VI. Immoral Intentions
Grabbing her by the waist he thrust into her faster. She was boring him slightly even as she scratched up and down his back and screamed out his name.
“Nik baby, I’ve missed you.” She whispered in his ear hotly.
Silencing her with a kiss he leant in forward. Alina was a warm body and good with her hands but that was about as far as he’d missed her. But what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her and the gossip she shared as he pleasured her, was well paid.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy, it hasn’t stopped me missing you.” He promised.
Oh well, what she didn’t know, couldn’t hurt her.
“I know, I know, Merlin-”
Alina was sweet enough, young and dark haired and the perfect amount of fiery to keep him occupied. If she wasn’t, well he wouldn’t take the time out of his week to come see her in Paris.
Leaning back to wipe the sweat off his face, he grabbed a bottle of wine he’d left on the bedside table. He deserved this, the ministry was a mess and the parties he was having to attend were no better.
“Baby, are you staying for the performance?” Alina spoke up, stroking his hair. He knew once he answered that might turn into angered tugging and if he got her enraged enough maybe even a second round, he had time.
“I can’t Ally, I have to go to dinner with Saera.” He said, hoping the sadness was as evident in his voice as possible without it seeming out of place.
“Ughh,” she called out, standing up the half-covered bed sheet falling, letting him enjoy the view. “I can’t believe you are going to marry such a bégueule-”
Some of her french slipping out, oh he definitely was winding her up just right.
“I know, my father is set on the union” leaning forward with the final shot to the target. “Baby you know if I could I’d marry you.”
Jumping into his arms she kissed the side of his neck furiously till he was hurting and would surely bruise.
“Shut it you romantic bastard, think of me instead. And bring a nice bracelet next time you visit.”
Nikolai just leant forward and nodded till they were back on the bed, he checked the clock on the bedside table, he had an hour. Eh, that was enough time and with thoughts of a bracelet on his mind and slightly drunk he made her scream out his name once more.
———
Barty didn’t even want to think about how long he’d been in the weird dark in between he’d been dumped in by Death. It had been lonely and boring and yet now he’d been released he wasn’t having much of a better time.
Did he scream when the strange boy screamed at him? Absolutely.
Was he slightly surprised when he came out in some sort of spirit form? Yes.
Clearly it was just as shocking for the boy because he had subsequently fainted. Inconvenient. The boy had stayed knocked out there for what felt like days or even just a few seconds but the time waiting for him to wake up dragged.
Worse it was Theodore Nott, the solemn, broody kid who’d sat quietly at the back of the classroom. Not awful enough like the two Crabbe and Goyle spawn or memorable like the screeching Malfoy or the flirty Zabini. Yes he had paid attention to his students, he had been a fantastic professor.
It was Theodore Nott who after waking up had run off to avoid him. Locking himself into a storage room, in this ritualistic dungeon? He didn’t exactly find the vibe inviting.
“Look, hi, kid, can I come in.” Barty asked by the door, he kept flickering in and out but was growing in strength the closer he got to the Nott boy. Which only confirmed his hypothesis that his presence was now tied to his. Annoying.
“No.” Nott shouted petulantly.
Damn children, at least as Moody he had an excuse to curse them.
“Come on, what’s the worst that’s going to happen?”
“You’ll kill me.”
“Alright, fair. But I don’t even think I could kill you if I wanted. Which I don’t to be clear.”
“Why? Because you’re a ghost.” Nott said more curious this time.
“Huh! No…” Barty shouted affronted, a ghost was so predictable.
“Well if you are not a ghost then you're a premonition of my death or a hallucination which means I’ve truly lost it and become insane. If so I should submit myself to St Mungos before I hurt someone. Likely if I’m seeing things it’s Schizophrenia, in which case I should start either losing my senses or feeling a pressure behind my ears due to a lack of neural circuitry affecting my sensory and cognitive functions. I fit into the years of onset, so it would make sense that it’s only just begun. Now as it’s not genetic, I’m guessing that my psychosis is due to a misfiring of dopamine neurons which is directly related to sights of delusion. Why has it started now? I have no idea if trauma is a catalyst to abnormal dopamine signalling? not that I’ve read but there really is a lack of research. Why is there a lack of research?” Theodore rambled.
“You're weird kid.” Barty muttered, it coming out a little more affectionately than he had intended. He could work with weird, the smart kind of weird anyway.
“Great, even my hallucinations are insulting.”
“Will you calm down?” He replied, getting a little frustrated, “Merlin, you are so paranoid, you’re not schizophrenic, though you might be psychotic.”
“Fine if you’re not in my head then. Get out! And don’t call me kid” Theodore shouted from behind the door.
“Kid, will you get a grip.” Barty rolled his eyes already exhausted, this was really the most draining conversation he had in a long time. And that seemed to be saying something. “Can I come in? Also I’m no ghost, if anything I’m a spirit.”
“Are you really not here to kill me?” Nott repeated, ignoring his previous statement.
“No.” He answered as patiently as possible.
Shockingly it must have worked because the door unlocked and creaked open, Nott stood blank faced.
“Well, then what are you doing here?” He demanded, voice monotone.
Oh so this is what he was dealing with. Great. He couldn’t have got an optimistic, friendly, naive kid to be stuck with. This was going to be a lot of work and require honesty. Uhhh.
