The Founders' Legacy

"Severus, I'm risking my life by simply talking to you," Michael Avery said.

They had met in a slightly obscure pub located in a small passage off Diagon Alley. Michael was constantly looking around. The pub was rumoured to sometimes be inhabited by Alastor Moody. He didn't come often, but no Death Eater would risk meeting him. Not after Barty Crouch jr. had kept him in his own trunk for nearly a year.

Michael lowered his voice.

"He made it quiet clear that he wants you dead. Go back to Hogwarts. If you try to rekindle old connections you will be dead by the end of the day."

He emptied his glass and got up. "Goodbye, old friend."

Snape got up as well. Michael Avery didn't have to say it; his eyes spoke volumes. The next time they would met one of them wouldn't survive it. A vague feeling of sadness washed over Snape. They had been friends since their first day at Hogwarts. Now they were enemies. Michael Disapparated.

Snape stared a few seconds at the empty space. Then he paid the bill and disapparated too.

When he entered the school grounds through the main gate after walking up from Hogsmeade he noticed the silence with satisfaction. The students had left for the summer holidays last week and Snape didn't miss them at all. Once inside, he headed straight to the headmaster's office. Snape knew that Dumbledore would call the operation off, but wasn't ready to give up yet. Maybe he could try to contact Frank Nott.

Albus Dumbledore was awaiting him.

"Severus, I have bad news for you," he began, not waiting for Snape's report. "I just received word that there was a break-in at your house last night. One of the Aurors investigating the scene suspected the involvement of Death Eaters. For the benefit of the public, the Ministry has claimed it was someone looking for rare potion ingredients or something." Snape rolled his eyes.

"I think we both know that this was a warning, so I don't think it's safe for you to return to your house for the holidays. There is this nice cottage, unplotable and secured by various protective charms. It's small, but there's a library and enough room to work on your projects... ."

"I would prefer to stay at Hogwarts," Snape interrupted Dumbledore.

"Oh, really?" Dumbledore exclaimed. The twinkle in his eyes alarmed Snape. "You know, Sibyll is staying too. She told me that she's looking forward to discuss the various aspects of your star sign with you if she gets the opportunity... ."

"What kinds of spells are there?" Snape asked hastily. Anything was better than being trapped with Professor Trelawney.

"As I said, the cottage is unplotable and there are the usual Muggle repelling charms. And, like Hogwarts, it's impossible to Apparate on the grounds."

"Is it connected to the floo network?"

"Only fire communication is possible."

"I need to get in touch with Frank Nott. "

Snape told of his unsuccessful meeting with Michael Avery.

"No." Dumbledore looked serious.

"But Albus... ."

"Severus, you already risked a lot and I'm not going to let you walk into certain death. Spent the summer at the cottage and relax. You need some rest. We have all been through a lot lately." The Headmaster looked sad; the memory of Cedric Diggory was still fresh.

Voldemort paced impatiently in front of two Death Eaters cowering on the floor.

"What do you mean, the parchment wasn't there? I have tracked its path all over Europe! It was in Ubertin Adelmus' copy of De plantis and the book had to be there!"

"It was, Master, but the parchment was missing," the Death Eater stammered. "The book was behind the shelf, where the Muggle had been hiding... ."

"Muggle?" roared Voldemort. The Death Eater flinched. "How did a Muggle get in there?"

"You see Master, the shopkeeper still used a very old Muggle repelling charm. It has to be renewed every month and he seemed to have forgotten... ."

"And she was hiding near the book?"

Both Death Eaters nodded.

"Did you get her?"

The Death Eaters shook their heads.

"She was out on the street and the Accidental Magic Reversal squad was probably already on its way... ."

"Crucio!" Voldemort said and turned. He could hear them scream and twist on the floor behind his back.

So weak, he thought; it was almost boring. Finally he released them. Both men unsuccessfully tried to suppress their sobs of pain and relief.

