Up from the Dust

The fourth of October, 1997, brought many things to Hogwarts: the first frost, the first Hogsmeade weekend for the newly-promoted third years, and the first school-wide conversation about the first Quidditch match of the season, which was to be played later that day.

Seated at one end of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were attempting to cheer up their best friend. Over the last two years, Ron Weasley had developed a reputation for performing terribly in his first Quidditch match of the season. He was dreading the match.

"Honestly, Ron, if you don't eat breakfast you are going to fall off your broom. That can't help your game," said Hermione matter-of-factly, looking up from the dusty tome on her lap. Having finished her own breakfast ten minutes ago, she had decided on a bit of "light reading" to pass the time before the match.

Ron Weasley sat in front of a full plate of food, silverware still occupying the exact same spot it had taken up a half hour ago. The freckles stood out sharply on his paler-than-usual face.

"Oh, stop bothering him, Hermione. After all, I don't usually want to eat anything before my first match of the season." The second speaker was Ron's other best friend and Quidditch veteran, Harry Potter. Clad in the same red-and-gold robes as Ron, Harry reached across the table and clapped a friendly hand on Ron's shoulder. Harry was absurdly proud of Ron for his performance on the Gryffindor team over the past two years; he didn't want Ron to lose confidence.

"Yes, well, you don't need any energy to sit on your broom for half an hour waiting for the Snitch to show up," retorted Hermione. "I think he could use a few calories before he goes diving after flying Quaffles for Merlin knows how long." Struck by the odd sound of the Muggle word Hermione had used, Ron looked up.

"What in the world is a calorie?" asked Ron, breaking his silence. Hermione turned to him.

"Well, Ron, in Muggle chemistry, a calorie or really a kilocalorie is the amount of energy -"

"She just means you need some food, Ron," interrupted Harry, saving them from a fifteen-minute lecture from their brainy friend.

Reluctantly, Ron turned his attention to his breakfast. Next to Harry, Hermione turned her attention back to her reading. Having one friend's mouth too full and the other friend's brain too full for either to talk to him, Harry stared idly around the Great Hall. At the ends of the four House tables sat a few of the first years, who didn't know many of the older students yet and were content to congregate amongst themselves. There were fewer Slytherins this year - their number had seemingly been on a decline since fifth year. Harry had counted them at the Sorting Ceremony: nine Gryffindors, seven Ravenclaws, eight Hufflepuffs, and five Slytherins. He thought with some unease that perhaps some of the usual Slytherin stock had transferred to Durmstrang or even one of the more "liberal" American schools, where the Dark Arts were more openly taught.

Harry shuddered at the thought of such young children being taught the likes of Cruciatus and Imperius, never mind the killing curse. Harry had spent the entire summer at the Dursleys', completely cut off from the wizarding world and explicitly forbidden to leave the protection of his horrible relatives. He'd returned to find that, although the Death Eaters' attacks had become more subtle, they continued to be very deadly. There was a war going on, and people were dying. To think that they were dying at the hands of young men and women no older than himself...

With effort, Harry steered his thoughts away from such dark matters. He is eyes roamed the Great Hall. It was still early and both the faculty table and House tables were quite empty. In fact, only two professors were present: Professors Vector and Snape. Vector was busy studying a book that looked disturbingly similar to the one in front of Hermione; Snape, on the other hand, was staring into his cup of coffee as if it held the answer to all of life's secrets.

That coffee's probably black and bitter, just like the old bastard himself, thought Harry.

* * * *

Perhaps it was because he had nothing better to do than look about idly that Harry saw the strange woman enter the Great Hall. She was led in by a sour-looking Filch, who wagged his finger at her as she headed away from the students' entrance, saying something to Filch that Harry couldn't hear. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and was rather pretty, with long, thick red hair and eyes that were obviously bright green even from a distance. She was dressed in plain black robes and strode, seemingly unnoticed, between the House tables.

She stopped directly in front of Harry.

"Are you Harry Potter?" she asked, taking the empty seat on his left.

"Umm... yes, that would be me," replied Harry, a taken aback not only by the woman's sudden entrance but also by her appearance. She could have been his mother's sister.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. At her cheerful comment, Harry mentally downgraded his estimate of her age to around eighteen. "My name's Julia Gardner... Lily Evans was my second cousin... once removed, I think. You wouldn't believe the time it took to get permission to come here and see you." Her voice was sweet and matched her smile: Harry found himself instantly liking her. Next to him, his friends were both watching the exchange, but knew better than to interrupt.

"You knew my mother?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Well, no... I've only heard of her. I'm from America, and I've only met a few of my British relatives."