“Before I answer, can I ask a question too? And then I’ll tell you whatever you like, honestly.” Barty asked slowly, trying not to spook him, if they were going to be tied together for an unknown amount of time he wanted him to like him. And the kid obviously needed to warm up to him, he seemed about as friendly as Regulus had been when they had first met.
“Yeah, alright.” Nott answered begrudgingly.
“What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?” He pointed around the dusty and damp dungeon they seemed to be in.
Theodore kept his face clear of emotion, but Barty wondered if he was slightly embarrassed, though he was too difficult to read.
“I-don’t live here.” He seemed to realise that wasn’t an answer because he quickly followed it up. “My father lives here, but I…don’t.”
Strange, Barty thought he wasn’t nearly old enough to be living alone. Then again the relationship between father and sons was complex, he of all people knew that.
“My grandfather, well his portrait called on me and explained some things…”
Alright, cryptic.
“So I came down here like I said, and found the staircase. I walked down and there were some ritual carvings and writing on the walls.”
Barty had noticed that but had not paid sufficient enough attention, it seemed like the ramblings of a madman. Plus he’d appeared in a cloud of black smoke semi-sentient in front of Theodore Nott, so priorities.
“And some letters and books, the writing…shocked me. So much so I didn’t notice the lines lighting up until it was too late I suppose. Then well the box opened I thought I was about to be sucked in, like a sacrifice, until well you came out. How long have you been in there?”
Barty ran a hand over his face, yes he was getting solid by the moment, the more Nott seemed to look at him the stronger he felt.
“What the box?” He questioned, confused. “What’s the date?”
“The seventh of July.”
Wow, it had really not been that long. Since his…death. Was that what he was calling it?
“I’m not sure about the box but I died about two weeks ago? Yes, roughly that long.”
“So you died, you're dead? Then what are you doing here?” Nott pondered leaning against the wall.
“Escaping eternal damnation.” He joked, though Theo didn’t laugh, he seemed unimpressed.
Raising one singular eyebrow, which Barty thought was slightly dramatic, Theodore looked him up and down.
“So what do you want?”
“Who says I want something?”
“Everyone wants something.” Nott reiterated prickly, voice so monotone it made Barty indignant.
“Well, I'm not even entirely sure what I’m supposed to do. Except to be a better person, maybe? Or help you, maybe that’s it! What do you need help with.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“Well.” Barty snapped. “I don’t particularly want to be here either and the sooner my work here is done I can go.”
“Go where…to who?”
“None of your business.”
“So much for honesty.” Nott nodded as if he’d just been vindicated.
“Will you just tell me what you want, so I can work out how to get out of here, so I’m not completely stuck to an angst filled child.”
“I’m not a child.” Theo said calmly, face blank again. “I’ll tell you what I want if you tell me who you are.”
“That’s really not necessary.” Barty reasoned, he was not spilling his secrets and his past like a schoolgirl at a sleepover in order to bond. He wasn’t that desperate.
“Fine. Then this is over.” Nott turned and walked straight, past him and slightly through him which had to be violating in some way.
“Alfred.” He called out, nearly scaring Barty half to death when an old house elf with a weird braided beard and looking at death's door appeared.
“Do you see the man next to me?” Theodore questioned.
Smart, Barty wondered before he could stop himself, would everyone just be able to see him.
“What man?” The house elf croaked. “Are you alright, master Theodore.”
“Yes, fine. I’d like to return home then. Alfred.”
And without looking back he vanished, into thin air.
Leaving Barty with so many questions, the first being how he was going to find him?
———
Having spent a large majority of his life in the muggle world Harry was embarrassed to say he had never really gotten to grips with the public transport system.
Which might explain how he was travelling around on one of those big buses. Not the knight bus like he had taken two summers before, but a regular red one.
Though that hadn’t stopped him from seeing stranger and stranger things.
In front of him the baby started crying again as he lent his head back as they passed through suburban streets. Behind a large crowd of teenagers a few years older sat at the back laughing and jumping around, while three old men glared while unsubtle taking sips from their beer cans.
The bus, which had a rather musty smell and half faded blue seats was comfortable enough and if his mind wasn’t whirling so fast he might have been able to get a bit of sleep even.
But watching the streets and identical houses fading out of view was a comfort in itself, he’d snuck behind a rather large family that had plopped themselves downstairs. The only downside was that he didn’t actually know where it was even going but he figured if he stayed till the last stop he could figure it out from there. Hang in a park or walk by the shops, maybe even finally see the sea or large attractions.
And with those fantastical dreams to keep him company he closed his eyes and lent his head against the window feeling the faint hum of the heater and the steady engine of the bus as they made their way down a rather long road. With the soft pattering of the rain against the glass, tap tapping in a soothing rhythm that lulled him into a deep slumber.
Neither dreams nor nightmares came to him and only the soft thrumming background noise reminded him of where he was.
———
He was late. Snape wanted to kill him.
The mutt had taken it upon himself to entertain and distract the members sitting around the table by obnoxiously laughing, dropping his head backwards arrogantly and joking along about something irrelevant or other. Which was at least better than the pacing the wolf was doing as he fussed around the kitchen floor, eyes downcast with an embarrassingly pitiful expression of self hatred on his face. Curious, he hoped they were planning to kill each other and not just on the outs again, put them all out of their misery.