"Now listen you two idiots," the Dark Lord hissed. "That Muggle probably has the parchment now. Don't dare to appear in front of me without knowing everything about her!"

The Death Eaters retreated backwards. Voldemort stopped them at the door. "Don't disappoint me again," he said with a thin smile.

***

Snape had to admit he started to enjoy his stay at the cottage. He had talked to Dumbledore several times in the fire. The headmaster had told Snape that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had closed the investigation of the break-in without result. No surprise there.

***

Crabbe stuttered, reading off a sheet of parchment.

"Her name is Sophie Beresford and she lives in Chapelton. She's a librarian in Stonehaven and collects antique books, mostly about magic. No husband; no relatives and friends living nearby. Her house is a bit outside the town and she lives alone. She's 32 years old and her favourite colour is... ."

"Enough. Deal with her and bring me the parchment! And Crabbe, Goyle, remember what I told you... ."

It was late when Sophie returned home from work. She threw her keys on the kitchen table. Unbelievable how much chaos her colleague, Mrs Stanford, had caused during the two weeks she had been away.

Sophie made herself tea and a sandwich and went into the living room. Pushing a stack of printouts aside, she made room to set down her food and switched the computer on. Soon she was engrossed in translating a Greek text.

Long after midnight she turned off the computer and stretched. When she heard the sound of breaking glass she froze. There was the unmistakable creaking of the backdoor in the kitchen. Footsteps. Someone had broken into her house. Call the police, she thought and grabbed the phone. She kept watching the door while she punched in 999. Oh please, hurry up... . The operator picked up, but before Sophie had the chance to speak a hand covered her mouth and the receiver was placed back on the phone. When another man appeared from the kitchen, Sophie could see her attackers. The men in the black cloaks from Prague.

"Where is it?" Crabbe hissed in his victim's ear. Behind his mask, Goyle rolled his eyes.

"You have to take your hand off. She can't answer that way," he informed his companion.

The hand was removed and Sophie drew in big gulps of air. Crabbe tightened his grip.

"Where is the parchment?" he repeated his question.

Sophie's mind was swimming. What were they talking about? Then it dawned on her. The parchment she had taken from the shop in Prague; that's what they had been searching for. Oh shit !

What would they do if they found out that it wasn't in her house? She had no idea who these people were, but she could well remember the screams of pain from the unfortunate shopkeeper.

One of the men had her in a death grip and the other one was standing directly in front of her. She couldn't deal with both of them; she needed a diversion.

"It's somewhere on the desk, by the computer," Sophie said.

"Computer?" The man sounded puzzled.

He doesn't recognise a computer?

The man pushed the chair aside and started to search through the heaps of papers and books scattered on the desk. Sophie felt the other man's grip on her relax; he was too interested to watch his friend. Hoping that she remembered her self defence lecture correctly, she stamped on the man's foot and when he let go of her in surprise she rammed her elbow in his stomach. He doubled over in pain and she ran to the door. The other man tried to block her, while fumbling for something in his sleeve, but his cloak got tangled in the chair. She could hear him curse as she dashed through the kitchen, trying to reach the backdoor.

The forest began right behind her house and once outside she could hide between the trees. They were behind her, but she had managed to get some distance between them. Sophie could hear one of them shout something and instinctively dove for cover. Too late. There was a greenish light; she could feel something fly past and lightly touch her arm. Incredible pain seared through her whole body. Gasping, she lay on the ground and bit her lip to suppress a scream. She had to stay quiet or they would know where she was.

"You killed her! You stupid idiot killed her! How can we find the parchment when she's dead?" Goyle screamed in rage. Crabbe looked at his wand slightly dumbfounded.

"I only wanted to stop her... ."

"By using the Killing Curse? Our Master is going to punish us for that!"

"Not if we bring him the parchment. It has to be somewhere here. Should we get rid off the body?"

"No, we have more important things to take care off."

They went inside and started to search every inch of the house.

