Comes a Slytherin

7. Finale

"A white robe, Adam?" Lucius asked. "I thought you knew that you were to wear black. No matter, we can fix it easily."

Methos gave Lucius a look. "I'm not an idiot, Lucius. I'm perfectly entitled to wear a white robe, and I'll not have you 'fixing' it on me."

"Lord Voldemort will be displeased that you are standing out."

With more then a hint of malice, Methos asked, "And is Lord Voldemort stupid enough to openly argue with Salazar Slytherin in front of his Death Eaters over a silly little thing like the color of a robe?"

Lucius shook his head. "Of course not. Forgive me."

"Well then, shall we eat?"

Lucius nodded. "This way. The House Elves have everything already set up. We have a little more then an hour until we get called."

Methos nodded and followed Lucius into the dining room. The sooner he could be done with this, the better.

* * *

Methos eyed the circle of trees around him. He muttered to himself, "How typical." Turning back to the group, he saw people talking quietly to each other while the last few stragglers Apparated in and took their place in the semi-circle that surrounded Voldemort, Lucius, a person that Lucius identified as Peter Pettigrew, and himself. He suspected the conversation was about himself. In the bright light of the full moon his robe almost seemed to glow, making it impossible to miss him. He was glad for that. He wanted to be seen.

Voldemort stood forward, and all those before them dropped to their knees in supplication.

"Arise, my Death Eaters. I have a gift for you tonight."

They stood.

"My faithful servant has found him, the one man we revere above all others. The greatest of our kind, the first to publicly admit that Mudbloods are a stand on the name Wizard!"

There was a quiet hiss of agreement. It was oddly discomforting to not hear yells or cheers..

"A man who I have attempted to emulate in my every move, my every plan, from the day I set loose the Basilisk on the pathetic Mudblood until now when I stand before you as your leader in this glorious quest!" There was a subtle shift in Voldemort's tone. It became darker, and more scathing. "Salazar Slytherin, the noblest wizard to have ever lived stands before us tonight! May we all bask in his glory, and strive to learn from him, so that we may one day capture that bane of our existence, Harry Potter!

"The boy has been allowed to live for too long, and even now he grows ever more dangerous." He turned to face Methos, red eyes level with Methos' hidden ones. "Even more dangerous than before, because it seems that Slytherin has betrayed us and is training Potter to destroy me!"

A louder murmur then before.

"We will deal with the traitor who brought him here later though." Voldemort briefly looked at Lucius, who seemed too unworried for someone who had just been directly threatened by Voldemort.

Voldemort looked at Methos again, closing the distance between them. "How could you do this to us? How could help that half-breed brat?"

"Because you are an idiot. Back away from me, now." The only warning Methos would give as he reached for his wand.

Voldemort growled and went for his wand, but Methos was quicker.

Voldemort fell just as easily as Gryffindor had all those centuries ago. Several Death Eaters reached for their wands.

"Drop them. Now." He stepped over the paralyzed body of Voldemort. "You saw how easily I felled him, I could do the same to you."

Wands fell to sides quickly, and Methos looked down at Voldemort's fallen body.

"Last time I checked you were a half-breed brat yourself. I do what I do because you make me sick. I had a legitimate reason for abhorring Mudbloods in my day—not that any of you would know that, because I didn't get to write history. Gryffindor did," He spat.

"It took a few centuries and a decrease of fear of magic that Mudbloods had, but I've finally come to see that they aren't so worthless after all. Some of the most powerful wizards in modern time came from Muggle parents. And in the end, it's not the purity of blood that matters, but your power. I don't give a shit if you can count your bloodlines back twenty generations, if you can't so much as levitate a feather, as a wizard you are nothing."

He moved closer to the other Death Eaters, as Voldemort spasmed behind him. "I bet you want to know the other reason why I'm helping him, don't you?" There were a few barely perceptible nods. Methos turned around and looked down on the reptilian wizard. Bemusedly, he began. "Harry Potter is my Heir. He is of the same blood, has the same gifts. You? You are nothing. Do you really think that I'm the only Wizard in Britain to have ever been a Parseltongue? You never transferred your powers to the boy; they always have been his."

He laughed. A murmur of commentary started up, all propriety forgotten.

"SILENCE!" Methos ordered.

"I think the lot of you are pathetic. Do you really think you can make and maintain this brave new world of yours? Especially when you consider how vastly outnumbered you are? You can hardly run things if you have to spend every waking second of every day killing just to get to manageable numbers. No. If I wanted to rule the world you'd all have been kneeling at my feet years ago, when I had the chance. And believe me, I've had the chance."

A mask may have hidden Methos' look, but the disdain in his voice was clear. “I’m through with the lot of you. I'm going to let your leader go now, if anyone so much as raises a wand towards me, Tommy boy here dies. Any questions?"