“Hullo there.” A rather vibrant purple headed young woman said as she sat beside him, invading his space and the carefully carved out, separate space he had acquired through glaring across the table.
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember.” She said smiling so vibrantly he was half mindful to avoid looking, her hand reached out in an unwelcome greeting.
“I’m Tonks, or Nyphodora, unfortunate I know.”
Taking a long look at her he remembered she had been the scatter brained and clumsy student in the class that graduated five years ago. She had been very mediocre at potions, just scraping into his Newt class and always causing some form of accident or other. And when she wasn’t, she was changing her features to get a laugh out of the other students. She had been a nuisance.
“I remember.” He said as curtly as possible hoping his harsh tone would ward her off.
“Hah.” She beamed instead before blatantly winking straight at him. “I’m glad.”
He wasn’t sure how in Salazar he could respond to that.
“Quite.” He nodded before tacking on as nasty of a sneer as possible. This conversation had already gone on long enough.
Undeterred she leaned closer putting her chin against her rather starkly delicate hands that had different coloured paint on them.
“Could you lean back?” Snape hissed. He did not appreciate anyone in his personal space, especially those that irritated him.
Tonks only gave a tinkling laugh that sounded like wedding bells before she did indeed lean backwards, complying to his request.
“It’s exciting isn’t it, our first proper meeting.”
“I’m not sure that is the correct word.” He clipped.
“No, but it’s rather nice to see everyone. Give me something to do.” She sighed before continuing her rambling. “I'm part of the new batch of Auror recruits…”
“Something to do…this is war, not a summer camp?” He interrupted.
“What do you know about summer camps?” Nymphodora asked, her eyes lit up in intrigue.
Snape wanted to poke his wand through his eye, he was a master potioneer, a spy, an undeniably necessary asset to two of the most powerful men in the entire Wizarding world and this Hufflepuff had managed to catch him out. He despised her. And the chattering that came with her presence.
“You’re very funny, has anyone told you that?”
“Yes. Many times.” He deadpanned. He needed to retreat, she was tripping him up and it was unfortunate enough he had to be here around people, majority of which he disliked without her mind games. Perhaps Black had set her up to do this, he had certainly seemed not to have grown out of his love of boyhood pranks the way he had defended the damned redhead twins earlier to Molly.
“Exactly.” She nodded as if that confirmed something to her before she stuck her hand out.
“What are you doing?” He said accusingly.
“Shaking hands, we are friends aren’t we?”
“No Nymphadora we are not.” He shot down, ignoring her surprisingly disappointed facial expression before he was glad for the first time in his life that Alastor was calling the room to attention.
Albus was here, a man he had a lot of questions for and who would give him vague answers in return. Feeling the presence of a slight migraine approaching he massaged his temples before the door opened announcing his presence in a suitably usual fashion.
Salazar save him, sometimes he really questioned how he had gotten himself into this mess.
———
Saera was laughing nervously and picking at the plate in front of her. They were sat in a rather expensive area of Diagon, in the front window of a trendy restaurant she had raved about enough times, even he remembered.
“It's so good to see you.” Nikolai grinned handsomely, hoping to put her at ease. “I'm so glad we can celebrate our engagement. Us together. I have missed you.”
He could almost pat himself on the back when she picked up her head and smiled sweetly before reaching out to grab his hand to place it in hers. This is what he liked most about her, he reassured himself, she was so easy to please.
“Oh Nik, I'm so sorry for seeming upset, I'm just worried about Papa. He has seemed so stressed lately. You wouldn't happen to have any idea what's wrong?” She peered up at him helplessly.
It was sweet of her to care so much about her papa, and even sweeter for her to give him an excuse to nosy around.
“Of course, mon amour, it would be my pleasure.” He lifted her hand to give it a small kiss, putting particularly emphasis on the ring finger that had the large diamond strapped to it. She deserved it, she would be perfect.
“Oh Nik.” She blushed a rosy red. “I loved your proposal, I still can't even believe it. Everything was perfect. I just worry people may believe it too…sudden.”
Ah how diplomatic, he particularly enjoyed how she always danced around difficult conversation, leaving it up to him on how to proceed with matters. Already understanding her place, always waiting on him, he certainly appreciated it. It would be necessary to have a wife with a demeanour such as that when he was further up the ministry.
“Saera, my darling, no one will think it sudden when they witness the love we share.” Pausing in order to add the necessary emphasis and emotional effect. “I apologise, I thought this was what you wanted.”
“No it is.” She hurried on. “It's just, well…I'm being silly. I fear Graham is being overprotective.”
“He is upset at the thought of you leaving home. That is understandable.”
“Yes I'm afraid so. But he will come around.”
“I hope so.” He said sternly, they would be married by winter and he would have no complications. Especially not younger brother shaped ones sticking their nose in others businesses he had enough of that already.
“I worry he may have a bad impression of me based on my own brother's behaviour.” He supplied sympathetically. “He acts how he pleases at Hogwarts and gets in fearful scrapes upsetting me and father.”
“They aren't friends are they?” Saera nodded as if that were the answer to all problems.
Leaning his head down closer as if to share a confidential matter he grabbed her hand.
“I shouldn't say but as you are a part of the family now I must admit that we have…problems with Edmund. Ones that aren't appropriate to speak of in Society.”
