Chapter 15 stuff -- Work In Progress

[Lolua]

This is by no means the final form of the chapter. As you can see, there are parts that still need to be written, but consider this something of a teaser excerpt.

Chapter 15: The Death Eaters

***************************GoF Ch. 33, US ed. p. 646-7***************************
"Listen to me, reliving family history . . ." he said quietly, "why, I am growing quite sentimental. . . . But look, Harry! My true family returns. . . ."
The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward . . . slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robes.
"Master . . . Master . . ." he murmured.
The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom Riddle’s grave, Harry, Voldemort, and the sobbing and twitching heap that was Wormtail. Yet they left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people. Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind, a rustling seemed to run around the circle, as though it had shivered.
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A/N: Spot the reference to “Speed” and win a prize.

[start chapter]
At the appointed hour I stood at the edge of a small park in north London, resting against the trunk of an elder tree and watching the front door of the house opposite. Bella had given me the number of the house, but I had the nagging feeling she had written it incorrectly by mistake. I simply could not believe that Bellatrix and Rodolphus would ever live in Number 6, Marquette Square.

It was yellow.

Rodolphus' house would be gray, I thought, or black, with narrow mullioned windows and an impressive front staircase. I expected his wife's garden to be choked with ragweed and nightshade, with tangled hellbore poking from the window-boxes instead of the prim blue hydrangeas I saw there. Their curtains should be dark and drawn against the prying eyes of the neighbors, not patterned with bold stripes or pink delphinium.

Either I had the wrong house, or the Lestranges had gone to considerable lengths to disguise their home.

For a few minutes I simply rested under that tree, considering my problem, wondering what spells Bellatrix would have used to disguise the house and how best to detect them. I dreaded ringing the doorbell of the strange yellow house and then finding myself face-to-face with the sort of Muggle who would have a yellow house with flowered curtains in the front window.

I didn't hear the soft sounds of arrival in the copse of trees behind me, but an unmistakable voice floated over my right shoulder.

"Are you lost, little boy?"

Turning my head toward the voice, I found Evan Rosier and Louis Wilkes standing under the same elder tree.

Wilkes, who had been the speaker, immediately reached out to give me a firm handshake and a slap on the back, laughing all the while. "Good to see you, Severus," Rosier added after pulling Wilkes off me. "We've been asked to bring you inside, can't talk out here. There's a trick to the front door. . . ."

With one arm pulled by each of them, I crossed the street and found myself in a narrow passageway between the yellow house and Number 7 next door.

"Where are we go--" I began, then nearly tripped over a bright red tendril of Venomous Tentacula that had strayed across the path.

Rodolphus Lestrange stood on the back porch of the yellow house, watching us. Except that it wasn't the back porch of a yellow house, it was the front porch of a slate gray one with narrow casements and black stained-glass panther in the transom over the scratched front door. Dark green curtains blotted out all views of the inside, and stone urns of half-dead nettles topped the endposts of the porch railings.

Even without its owner standing there, I would have known it was the right house after all.

"My mother's work," Rodolphus said by way of explanation, gesturing vaguely to the structure behind him as I mounted the steps with Rosier and Wilkes. "I'm glad you've come. Go inside, Avery will meet you in the kitchen and be mother with the tea things."

"Where's Bella?" Rosier asked.

"Coming later," he grunted in reply. Rodolphus' eyes followed Rosier suspiciously all the way into the house.

[Lolua]

What looked like a front door from the outside opened onto a spacious kitchen with a large round table that would accommodate all of us. Avery was already there as promised, but he wasn't fiddling with a teapot or plates of inedible pastries. He looked up briefly as I entered, then went back to opening a bottle of firewhiskey and pouring it into crystal glasses. The flames blossoming in each glass sent shafts of orange light dancing around the room, halted only by the thick dark drapes over the windows.

With a growing sense of unease I remembered that Lucius had called this gathering a "business opportunity". I had thought at the time that he was being obtuse, but now I saw that whomever had called this meeting had taken the trouble to disguise its true intent, whatever that was.

Rodolphus came through the door from the porch, closing it securely behind him. With two flicks of his wand and a mumbled incantation, a new curtain covered the panther in the transom and the door sealed shut with a creak and a squelch.

