Animalexus

"Imperio."

Even as Marie heard the word, she felt the familiar loss of control as her free will was unceremoniously shoved aside. She would have liked to bolt, to hide, even to fight. Instead, she stood where she was, perfectly still, perfectly immobile, because the Dark Lord wanted her to.

Beyond him, Marie saw Snape and Malfoy pulling themselves to their feet. A short groan escaped from Malfoy's throat as he straightened. Snape brushed off his cloak as Bellatrix rose to her knees, looking dazed.

Welton hadn't moved.

Malfoy noticed it at the same time as Marie, and he put a hand on Welton's shoulder. Marie couldn't see his face well, but she felt a sinking in her gut even before he turned. "Dead," Malfoy said, shock plain on his features.

Snape started. "What?"

Malfoy tossed his head angrily. "Gavin's dead. She broke his neck."

...I broke his neck, Marie repeated in her head. I broke his neck. I killed Welton. I killed.

For a long moment the Dark Lord said nothing. He glanced at Gavin, turned back to Marie. "Get rid of the body," he said finally, his tone indecipherable. He nudged the prisoner with the toe of his boot. "This one, too."

"He's not dead," Marie protested, half-surprised when the words actually made it out into the room. So she could speak; she just couldn't move.

"Not yet," the Dark Lord agreed. "Someone change that."

An avada kedavra; Marie didn't see whose.

"She said she couldn't do wandless magic," Malfoy protested, his voice taking on a desperate tone. For the first time, it occurred to Marie that he and Welton might have been friends. "She said it under veritaserum."

The Dark Lord inclined his head. "Severus?"

Snape seemed to consider the matter for a moment. But not a long moment. "Perhaps," he said smoothly, "she wasn't lying."

With no warning, Marie felt the hold of the Imperius Curse disappear. Instinctively, she backed against the wall. She turned her head, and got her first good look at Welton. She most certainly had broken his neck. No question of that. "Oh, Jesus," she whispered. She raised her own hands, stared at them. "Jesus, Jesus..."

"Imperio."

Just as suddenly, decisions were again not hers to make. He wanted her still, and quiet, and so she was.

"She didn't know," Bellatrix said.

"It would seem not," the Dark Lord agreed.

***

It was a half-truth, but Snape had been more than willing to let it stand. Besides, he was quite certain that Marie had not known that she was capable of such a powerful display of wandless magic. He certainly hadn't known. In those nights in her apartment over the stables he had been hoping to develop the propensity for some sort of mild shield, something that might buy a few seconds' time in the right circumstances. He had never suspected that Marie's inherent powers carried such strength. She couldn't control it, of course. Yes, she had made the decision to mark the signs in the air, but she could never have done it if she hadn't been under such stress. She might not be able to do it again.

"She killed Gavin Welton?" Dumbledore repeated.

Snape glared. "I am quite certain that when one's neck makes a ninety-degree turn somewhere between head and body one is, in fact, dead."

The Headmaster put a hand to his forehead. "Severus..."

"I have told you what transpired, Albus. I do not know what else you expect me to say." Snape leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He was glad that they weren't in the Headmaster's office tonight, though the dark, empty Great Hall was too similar to the Dark Lord's ceremonial chamber for his liking. "The Dark Lord was waiting for her to do it. He pushed her to it."

"You're sure?"

"There was no reason for her to be in that room, Albus. And there was no reason for him to order us to...continue with the interrogation after Kensington gave up what he knew about the wards. Every action the Dark Lord took tonight was with one eye on pushing Marie over the edge." Snape took his wand from his cloak, spun it between his fingers. "He suspected she could do something, but he certainly didn't think she'd do it with such force. He can't afford to lose his Death Eaters, especially not those so devoted as Welton."

Dumbledore sighed. "Is someone informing his family?"

"Lucius."

"I'll need to let Filius know."

Snape wondered if Marie knew that Welton had a daughter at Hogwarts. He doubted it. That was probably for the best.

Dumbledore stroked his beard with one hand, his eyes on the floor. He let out a long, weary sigh. "I don't know what to do about the wards, Severus. There are stopgaps, of course. Short-term measures."

"None of which will provide much security against the Dark Lord."

"No," Dumbledore agreed, softly.

"Nevertheless, we have to protect the students. We have to protect Potter," Snape growled, unwilling to let this point pass. "Now, that bit with the unicorn blood was sharp. 'Freely given.' That's good. Of course, there are always loopholes. Creatures as pure as unicorns can't be coerced--but they can be tricked, can't they? And don't think that the Dark Lord isn't already exploring every possible way he might do just that."

"Severus, please."

"If only," Snape continued, his tone acid, "we had some way to warn the unicorns about the possibility of a trap." The Headmaster met his eyes now. He was trying to appear stern, disapproving. Solid. That act hadn't fooled Snape since he was thirteen. "An Animalexus, perhaps."

Dumbledore rose violently, knocking his chair to the floor. "Yes, Severus, I know! I was wrong. I was wrong."

Snape was mildly surprised to realize that the Headmaster's outburst left him feeling somewhat relieved. He unclenched his fist and slipped his wand back into his cloak. "Albus," he asked, slowly. He waited for Dumbledore to turn. "Has she become less in your eyes now that she has killed?"