Saera nudged his hand softly as if providing gentle assurance to his confession.
“He’s difficult and easy to anger. I worry he may never grow out of his childish impropriety and stubbornness. It makes me and my father so worried, I worry sometimes I haven't done a good enough job.”
“It isn't your fault.” Saera said aghast, upset on his behalf. “He is probably just acting out, boys do around that age, he'll come around eventually. Especially because you are so good to him.”
Nikolai nodded. Happy to hear her eager reassurances.
“It's just.” She paused slightly deep in thought. “Perhaps I should speak to him, I could speak to him. I know that without your mother–”
“I think that's a wonderful suggestion.” He agreed quickly, cutting off any probing questions with a tight smile. They were not going to be talking about his mother, especially not in relation to his pathetic bastard of a brother.
But he couldn't blame Saera for that mistake so he only nodded once more and picked up his wine glass, she was good at this, the perfect caretaker, would be a lovely mother. And he would never have to worry about her plotting to hurt or control him, because she was too sweet, too weak to even attempt to do so. And he would have nothing holding him back from completing his tasks, particularly no illusion of love.
“I have something for you.” He gestured and pulled out a small bracelet inspired by Alinas suggestion and pleased with himself when he saw her eyeing it excitedly. He always did have good taste and a keen eye. He would need it for what was planned next.
———
Barty was a little embarrassed at how long he spent sitting there before his spooky friend showed up. He’d tried to look around but without Nott around he wasn't solid enough to explore so he stayed sat by the box he’d escaped from, clinging onto his remaining.
Death came dramatically in a burst of black smoke with his large smile that held no humour in it. As if it were just to show off the sharpness of his mouth and the blinding white of his teeth.
“So it went well I can see.”
“I know I'm shocked too!” Barty said sarcastically before letting his head fall back before he laughed emptily. “Guess I've lost my people skills?”
“Don't fret, I'm unsure that you had any to begin with.” Death answered with his half helpful half condescending tone that made him want to wring his neck.
“Wonderful, you just had to give me Theodore Nott?”
“I thought you'd like him?” Death asked more genuine this time.
“He’s suspicious and guarded and moody.”
“Sounds familiar, mmm, and I suppose you are just, what do the people call it…a ray of sunshine.”
“No one says that.” Barty commented petulantly, even if it proved his point.
“You share many similarities, both good and bad, but I think you will at least be able to help each other.”
“Well…I want to exchange him. Can I get a different kid? Someone nicer next time, perfect, thanks, brilliant talk.”
“No.” Death said sternly. “Nice will not help you destroy your Dark Lord.”
“And you think Theodore Nott will.” Barty replied unconvinced, sure he seemed smart but not exactly the most powerful person he had ever met. If he was still alive he would have named it a suicide mission but now he was dead it wasnt like he had anything left to lose, except escaping eternal damnation. But that seemed to be a long term goal.
“Theodore Nott has as much a part to play in all of this, a powerful one, though a very different patron. You should be thankful to have me, she is much less patient.”
Great more cryptic language and suspicious sounding premonitions this was definitely a dangerous game he was wrapped up in. One with ever changing rules and an uncertain role, leaving him feeling more like a pawn than a king.
“If he's so important, tell me what you want me to do, what I need to say to get him to trust me.” He said a little annoyed at the unavoidable desperation seeping into his voice. This was all spiralling so out of control.
“You’re a smart boy Barty. I’m sure you can work it out. Get him to trust you, help him and in return let him tether you physically to this new world. Use him to help him complete your task, find whatever motivates him.”
“But…what sane child is going to listen to a spirit who wants his help to destroy the most dangerous and powerful wizard of all time.”
If Barty wasn’t already dead he wasn’t sure there was much someone could promise him to compromise his survival and go down such a treacherous path.
“Whoever said he was sane.” Death winked.
He almost wanted to defend the kid but then he remembered how his eyes held a slight veil of crazy beneath them. Then again whose didn’t?
“Not the point.” Barty snarked under his breath.
“Yes yes. Voldemort, dangerous, impossible task. Thedore Nott, perhaps not your first pick. But it’s the cards you’ve been dealt and your complaining is starting to bore me.”
“Oh I’m boring you, my apologies.” Barty snarked. “Who's your supervisor? I'd like to complain that this is very unprofessional behaviour!”
Death laughed. Barty hoped he choked on it.
“You’re lucky I find you so funny. Now go, I have full faith in you and your new little friend Notts abilities.”
“What? In destroying the Dark Lord?”
“That amongst other things, but I’ll give you a clue and mention Medea” Death said conspiratorially. “Good luck.” He smiled wickedly and before he had time to protest the darkness took over and he tumbled across time once more.
———
“Last stop.” A faraway voice called out, jolting Harry out of his sleep.
The world came back to him slowly, and with his head resting against the warm and fogged up window and unfamiliar scratchy seats. This was not the dursleys, or Hogwarts. Only when his senses came back to him and he felt the faraway tremor of an engine did he remember he was on a muggle bus. And that he had run off, unprepared and alone he'd been travelling for so many hours it was now late evening.
“Where am I?” He asked the driver who had put a piece of gum in his mouth as he surveyed a crowded dark street.
“Hackney, East London.” The older man looked him up and down. “You from round here.”
“Oh no, Surrey, just visiting…some family.”
