BROKEN MIRROR
Or The World That Never Was
Chapter Four: The Clouded Perceptions of New Circumstances
The dull grey walls of the orphanage flashed past Lily in her panicked run, but she took no heed. The fabric of her dress flowed around her, reminding her endless of her new status. A strange feeling was choking her throat, but she did not know what it was. It lodged a lump in her mouth and a heavy weight in her stomach. She smiled as she remembered the charade Ja - Potter had put up for Pettigrew. She could almost imagine that shock on her face once again. It was a nice memory.
She could not help thinking that Potter himself was a nice memory too. She wondered if he would return to visit her. He had said that he would see her, but he had not specified when. She found herself wanting to see his smile if only to find somewhere where she did not feel out of place again. Right now, she was caught between two worlds, the one of the Death Eaters and Voldemort's unchallenged rule, and the other of anger and pain and fear and Muggle inferiority as they declared so.
What was she now? Where would she belong?
Somehow she knew that being with Potter gave her a strange sort of bliss. Other times, she was happy only when the unkempt boy visited and encouraged her never to feel inferior, that she was just as special as anyone out there. He was perhaps one of the only friends she had in the orphanage. Petunia hated her. They were sisters, but Petunia seemed to look down on her immensely. Perhaps it was because she could not do magic. Petunia would have made an excellent Death Eater if only she was a pureblood, she thought. She hated and raged with the furies of hell. And yet the irony was that the purebloods; the Death Eaters had brought her to this state. She hated because of them.
An unwelcome leg in her path tripped her and sent her crashing to the ground, the nasty laughter trailing in her wake as she tried to pick herself up from the ground, the scrape on her knee reminding her of the elf's rough treatment the previous night before. She turned her head, expecting round, repulsive Pettigrew.
She was faced with the disgusting sight of overweight, round Pettigrew who possessed the gift of a dirty gab. His hair was a colourless blonde, lying around his head in stringy clumps. His pale face was covered with pimples and his plump figure only served to enhance the lecherous impression he had on others. None of the girls liked him, for he had the bad habit of pinching a girl's behind and no one wanted that.
She also happened to be one of his favourite victims.
"Lil," he grinned lecherously. The look on his face made Lily feel nauseous, but she kept the feeling suppressed with much difficulty. If there was one reason she did not want to stay at the orphanage, it would be the existence of Peter Pettigrew.
"Get away from me," she gritted her teeth, backing up against the wall as she hoped to get to her little cramped hovel of a room in time. The soothing feeling of her new dress was dissipated slowly with the cold sweat that fear induced. She knew a girl who had committed suicide after being locked into a room with Peter. The death had been grotesque, and those who had read the note she left behind had found ways and means to escape.
They died in the end, for no one escaped the Lord.
"You should always listen to the lady," an anonymous voice said sternly from an unseen perch. Lily spun around. The voice seemed to have come from her back. She had forgotten that the orphanage had a tendency to echo messages and voices, and quickly returned to her former position. What was that spell that Petunia had been mouthing to disarm someone? It was somehow linked to the word expel…She bit her lip nervously. Pettigrew seemed unafraid of the voice and continued advancing.
He was coming, and she had no way to escape.
"Expelliarmus!" she yelled suddenly, raising a hand, her palm facing Pettigrew. She had merely meant it as a threat to scare him off, and perhaps escape in the meantime, but she had not expected it to take effect.
Pettigrew was smashed against the end of the hallway, looking dazed as he was flung through the air at great speed. She gasped, staring at her right hand. It was still tingling slightly with some sort of electric feeling. It felt…amazing. Had she done magic? Pettigrew now stared at her with a shocked expression, disbelieving what she had just done. Lily gulped. If he reported it to the Death Eaters, then she would be burned just like her mother had been.