Sophie tried to move. Everything hurt so much. Her arm was burning and every muscle in her body shook with cramps. They had tried to kill her with ... whatever. Move. That was the only thing on her mind. Almost crawling, with tears streaming down her face, she continued to move deeper into the forest. On the other side was a road, not too far away. Maybe someone would find her.

"I've got it!" Goyle exclaimed triumphantly and held up a sheet of parchment. It contained four small paragraphs, the first two and the last one in Latin. The third one was written in what looked like little snakes. Satisfied with their work they disapparated.

There was a small light visible through the trees. Sophie tried to quicken her pace. The cramps had subsided a bit, but her arm was getting worse. The smell of burned flesh was sickening. She had paused once and touched it, but quickly drew her hand back when she had felt wet pieces of skin coming off the wound. The light grew and Sophie realized that she must have gotten lost. She wasn't near the road, but in front of a small cottage. She didn't care. There was light, so someone had to live here. She had reached the veranda and gathered her last strength to bang on the door before she collapsed.

Severus Snape nearly dropped the jar of spurge he was holding. Someone had knocked on the door. Albus? No; he wouldn't make a surprise visit. Snape put the jar down and drew his wand. Without a noise he neared the door, wand ready. He opened it, prepared to deal with anything and froze. A women was lying there. Judging from her clothes she was a Muggle. She didn't move and her right arm was severely injured. It was a burn, nearly covering the whole arm, with blackened little pieces of clothing sticking to the raw flesh.

Snape's first thought was that they had found him and it was a trap, but no one else was around. He dismissed the idea of Voldemort using a Muggel to kill him, carried her inside and placed her on the bed.

The women had obviously walked through the forest, her clothes were dirty and leaves were sticking in her hair. There was a road somewhere on the other side of the woods and maybe she had an accident with her car, which would explain why she had managed to see the house. Shock and severe physical pain could leave Muggles unaffected by repelling charms. Snape was unsure about what to do. She needed medical attention, but how could he get her to a doctor unnoticed? One thing was sure: he had to get rid of her as quickly as possible.

After he made sure that she was still unconscious, Snape went into the main room, grabbed a fistful of glittering powder from a jar by the fireplace and threw it into the flames.

"Professor Dumbledore, I'm sorry to disturb you this late, but I have a problem here," Snape called into the fire. The headmaster's head appeared in the fireplace, wearing a nightcap, but looking wide awake at the mention of problems.

"What happened?"

"Apparently some Muggle women had a car accident. She collapsed on my doorstep. She has some nasty injuries and needs a healer."

"Do you think it's possible to fly to the next hospital and levitate her along?"

Snape shook his head. "I doubt I could do it alone, the next hospital must be miles away and it's morning soon. There's no chance to get her there, obliviate her and disappear unnoticed."

Dumbledore thought for a moment until he replied.

"Then I think it would be the best if you patch her up as good as possible and I'll come over tomorrow. We can move her together after dark."

Snape didn't like the thought of having a Muggle around for a whole day, less playing nursemaid for one, but didn't argue. He bid Albus goodnight, went into the pantry and selected some bottles from his worktable.

Returning to the small bedroom he noted with relief that his unbidden guest was still unconscious.

After cutting away the shredded remains of the sleeve, he started to clean the wound. On closer inspection it didn't look like from a car accident, but reminded him of something he had seen before, a long time ago. The women stirred a bit during his ministrations and when he had finished bandaging her arm he managed to force a spoonful of sleeping potion down her throat. The Draught of Living Death would keep her from waking up.

Since his bed was occupied, Snape conjured up a bed for himself in the main room. There was no chance he would try to sleep on the small sofa. Something about the injury bothered him, but he couldn't quiet place it. Snape couldn't sleep, his eyes kept wandering along the shelves facing his makeshift bed and finally stopped on a small black book : The Unforgivables - A Study by Alastor Moody.

"Accio book!"

Snape leaned back in the pillows - trying to sleep in robes would be uncomfortable - and started to flip through the pages.