"So you're my... second cousin?" asked Harry.

"Third," muttered Hermione.

"My third cousin?" corrected Harry.

"Yeah! I've only been in England for about a week. Your janitor seemed reluctant to let me in without sending me to the Headmaster, but I just had to find you first! I've been looking for you for ages!"

"Does Professor Dumbledore know you're here?" asked Harry.

"Of course," Julia said, laughing a bit. "I talked to him over Floo before coming. He's really cool. I wish the principal of my school had been like him."

Hermione got up and walked to the other side of the table as Julia continued to introduce herself. Julia had never known that she was related to Harry Potter because she was Muggle-born as well. Apparently her family had approved of her magical talents about as much as Aunt Petunia had approved of her sister's, because her magical relatives had never been mentioned to her. She had been doing some research on her family tree when she had discovered the Dursleys in Britain; in fact, she had actually uncovered her connection to Harry during a terse telephone conversation with none other than Vernon Dursley himself.

Harry couldn't believe it. Here, standing in front of him, was a real, live, flesh-and-blood relative of his mother! Talking to him! Admittedly, her American accent was a bit annoying, and she seemed to know nothing personal about Harry's mother, but it was still wonderful to meet a relative who didn't loathe him.

Embarrassed, Harry realized Julia was talking again, and that he'd missed the beginning of her sentence.

"-and I thought maybe we could go for a quick walk around the school, you could show me around awesome old castle, we could... y'know... catch up?" She trailed off, eyebrows raised.

"Sure!" said Harry, who was immediately fixed with identical stern looks from his two still-silent friends.

"Umm... that is, if we could head over to the Quidditch pitch a half hour before the game. Julia, this is Hermione and Ron, my two best friends. Today's the first Quidditch match of the season, and Ron and me are playing."

"Nice to meet you," mumbled Hermione and Ron, a bit nonplussed by Harry's quick change of plans.

"Well then, would you like to give me a quick tour?" Julia reached with her left hand to grab a muffin, accidentally knocking Ron's glass of pumpkin juice onto the table. A loud, distinct "Aw crap!" came from Ron as he sprang out of the way.

At that moment, Harry felt his body turn to stone. Julia was bright red and apologizing; Hermione was levitating the juice back into the goblet it had so suddenly vacated. Harry, on the other hand, couldn't move at all.

"I'll be back long before the match, guys," he heard himself say. He didn't understand... his face was smiling and he was talking, and now he was walking casually toward the doors, but he had no control at all over his actions.

Oh crap, thought Harry, mirroring Ron's comment of a moment before. He quickly beginning to panic, realizing that he had just been hit with some kind of Imperius-like curse. Apparently it wasn't the Imperius curse, however, because he couldn't fight it at all. He concentrated with all his might to take control of his body, and failed. No voice echoed in his head, yet he was obviously obeying something. Hopelessly, he watched as his body continued to walk and his lips formed questions which he wasn't thinking.

He was trapped. And the doors to the Great Hall were getting closer. Of all the ways to be dragged out of Hogwarts... And where was Julia taking him?

"Stupefy."

The voice was as cold and unforgiving as the man to whom it belonged: Even as his back was turned he recognized the voice of his nemesis, Professor Severus Snape.

Beside Harry, Julia stumbled, but did not fall. Nonetheless, her concentration was momentarily broken, and Harry fell to the floor. He felt like a puppet with tangled strings. He also felt the brief sensation of cold as Julia's Charming Charm broke. Idiot, thought Harry immediately. The oldest trick in the book to get a date, and I didn't even notice.

Above Harry, Julia was changing. Her long red hair shortened and paled to yellow, her lips became a bit fuller, and her complexion darkened ever so slightly. A woman in her thirties appeared in Julia's place as the glamours that she had been using dissipated. The sum of minute changes was dramatic; she looked like a completely different person. A look of surprised recognition blossomed into life on Snape's face, while a look of pure hatred and rage transformed the previously friendly and compelling Julia into the embodiment of pure, undiluted evil.

"You!" she hissed. Professor Snape was standing ten feet from Harry and Julia, his wand pointed at the now blonde woman. A murmur of voices arose around them.

"Expelliarmus!" roared Snape. Julia dropped her wand, but was not thrown from her feet. Disarmed, she stood still as Snape approached her. As Snape stepped up to within a few feet of her, the woman did something that Harry rarely saw in the wizarding world: she physically attacked him. Not expecting a non-magical attack, Snape was taken by surprise as the much-shorter Julia grabbed him by the collar and bashed her forehead into his large nose. Snape's hands flew to his face; Julia grabbed Snape's right wrist and wrenched it with both hands. Snape dropped his wand in pain and lashed out with his left hand, but Julia sidestepped him and dove for her wand.