The fire devouring her even as she screamed, the hot fiery flames scalding and destroying her clouds of hair
She knew she hadn't been there when it happened. But she had felt it. She had felt each and every jolt of pain her mother had felt, together with her father's execution by a simple Killing Curse. It had felt like a void of life, cold and unfeeling. It had felt unnatural. The fire had been worse, for she knew each and every sensation that had to do with anything hot. It had devoured her home like a greedy child feasting on sweets, and then it had taken her beloved mother.
That was why she hated fire with a passion that rivalled its dancing flames.
The startled boy still sat on the other side of the hallway, staring at her in shock as the bump on his head began forming. He shook his head in disbelief, and she felt the cold creep of fear up her spine, even as she tried to resist it. Even James can't help me now, she thought.
She would face it as her mother would have counselled her to do. It was her own doings, and she would take responsibility. If she had to die, then she would gladly accept death if it had been her fault. Everyone had to die anyway, even the Lord himself. She whispered the words of the Memory Charm under her breath, hoping that he would perhaps forget. The thin strand of hope that the charm would work still remained.
She looked up, jaw locked together with fear. Pettigrew stared blankly at her from the other side of the corridor. Then his eyes cleared of any confusion and he leered at her once again. The fear returned to her senses and she was aware of a drop of sweat travelling down her cheek.
"Now, now, dear girl, you won't want to offend me, would you…And I can see the reason you lured me here," he taunted, walking closer to Lily and the stink of him getting more pungent as he neared. Lily gulped. Did he remember? There was no hint in his words. And she had in some way lured him here.
"You chased me here," she managed to say, backing up against the wall.
"Ah, pretty dear…" he stopped in the middle of his sentence as he fingered the fabric of her dress, shock and some fear in his eyes.
"You…you're…" he stammered, gaping widely at her. Lily only looked bewildered. Did he or did he not remember?
"You're a mistress," he added. The next moment, he was edging away from her, almost silently begging her not to tell her Death Eater master that he had dared take liberties with a woman belonging to one of the more powerful. He had forgotten, Lily knew. He had. That was good.
A mistress was one of the untouchables. A pariah, outcast, for all the finery she got and all the 'love' showered upon her by her Death Eater master for the duration that she entertained him for. Then, when he got sick of her, he would get rid of her, preferably in some brothel or another for someone else to enjoy. It was the custom. She had a feeling that Potter would not do that. He seemed too honourable.
Looks were deceiving, though. No matter how nice or wonderful a Death Eater seemed, he was ultimately what he was - a cruel man who would kill for his master any amount of Muggles or half-bloods or anyone else. He was never a man to be trusted. She pushed down the sense of loss even as she vowed never to trust James Potter for anything.
Never.
*
The headquarters of the famous (or, rather, infamous) Rebellion, or the Order of the Phoenix, as they called themselves, was nondescript and austere, just as she had expected them to be. The people were anything but simple, though. The Order of the Phoenix was filled with people of intelligence and great wizardry who had been forced into hiding by their blood, birth or supposed crimes.
"You'll get used to here soon, 'tunia," Severus said reassuringly beside her. She still thought his name strange, but he had explained his father's obsession with Latin. Severus Snape. It was perfectly mystical and…fitting. It sounded surreal and a part of the magical world she was only beginning to learn about. It had shocked her when Severus had suddenly appeared in her room, an urgent look on his face. He had grabbed her hand and immediately taken her out of the room, then taking her towards a small patch of dirt with a trapdoor beneath. The boy who had helped teach them magic was an outlaw. She had known that from the start, for no Muggle-borns were allowed to learn magic. He nodded solemnly to some people he obviously knew, and picked up a vial of clear liquid as he walked along towards a tent in the centre of the room.
It had to be Albus Dumbledore's makeshift office, she thought. The famous white-bearded wizard who had stood against the Dark Lord for them would forever be a hero in her eyes, just as he was to so many other Muggles even though he had failed. He gave them hope, and that was enough to help many survive the hard days under the cruel harsh regime of the Death Eaters. She was faced with a man with long white hair that seemed to belie the fact that he was residing in hell, his grey robes contrasting greatly.
