good way to promote competition. I suppose it would have been fun," he mumbled, but quickly retracted his opinion at his mother's venomous glare. "Of course, everything the Lord says is correct. He is the wisest."
"That's better," Geraldine praised. "We're running late!" They touched the Portkey swiftly and were transported to their destination, leaving Padfoot to patrol the grounds. The dog watched their departure with anticipation, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
He padded into the house through the dog flap James had conjured up for him this morning, and looked around for the spare wand James was sure to leave behind in the kitchen. He had casually mentioned it, not knowing how useful it would be to him. Padfoot dragged the wand out of its hiding place in an obscure cooking pot. Then he began to change.
When the process was over, Sirius Black stretched his bones.
"Now to contact Dumbledore," he whispered as though reminding himself.
*
"You must be congratulated, young Potter," Reginald Malfoy said snottily as though he did not mean his words at all, looking down his nose in a scrutinizing way at James, who returned his stare without fear. Lucius was pouting in a corner, although his fiancée Narcissa was busy trying to console him, and of course, taking the opportunity to paw him all over in the meantime. Lucius had been passed over for the post as his Hogwarts N.E.W.T. scores had been abysmal. James could only sigh inwardly. The boy was ambitious, but his lofty dreams were coupled with a lazy attitude, a spoiled life and riches beyond all imagination. He was ambitious, but did not have the strength to carry out his plans. He grasped his glass of red wine carefully, smoothing his features into a diplomatic mask. It was a habit he had acquired a long time ago.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Malfoy," James said, fixing a false smile on his face. Everyone was fake here, what did one more mean anyway? He took a sip of the red wine. The Malfoys were known for indulgence and quality; the wizards and witches here today were all the cream of the crop in the society. His parents were busy mingling with the rest, his father greeting old colleagues and his mother smiling at those she had once cooperated with. "I am very honoured by the Lord's appointment, and will do my best to accomplish it."
"I must say, it is a difficult job indeed," Reginald said cautiously, staring with some satisfaction at James. The smirk on his face was nearly visible, and even his robes reeked of arrogance. "The Muggles there have been known to resist. Poor Maurice was murdered by one of them last week. You will be careful, I am sure?"
"I appreciate the warning, sir," James replied stiffly. "Thank you." He was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder, which he answered with a turn of his head. A woman, a reporter in fact, carrying parchment and quill was standing behind him with a smile plastered on her face.
"Good evening, Mr. Potter," she beamed, reaching out a manicured hand with red nail polish on, which James reluctantly took. "I report for the Daily Prophet, and we have received information about your prestigious appointment as governor."
"Yes, that would be correct," James responded, trying to be patient. As his father had always coached him, it would not do to be rude to a reporter who could make him look bad in the limelight. The Lord valued advertisements for their cause very much, and rudeness to a reporter had once gotten a very senior Death Eater murdered and chopped into thirty pieces. He had been fed to Nagini.
"What are your feelings on the appointment, sir? I understand it is in an area notorious for uprisings…" the reporter smiled, waving her wand to start the quill jotting down notes for her article about what he had said. She was clad in silvery-blue robes which flowed around her, and James returned her smile, trying to speak as calmly as he could. He had a very bad feeling about the place he was about to take charge of, but he would keep his opinions to himself. The Lord would be displeased if he appeared weak or indecisive.
"I am very honoured to have been appointed by the Lord himself, of course, but I am sure the dissidents will quiet down soon. They must admit that the Lord is the wisest leader that they will ever have," James said confidently, his belief in the Lord strong as ever. The witch looked slightly disbelieving, but he brushed it off. She must have been thinking about something else, he decided. No one doubted the Lord, except for the Rebellion.
"And what do you feel about the Resistance who claim that their government is better?" the witch continued after a few seconds of silence. She stared at him expectantly, waiting for his answer. James hesitated. He had never really thought about them, only kept on doing his job like a Death Eater should, quietly and mindlessly.