She quickly stunned Professor Vector, who had been sneaking up from the side of the room, and cast a body-bind on Hermione mid-curse. She gestured again with her wand and shouted "Corpora Imperiata!" The Hall fell as silent as a tomb as she repeated the curse that undoubtedly had already been cast on Harry when Ron's pumpkin juice had spilled. Now nobody, including Professor Snape, could move. Harry felt as if his invisible puppet strings had been pulled taut once more.

Snape stood stick-straight in between the two center tables, Harry near him on the floor. Julia stepped up to Snape and pointed her wand at the center of his forehead. Harry, from his vantage point on the floor, was perhaps the only person in the room to see the brief look of fear cross Snape's face.

"You little piece of shit!" she said. Her icy tone was strangely similar to Snape's own. "You were supposed to look the other way, you goddamned scumbag. You are going to pay for this, Severus," She spat his name out like it was something foul. "You damned traitor!" A few sparks flew from her wand and into Snape's face.

"Just doing my job, Juliette," he said quietly, eyes surreptitiously scanning the floor for his wand. "Anyway... you're supposed to be... six feet under. I didn't know I had to keep an eye out for... dead assholes... at work." Juliette had spread her curse too thinly in casting it against a roomful of people. Still, fighting the curse enough to speak was almost too much for him. If only he could just manage to concentrate enough just a little wandless summoning charm...

Following his gaze, Julia realized his plan. Stepping forward, she slapped him twice in succession, first backhand and then with her palm, raising scarlet patches on his pale face and obliterating his fragile concentration. Juliette stepped closer to Professor Snape, speaking quietly enough that only Harry could hear her next words.

"I loathe you... you meddling, backstabbing, traitorous bastard. You really are worthless, Severus. The Dark Lord had his doubts about you, but said you wouldn't be an obstacle... I should never have thought that you would let me walk out of here."

Running footsteps could be heard from beyond the doors of the Great Hall. Their sound seemed to break the woman from her hateful musings; it also broke her icy composure.

"Oh, fuck!" she yelled. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The unnaturally still students were forced to watch as Snape rose a foot into the air at her command. Once again, for a brief moment, fear registered on his face, and then it was replaced by a kind of resignation.

The doors burst open, and in strode Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick, as well as the Headmaster. Juliette looked furious, but not quite fearful.

She gestured angrily with her wand just as the newly arrived faculty raised theirs, and Snape's body was thrown backwards at incredible speed. There was a sickening, audible crack as his head hit the stone wall at the far end of the hall, behind the staff table, and he fell to the ground in a motionless heap. As she had predicted, all four of the teachers turned their heads in astonishment. At that moment, Juliette reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out a tiny object wrapped in cloth. She cried "Morsmordre!", then placed the plain gold ring on her finger. Shimmering slightly and moving unnaturally fast, Juliette dashed for the nearest wall, passing through it with the ease of a ghost.

The square of white cloth drifted to the ground as the Dark Mark took form under the enchanted ceiling, and the Hall erupted in chaos. The two dozen students who had been frozen were now free, and were all talking loudly. Harry rushed over to Ron and a still-frozen Hermione, while many other students circled around Professor Snape. One of the Slytherin first-years was crying openly after seeing what had just happened to her Head of House.

Blood was pooling around Severus Snape's still form as Dumbledore and McGonagall rushed over to him, parting the small circle of onlookers. Dumbledore muttered a spell to stop the bleeding and transfigured a chair into a stretcher; they were soon gone from the Hall.

The other teachers attempted to regain a sense of order as new students began trickling into the Great Hall. Some of these had seen Dumbledore and Snape in the corridors and looked terrified as they walked in; the rest became terrified as they glimpsed the Dark Mark floating near the ceiling.

Standing at only a little over five feet tall, Professor McGonagall was finding it difficult to make herself heard amidst the growing crowd of buzzing students, none of whom seemed inclined to sit down. Stepping up onto the platform that housed the faculty table, McGonagall cast a Sonorus charm on herself and roared "I will have order!" Her voice rebounded through the room, somewhat stilling the commotion. McGonagall took advantage of the sudden quiet to order the students back to their seats; she then used a variant charm to cast her voice throughout the castle, calling the rest of the students and staff into the Great Hall.

Even after the resident Master of Charms, Professor Flitwick, had cleared out the evil symbol floating on the ceiling, nobody seemed to be able to eat breakfast.

