Plans of a Madman

Chapter 3--Serpentine Notes and Wizard Wheezes

Lucius Malfoy sat in a brown study. Where had he gone wrong? He had raised his son properly with the right ideals. He had taught him to respect and revere their Dark Master, how to manage the Dark Magic, had taught him the Way. But he had turned, run away. The little coward! Bane of his bones, nasty little bugger of a...

His thoughts were interrupted by a man slipping into the Boar's Head, taking a seat nearby his own table. He was dressed entirely in black, except for his cloak clasp: a silver serpent with piercing rubies for eyes. He seemed oddly familiar...but where had he seen his form before? Surely not recently...he would remember someone with such an air of command and confidence around him...

He watched as...what was that woman's name? Jenny? Jessie?...Jessie rushed over to the cloaked man, virtually gushing over him, disgusting Lucius to no end. The man kept his hood up but nodded slightly. For some reason, she showed him her necklace, and he nodded again as he spoke to her and put something in her hand. She then stood up and left the table smiling almost smugly to herself, or that was how Lucius saw it.

He was wondering where she was going when he realized she was walking towards...him? What was she coming to him for? Didn't the woman remember not to greet him in public? What if Narcissa became suspicious...

"Good evenin', Mr. Malfoy, sir," she said, a smug smile on her face. "The man over there asked me to give this to ya." She extended towards him a small package wrapped inside a silken handkerchief. Warily, he allowed her to place it in his palm. He looked up to glare into her face, but she had already vanished into thin air.

Shaking his head at his inefficiency, he unwrapped the handkerchief, noticing its unique pattern of black and blue. Soon he held in his hand a tiny figurine of a cobra, exquisitely made with silver, smaller than his thumb but every individual scale visible and shining. Attached to the serpent, a slip of paper read:

"Go to the Opera Garnier at midnight tonight. Find the mute and give him this serpent. You will then know my purposes for a meeting such as this. Adonis."

He looked up to see where Adonis had gone, but he had vanished from the place as well. Lucius sat back in his chair, contemplating his next move in this recent affair, if it could be called such. Should he go? Was this an elaborate trap of some sort? Or was this man in earnest about cutting a deal with a Death Eater? He put the serpent and the note in his pocket and left the table, his robes sweeping behind him as he exited through the door.

The man in the shadows smiled as he watched the thoughtful expression on Lucius' face. Oh, he would come, all right. He would come and the play would really begin...

*** *** ***

He stood on the pitch, robes flowing in the brisk breeze, broom in hand. His hands rubbed the polished wood of his top-of-the-line Firebolt 9000, the best of its kind. He mounted and flew up into the air, hair blowing in the breeze. He had always loved the air, the freedom it gave him. On his broom, there were no limits, no memories, no haunting thoughts; all there was around him was freedom and release.

He soaked in the silence, knowing it would not last long. In a few minutes, people would be pouring into the stands, waiting for the game to begin.

"Hey, Roddy! Over here!" Roddy's piercing grey eyes soon picked out the tiny red and blue spot among the green grass and white sand. "Roddy! Come on! Time to strategize!"

He smiled and dove toward his companion, lifting out of the dive bare inches from the ground and stepping lightly onto the pitch. "If you say so, Mike; last thing we need is a raging Shirley!" They both walked towards where the tent was, their fellow players waiting.

"Good," said Shirley with a brisk nod of her head. "We're all here. Now, before the crowds get here and corner us, I'd like to propose a new idea..."

"Ooh! It's the Wizard Wheezes! Did you know..."

"D'you think I could get their autographs before the game?"

"...is all the rage. I mean, look how cute..."

"...and horrible that captain is to the rest of the team! I mean, look at..."

"...his muscles are huge, but he doesn't look bulky! Isn't he a..."

"...very sensitive man on the team, I've heard, and a beater too..."

"Oh, dang; the cover's up. Mike, Roddy; you two didn't forget to put the glamour up on the tent, did you?"

The two young men under interrogation looked like two little boys caught in the act of levitating cookie jars, heads down and hands fiddling with their robes. Suddenly, they both pointed at each other and shouted, "It was his turn!"

"I believe, Mike, that it was your job to put up the defenses and glamour this time..." But she didn't have enough time to tell him off because the minimal defenses around the tent were weakening. "Roddy!"

"Yes, ma'am, on the job, ma'am, as you wish, ma'am!" His face became emotionless--though his eyes gave him away--as he stiffened and saluted, then marched dutifully out of the tent, already mounting his broom and ready for a little air show.