The bus driver didn't seem to believe him, but he also didn't seem to care enough to intervene.
“Well mind yourself mate, it's late and a country boy like yourself ought to keep his wits about him.”
Harry tried to smile reassuringly, the man was only trying to be polite, helpful even. But it was hard to be scared of a dark city night after the horrors he had seen. He felt so far away from that naive country boy out all alone that his stomach twisted and turned.
With a small nod and an unconvincing smile, he turned away from the man, put his hood up and looked at the busy crowds of people he could disappear into.
For half a second he almost felt the urge to go back, but as the bus drove off he imagined returning to the Dursleys and his own spiralling thoughts about magic. Perhaps it was better if he was gone, at least for a small while. It wasn’t as if his presence made anything especially better. And here where he was just another face, surrounded by so many strangers who had no need for him, it felt quite freeing.
As he walked past the central London shops and the crowds out on the warm summer night he tried to clear his mind. He could always return later on and hopefully by then the Dursleys will have calmed down, and he will have worked out how to deal with his own conflicted thoughts on Snape and Voldemort and Dumbledore.
Or at least figured out why his letters aren't being received and he was being ignored by the Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius and Lupin.
A man played a saxophone to a song that spun on a vinyl in the common room, two girls were jumping around in long dresses, a birthday balloon trailing behind them and so many people walked calmly hand in hand. Even standing on his own was the least alone he had felt in a long time and it made him feel strangely better.
The sky darkened and the echoes of shouts and screams erupted through the crowds as he kept a steady rhythm as he walked over the river and away from the central crowds.
He remembered the last time he had been walking alone at night after a magical accident before his third year. He wondered if the ministry had already been called about his actions, would he be expelled? Perhaps he could get on a knight bus, run to Diagon Alley and plead his case, but he seemed to have no one left to support him and only silence from his friends.
Dumbledore, who would have been the first person Harry would have wanted, seemed no longer an option and Sirius was unpredictable on the best of days.
Disappearing into the masses of the muggle world didn't seem too bad of an option, it would no doubt keep the people he cared about safer to be away from him and when the time came for him to die at Dumbledore's hand to stop Voldemort. At least he could have had some time being Harry rather than a freak.
A lone park, empty and eerily silent save for a rusty swing moving against the wind stood straight ahead of him. Jumping over the gate he walked around not remembering a time he had ever been taken to the park like how he had seen other children been. He liked to imagine what his parents might have done, but they had been in hiding. Because of him, a stray voice suggested that he tried to ignore it.
Exhausted and feeling the pain of the ring of bruises around his neck and the black eye that was forming on his face, he walked over to the bench by the side of the slide and lay down. Thankfully due it was not too cold and the metal of the material was more soothing than painful, he could have attempted to ask magic for help again but he was too tired.
Resting his head and shutting his eyes. He did not want to imagine where else he should go. But that would be tomorrow's problem.
———
“Thank you everyone for coming to the meeting.” Albus said, his eyes twinkling across the room. Severus almost twitched under his gaze.
A lump was forming in his throat. It had been a regular kind of meeting, he’d exchanged jabs with the mutt and wolf, ignored any red head and generally kept to himself. The problem with being such a renowned spy was that no one could believe you, which helped him stay alive of course. But also meant that nobody trusted him, which made it somewhat difficult for the other Order members to speak to him. He of course did not care to hear their mindless meanderings or childish chatter but it was times like this that it became abundantly clear how vulnerable he was.
How much he depended on Albus’s good will. A sentiment the other man clearly understood as he generally used that for his own purposes.
Potter rattled around his mind. The very idea of sympathy for the brat repulsed him. But the knowledge of Albus's plans…
“Sev.” His name got softly said as the hard jap of an elbow hit into his side. Looking up he saw it belonged to Nymphodora who was pointedly looking at Albus.
“Severus.” Albus called out across the long table expectantly. “What have you heard from the Dark Lord's camp?”
He cleared his throat quickly before slowly drawing out his answer.
“He has set up residence in one of the Lestrange properties, though this is probably only temporary as it is not large enough to be a suitable base. It is difficult however as many of his followers wish to hide their support for him or do not have the means to do so as the majority are in Azkaban. His main priority is still of course acquiring the weapon in the department of mysteries.”
“How close is he to getting this?” Albus asked his tone making the answer non negotiable.
Severus was not sure how much should be said, so he kept it simple.
“In the same position as before without Potter.”
“Good.” Albus smiled softly and reassuringly across the table. “Then we must keep it that way.”
“When can Harry come here then Albus.” Black said his head lifted straight up as if commanded at the blasted boy's name.
“At the moment that is not possible-”
“Bah,” Black complained, hitting back against his table in upset. “Harry deserves to be here after everything that happened this year, poor pup.”
“I’m afraid that I have to agree with Sirius.” Lupin spoke up in agreement to the shock of no one Severus thought.
“Well we must prioritize Harry’s safety, should we not?” Albus said in a grandfatherly tone.
“Is it his safety we are discussing here?” Severus drawled, finding the old man's words ironic, they had not yet further discussed what Albus had revealed to him following the return of Voldemort.
Black eyed him suspiciously a quick breath away from snarling before Lupin interrupted, his face thoughtful.
“Is there something you wish to say, Severus?”