"Hello," he greeted cheerfully, showing her to a seat on a carpet in the corner of the tent. Severus grinned at Petunia's surprise, shaking his head in slight gloating as she plopped down, the shock still in her eyes. "Lovely to see you here at last, Miss Evans."
"Albus Dumbledore," she whispered. He was just as the rest of the refugees had described (at least, those who had known him) - the same warm happy eccentric person who had once headed a school.
"Yes, that's his name, be shocked, be surprised, end of story," Severus muttered hastily, drawing circles in the somewhat threadbare carpet beneath them. Albus chuckled in his own somewhat undignified position in front of them even as Petunia glanced at him in shock.
"Oh, Severus is grumpy most of the time. You'll have to excuse his manners," Albus said regally even though he was dressed in grey robes and sitting cross-legged on a dirty carpet. The air of the great wizard hung around him, and Petunia could not help but feel awe. He leaned in suddenly. "And of course, an Image-Boosting Charm to frighten others into confessing things about the Death Eaters never hurts anyone," he whispered in a conspiratorial way, making her giggle. So that was his secret.
Sitting in the strangely austere environment, among others bustling around waving their wands and uttering incantations, she felt as though she was home among her own people.
That's something you can't beat me in, Lily, she thought somewhat spitefully. You can be prettier and nicer and more well-liked and popular, but you'll never have magic like I do.
Albus caught her thoughts and his expression turned into one of forlorn. Petunia did not notice his expression, however - she was focused instead on the vial of clear liquid that Severus held in his left hand and was handing to her.
"Veritaserum," he explained. "Drink it, and we will test your loyalty."
*
"Remus!" Evan knocked on the door of his friend's steel cage of a hostel room, hoping the ringing noises made by his stinging palm would be loud enough to wake him. Remus had always been a deep sleeper - after all, he needed his strength when he ran wild on the nights of the full moon. "Remus, wake up!"
The door swung open, and a tired Remus greeted him, dark circles under his eyes. He was dressed in simple, ragged pajamas that looked as though they had been worn many times before, the same toned-down look which little of the werewolves had. Having been deprived of all basic necessities and jobs before the Revolution (the time their Lord had taken over the world), they cherished what they had now - power, prestige and wealth. Remus was one of the rare ones who still lived simply.
"What brings you here so late in the night?" he yawned, leaning on the door as he rubbed his eyes, staring at his friend.
"I've got a new mission and…I need your help," Evan requested, looking at his friend, who almost instantly became awake, his eyes wide and alert as though he was preparing for the hunt on full moon night.
"It's got to be something important if you're asking me," Remus' eyes were abruptly piercing and penetrating, and Evan felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He retreated and ducked slightly. Remus, nice as he could be, was ultimately a ferocious werewolf. He could erupt at any time. He had experienced it a few rare times in the past when they had been at school.
"I know you've got connections…ways to get to the Rebellion," Evan whispered quietly, careful not to let anyone hear him. It would be terrible if anyone heard him before his mission had even begun and reported him. "I…I've…"
"You've what?" Remus asked curiously, and Evan was surprised to note the new energy in his eyes - as though he knew a lot more than just the little bit that a normal Death Eater or member of the Werewolf Squad did about the Rebellion or how to get to them. Not just how to get to them, but how they worked, how everything functioned…
"I've been thinking, and…I…It's been getting harder for me to do anything," Evan said quietly, bowing his head. He had to make it seem real. If Remus was really a part of the Rebellion, he had to be careful to fool him too. And then he would report his friend, because no one betrayed the Lord. "I just feel…it's…it's…"
"Cruel?" Remus finished for him, and he nodded silently, trying not to sneak a peek at him.
"I want to…join the fight against the Death Eaters," he said quietly. "I want to be a spy for them. I know you have ways of getting to them - you're the best espionage agent in the Werewolf Squad." He finally raised his head, wishing fervently that he would see that Remus was convinced. Remus's eyes seemed to have taken on a sad quality, and the amber in his eyes had slowly morphed to a more common brown.