The crowd that had formed around the tent soon roared as they realized that one of the members of the team had rocketed out of the team's tent too quickly for anyone to notice. He waved at the crowd, smiling widely. He did many different tricks, all of them he had created on his own. But, as he swept through the sky, he also listened to his team strategizing in the tent.

"Did you catch all of that, Roddy?"

"Have I ever missed any of your sweet words before, Shirley?"

"Just shut up and get that smirk off your face. Get down here so we can enter as a team, if you would, your highness."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" He chuckled as he heard an exasperated sigh on the other end. Oh, the fun of it all! Now the only difficulty was getting back to the tent...

He swooped around the tent, looking for a hole or gap in which to slide safely back to the scathing tongue of Shirley. No such luck. Damn nuisance sometimes, he thought to himself. All these people going nutters over some average people that happen to be good with brooms and eye coordination...sad, isn't it? He decided that this wouldn't work, and therefore decided to take matters into his own hands.

He quickly but softly alighted onto the tent. He manipulated the weavings with some complex transfiguration and soon, there was a hole just large enough for his slim form to slip right through. He levitated down onto the ground and quickly closed up the hole again. He sighed in relief, glad to have escaped from the crowd with his robes still intact. Ah, the price of being revered by people because of sport.

"Smooth work, Roddy," said Mike. "Now, we just have to get back outside and play..."

"Shouldn't the guards be here to keep them away?" asked their keeper, Kristen Miller.

"Actually, they should have been here a long time ago," muttered Roddy in thought. He paused a moment, lost in thought, then shook himself out of it and smiled ruefully. "I wonder why..."

But his thoughts were left unanswered as a large horde of people charged the tent. However, this wasn't your average crowd-crazed mob of frenzied fans. Rather, a huge crowd of people wearing black cloaks with hoods and masks came blasting in, wands at hand, surrounding the Quidditch team.

"Oh, not good," muttered Mike towards Roddy. "Not good at all. How many are there? Is the number divisible by seven, or would you rather take one half and the rest of us take on the other half? Your choice, oh Master of all Dueling in the Entire Bloomin' Universe."

"Shut up, you idiot. However, the latter sounds good, oh Flattering One." He smiled slightly at his buddy. "Time to move out! See you at the end; we'll tally later!"

One of the men in their cloaks walked forward. "Would you like to come peacefully, or must we take you by force?"

"Well, what do you think, my fellow Wheezes? Die now or die later?" said Mike, waiting expectantly for the answer he knew he would get; this wasn't Fred and George's team for nothing!

They all nodded in response. This was the ultimatum. "We choose to fight, you pieces of frickin' filth!" cried out Mike. "Let's at it!" And thus, the fight began.

Dodge, blast, duck and blast again; the rhythm of the battle had been set to the beat of bodies falling and spells flying. Roddy had never gotten used to the feel of mass battle; a duel is one thing, but a battle like this wasn't his cup of tea. Doesn't mean he wasn't good at it, though.

Soon, the only ones standing were Mike and Roddy, facing off the twenty Death Eaters left. "I know we're supposed to tally at the end, but if you would, Roddy..."

"Twenty-eight."

"Dang you; twenty-five!"

"Well, then, you'd better beat the crap out of these ones to catch up!"

"What wonderful incentive! Let's at it, then!" And with that piece of wry (and somewhat twisted) humor, the two began again, the odds against them.

The fight dragged on for a while, but soon there were only three left: Roddy and two Death Eaters. Roddy looked around; Mike wasn't anywhere to be found. He swallowed hard. He stared at the two Death Eaters standing before him. They were about to throw some curses at him when Roddy stopped them. "Wait; why are you doing this?"

The Two Death eaters looked at him as if he were absolutely starkers. "Why? We're told to. And the Master wants the team."

"He doesn't want the team. He wants me, doesn't he?"

They paused. What the heck!? Who was this guy, and what in the world was he doing? They decided to keep talking, though; from his already magnificent battling skills, they'd probably be dead within the minute (give or take a few seconds). "He just wants you. The team was necessary to get to you. And, anyway, it will be fun to torture them later. The reserves should be here soon."

"Why don't you just take me, hmm? You know I could smite you two in one instant, reserves or no reserves. I've already sent thirty-eight of your friends to the Ministry. They're probably getting the Dementor's Kiss right now. But if you bring my six mates back here, I'll come with you willingly."