Severus turned to stare at Albus, he would not say it aloud lest he had to witness the chaos the news would bring. But he wanted Dumbledore to sweat, to really think of what he was condemning the boy to. The noose around his own neck was tightened but for the boy to get the same fate…Severus may dislike him but the unfairness of Lily’s son suffering like that almost made him nauseous to think of.
“No.” He answered after a long moment. “But I think Potter should be brought here as swiftly as possible, there is much that needs to be done.”
Potter and his childish whims of staying with friends in the muggle world was not more important than the war.
“Oh shut it Snivellus, Harry knows what he has to do. All of you made that very clear when you didn’t let him get out of the Triwizard Tournament!” The Mutt growled.
“Why in Salazers name is that now my fault.” Severus sneered.
“Boys.” Albus stopped them shortly, as if they both were still fifteen years old.
“I think.” Lupin opened his mouth before shutting it and grinding on his teeth in thought. “That both Sirius and Snape are anxious for Harry to be here, for different reasons of course. We are all worried about his safety and how he is feeling.”
Severus was fairly certain that was not at all what he had been saying.
“When can he arrive here, Albus?” Molly spoke up, fussing around with the mats on the table. “You know my opinion on the nasty-”
“Harry's safety is paramount, that is why we have had some members checking there are no unexpected magical signatures in the area.” Albus interjected.
Nymphadora nodded at this, perhaps she was one of them. That must mean she knew where he was. As quickly as the thought went into his brain he flushed it out. Under no circumstances could that information be found by the Dark Lord. He tried not to imagine what he would do. The lively woman sat beside him and just the possibility of it made him slightly nauseous.
“Now Kingsley tell us what has been occurring down at the ministry? I have heard news regarding Fudge's attempts to remove me as Supreme Mugwump?” Albus continued effectively ending the conversation.
Three faces continued watching him however. The Mutt with suspicious eyes, Lupin looking at him contemplatively and Nymphadora with an emotion he could not name.
Severus put a familiar sneer on his face. He knew he was going to hate these meetings. All they seemed to do was cause trouble. He was almost missing the Dark Lords and his crucios.
———
“I'd like to collect a package Mr. Burke.” Nikolai said as charmingly as possible as he walked through the main store into the dark and dingy backroom he was in.
Bellamy just looked at him blankly. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Nikolai would have rolled his eyes if not for his superior pureblood pedigree, he somehow managed to restrain himself. Bellamy had always snored and been completely negative, he never even enjoyed a dark curse or hex.
Instead he slid over the envelope of galleons needed and the information required.
“I’d like to purchase an Adder Stone.”
He rather enjoyed the way his face turned pale and sickly at the mere mention of his request.
“No.” He whispered out.
“Oh yes.” Nikolai said with a wide sharp smile going onto his face. “I want Thanatos on the case, this is…time sensitive.”
“Is it for our Lord?” The coward gritted out.
“Ah, no.” Nikolai tilted his head, sizing Bellamy up. It was a shame he was still as weak as he was when he was eleven and snivelled for his mother. But then again there were so many Burkes there were bound to be some runts. “It's more of a personal project, you understand. Which means my personal attention is needed for this. It's level 13.”
“A level 13.” Bellamy gulped. “What are your plans for this?”
“There, there.” Nikolai remarked condescendingly. “Nothing for you to worry your spooky little head about.”
Bellamy scowled at that which didn't disabuse him of this notion.
“I'm not doing it.”
“Sixth year. Forbidden Forest.” Four words he knew would send his dear old chum reeling.
“Dont.” Bellamy hissed the blood leaving his face so quickly he was damn near sure he might face.
“Bellamy, Bells. I don't want to say anything about that night, why would I?”
“You promised.” Bellamy said furiously, jabbing a finger into his shoulder in the most undignified of manners.
“Don't push me.” Nikolai snarled his cool composure cracking. “I will be back here in one week and if I find out that you have not acquired what I have requested it will be the least of your problems.”
“You cant t-threaten me.”
“I can and I will.” He said simply. “And I won't have to use the ghosts of our past to do so. First I will find whatever common girl you are getting to warm your cock and I am going to polyjuice myself as you before I start peeling her skin. Then I will use every connection possible to investigate all the businesses under your name, sticking every lawsuit and ministry worker to search around that the best hope you have is some illegal artefacts. That girl you were seen with, well she’ll turn up in a dark alley somewhere. Sadly as you are the last one seen with her and I happen to know an Auror who really wants to get back in my good books a cozy bit of real estate in Azkaban will open up and it has your name on it.”
Any remaining hope faded out of Bellamy's eyes as he accepted his fate, it made him possibly euphoric.
The victors belong to the spoils. And he was going to ensure he came out on top.
———
A dagger got thrown with deadly accuracy into a nearby wood panel, Thedore Nott instead of looking up continued throwing one after another.
“You missed.” Barty joked.
But the displeased look remained on Notts face.
“I didn’t want to waste a knife on a dead man.”
“Mmm. That was very nice of you.”
Nott didn’t even bother rising to the bait this time.
Barty lent against the wall and just observed his new charge. He was tall, lean, a little on the skinny side. Notts' skin, a light olive, looked pale in the light as if he were another ghost himself and the jutting bones of his cheek bones and dark, deep set eyes were blank. At first glance the sharp features made him look dangerous, but the shifting of his feet told Barty all he needed to know. That he was scared.