"Severus," Avery began, summoning one of his fake smiles as he passed around the firewhiskey, "lovely to see you. Have you been well?"

"Well enough," I replied bluntly, then turned on my host. "What's this all about, Rodolphus?"

"In due time," he said shortly. "We've known you a long time, and we'd like to think we can trust you."

"As much as you can trust anyone," I replied, meeting his gaze as Lucius would have done.

"True enough," Rodolphus admitted, nodding. "When Malfoy told you to come today, what did you think you were getting into?"

"He said it was a chance to advance myself through my own means."

A contemplative silence greeted my reply, until Avery responded thinly, "Did he? How very apt."

"It seems now, however," I continued, shifting in my chair, "to be something more. A meeting of old friends, perhaps." I spoke as if I hadn't noticed the tight security, the coded nonsense about tea things, or the nervous way Wilkes had begun to pick at the label on the firewhiskey bottle.

"You see, Severus, the choice is yours," Rodolphus said, having rediscovered his voice. "You can leave now and never come back, or you can stay here and listen to what we have to offer you."

"An opportunity," Avery added, "to fulfill your wildest dreams."

There was that word again. Opportunity. Used euphemistically, it might mean anything.

"Spare me the promises," I said briskly, having little patience for Avery or his verbal tricks, "and get to the point."

Rodolphus again took the lead as the others fell silent. "Know this now: if you betray any of what you see and hear today to anyone, it will mean your death."

Lucius had once called the death threat the greatest weapon in the Slytherin arsenal, and here it was, being made against me by a man many would count as my friend. If nothing else, this friendly gathering around the kitchen table was a reunion of those who had instructed me in the art of revenge, and so I did not doubt Rodolphus' words any more than I had doubted Lucius'. Friendship meant little in the face of what was to come.

"Alright, you've captured my full attention. Now what's this so-called opportunity?"

"It's more of a plea for help. We're a bit short-handed, and we'd rather work with someone we know than get sent a replacement from up above. Malfoy thought of you," Rosier explained in clipped tones of forced calm.

"Me?"

"You have certain . . . skills," said Rodolphus.

For no particular reason, the glowing firewhiskey in my glass suddenly reminded me of torchlight on bronze trophies. Having proved myself to these men so long ago, when all of us were still boys, I could not doubt what Rodolphus meant.

Clearly he was not referring to my potion-brewing abilities or anything else my mother had taught me. No. Here, finally, it was my father's lessons that would be appreciated.

"Skills that would land me in Azkaban," I said, "should I choose to use them in public."

Rodolphus regarded me soberly over his untouched glass. "Some things are worth Azkaban."

I looked around the table at the averted eyes of the others and realized who my friends had become and why I was here.

"You are in the service," I said slowly, "of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." It wasn’t a question.

"We shall neither confirm it nor deny it," replied Avery smoothly.

"Times are changing," Rodolphus said firmly. "The center of power is shifting back to where it should be, in the hands of true wizards and witches. In our hands, Severus, as he has promised us. Think what you would do to make the world as you would have it."

The words sounded foreign coming from Rodolphus' mouth, and I had occasion later to wonder if Lucius had fed him every last syllable.

"The Dark Lord shall prevail, by whatever means necessary," he went on. "The power to join him on his day of triumph resides in your hands, but you must choose now or be left behind." He leaned forward to make me understand the full force of the threat behind his next words, which sounded more like his wife Bellatrix than like Lucius. "Those who are not with us are against us and will be treated as such."

"Whatever happens, you may be assured that your secrets are safe with me. On pain of death," I swore, raising my hand solemnly in the only oath I knew.

[stuff missing here]

[Lolua]

"There will be two crews of three each. I'm leading one, my wife will lead the other," he explained, looking very dissatisfied about the arrangement. "Snape will join Bella and Wilkes. Avery, Rosier, you’re with me."

"Who made those arrangements?" Rosier complained.

"Malfoy," Rodolphus answered shortly, and Rosier said nothing more.

"There are to be no foul-ups this time," said Avery, as if he were the one in charge instead of Rodolphus. But then, it had always been that way with Avery. "The Dark Lord is very serious about this mission."

"You say that about every mission, Avery," said Wilkes, taking a swig of his drink.