They hesitated. What would their Master say? "Don't worry about Voldemort; he'll be pleased you brought me in without being killed or having to bring in the reserves. And what are six more people when you would have me, one of the most prominent figures of the Light, without losing your own sorry hides?"

That convinced them. They nodded their assent, and soon six figures lay on the ground. Roddy checked to make sure they were who they seemed to be and were still alive. He took a potion out of his pocket and poured it down Mike's throat. He then stood and put his wand into one of the Death Eater's hands.

The Death Eater pocketed the wand and the other immediately restrained Roderick, binding him magically hand and foot, the cords tight. Roddy stood silently, his face void of expression or emotion. He looked towards where Mike lay. It looked like Mike was waking up.

And so he was. Mike first felt a shot of pain run up to his head. Ugh...blasted...where am I? he wondered to himself. All I remember is a bright blue light and Roddy...Rod! He shot up to a sitting position, eyes wide, his forehead creased from the sudden dizzy spell coming over him. He felt like he was about to fall over again, but he steadied himself. And there was Roddy, stoic as ever in a tight spot.

He tried to call out to him, but his voice wouldn't work; all that came out was a hoarse croak. But it seemed to be enough for Roddy. "No worries, Mike!" he called out to him, a small, tight smile on his face. "I'll see you in a bit! Take care, old chap! And I got thirty-eight!" And with those last words, he disappeared with the Death Eaters, leaving one very stunned Mike and five prone figures.

"Good-bye, Roddy..." He looked around him. There were his other teammates, lying there. They weren't here before...the Death Eaters had taken them...Roddy didn't...did he?! But his thoughts were interrupted by people apparating. Oh, great; here it comes...

*** *** ***

He fell to the floor in a heap, the cords searing into his skin. One of the Death Eaters kicked him in the ribs while the other spit on him. He made no sound. The Death Eaters roughly picked him up and brought him before their Master, smiling all the while.

They approached the Dark Lord's throne, one holding Roddy as the other went up to kiss the hem of their Lord's robes. They soon switched positions, then threw Roddy to the floor, themselves on their knees and bowing to their Dark Lord.

The man on the chair smiled a twisted, sinister smile, his slanted red eyes meeting piercing grey ones. "Excellent job, my faithful Death Eaters. You shall be rewarded." He had never broken contact with Roddy's gaze. "As for you, Roderick; why do you look so calm? Why do you not glare openly, attempt to get up and claw me? Surely a spirit such as yours would not have broken already?"

"Because, mine Host, I have no need to glare, and I need not claw you. My spirit is surely not broken. I have an appointment I must attend to tonight. I intend to be there." He spoke quietly in a dry drawl.

Voldemort laughed viciously. "And why do you suppose that we will allow you to go to this meeting, Roderick Ainsworth?"

"Let me answer with a question; do you have a Death Eater meeting tonight?"

"Why do you believe that I shall so honor you with an answer to that particular question?"

"Because you with to know, and I am amusing you, something that your Death Eaters cannot do...unless forced to do so."

The Dark Lord laughed silently. This was an amusing captive, indeed. "You do amuse me, Roderick, and so I shall continue by answering your question. Yes, there does happen to be one tonight."

"Has someone asked leave of this particular meeting?"

"Two, actually."

"Does one of their names happen to be Lucius Malfoy by any chance?"

The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes at him. "What game are you playing, Ainsworth? What are you playing at when you know you can't win?"

"My game. And I shall win. Now, did he mention anything about a note signed by Adonis or a small serpent statue?"

How does he know? Who is this man? Voldemort was intrigued. Very intrigued, indeed. "Why do you not ask him yourself? He is present, unless he decided to sneak out of here while the water was not boiling."

A cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows. "I am still present, my Lord, and am ready to prove this man wrong."

"You cannot prove wrong what is known to be right. Accio serpent!" And with an outstretched hand and no wand, the little serpent figurine landed in his hand from Lucius' pocket. "Accio note!" And out came the note from Lucius' pocket. He held the items and said, "May I be unbound, that I might show these to you, or would you rather I do it myself?"

"Release his bonds," murmured Voldemort, a tight smile on his face, a mad glint in his eyes. Well, well, well; this shall prove most interesting. Maybe I shall finally have a challenge set before me, hmm?