"They are foolish," he finally got out, attempting to create a look of disgust in his eyes. "They should follow our Lord and not attempt something that will never succeed." At the other side of the room, Reginald Malfoy was signalling for him to come over, and he nodded. "I must leave," he said to the reporter before turning towards the small handful of wizards at the back of the ballroom. "I hope you are successful in your line." The reporter stared at his departing figure, her mouth open in a gasp. No Death Eater, especially not one who had been appointed to a high post early, had ever said that to her.
"What's the matter, Mr. Malfoy?" James asked curiously as he neared and saw a smile on the man's face, along with some of the older and more senior Death Eaters in the circle. Some were even of the Inner Circle - members of those closest to the Lord. They shook their heads in disappointment at his question.
"Ah, my dear James, you are about to be introduced to the grandest part of being one of our great Lord's soldiers," Reginald said smoothly, an indulgent smile twisting slowly on his lips as he hooked an arm around James' shoulders. "We will take you to your first Dark Revel."
"Dark Revel?" James was beginning to get a bad feeling. Even the name gave off bad vibes. Most of the Death Eaters practised Dark magic. Those who did not, were either Potions masters, Healers or simply wished to abstain. Those belonging to the last category were usually mur- taken care of by their Lord when they were disobedient. Even so, a Dark Revel sounded like something that only the most advanced Dark Wizards went to.
"When you have experienced a Dark Revel, only will you feel true power," Reginald growled darkly, his voice low in his throat. He held out a portkey in the shape of a queen from a chess set. James knew he had to attend, or risk his position in the Death Eaters. Reluctantly as he pushed down the saliva in his throat, he took the queen. The familiar jerk around the navel took him to a spooky room that was lit only by candles, the dim light casting shadows on his face. One by one, the rest of the group he had been called to appear.
"Often, the more senior Dark wizards conduct Dark Revels; gatherings to reinforce friendship," Reginald whispered. "Today we initiate you into our circle." James did not like the dark grin that appeared on his face then, but he had no choice. "Even Lucius did not have the privilege. You are our newest member."
"I appreciate and am honoured by your initiation, Mr. Malfoy," James picked his words carefully, hoping not to do anything wrong. Dark Revels were obviously something very important to the Death Eaters, and to be invited to one would be very difficult. "I hope I will be up to the task."
"There is no need to be so formal, young one," Nott, James recognized. He was one of Reginald Malfoy's sidekicks and also a major member of the Death Eater Inner Circle. He was not someone to be offended, for he had been known to kill after torturing endlessly someone for days. And that had only been because the man had insulted him to his face. "You are one of us now."
"In light of young Potter's initiation, today we shall have a mild activity," Reginald boomed as he clapped his hands, signalling the house elves who were invisible throughout Malfoy Manor. One by one, women appeared in the chamber, dressed in Muggle clothes. James guessed they were Muggles, from what they were wearing. No wizard would degrade himself to wearing those…those…skimpy garments. "They are yours for the pick tonight, and may be returned at will anytime you wish."
"You mean…" James almost gasped, but reined it in. It would not do to ruin his reputation. Malfoy wanted him to take the woman home for…for…
"Of course, James," Reginald said, smiling as though he was a kindly, jovial grandfather giving his grandson a birthday present. "And you, as our honoured guest, get first pick."
"They're…all…very beautiful," James stammered, knowing he was losing his composure. If he did not pick one or outright refused, he would be risking his life, for Lord Voldemort did not tolerate cowards or people whom he felt had sympathy for Muggles. The women were staring at him in fright, each with abstract terror in their different-coloured orbs.
His eyes trailed over all of them. There were more than twenty in all, and he would only be able to save one. He tried to cool the panic in him. Why was he worrying about Muggles, anyway? They were vermin who did not deserve to live; second-class citizens without magic. They were helpless and useless. For once, he could not conjure up the hatred. He watched the last woman in the line, mentally counting. There were twenty-two Death Eaters, and twenty-one women. One short.
A pop! announced the arrival of another house elf, who (which) looked flustered and tired, grabbing a girl by her right wrist. James' eyes met hers, and he was immediately captivated. Her green eyes were shining bright with defiance even in the dim light of the chamber, showing in a hundred different shades. Her hair was a fiery red that had golden strands mixed in them from the candlelight. She was slender and tall, her lips slightly parted in surprise.