By the time he had reached the chapter Avada Kedavra his eyes were half-closed, but he bolted upright when he caught sight of the thing he had been looking for.

Aside from the most famous case, Harry Potter, there have been occasions when people survived the

Killing Curse. Like all spells, the curse is only effective when the wand is pointed straight at the

victim and it could happen in rare cases, like battles, that the curse misses it's target.

But even when the curse is cast off-target, the damage caused can be massive. Victims suffer from

severe burns and neuralgia, often they die of neural damage. I can not stress enough the importance

of constant vigilance! Always make sure to ... .

Snape put the book down. Someone had tried to use the Killing Curse on that Muggle. The question was now: had it been just for "entertainment" or was there a more important reason?

Snape got up early the next morning. With disgust he noted the wrinkled state of his robes. The sooner Albus Dumbledore arrived and helped him getting rid of the nuisance the better. He checked on his "patient" and was satisfied to find her still sleeping.

The hours ticked by and no sign of Dumbledore. Snape had assumed he would come as quickly as possible and the wait was unnerving. Any longer and the women would need another dose of the sleeping potion. Finally, it was almost evening, someone knocked on the door.

"I have to apologies for my lateness," Dumbledore said, leaning his broom against the wall next to the door.

"An old friend from the Czech Ministry needed to speak me in an urgent matter. They had quiet a mess in Prague recently and our Ministry wasn't very forthcoming with information."

"What happened?" Snape asked, more out of politeness then real interest. His only real interest was getting the Muggle out of the house.

"It's a rather strange story," Dumbledore said, smoothing out his beard. "There was a robbery in a bookstore and the owner claimed his attackers were British and dressed like Death Eaters. Poor chap, got hit with Cruciatus, and of course our Ministry denied any Death Eater activities when questioned by the Czech officials. It was really unfortunate, happened in the middle of the city and they had to obliviate a street full of Muggle witnesses. One got away, unfortunately a women who's suspected to be a key witness. They feared it could be all over the papers, but apparently she was a tourist. Disappeared without a trace. But, " Dumbledore smiled, "enough about that. After all, I came to help you deal with your little problem. Where is she?"

Snape pointed at the closed door leading to the bedroom. "I kept her sleeping, but before we move her ... I noticed something unusual about her injury. I'm not sure if it's important, but maybe you better read this."

He handed the copy of The Unforgivables to Dumbledore, who frowned after reading the paragraph in question.

"Well Severus, the only way to find out for sure is to ask her."

Snape grimaced; he had feared Dumbledore would suggest this. He glanced at his watch. "The potion should wear off soon... ."

"Excellent," the headmaster remarked and opened the bedroom door.

Sophie blinked. The bed she was lying in felt unfamiliar and she had the strangest dream. There had been a green light and it had hurt and she was running through the forest ... was she still in Prague? Sophie stretched and a sharp pain shot through her right arm. Her eyes snapped open and she stared straight at a man with cold black eyes, looking at her with a detached curiosity, like a scientist would study an interesting insect. When she noticed the wrinkled black robes he was wearing, she hastily scrambled as far away from him a possible. The men in the black cloaks had found her.

The Dark Lord turned his attention from the lifeless form of Crabbe Senior to the other man.

Goyle was trembling on his knees, cold sweat running down his face under the mask. They had failed. Again. The parchment they had brought back to their master had turned out to be the random scribbles of a monk from the 18th century and the snakelike part was Arabic. Voldemort was furious. Goyle screwed his eyes shut, waiting for his life to end, but death didn't come, instead, the agony of the Cruciatus curse hit him with its full, painful force again.

"Avery!" Voldemort bellowed. One of the cloaked figures stepped out of the circle and bowed.

"At your service, Master."

"Those brainless idiots wasted to much of my time and patience. You will take over their assignment!"

Michael Avery bowed again. "I'm honoured Master. I will not disappoint you."