"Come with me," Remus whispered and he acceded. "I'll take you there."
*
"I have news from both Molly and Sirius," Dumbledore said gravely as he sat down on the worn carpet after Petunia had left. She had aced the test which they posted to all new volunteers, and had already been assigned to a group of witches who were experimenting with new charms - it would be good for her, especially since she still needed to polish up her charms and other skills in witchcraft. However, Dumbledore's statement immediately caught Severus's attention.
"Molly's news must be very urgent," Severus commented. "She only sends owls when she has to. What is it, Albus?"
"Her editor has ordered her to find a way into the Ministry and plunge it into scandal, enabling Tom to close it down and execute as many members as possible," Dumbledore sighed. "And you know most of our loyalists work in the Ministry."
"What can we do?" Severus asked, plopping down in front of the older man.
"Molly suggests closing the Ministry down and bringing what members of the Ministry there is underground to join up with us," Dumbledore replied. "I am afraid it seems to be the only way."
"A large-scale assault would kill many of us, Albus. We number only in the hundreds. If we attempt to save them from the execution, they will pounce on us, hitting two birds with one stone," Severus replied, his black eyes blazing. "We cannot do so."
"For now, we must let the Death Eaters believe we are doing so until a new plan comes up. I will send this matter to Intelligence and request battle plans," Albus said. "Now, to Sirius."
"What has he found?" Severus asked impatiently. "A potion of mine is simmering, and I must return. It is crucial to our survival."
"The house elves in the Potter home, apparently, have detected an abnormality in Lily Evans' magical aura. They have found it warm and like that of a witch's," Albus commented. "It is very strange."
"I agree. If she is a witch, why has she exhibited no signs of being one? She cannot perform charms when holding a wand - I have watched her trying," Severus pondered. "There's something strange about all this."
"Albus! We have visitors," Arabella called from outside.
"Bring him in," Dumbledore replied. Severus looked as though he was about to get up and leave, but was stopped by Dumbledore, who signalled for him to sit down on the carpet. "This visitor may be of great importance to us." Seconds later, they were faced with a tired-looking Remus Lupin, with a familiar someone behind.
Evan Rosier, Severus thought with some shock. Remus had led the wolf into their hiding place. He knew how gullible the werewolf could be at times, as he was too inclined to believe in the innocence of someone. Evan Rosier was utterly loyal to the Dark Lord, he knew. He could not have agreed to come to the Rebellion. His old friend from years ago looked as shocked as he was as he stared at him.
"Evan came in the middle of the night and requested that I bring him here," Remus replied. "I know this may come as a surprise, but…"
"Remus, you know his loyalties," Severus said harshly, glaring at his former friend with contempt burning in his dark eyes. He had never truly forgiven his friends for having joined that...abomination of a being. "He will betray us, I assure you. Now, let's Obliviate him and be rid of this matter."
"Severus, I believe Voldemort has many ways to break through a Memory Charm, especially one on a person linked by the bond of master and servant to him," Dumbledore explained patiently. "And people change. Were you not almost a Death Eater?"
"The difference lies in that word, Albus. 'Almost' is different from 'Already is'," Severus seethed, his fingers clenching into fists. "Mark my words. He will betray us."
"We should welcome a new spy of ours, Severus," Albus said quietly as he proffered a hand to Rosier, who seemed to look less terrified now, his features settling back into the cool calm Severus remembered from his school days when he would get into fights with James, and Rosier would negotiate his way out of it.
Reluctantly, he offered his hand too. But I'll catch you red-handed somehow, Evan, he thought. You won't destroy us under the command of your master.
*
The nearly-dilapidated building in front of her, made of chipped-off marble stained yellow with dust and age, held a silent appeal for her. As bad as it looked, it was still the headquarters of the last remaining part of the former government, and she had to pay some respect to it.