"Gabby is sorry, Master," the house elf pleaded piteously even as Reginald kicked him to the side of the chamber. James did not take his eyes away from the beautiful girl who had just arrived. There was something different about her, he knew. She was the loveliest person he had ever seen. She could not be a Muggle; they were low-down, not high-flying on the clouds like she was. Muggles were ugly filth, she was a beauty.
"Your tardiness is punishable by death! Do you know that?" Reginald glared lividly at the trembling house elf, who had begun to knock his head against the chamber's walls.
"Master, the girl was resisting…Gabby had to silence her," the elf whined as he (it) beat his (its) fists against the wall, his (its) dirty pillowcase that served as his (its) clothes rumpled and torn. "Gabby's pillowcase was torn by her…"
"Why, you filthy Muggle…how dare you…" Reginald had begun to advance, his anger boiling forward in the greatest flood James had ever seen. The cool head of the Malfoy family hardly ever lost his temper. The girl did not look terrified; instead she was looking triumphant. James swiftly moved himself between the livid Malfoy and the Muggle.
"I'll take her," he said calmly. The rest of the Death Eaters, who had been watching the spectacle with interest, turned to him in surprise.
"She is fire, Mister Potter…" the elf whimpered from his corner in the room, as though trying to dissuade James.
"She's interesting," James defended himself. There was something special about this girl, and he could not allow her to be left here in wanton abandon to be dealt with as the rest wanted. He could almost feel something around her. She was special, and he knew that. Reginald held his ground for a few moments, before surrendering and raising his hand in a signal of dismissal. James smiled gratefully, bowed and took the girl's hand, Apparating swiftly to his room in his humble home.
*
She shone a small torchlight before her to illuminate the streets which were devoid of street lamps. They had been removed by the Lord's famous Death Eaters years ago, when he had felt they took up too much space. His exact words were that they were of no use, since any normal wizard could light his own wand. The Muggles had been left out of the decision, and the street lamps were smashed to pieces. The alleys were prime places for robbers to hide, and heinous crimes happened all the time. Muggles who died or were harmed by these petty robbers were not helped, nor was the culprit apprehended. They were left alone. She had been born into a world of bias and hatred, her parents deceased and murdered by a death march of the Death Eaters through the streets years ago.
The orphanages looked down with disgust at they who were born of Muggles, and no one deigned to even touch, let alone adopt them. She knew her fate was to remain in that ugly whitewashed building for her life, or be taken as a slave by one of the more influential Death Eaters. Education was reluctantly given, if only to stop rebellion from them. Lately, some strange characters had been appearing. A boy with dark limp hair and the strangest black eyes had come out of nowhere in the courtyard of the orphanage where she and her sister lived. He was thin and sallow, giving off an untrustworthy impression. He wore the dirtiest street rags, and looked as though he belonged in the musty alleys polluted with blood and death. Yet she had trusted him from the first moment he had opened his mouth. It had been a horrible shock to find out he was a wizard, and a pureblood at that. He had never given any reasons for his predicament, merely, passing some textbooks to her and her sister. They were dog-eared and looked used over and over again, but they were fascinating. They told of flowers that could be conjured from wands, people who could turn into another, charms that could make things fly…
She did not have the talent, and she still bore the sharp pain of regret that she was second-class and worthless, as her sister had told her. Petunia was magical, and she was not. A knot of anger rose in her throat. Did a lack of magic mean that they were worthless? Muggles had already found ways to conquer their supposed handicap, such as making torchlights, street lamps, movies to replace moving pictures…They were strong. She did not believe this insane craziness that she lived in would continue for much more. One day, someone would topple the Lord - she hoped she would be the one. The boy had smiled cryptically when she had asked him what the books were for, and answered that she would know in due time. He had returned regularly to provide more, and then a rod that she knew was definitely a wand - she had seen the matron using hers at times. Petunia had snatched it, performing charms such as turning her hair green just to spite her. Strange things did not happen around her, but they did around Petunia. She was born with magical blood. Was it a sin to hope that she was too? She still held lingering hopes that she had just been suppressing her powers, and was not a true Muggle. The previous day, a squib had just been burnt at the stake for disobedience. They had learnt silence in no time at all. No one questioned the matron, and lived. They knelt before Death Eaters; kissed pictures of the Lord all of the time, learning never to touch another of higher status than themselves. A life of silent imprisonment. The boy, who had never given them a name, promised that they would have a better future, but by his looks, he was far from it. There was an all-encompassing hope and belief in his cause, and Lily hoped it would come to be. If not for her, then for the boy she had come to view as a friend who brought her out of the monotonous day-by-day life in the orphanage.