Well if picking a fight wouldn't get a reaction perhaps he needed to try another method.
“You're very good.” Barty complimented genuinely, watching Nott startle and drop his dagger in shock, even becoming a little red faced.
“I-don’t insult me.” He snapped.
“No, I mean you’ve got so much power through your shots and you haven’t even missed once. Many lose accuracy with strength like that behind the blade.”
Nott eyed him warily, unused to compliments but hearing the genuine sounding nature didn’t argue against him again.
“Would you like a drink?” Nott asked awkwardly after another moment of silence.
“Nah.” Barty stretched out, already feeling slightly stronger just from being in the kids' presence. “Not really needed on a spirit diet.”
The boy went to open his mouth to ask a question before firmly shutting it. He looked skittishly away and only then did it occur to Barty that perhaps the kid was unsure how to proceed with this strange occurrence.
“My name,” Barty began, extending an olive branch. “Is Barty Crouch jr.”
Nott paused for a moment as if trying to remember something he’d forgotten.
“You were a death eater.” He said it more like a statement than the question it was.
“I was. It’s a long story.”
“I thought you died many years ago.”
“That’s true, and an even longer one.” Barty locked eyes with him, approaching this conversation slowly. “Can I ask you questions now?”
“Fine.” Nott said before picking up a dagger again to inspect.
“Why don’t you live with your father?”
“He sent me away, he has poor health and it only gets worse if he has to hear from me.” Nott did not say the news sorrowfully or with even a hint of inflection as he spoke. Barty wondered if he could have ever maintained his cool in the same way. He probably would have burnt down the old family manor.
“What’s…Medea?” Barty wondered if it was perhaps a code name.
For the first time a real flash of complete fear came across Notts face, his whole body stilling in shock.
“My mother.” He gritted out.
“Medea Falk?” Barty asked the name sounding familiar. She was the auburn haired older girl that used to hang around with Narcissa and the older girls. With a wicked smile, he remembered, and an even scarier reputation. They had often made fun of Regulus and how flustered he would get around her.
“You knew her.” He said, eyeing him hungrily.
“Yes back at Hogwarts though she was a few years above me, how is she?”
“Dead.” Nott said coldly.
Well that explained some things.
“I know you won't believe it. But I'm here for a reason, I've been sent to do something…important” Barty urged, coming slowly closer with each word until they stood just opposite on another, so close he could see the carving on the dagger Nott clenched tightly in his hands.
“And you need my help.” Nott answered simply.
“Yes.”
“How difficult is it?”
“Nearly impossible.”
“Mmm. Sounds fun.” Nott said his usual blank face and tight lips almost even curled slightly. “Dangerous?”
“Most definitely.” Barty nodded resolutely.
“Well I need your assistance also.” Nott stated calmly.
“Ooo, two for one, I like it.” Barty smirked. “Hopefully that gets us a death discount! You go first.”
“No.” Nott said abruptly. “You stumbled here and almost got me killed.”
“Who steps into a seven starred experimental rune? What, have you got a death wish kid? Anyway I'm still traumatised, this has been a very tough time since my soul got sucked out by dementors.”
“Sounds like you deserved it.” Nott said under his breath.
“Watch it.” Barty warned before remembering the advice Death had given to him about being open, and honest and blah blah blah.”
Nott only waited watching him expectantly.
“Ihavetokillthedarklord.” Barty hissed out.
“What?” Nott asked, his brow crinkling in confusion.
“I have to kill the Dark Lord, alright!” Barty shouted loudly in frustration.
A single second of shock passed over Notts face before the psycho leaned forward and gave a full body laugh.
“What, you don't believe me?” Barty snarled, really annoyed at being mocked.
“No, it's just ironic.”
“You have no idea.” Barty drawled, the kid didn't even know the full story.
“So what do you get out of this, I very much doubt that you suddenly became guilty of your crimes and gained a hero complex.”
“Hah.” Barty shook his head, it was always the smart, quiet, weird ones. They were too observant. “Escaping eternal damnation.”
“Huh.” Nott turned away to pick up a small box which he shook a cig out of. “You mind.” He said just as he went to light it.
“Aren't you a little young to be doing that?” Barty chastsisted before realising how old and like his father, he sounded. “Do some hard potions instead, don't be a bore.”
“Nice save.” Nott said sarcastically before leaning against the desk and taking a long inhale.
“Your mother…Medea. Well, I am an expert in revenge.” Barty said to fill the silence.
“Mmm” Nott contemplated for just a moment before he got up abruptly, the smoke fading around him. “How far have you gotten with your plans to kill the dark lord?”
“Not far at all. You're going to help?” Barty asked, surprised.
“It seems our goals align on this.”
“You don't like the dark lord.”
“I find his actions…irrational. I'm not fond of devoting myself to madmen.” Nott said judgmentally.
“I'm not sure how sane you sound.” Barty remarked offhandedly, ignoring the glare it got him, before the boy turned and began walking.
“Where are you going?”
Nott turned and for the first time with his determined gaze that added a steely confidence to him, Barty didn't feel half bad about the kid he got stuck with.
“We are going to start with some research.”
———
A sharp clanging against the metal was what caused him to wake up but what made him jolt upwards was the warm hand that was placed over his mouth. Harry tried to scream but the contact of the warm skin shocked him.