Even if she was here to destroy it. She sighed, closing her eyes and wondering how she was going to get out of the mess she had put herself into. Her hot-headedness had made her scream at the editor many times before, and she was known to have never gone back on a promise. She would destroy the Ministry, but there was practically no way to save them. It seemed so hopeless, she bit her lip, watching the sky above.
"I'm really sorry, Miss, I didn't mean to..." she was suddenly and violently bumped into by an unknown someone carrying an enormous stack of books and files. They fell to the ground in a tangle of files and books, parchment flying everywhere as she tried to pick herself up. She pushed aside a bright red folio from her side and stood up, brushing off the yellow skirt she had bought to make her seem like the silly clerk she was supposed to be.
"It's okay," she said brusquely, resisting the urge to give the insufferable man a glare. He was picking up the files one by one, and by the look of them, there were at least fifty-seven...All scattered on the ground.
Don't help him. They'll find out you're a spy.
She knelt down and started picking up dusty parchment, which she found were the accounts of the Ministry for the past few decades or so. The man beside her was crowned with a lustrous head of carrot-red hair, his face dotted with freckles that covered his nose and cheeks. He was lanky and tall, his eyes a light blue that reminded her of the sky that she had just been observing a few minutes ago.
"Thanks," he grinned sheepishly at her as they finally picked up all of the files that had been scattered and returned all the parchment to their rightful places. "It's just me. I'm always terribly clumsy."
"With that pile of stuff, I'm not surprised you knocked into someone," Molly said with a sardonic uplift of the eyebrow. They both burst into laughter, and she suddenly found his smile very boosting to the spirit.
"We've got no choice, really...No one comes here, and we're short of workers," he admitted, cocking his head to one side in imitation of a shrug. He shook his head with some sadness. "I've been stuck here for a long time because the Lord found a little impurity in my blood."
"Impurity? But the Lord..." she said in an indignant tone, surprised by what she had heard.
"Well...I'm basically broke. My cousin is a Squib, and he's an accountant...was, actually," he said, the cheerful look on his face becoming one of dole and unhappiness. "He joined the Rebellion, and I was expelled from Hogwarts."
"They thought you were part of the Rebellion?" Molly asked, her attention fixated on the man talking to her. She had perked up immediately ever since she had heard the word 'Rebellion'. The man nodded quietly. She realised her odd interest in his Rebellion connections was terribly suspicious, especially from a graduate of Hogwarts - the indoctrination centre. She put on a poise of disdainful disgust, and left, throwing the files on the ground as gently as she could. She would talk to him later, try to find out more.
It could be useful. Besides, he was cute.
*
"Padfoot's been unusually bad today," Geraldine commented as James Apparated into the kitchen of the Potter house. James pulled off his travelling cloak, wondering what she meant by that sentence. Padfoot, though enormous, had always been quite well-behaved. He never dug up holes in their flowerbeds, only near them, and barked loudly only at five in the morning, when he needed to wake up to arrange his paperwork.
"What do you mean, Mom?" James asked, eager to know what kind of mischief Padfoot had been up to in the day he had been gone - which was quite long indeed considering he hardly ever returned home at nearly midnight. But then again, he had visited Lily at the orphanage after work, and talked (tried to, at least) for quite a long while. She seemed suddenly reluctant to speak to him, and he had spent plenty of time trying to coax words out of her.
"That Grim replica was stomping on the flowers, and getting his feet pricked by the thorns in them!" Quentin explained, not without a trace of anger in his tone. His beloved cross-bred flowers were designed to prick and poison anyone who tried to trespass. It was no wonder his father was angry, James grinned inwardly.
"It's all right, Dad, you'll get them back up in a few days! How's Padfoot?" he replied cheerfully.
"I won't get them back. The dog poisoned them by doing his business over what was left! I'll have to spend another year breeding them! He deserves to be half-dead, really…" Quentin said mournfully. He plopped down heavily in a nearby chair, rubbing his temples as though he was being plagued by a headache.
"Padfoot's half-dead?" James gaped. Geraldine shrugged, making James feel as though he was in the role of the parent and Geraldine the child instead of the other way around.