No one spoke a word, and no one moved a muscle. With a quick movement of his wand, Methos freed Voldemort from his magical bondage, who stood, seething, but silent, and he began to walk away.

But as he walked away to the edge of the clearing, he heard Lucius Malfoy call out. "Slytherin!"

Methos spun around, and uttered the incantation and offered a quick prayer to Set that it would work.

And it did.

Blue lightning, not unlike a Quickening, came from the sky, cocooning Voldemort's body, drawing the soul out of the dying man bit by bit as the person who used to be Tom Riddle screamed in agony. All present watched as the dark cloud hovering about the body grew and grew until in a final tremendous boom it disappeared leaving a still silence and a corpse a shade of gray only seen in those who had been Kissed.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind. Lord Voldemort was finally, permanently, dead.

Methos finally used Mobliocorpus to move the corpse to his side. He looked at Lucius.
"No matter why you warned me, I thank you." He paused. "I suppose the Death Eaters are yours now. If you, or any of your men ever come near me or my Heir again, you will die. If you start attack Mudbloods again, and I trace it back to you, you will die. Am I understood?"

Lucius bowed to him. "Of course. I owe you that much, my Lord. We could have been powerful."

"Correction: I am powerful. I have been for a thousand years and I will continue to be. I don't need to enslave others to prove that to myself. Good bye, Lucius."

As Methos left, he could hear the arguments begin to break out. Excellent. It would give him the time he needed.

* * *

It was an hour before sunrise when Severus finally staggered into Dumbledore's office. He had been planning to go to bed and beg off as sick, but Minerva had been waiting for him by the entrance. Word must have spread fast.

"Severus, what is the meaning of this?" Dumbledore pushed towards him a copy of the newest issue of the Daily Prophet, almost a quarter of the page taken up by the headline, "VOLDEMORT DEAD!" a sub caption reading "Ministry in possession of corpse."

There was a picture of Methos standing next to Fudge, the two wizards shaking hands.

Snape frowned, wondering why Dumbledore would be upset over the victory they'd so desperately wanted. "It means that what we've been trying to accomplish for almost twenty years has finally happened."

"Why didn't you report this to me sooner?".

Dryly, Snape replied, "As you can imagine, there was not a small amount of chaos amongst the Death Eaters after they all watched Voldemort's soul get sucked out of his body. The night was spent arguing about what to do, if even we do anything, considering the grounds rules that have been set by Mr. Pierson."

"And what was decided?" asked Dumbledore, even though he didn't seem to be particularly interested in this information.

"Nothing. The power struggle ought to be spectacular. If you'll excuse me, Albus, I am in desperate need of sleep."

Dumbledore waved in permission. "We’ll talk later."

"Of course, Headmaster."

Severus left to get some much-needed sleep.

* * *
When Snape woke late that afternoon, it was to find Methos amidst a crowd of students all wanting his autograph, and Hogwarts in a state of revelry he hadn't seen since the last fall of Voldemort.

How Methos'd managed to escape the Wizarding media he didn't know, but suspected that he'd rather be there, and then stuck in the horde of students here.

"Hello, Severus!" Methos cheerfully called out over the horde of students.

"Everyone, back off! Give Mr. Pierson some breathing room!"

The students reluctantly back off after Methos promised that he would eventually get an autograph to everyone.

"Aww. The students were just having a bit of fun."

"And how long have they surrounded you?"

"Since I entered the Great Hall at lunch. I think?" He laughed. "No matter. If there's ever a time to celebrate, now is it."

"In speaking of celebrating, I've got some nice wine chilling in my rooms. I'm sure we can find Duncan and Harry. I simply must know how you managed to get the news out before Dumbledore could take advantage of it."

Methos sighed happily. "That is a good story. Come on, let's go. I'm sure if we wait much longer Harry will be a bit too drunk to stand." He pointed to the young Immortal who was with a small circle of friends, bottles of butter beer in hand. Obviously, Dumbledore and Minerva weren't around to officiate things.

Snape nodded and they worked their way over to the Gryffindor clique. They broke Harry away from his friend by asking politely and offering him some cold Muggle ale.
Harry nodded happily and followed the two men down to Snape's rooms and the peace and quiet of the Slytherin dungeons. Snape didn't care to speculate on the exact nature of the 'celebrations' that would be occurring amongst the elder member of his house. Voldemort wasn't exactly as popular as one might have thought, and others, like Draco, would be relieved that they'd be no longer expected to join Voldemort's ranks.

They picked up Duncan on the way down and soon made themselves comfortable in Severus' room: Harry and Methos with ale, Duncan and Snape with wine.