“You're gonna scare the guy.” One of the voices said, it belonged to a boy with dark spiky hair and startling blue eyes. He seemed to be a similar age to Harry though much taller as he peered down at him curiously.
“This is why we needed to announce our presence verbally.” A deeper voice replied, the tone was humorous and it could be from a dark tanned, curly haired boy who stood beside the other shorter but more confident.
“I thought he was dead.” The nervous sound came from a boy with a darker complexion than dean and an even kinder face.
“Quiet.” A soft voice silenced them of the boy holding his hand against his mouth. “You're freaking him out.”
“Now if I remove my hand do you promise not to scream.” The cool voice said, directed to Harry.
All he could do was nod before it slowly dropped from his mouth and he turned to see who the final boy was. He seemed slightly older and had a handsome face, with wavy beachy blonde hair that should have placed him somewhere in california than a rundown park in east london. He smiled at Harry reassuringly and all he could think was how similar he looked to a boy band member that sometimes got shown at nightime on the tv. If it wasn't for the piercing by his left eyebrow and ears, as well as the small faded scar down the side of his mouth.
“I'm Duke.” The boy he had been looking over said.
“Jay.” The first boy said.
“Sammy.” The second one said cheerfully.
“Ollie.” The last one said before looking at him with a worried expression. “Your injuries, do they need to be seen to.”
“I'm fine.” Harry answered when he managed to get some words out. By now he should have run. They didn't seem to be death eaters or wizards. Petunia would have called them nuisances or shady if they had walked past her, wrong uns, no good. It made him like them more.
“What are you doing here so far from home?” Jay said slowly.
“Do you know how creepy that sounds?” Sammy replied for him, before elbowing him in the side, Jay didn't even seem to notice. “Ignore Doctor Frankenstein and Gloomy over there. Wicked scar.”
Harry placed a hand on his forehead and realised they were talking about the lightning bolt scar.
“Uh…thanks.”
“How did you get it?” Sammy followed up impishly, Harry wondered if he was related to a Weasley. Distantly, they looked especially different.
“You don't have to answer that.” Duke cut in smoothly. “Do you need help to get back home?”
Harry's face blanched. Thinking of all the things he could never return back to.
“Ah I see.” Duke lifted a hand to place on his shoulder. “A runaway, am I right?”
“Are the police after you?” Ollie spoke up.
“Or particularly awful family members.” Jay said seriously.
“Anyone?” Sammy asked with a wicked grin.
Harry knows what he should say. They were strangers, no doubt finding out an answer to see what they could take from him, hurt him. Find out how vulnerable he was.
“No one.” Was his answer after a long moment of silence, speaking a truth he was not confident he should share before he felt a sharp stinging pain by his rib. Lying on his injuries probably hadn’t helped.
The four boys looked between themselves before Duke nodded, saying something silently between themselves he was not privy to.
“Come on then, Jay's uncle is always away, the lucky bastard so we stay in his flat.” He pointed to the ugly, gray council complex. “Get cleaned up for a night of rest and then figure whatever it is out.”
“I couldn't possibly…”
“No, seriously.” Ollie nodded the quietest out of the four but the one who seemed to be paying the most attention. “You're injured, and we have all been there.”
“Not all of us.” Sammy remarked cheerfully. “My abuela would personally hunt me down.”
“Well…as long as it is not a bother.” Harry reasoned.
“None.” Jay nodded, the nicest he had looked yet.
“What's your name stranger” as Duke put his arm around his shoulder.
Harry thought long and hard for a moment, it probably wasn't a good idea to give his real name. Even if they were muggles.
“James.” Harry replied, something heavy being lifted off his chest. Harry Potter could be buried for all he cared, back in the graveyard where Voldemort rose again.
———
“It was rather nice of you to say those things.” Nymphodora said as she followed him out into the entrance hall by the floo. He had been hoping to escape quickly. Though now he somewhat regretted his hasty getaway if it meant Nymphadora and her too nice sentiments followed. It would do her no good to believe him as some better man, he was not even attempting to defend Potter, just get under Albus’s skin.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Severus sneered.
Nymphadora unabashedly snorted seemingly undisturbed by his off putting response.
“Yeah, yeah. I think I would have done much better in potions if I knew you weren't such a grouch.”
A grouch, he wasn't sure if he should be amused or insulted.
“You were too insufficient at potions for that to have made a difference.” Severus said scornfully.
Nymphadora gave a full out laugh as her head jolted backwards before she hit his arm lightly. The touch did not feel like burning.
“Seriously, though it was nice of you to defend Harry I feel sorry for the poor guy. I mean you witness a boy die, you know who gets resurrected and then gets shipped back to a family called The Dursleys of all things…” Nyphadora rambled.
“What?”
“Yeah they are a nasty bunch apparently. Course I haven't properly been assigned to watch the house yet but I spoke to the squib lady, Figgs? And she said they couldn't stand the sight of him.”
“Right.” Severus replied, really trying not to think too much over this. That Potter lived with Petunia, of the plans Dumbledore had in store for him. He had no reason to feel guilty, the pompous brat should not be on his mind.
“Bye Sev.” Nyphadora waved with a bright smile as he disappeared back through the floo before he even had time to protest.
Bringing him back to Spinner's end but not away from the growing pit in his stomach.