Her shoe squished in the soft mud that was scattered on one side of the alley, and she grimaced. She had been out running errands for the matron, and had ended up queuing for hours for pickled toad eyes. She would surely get a beating when she returned, she sighed. The matron was not known for her leniency. In fact, she had been chosen for the position at the orphanage because of her strict teachings. Europe had been taken over by the wizards, and today only America, Asia and Australia remained free. Africa was of no concern to the wizards, but they had taken great satisfaction in rampaging Great Britain. Girls disappeared from dark streets all the time at night, and she had to make good time and get back before anything bad happened. Her hands were suddenly clamped behind her back as though a vice had gripped her in its trap, and her mouth silenced. She tried to scream, but no sound came out as she was abruptly gagged. The trembling figure of a house elf appeared in front of her, bulging green eyes shining with apology.
"Sorry, miss…Master wanted a pretty lady for his newest friend tonight," the elf mumbled, staring at her. She struggled against the robes, biting the elf as he came closer and kicking ferociously, trying to get free. She would not be taken as a whore to some Death Eater! The elf twisted away and flicked his fingers. She was caught up immediately in some sort of a violent miasma that churned its way through the streets and into an elegant house she recognized as one of the most prestigious Death Eaters'.
Lily Evans realized she was in more trouble than she ever wanted to be. She almost wished she was with Petunia right now, listening to her derisive taunts and angry snaps at her. She kicked the elf again, but there was no doubt to her fate now.
Well, she deliberated quickly, at least she would get to see what happened to those abducted girls who were never returned.
*
He was a swift shadow in a place where all things were dark, adding to the mysterious atmosphere that hung heavily around them. He left no traces behind, his feet travelling faster than the wind. There was a mission to be completed, and he had to make haste if he did not want to be caught. The breeze sang along with his thudding feet on the ground as he ran wildly through vegetation and thorns, which he knew would be healed once he reached his destination. The centaurs were long extinct in Britain, exterminated ever since Grindelwald began his reign. But their healing powers survived in some of the last, who were where he sought. They would make a good addition to his cause.
The leaves rustled, adding to the soft symphony of running feet and the trees as light gave him direction, telling him that he was nearing his target. The moon hung high and thin in the sky, the clouds covering most of the black velvet surface. The dots that were stars and planets glimmered faintly, and he tipped a swift salute with one hand, his hair caught up in the wind and beginning to wet with perspiration. Almost there, he reminded himself as the light grew brighter. It was not wise to have a bonfire up in these days, but they were only smoking beacons by the time anyone got close to finding them. Today they would be extinguished once he found his target. Caution, and constant vigilance, as Alastor would say, he smiled.
He slid smoothly into the hole that was hidden beneath camouflaging leaves, and muttered a spell quietly to remove all traces of the bonfire, the quiet chirps of the birds in the trees restlessly stirring his danger sense. It was the nights that were good for him, not the terrible days where he and his friends were given free rein. Many had already defected away to the other cause, and with good reason too. Other than killing machines, they were vermin in the eyes of the rest of them.
The small underground chamber was lit by bright electric lights that harnessed the abandoned connections that the Death Eaters had ignored in their quest to remove all street lights. The free electricity was a great lure for the operations of the quiet society that he belonged to, the light almost blinding him by their brightness.
"Evening, Remus," a familiar deep voice greeted from behind him. He turned, offering a tired smile. The intensity of the run was getting to him, he assumed. Albus Dumbledore remained as regal as ever even in mended and patched grey robes, his long pristine beard giving him a sense of great power. Indeed - Grindelwald had perished against him even after he had won Hogwarts with the help of one Tom Marvolo Riddle that day. It was disorienting how the man could still remain cheerful even after losing all freedom and being driven to the underground, but Dumbledore would always remain a mystery to him.