"Bloody dog deserved it," grunted Quentin. For some reason, James felt panic rise up in his heart. Padfoot was probably the only living thing around him who did not go on and on about serving the Dark Lord and how best to all the time, and he treasured having a normal topic to talk about, even if it was one-sided. His legs began to move, and he started striding towards where he knew Padfoot would be lying - somewhere in the garden, most likely near the warm, comfortable room where the house elves cooked and slept. The kitchen in the house was for special occasions, when his mother deigned to actually burn something to a crisp.
Once out of side, he broke into a run, listening for the panting sounds that he knew that the poison in the flowers caused. Any touch guaranteed slow, painful death - there had to be enough time for the Potters to send for the squad that was on duty at the time, and report to others that their houses were not safe from Rebellion penetrators. He had brought Padfoot in, and he was immune to the poison, but if he had gone to the flowerbeds without him…He had probably ten minutes left before the poison acted.
He began to sprint faster.
*
Sirius clenched his teeth. He had already transformed back into his human form, but the pain was too much to bear. Apparently those flowers had contained some sort of poison that the rest of the family were immune to, and he had made a mistake by trying to destroy them. He gripped the grass around him, trying to find a hold. Dumbledore had planted a Portkey somewhere here, and he still had time to get to it…
He saw an innocuous boot in the corner, unnoticed by anything else. It was battered but bore a tiny mark of a phoenix on the heel. He crawled towards it, feeling his muscles clench in pain and his bones scream. It hurt like hell, but he had to get to his last means of communication. With the last of his strength, he touched it.
But there was no jerk behind his navel, no escape for him from this hell of a place. Instead, a surprised and irritated Snape appeared before him on the grass, kneeling down quickly as he saw the state he was in.
"What did you do again, Black?" he snarled as he rolled Sirius over onto his back, pulling out vials of potions that Sirius could barely recognise. He panted, feeling his body grow colder and the pain rush through him.
"Flowers…surrounding house…" he stammered between shallow breaths, feeling Death coming closer to him as the pain intensified. "Stomped on them and destroyed them…to weaken defences…" Snape gaped at him in surprise, obviously shocked by the audacity of the deed.
"The last thing you should do in a Death Eater's home is to touch anything that looks remotely like protective devices!" Snape hissed angrily. "Believe me, there was plenty of Devil's Snare hidden around my home when I still lived there!"
"That's precisely why I wanted to destroy some," Sirius said as Snape forced a potion of some kind down his throat. It made him feel much better, for the pain eased and the cold suddenly retreated. Still, he could not fight the feeling that his end was about to come.
"Padfoot!"
"James!" Sirius warned, motioning for Snape to return to Headquarters as soon as possible despite the state of his hands and legs, which were still bleeding from the assault of the thorns on the flowers. Snape swooped over like a bat, but not before stuffing a vial of potion in one of the holes Sirius had dug a day ago.
"Use it when you need it - it's truth potion - strongest kind," he whispered quickly before touching his own Portkey (a piece of cork) and disappearing in the blink of the eye. Sirius clutched his stomach and swiftly transformed just in the nick of time, as James sprinted toward him, still dressed in his official Death Eater robes.
"Padfoot!" James managed to get out. Sirius whined and rolled on the ground, trying to clutch his belly but failing miserably. James pulled out something from one of his pockets, and prised open Sirius's mouth. He tried to resist, but the icy liquid dripped into his mouth before he could even move. Suddenly the poison retreated and he felt himself return to normal. He pushed himself up, still feeling weak, and licked James's face (which was pretty disgusting, considering he still had the grime of the day on him). "Glad you're alive," James grinned, patting him on the head as he nuzzled Padfoot.
He left the vial carelessly on the floor, not noticing that there was one last drop of the liquid in it - nor the fact that Padfoot had purposefully pushed it towards the boot, which was his line of communication to the Rebellion.
*
Disclaimer: All characters mentioned in this story belong to JKR, great owner of the Harry Potter universe. No money is being made from this.