"And every time I say it, I mean it," he replied stiffly. Wilkes rolled his eyes at Rosier behind his glass so Avery wouldn't see, but if Rosier saw it, he gave no indication. Instead he absently rubbed the inside of his left arm.

"It has taken the better part of the summer to plan this attack," Rodolphus continued. "It's to be a wave of nine different raids on a single night, spread out over Britain and Ireland."

Rosier whistled in appreciation of the scale.

"My group goes to Winchester, Bella's to Greystones in County Wicklow."

Wilkes frowned. "What's in Winchester and Greyst--?"

"Muggles," said Rodolphus abruptly. "Loads of the filthy savages."

"They're everywhere," said Avery, shaking his head as if Muggles were a recent but pernicious infestation.

"But why these Muggles?" I asked, studying the diagram of the house in Dunlavin which I was to attack. "Specifically, I mean. The ones living in these two houses."

Rodolphus gave me a piercing look. "I had wondered that myself, but --"

"--but one does not question the Dark Lord," I finished, nodding.

Wilkes and Avery settled down after that, listening to Rodolphus as he explained both operations using his customary verbal efficiency. As he wrapped up the summary, Rosier suggested an improvement in the plan. Wilkes readily agreed to it but Avery protested, saying that nothing should be decided until Bella was there.

"You're not even on her squad, what do you care if she approves?" Wilkes mumbled under his breath after Rosier elbowed him.

When the dispute had been settled to everyone’s disgruntlement by reverting to the original plan, Rodolphus and Avery both moved their wand tips closer to the parchment map to dispose of it.

"Wait a moment," said Rosier, holding up one hand while the other rummaged in his bag. "There's something I want to show Snape."

What Rosier had been searching for in his bag turned out to be a gray box, flat and square. The others must have recognized it: Rodolphus snorted once and turned away, but Wilkes and Avery looked eager for the demonstration, the argument brushed aside by their mutual snickering.

From the box, Rosier removed a rubbery circle a little larger than a pancake, and this he placed on the table with the soft sucking sound of the seal breaking when a fresh jar is opened. Having picked up the furling scroll, he dropped it onto the black pancake. . . . No, he dropped it through the pancake, and through the table, too. . . . But no rumpled scroll fell through to the floor underneath. . . . It was simply gone.

Everyone had laughed when I ducked under the table to look for the scroll, and I sat back in my seat with my mouth set against my confusion and embarrassment at having been their dupe.

[Lolua]

"Zonko's makes Portable Holes," explained Wilkes, smiling foolishly.

Rosier, grinning his demonic grin now that the serious talk was over, said, "We've found that the largest size works quite well for hiding bodies." I shuddered, remembering my mother's body disappearing forever under the ground, but everyone was too still busy chuckling to notice.

"Not the purpose they were intended for, I'm sure," I said uncomfortably, sensing that Rosier and the others expected a response. I wondered how long it would take for me to be so at ease with death that I could recommend a way to hide a corpse.

Rosier laughed. "No, but they work brilliantly. Just roll out a Jumbo-Sized Portable Hole, dump the body in, and roll it back up."

"The next time you use the hole, the body's Vanished without a trace," finished Wilkes. He shrugged. "Beats using a wand to do it."

"The Ministry can trace that, you know," added Avery unnecessarily.

"Prior incantato is a right nuisance," said Wilkes. "As if it weren't hard enough to Vanish a whole body without worrying that some Ministry prat would be mucking about with your wand afterwards."

"Transfiguration works, too," said Rodolphus, joining the conversation for the first time in several minutes. "Change the body into something else. The spell echo comes out as neither one thing nor the other."

"A hybrid," supplied Avery, "of both the source object and its end result."

"Like a kettle with glasses," I suggested, warming to the theme, "should one have tried to turn a Potter into a pot."

Everyone laughed again, but as amusing as the idea had been to me at first, speaking his name cast a shadow over their laughter, and I could not even bring myself to smile. Could a pot continue to hound me from the grave, I wondered, and bind me to stand forever under its shelf, ready to break its fall lest the solid iron should shatter like glass on the floor? Or would Potter-the-kettle be just as indestructible beyond the veil as he had been so frustratingly resilient in this life?