"Was the mission successful, sir?" he said politely, dusting leaves off his skin and robes, and casting quick spells to mend them where they had torn during the wild run. "Something serious must have happened for you to call me here so urgently."
"Indeed," Severus Snape said from behind him, his thin voice as unsociable as ever. The man was a menace by all standards, but a brilliant prodigy in the areas of Potions. He had invented the Wolfsbane Potion, which he had been outlawed for, at fifteen. That was three years ago. He fitted the eccentric profile of a intelligent scientist and Potions Master, though his age was far from the standard requirement. It was rare to see him with a smile on his face, but Severus wore the biggest grin he had seen yet on the quiet man. "The two Evans sisters have…been learning magic, though I have reasons to believe Lily is estranged from her powers. We are making headway in educating Muggle-borns."
"That's excellent," Remus replied, his expression one of relief. It had always bothered him that Muggle-borns did not receive education, though he, as a werewolf did. His mother had been Muggle-born, and she was murdered a few days short of her birthday. His father died of a heart attack days later. He had remained valuable because of his affliction. "But that's not the point, is it?" Albus nodded, patting Remus on the back proudly.
"You always were astute, Remus," Severus commented dryly, handing him some documents and notes. "Sirius has…gone undercover again. He has successfully become our newest target, James Potter's house pet."
"What about Minerva?" Remus asked, slightly concerned for the witch who had taught him both Transfigurations and Charms, having been like a surrogate mother to him until her connections to the underground Resistance were discovered, and she was almost executed, then saved from the curse by a timely attack that had taken out more than thirty Death Eaters. "How is she holding up?"
"Oh, that…" Severus shook his hair free of the dust and grime that was beginning to congregate there due to his surroundings, an optimistic smile on his face. "She's being pampered at the Notts, and taking in great information in the meantime. No need to worry."
"There's something even more important, though," Albus continued Severus' speech, a happy twinkle in his blue eyes which had seemed lifeless for a few days when he had learnt one of his students had become the newest Dark Lord to terrorize the wizarding world. "We have reason to believe…James Potter chose a certain Evans sister at a Dark Revel tonight."
"Marvellous," Remus breathed, a grin appearing on his face to match that of Severus'. "Around someone as powerful as he is, she will discover her powers in no time. And away from Petunia's influence…"
"Sirius informs us that he is…benign and kind, very much unlike the profile we sketched out of him," Severus added. He and Sirius were enemies who had grown up together, competing with each other for everything until the Blacks had been murdered in cold blood and the Snapes exterminated. They had banded together as loyal allies, vowing to avenge their own families. Somehow, the enemies had become friends. In a war, anything could happen.
"So there is a chance he may be drawn to our side," Remus whispered. James had been a childhood friend, and he had been visibly disappointed when James was drafted into the newest recruits of Death Eaters. He had been a kind wonderful person who thought of others before himself, with abject loyalty to the Lord. If only he could see the light…both literally and metaphorically, of course…
"Joy," Severus said sarcastically beside him, jerking him from his reverie. There was still much to be done, and he was musing here. "No matter how well things have been, Remus, we must watch out for the Death Eaters. We must be on guard. Potter may not come to our side. They may destroy everything. Complacency may destroy us."
"I know," Remus nodded in agreement. Severus was a realist, and he always proved it by injecting some pessimism to motivate the rest of the Rebellion.
"And I suggest you get some sleep and a bath, Remus," Albus chipped in, smiling. "It will decrease suspicion tomorrow."
"Thank you, sir," Remus smiled, pulling out his wand to Apparate. Severus and Albus did the same seconds later, leaving the small room deserted once again. No trace of any meeting was left, the notes incinerated long ago.
And all the Death Eaters found was ash hours later, blown into who knows where, and fused electric bulbs they could not bear to touch. Once again, the Rebellion had evaded them.
*
Disclaimer: All characters mentioned in this story belong to JKR, great owner of the Harry Potter universe. No money is being made from this.