Voldemort regarded the twitching form of Goyle for a moment and raised his wand. "Finite Incantatem!"

The shrill screams stopped.

"He will provide you with the necessary information."

The Death Eaters were dismissed.

"Don't be afraid," a gentle voice said and a second man came into view. He was very old, with long white hair and twinkling blue eyes behind half-moon glasses. "My friend," he motioned to the man in black," found you on his doorstep yesterday. You were passed out and badly hurt and we want to get you to a hospital, now that you are awake, but we hope you could tell us how you got injured."

Sophie relaxed a bit. Even if the old man reminded her strongly of the shopkeeper in Prague with his clothing; there was something about him that made her trust him. Maybe because he reminded her of the way she had pictured Santa Claus as a little girl.

"I think it started in Prague... ."

The old man raised his eyebrows at the mention of Prague, but didn't interrupt her. Both men looked alarmed when she reached the part with the green light.

"My dear, would you excuse us for a minute?" the older man asked after she had finished her story. Sophie nodded weakly, feeling a bit wobbly and her vision was still blurred, which reminded her... .

"Did I have my glasses with me? It would be terrible if I lost them in the forest... ."

"I put them on the nightstand," the man in black said.

Sophie picked them up gratefully. They were bend and dirty and a leaf was stuck on the right lens. She cleaned them with the blanket and put them on. The men had left her and closed the door behind them.

As soon as it was dark Michael Avery and William Goyle had Apparated back to the librarian's house. Everything was quiet; apparently no one had missed her yet.

"Where was she when Crabbe cursed her?" Avery wanted to know. Goyle led the way. They found the place, easy to notice because of a half burned tree that Crabbe had hit with the curse instead of the Muggle, but not the body. So she had gotten away again. It didn't bother Avery much; they would find her again if necessary and it was likely that she had managed to get further into the forest before the spell finished her off. They went into the house. Crabbe and Goyle had turned everything upside down, but Avery wanted to search the place again. He had just started to go over the papers in the living room, when a beeping noise made both Death Eaters jump.

"Miss Beresford, are you home? This is Mrs Stanford speaking. I tried to reach you all day; it's not very collegial to not show up at work without even calling in sick ! I registered a complaint... ."

The mechanical voice of the women was cut off by another beep.

"What was that?" Goyle asked nervously. Avery had spotted a small box next to the phone.

"Answering machine. Muggles use them so they don't miss a phone call when they are not home. It records a message from the caller and the Muggles then call the person back later. I've read about them," he explained.

"Why are they called answering machine when they don't really answer the call?" Goyle wondered.

Avery shrugged. "Just another useless Muggle invention."

They continued their search, but there was no trace of the parchment. Avery was at the work place in the living room again, flipping through a small book containing names, addresses and numbers, which must be for the phone.

The answering machine beeped again.

"Hi Sophie, this is Abra. I'm finished with the parchment you gave me, quiet an interesting piece. Could you call me back?"

Michael's face lit up and he turned back some pages in the address book. Abra Harrington, Hanway Street 16 D, London. Looked like they had found it.

"Albus, I don't think it's wise to mention wizards in front of her... ."

"Severus, those Death Eaters followed her from Prague to get the parchment. It must be very important for Voldemort and we have to find out why. We have to obliviate her anyway."

Snape knew how stubborn Dumbledore could be, so he stopped arguing.

Sophie had managed to sit on the edge of the bed when her hosts returned. Now, with her glasses, she had a better view. The old man looked indeed like Santa Clause, the only difference was the colour of the clothes. The second man was much younger, maybe somewhere in his late thirties. He had shoulder-length black hair, that looked like in desperate need of washing and a hooked nose. His whole demeanour told her that he was not happy about her presence in his home.

"Miss Beresford, I think we have not introduced ourselves properly," the older man began, "I'm Albus Dumbledore and my friend here is Professor Severus Snape. My next question is going to sound a little strange, but ... Miss Beresford, do you believe in wizards?"