Now free from his restraints, he stood, rubbing his wrists, then striding towards the Dark Lord and placing in his hands the serpent and the note. He stood back a moment. "The note is from one Adonis, given to Lucius via Jessie at the Boar's Head today. He is to meet this Adonis at the Opera Garnier tonight at midnight. The serpent is for identification reasons."

"Lucius, who is this Adonis?"

"I do not know, my Lord. I plan to find out tonight, if you so wish, my Lord."

"Yes, Lucius; I do wish you to find out. However, I would rather like to know how Roderick Ainsworth found out these...fascinating details about this little private meeting."

Here's my chance... "If you take me along at midnight, I shall show you myself."

"You still amuse me; what is more, you intrigue me, something I find rare these days. I shall see you off before you leave with Lucius and five others. Until then, I have work to do." With a wave of a hand, he was gone from the room. The Dark Lord smirked, then turned to other matters at hand. Yet at the back of his mind, the grey eyes still gazed.

Roddy found himself transported to a cell, dank and musty and quite unsanitary. Nothing he hadn't expected, really. The thing that amazed him, however, was the lack of chains and shackles. He thought he would be immediately bound upon entering the cell. Maybe this won't be as difficult as I had thought... He cleaned the floor beneath him and sat down, settling himself down to rest for the next few hours or so.

*** *** ***

"Mr. Rubinski, if you would please just settle down..."

"But they took him! Damn it, they bloody took him! We have to get him back! Send the army! Arrange the battalions, settle the tactics and get him the hell out of there before I blow up this entire flippin' building..."

"Mike, get a grip!" Shirley was getting rather tired of his overly-concerned attitude. Not that she wasn't concerned. Everyone was concerned. That included the Headmaster, the Ministry, and the entire wizarding world, not to mention those muggles who had been able to comprehend and accept better than their counterparts.

"Don't 'get a grip' me, Shirley! I can't take this any more! We're just answering a bunch of questions over and over again while Roddy may be..."

That was quite the last straw. Shirley slapped him soundly on the face. "Stop ranting and answer the questions, Mike!"

"Thanks," he muttered. "I think." He made himself a little more comfortable on the grass, took a few deep breaths, and began his short tale. "They overtook us in a rush. Soon it was only Roddy, twenty Death Eaters, and me. All the others were gone, the Death Eaters sent to the Ministry and the teammates sent to Death Eater Headquarters. I then fell. The last thing I remember before blacking out was Roddy battling three on his own with two coming for him. Then, very suddenly, I woke from my blackout to see Roddy bound between two Death Eaters. And what do you think his last words were? 'o worries! Be back in a bit! And I got thirty-eight!'" He grimaced. "That was Roddy; cheery to the end." He fought for control over his emotions. "There's no hope for him, is there?"

It was the question they hadn't dared to voice, the unspoken answer of doom imminent in their minds. The Auror shook his head slightly. "Very little chance, Mr. Rubinski; you don't know just how many attempts the Dark side has made to capture Mr. Ainsworth. I'm sorry, sir, but chances are slim indeed." He paused a moment, then spoke. "But we still have a little hope. He is a very powerful wizard. Maybe they don't realize how strong he is. Maybe even we have underestimated him. If he comes back within the week, I would not be too surprised. But, if more than a week goes by, the chances are slim, indeed." Not knowing what else to say, he stood up and strode towards his commander.

Now that he was only with Shirley, he could let out the breath he had been holding. "Shirley, you understand what he did, don't you?"

She nodded her head slowly. "Yes, Mike; he sacrificed himself for us." She stared off into the sky. "I think he felt it was the best thing to do. He had always underestimated himself, and he surmised it was all for the best. That, and he felt too much for us than is safe in these times. Sentimental prick."

"Do you think the Dark Lord knew Roddy would do that? That Roddy would make such a deal?" Was it all planned, from the beginning? Could I have stopped it in time before it happened?

"It's possible. I guess we'll never know." She reached out for his hand and squeezed it gently, a small smile poking out of her sad, wan face. "All we can do is wait and hope, now, Mike; it's all we can do."

He squeezed her hand in response. "I know; I just wish we could do something as well..."

*** *** ***

A little further away, on a hilltop overlooking the Quidditch pitch, an old man aged five more years. He looked upon the scene with sad eyes, his heart breaking but his mind refusing to understand. It was another hope dashed into pieces; another shining light doused by darkness. And so, another hope lost, another potential hero gone. But at least there was more chance of a return...but better not let your hopes rise, for the higher they rise, the harder they fall.