"Exactly," said Rodolphus when the tittering had subsided. "Makes it much harder to tell what, or who, it was from the wand echo alone."

"Yes, well," said Rosier, who was used to being contradicted by Rodolphus, "the Portable Holes are much cleaner. Impossible to trace. We've even tried Summoning things out of the holes, just to be sure, but they won't come back."

"They could still be in there, just waiting to be pulled out," said Rodolphus, frowning.

"But you'd have to put your hand in to do that," said Wilkes, his tanned face going pale. "And I don’t know that you could pull it out again. . . ."

"We've never tried it," said Rosier. He exchanged nervous glances with Avery.

"I’ll do it," I said quietly.

Only the whispering sound of turning heads followed my declaration.

I do not know what possessed me, looking at that hole in the middle of the table, but I knew it was Potter's fault. By saying his name, I invoked the same reckless daring that had led me into the werewolf's tunnel that awful night.

"What?" exclaimed Avery, the first to recover from his shock. "Are you out of your senses?"

"I'll put my hand in," I said more confidently, standing to make good on my word.

"Severus, no--" began Rodolphus.

"I want to," I assured him calmly. Rosier, who probably had been about to agree with Rodolphus for the first time in his life, closed his mouth. Wilkes was apparently so petrified that he could not bring himself to speak.

For a few seconds my left hand hovered an inch above the surface of the Portable Hole; then, taking a breath, I dipped my fingertips into the inky blackness. It was frosty, like touching a glass of chilled pumpkin juice on a warm day. Hesitantly I lowered my arm so that my hand was immersed to the wrist in the darkness of the hole. It was still cold, but the cold had begun to burn, as if I were washing my hands in melted ice at midwinter. I felt no substance to the space, not even air -- only cold vacuum. This is what it must feel like, I thought, to be a star, adrift in the black void of the universe.

That sensation of infinity began to disturb me, and I plunged my arm in to the elbow, then to the shoulder. I was half-lying on the firm wooden surface of the table as my fingers fumbled for the bottom of the abyss. I could not find it, and the pain became unbearable, penetrating my skin and freezing my flesh to my bones. Panic followed the discovery that I could no longer bend my elbow. I was terrified that my arm would plummet into the chasm like a falling icicle and shatter into a million pieces at the center of the earth.

"Don’t fall in," breathed Rosier, and I gladly withdrew my arm from the hole.

[Lolua]

[more stuff missing here]

Rodolphus placed the newspaper on the table between us and the others read over our shoulders:

The Magical Law Enforcement Family Support Fund is reporting record-breaking earnings this quarter. The fund, which provides temporary relief to the families of Aurors, Magical Law Enforcement Squad members, and the Minister’s own Hitwizards who are killed in action, reached this milestone, says Fund trustee Charity Hamilton, due almost entirely to a single contribution of ten thousand Galleons.

This extremely generous donation, Hamilton reports, was made by entrepreneur Lucius Malfoy. "I lost my own father last winter, quite suddenly," says Malfoy, 24. "As difficult as his death was for my family, I can only imagine how hard it must be for the families of those who meet their ends defending us from the forces of darkness."

In recent months Malfoy has also made a hefty contribution to the Aurors' Pension Trust, which supplements the modest pension granted by the Ministry of Magic. "No investment is more important than the investment in survival," he says confidently. "Aurors risk their lives for the public safety, and those lucky enough to live to draw their pension deserve more than ten Galleons a week and a cheap gold watch. That's hardly enough to feed a house-elf."

His wife, Narcissa Black Malfoy, 23, has also proven herself sympathetic to the needs of those less fortunate than herself. "I've always taken an interest in the children left behind by the horrors of war," she says with compassion beyond her years. "I feel better knowing that I'm doing my part to ensure that, whatever their previous station, each orphan has a chance at the life they deserve." As the chairwitch and major benefactress of the Coalition for the Orphans of Magical War, Madam Malfoy will host the organization's annual gala next month at the family's Wiltshire estate. Owl or visit the C.O.M.W. Headquarters, 21-B Diagon Alley, for further information.
[need a paragraph about the family’s assets?]

"That's sick," said Wilkes, looking to Rosier for confirmation. Rosier continued to frown over my shoulder at the photograph of Lucius and Narcissa.