Ok, they're nuts ... or maybe I hit my head somewhere last night and I'm the nutter here?

"You see Miss Beresford, those men from Prague, the ones that attacked you, work for a very dangerous man, who calls himself Lord Voldemort. He and those men are wizards, just like Professor Snape and myself and the green light you saw was a curse, intended to kill you."

"I think I need to sit down," Sophie said hesitantly.

"You are already sitting," Snape supplied coldly. This was going exactly like he had imagined.

"Maybe we need a little demonstration... . " Dumbledore said. "May I have your glasses for a moment?"

Puzzled Sophie handed them over. Dumbledore got a stick from his pocket and pointed it at the glasses.

"Reparo!"

Right in front of her disbelieving eyes the bend metal straightened and when he handed them back, her glasses were as good as new.

Sophie remembered one of the men back at her house getting something out of his sleeve. She eyed the "stick" quizzically. Amused, Dumbledore handed it to her. Terrified, she drew backwards.

"Don't be afraid; wands don't react to Muggles."

"Muggles?"

"Non-wizarding folk."

The wand was made from oak and, aside from some intricate engravings, it looked like a normal wooden stick. Sophie examined it closely, before handing it back. Snape had started to tap his foot impatiently, bringing Dumbledore back on topic.

"Miss Beresford, you said they had been searching for the parchment you brought from Prague and we have to find out why it is so important to them. What can you tell me about it and more importantly, where is it?"

"I was taking a copy of De plantis from the shelve, when the parchment fell on the floor. Maybe it had been inside the book; I'm not sure. From the writing I guess the parchment is from the 17th century. There were four short paragraphs: three in Latin, spells I think, and one in some weird language. The parchment is currently in London. I left it with a friend of mine, Abra Harrington. She works for the British Museum and I asked her to check if it's authentic."

Dumbledore had paled when she mentioned that unreadable spell. He turned to Snape.

"Can I use the fire place for a moment?"

Sophie decided to better not ask what that meant.

Karel Osoba of the Czech Department of Magical Law Enforcement looked tiered, when his head appeared in the fire.

"Albus, do you have any idea how late it is?" he asked slightly irritated.

"I'm sorry to disturb you Karel, but it is important. That book store robbery; did you notice anything special, like they had been searching for something specific?"

Osoba was suddenly much more awake.

"Do you have a clue?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Only a vague idea."

"Please keep me informed; I don't like the thought of Death Eaters sneaking around our country... ."

"Of course, Karel."

"The only thing that struck me as odd was a pile of books, nearly torn apart, who all used to belong to the same person, Ubertin Adelmus. Wasn't he headmaster at Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore felt like someone had hit him with a stunning spell. "Yes, he was," he murmured.

Sophie felt rather stupid, sitting there on the bed and waiting. The greasy-haired guy, Snape, wasn't exactly helping with his pacing; it only made her more nervous. She still harboured the thought that somewhere, in reality, she was lying heavily drugged in a hospital bed.

Dumbledore returned with a concerned face.

"Severus, I need you to go to London and get the parchment from Miss Beresford's friend. If Voldemort got his hands on it ... I don't want to think of the consequences."

***

They Apparated in an empty side street. Goyle had voiced some concern regarding their appearance, but Avery had brushed it aside. He would never sink low enough to wear Muggle clothes and besides, he had seen Muggles on the streets of London who had been dressed in far stranger getups than robes. They entered the building unnoticed and a simple spell took care of the lock of flat D. Miss Harrington was conveniently absent.

They searched the place, but there was no trace of the parchment. Goyle was getting frantic.

"It's not here! She's not here! We are going to end up like Crabbe ... ."

"Stop whining!" Avery was already loosing his patience with Goyle. He took another look at the page he had ripped out of Sophie's address book. Under Miss Harrington's home number was a second one and next to it in barely readable handwriting: British Museum, Prints & Drawings Department.