"So what really happened last night after you left with Voldemort's body?" Snape asked.
Methos had taken the liberty of filling in Harry and Duncan as to what really occurred on the walk down; the paper had reported that Adam had had the misfortune of being brought to the Death Eaters, who had planned to kill them for his training of Harry Potter.

"I had a hunch that should I come back here that Dumbledore would try to find a way to mess it all up, so I went straight to Fudge's mansion. The guards were reluctant at first to admit me, but after they got a good look at the body-formerly-belonging-to-Voldemort they changed their minds and let me in."

Duncan leaned forward, "Then what? I can't imagine Fudge was all the thrilled to be woken, by a stranger no less."

"Didn't have to say much really, I showed him the body, and made up the story you read in the paper. I don't think he particularly cared what I said since Voldemort is undeniably dead. In three days time I'll be getting an Order of Merlin for my 'heroic' deeds and outstanding service to the Wizarding word."

"Wow, that's great! Congratulations," offered Harry.

Methos shrugged. "I tried to turn it down, but he wouldn't be denied. Oh well. All the more reason to move back to the States when the school year ends."

"You're going to stay then?" Harry asked, perhaps a bit more excitedly then he originally intended.

"Of course I am! You're my student, aren't you? I wouldn't abandon you now. Besides, we can now really start to focus on you learning all about Immortality. Believe me, do I have stories to tell…"

"And don't worry, you'll hear them all,” Duncan muttered.

They all laughed, even Snape. "And, I believe that I still have to teach you two how to fly. I am allowed to just fly about once the weather clears up, aren't I?"

Even Snape couldn't begrudge Harry that. "Certainly. Just no Quidditch."

"Thank you."

Methos by now had taken over the couch, his back resting on Duncan's chest. "So, Harry, have you given any thought of what you want to do after you finish?"

"Not really. I mean, for so long it was 'train up to defeat Voldemort.' Now though? I'm not so sure. I've got offers from the Aurors, but…" he made a face. "I really have no desire to do that. Living a few years in relative peace would be good. Well, that and it'd be hard to keep my Immortality secret in a profession where an injury a month is average."

Snape seemed impressed that Harry thought that far ahead. "You're growing up, Mr. Potter. A month ago you wouldn't have even taken that into consideration."

Harry shrugged. "Thanks, I guess."

"Why don't you come back to the states with us? Seacouver has a good sized Wizarding population, so you wouldn't have to completely isolate yourself from this life if you don't want to."

"But what about Sirius? I don't want to leave here knowing that he's still not safe." Harry frowned. "Or Remus for that matter. He may not be in as much danger as Sirius, but he doesn't exactly have a chance for a good life if he stays here either." He gave a meaningful look to Snape, who didn't even blink.

Methos shrugged. "They could always join us. It'll be easy enough to get papers for them as well."

"I'll have to think about it and write to them."

"Of course, Harry. This isn't a decision I want you to make lightly."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"What about you, Severus? If Harry decides to join us there, will you be coming with?"

"I did make a promise to watch the brat, didn't I?"

Methos grinned. "So you did."

"We'd better be living close enough to Wizarding world. I refuse to live as a complete Muggle."

"Don't worry, Severus, we'll set something up for you. I understand that there is even a thriving Potions industry out there. Perhaps you could get into research."

Snape's eyes lightened. The thought of doing pure research without being hindered by having to teach students or the Ministry constantly breathing down his neck decidedly appealed to him. "That would be nice."

"Just don't do anything on my account. You don't have to continue to be his Watcher if you don't want to leave England."

Snape shrugged. "Believe me, there is little tying me here."

Just then Duncan tapped Methos lightly on the shoulder then pointed to Harry, whom in the past few minutes had passed out cold, thanks to a lack of sleep and a few bottles of alcohol.

The three men laughed, and with a wicked grin Snape stood. He pointed his wand at the sleeping Gryffindor. "Tempestas!" A small storm began to dump ice-cold water all over the slumbering student. It didn't take long for Harry to wake up. Or more precisely, fall out of the chair in trying to avoid it.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!"

With a huge smirk on his face, Snape ended the incantation over the rather loud, yet semi-muffled laughter of Duncan and Methos.

"Next time you pass out, Potter, do so in your own quarters."

"Bugger off."

"Five points."

"Sod off." Harry said as he began to shiver. Methos took pity and spelled him dry.

"Ten points."

"Boys, boys, that will be enough. Why don't you go run along, Harry? You look like you need the sleep anyway."

Harry blushed. "Yeah. Maybe I will go nap. I'll think about what you said."

The two Immortals cheerfully waved Harry off while Snape continued to snicker at the mental image of a rather harried looking Harry, before Duncan dragged of Methos to do a bit of "celebrating" of their own.