"It appears at this time that we have been attacked by an unknown Dark witch," announced Professor McGonagall to the assembled students. "Professor Snape has been injured and has been sent to the Hospital Wing... and several of you have been afflicted with a variation of the Imperius Curse." A murmur went through the assembled students.

"All of the protective wards around Hogwarts are still in effect, so please do not panic. Until this is all straightened out, however, no one is to leave the castle without being accompanied by a member of the faculty. Today's Quidditch match will be postponed, and, of course, no one shall be allowed to visit Hogsmeade this weekend. Please finish your breakfast and then please return to your common rooms or the library." She sat down and poured herself a cup of tea, her ramrod pose brooking no argument.

* * * *

The woman once known as Juliette MacBride dropped to her knees as the Portkey transported her to its set location: a large Muggle house, recently commandeered for more sinister purposes. "My lord," she practically whispered. "I have failed you in my first mission after returning to you from my long absence. Your punishment is deserved... and expected."

Above her stood the most feared man in the entirety of the wizarding world, Lord Voldemort. Even when they were on their feet, Voldemort ordinarily towered over most of his Death Eaters; he seemed a giant from his servant's perspective on the ground. At the woman's plaintive request for punishment, his thin mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

"Before I punish you, my dear Juliette, tell me what fallacy on your behalf led to this failure."

"My Lord, we - I was overconfident. I trusted that Severus would let me pass without incident. Your suspicions were correct - my husband is a traitor."

Juliette MacBride was indeed the lawfully wedded wife of Hogwarts's youngest professor, and had been chosen to infiltrate Hogwarts because of this family tie. Being a close relative of a faculty member, Juliette was immune to most of the wards protecting Hogwarts. All she had done was take advantage of a particularly dangerous loophole: one that had never been drawn tight.

In addition to his job as interrogator and potions brewer for the Death Eaters, Snape normally allowed Death Eater parents to get through the wards on Hogwarts unhindered and undetected. However, Voldemort had never completely regained his trust in Snape; he had sent Juliette to sneak into the school on the chance that Snape was a traitor.

Apparently, he was. A truly loyal Death Eater would have given up his position as a spy, his freedom, even his life, if it meant allowing Voldemort to have the Potter boy.

"He should have just let me pass, but when he saw me with the Potter boy he tried to hex me. He always was a suspicious bastard - he probably sensed the curse I cast. He was always inconveniently attuned to the magic of others.

"I didn't think when I saw him - I was so angry that I attacked him instead of just leaving. I wasted time. Others arrived, and I had to use this-" she held up the gold ring - "to escape. I lost the boy. I've failed you," she repeated. She was trembling, but not from fear. She practically dripped with self-loathing and anger.

"I should have killed him, my Lord. Killed him and left. That traitorous piece of scum who dares to call me wife." She looked down at the gold ring, still in her hand, and sneered. Voldemort had turned her wedding ring into a Ghost Ring, a particularly useful tool of Dark magic. It would not work again, however, until he took the considerable time and effort necessary to charm it.

Voldemort's face showed a mixture of anger and sadistic interest at Juliette's news. "So, he is a spy after all... I had my doubts, but after the... events... of two years ago, I had hoped that dear Severus truly had returned to the fold. After all, he was so good at brewing poisons. He will be killed, of course. " A sadistic smile twisted his thin lips as he repeated the words that he had not carried out two years before. "What acts did you commit in my name, girl? Or did you simply flee from the castle without leaving any message at all?"

"My Lord, I held the students under corpus imperius while I dealt with Severus. I'll admit... I was very sloppy, my Lord... I merely broke his skull. I'm sure he will live for you to punish, although I don't know if you would prefer to keep him alive at this point. I also left the Dark Mark on their enchanted ceiling."

Voldemort seemed pleased with this information.

"Rise, Juliette. Although you have failed in bringing Potter here quietly, you have done well in unmasking Snape. You need only be punished a little for your oversight. Crucio."

Juliette remained standing through the duration of the curse. Although it was hideously painful, Juliette's new body was stronger than her last one, and when Voldemort released her from the spell, she merely knelt down at his feet, kissed the hem of his robes, and muttered "you are merciful, Sire," before rising to her feet again.

Voldemort regarded his protégé with pride: this woman was of the blackest heart and the purest evil. He grabbed her roughly by her golden hair and kissed her, his long-fingered hands holding her tightly, his mouth trailing down to her neck. She put her arms around him and held him as his hands explored her body.

They stopped suddenly, and Voldemort's face lit with a hideous smile as he held her face in his hands. "I have not experienced the touch of a woman since I became what I am today," he said. "Soon, my loyal one, soon we will come together, and you will conceive my heir. I will truly become King of Darkness, and you will be my Queen."