"I agree with Lucius," grunted Rodolphus. "They’re better dead or drawing a pension than active and trying to kill us."

"I still say that’s sick," said Wilkes, but this time his tone was appreciative.

"Sick, but terribly clever," I said, sighing and closing the paper. "None of those Ministry idiots will ever suspect him of being one of us now."

"True," said Rosier, sinking back into his chair. “Maybe we should start saving up so we can make 'generous donations' to these causes, too."

"Don't be stupid, Rosier," said Avery in his most supercilious tone. "We'd have to save for twenty years to match Lucius' generosity."

I thought that in my case, it would be closer to forty years, but I said nothing.

"We can start our own charity," said Rosier, smiling again. "Do you think anyone else would want to donate to the Ministry Employee Funeral Endowment?"

Wilkes chuckled and Avery looked ready to start up again with his manic snicker.

"Best idea you've ever had, Rosier," said Rodolphus approvingly. I heard the rare bass rumble that was Rodolphus Lestrange's laugh. In the years since he had left Hogwarts, Rodolphus seemed to have grown capable of dealing with Rosier as a friend and ally, at least when his wife wasn't involved.

As if on cue, Bellatrix entered the kitchen from another part of the house, a house-elf desprately trying to remove dark stains from the hem of her robes while avoiding the witch's swinging stride.

"You're not still showing that ridiculous article to everyone, are you, Rodolphus?"

"Of course not, pet," lied Rodolphus, making room on the arm of his chair for her to perch.

[Bella and Rod play kissy-face]

Wilkes and Avery had the grace to look as uncomfortable as I felt. Rosier merely watched their display with the same frown he had turned on the newspaper photograph of Lucius and Narcissa.

A/N: Portable Holes were inspired by devices of the same name which feature in countless Warner Bros./Hanna Barbera cartoon shorts and the Robert Zemeckis film Who Framed Roger Rabbit?. Literally, I was watching the movie, saw the things being demonstrated on a wall, and thought, “Wow, that’s great, I gotta use those somehow!” And I ran with it from there. So apologies to Mr. Zemeckis and the fine cartoonists who make their living off Wyle E. Coyote and Bugs Bunny. I’m sure they never intended Portable Holes for such sinister purposes.

[mooncroww]

OMG!!! More than a single paragraph of the fabled Snape Story! I thought it was a myth, something to tell my children when they misbehaved, "beware little ones, late at night when the moon... erm... is anything but full, Snape prowls looking for small children to give candy... I mean to eat."

It was good. Really good. You've got the most incredible vocabulary... that or a really good thesaurus.

I love how you've given personality to the Death Eaters. It's strange to think of them as people. People who think and feel and have families and such. Usually they're just "those guys over there in the black robes and funny masks". I'm fond of Rosier. Not sure why. He seems like he'd be fun to hang out with... I mean before he crucioed me into submission and used Imperio to make me do his evil, nasty will. *shiver*

heh. You should post more often.

[Lolua]

mooncroww said:

OMG!!! More than a single paragraph of the fabled Snape Story! I thought it was a myth, something to tell my children when they misbehaved, "beware little ones, late at night when the moon... erm... is anything but full, Snape prowls looking for small children to give candy... I mean to eat."

ROFL.... no, Snape doesn't eat any children... yet. That comes in the next chapter. *evil grin*

mooncroww said:

I love how you've given personality to the Death Eaters. It's strange to think of them as people. People who think and feel and have families and such. Usually they're just "those guys over there in the black robes and funny masks". I'm fond of Rosier. Not sure why. He seems like he'd be fun to hang out with... I mean before he crucioed me into submission and used Imperio to make me do his evil, nasty will. *shiver*

I must admit I have quite a soft spot for Rosier myself. I hope half the stuff I've imagined about him makes it into the final draft. *curses decision to write in first person* And yeah, he is very formiddable when he's in battle mode, and I think it's that more than anything else that has generated Rodolphus' grudging respect for him. I like Rodolphus as well, which is kind of scary because he is, after all, the sort of person who would marry Bellatrix.

mooncroww said:

heh. You should post more often.

I may consider it. In the meantime, I've added a little more to the second post.