That startled the Headmaster out of his self-loathing. "What happened tonight was an accident."

"No, it wasn't," Snape countered immediately. "I was there. Marie may not have known exactly what she was capable of, but she surely meant to stop us any way she could."

"Severus..."

"And I'll tell you one more thing, Albus: She may not be less in your eyes, but I guarantee you that she has fallen in value as far as the Dark Lord is concerned."

***

"You are quickly becoming a serious nuisance."

Marie had nothing to say to that. She wasn't sure the Dark Lord would let her say it even if she did. He had ordered everyone else from the room--living and dead--and now it was just the two of them in the cavernous chamber. Marie had finally gotten her mind past the mere fact that she had caused Welton's death and was now considering the implications of having murdered one of the Dark Lord's most relied-upon Death Eaters.

"I will kill you for this," the Dark Lord said, matter-of-factly. He stepped behind her but didn't let her turn. "I wish I could do it tonight. Unfortunately, in light of what our Mr. Kensington has shared with us, I suspect I'll be needing your services."

You might need me after that.

"I might," the Dark Lord allowed. Marie winced at the realization that he'd taken the thought from her mind. What was she so desperately trying to preserve her position as a slave for, anyway? She would have thought that her self-preservation instinct would have permanently wearied by now.

"But Marie, what to do with you until then?" the Dark Lord mused. "Your mind is much too fragile to keep under Imperious. It was tried--though regrettably not by me--with your predecessor." He met her eyes. "Your uncle, I believe. Animalexus the Thirty-third. His brain turned to porridge in a matter of weeks. It's a curse of your kind, apparently.

"Still...those hands of yours are trouble. I could cut them off," he said, almost casually. Marie's stomach lurched. He would certainly do it. The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes and stepped close to her, encircling her wrists with his cold hands. The Mark on Marie's left arm burned at his touch. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "That would make you a rather pitiful thing, though, wouldn't it?"

Marie recoiled from that word: 'pitiful.' She was a slave, yes, and she couldn't change that, as her master had proven again and again. But she was not powerless, and she had proven that tonight. She was not sorry for it.

There.

Admitted.

She was not sorry to have killed Welton. She had taken something from the Dark Lord, something important to him, something he valued--she had taken it from him with a mere few gestures--and there was nothing he could do to get it back. Even he could not bring Welton back from the dead.

The Dark Lord tightened his grip on Marie's wrists before letting her go and stepping away from her. He drew his wand from his robes and with a simple flourish summoned two narrow bands of metal, which appeared in his open palm. Another flourish and they were fastened around Marie's wrists, smooth and flat against her skin, just where his touch had been moments earlier.

"Binding irons," the Dark Lord explained. "Old-fashioned, but highly effective." He drew another wand from beneath his robes--Marie recognized it as her own--and handed it to her. "Curse me," he said.

Marie knew the power wasn't there as soon as she touched her wand. The curve of the handle and the feel of the wood were familiar, but the electric undercurrent of magic was dead. Her mind was still imprisoned under Imperious, though, and the Dark Lord had ordered her to curse him, so she raised the wand and said, "Crucio."

The Dark Lord lifted his chin in mock surprise at her choice of curses, but was otherwise utterly unaffected. "Good," he said, simply, and took her wand from her, lifting the Imperious Curse as he did so. With her senses entirely hers again, Marie could feel the full impact of the binding irons in an almost physical way, and she knew without doubt that her magic was completely inaccessible. She touched the band on her right wrist; there were no locks or clasps, just solid metal. The Dark Lord watched her with a critical eye.

"My Lord, I didn't..." Marie stopped, glanced at him and immediately cast her eyes down again. "You need me to be able to interpret," she said finally, voicing what she thought should have been an obvious obstacle to this 'solution.'

"The ironsssss ressstrict wand magic, and hand magic," Nagini told her, slithering across the smooth stone floor towards her. "Nothing elsssssse. Your other talentsss are sssstill available for your Lord'ssss usssse."

Marie didn't know whether to be relieved or not. She was actually feeling rather dizzy, and watching Nagini twine her body into impossible spirals wasn't helping. Marie had never been a fainter, but either the binding irons or the night's events--or perhaps both--were leaving her decidedly lightheaded. It was taking an inordinate amount of effort merely to stay on her feet.

"My Lord," she said weakly, "I...I think I--"

"I want you out of my sight," he said coldly.

And so she was.

***

Harry squinted around the Great Hall. Hermione sat next to him, wrapped in a fuzzy blue bathrobe, and there were a dozen or so other students scattered along the table. Several candles hovered in mid-air behind the students, but the rest of the Hall faded into darkness. Even the false sky above was black.

Everyone else looked as bleary-eyed as Harry felt. It might technically be morning, but the sun wasn't due to come up for a few hours yet. Despite his grogginess, Harry was on edge. The teachers hadn't ordered all of the students out of bed and into the Great Hall for a predawn meeting for kicks, after all. These kinds of incidents had become more common since Voldemort's return, but that didn't make them any more welcome.

One of the doors behind the teacher's table opened, and all of the students swiveled in their seats to watch the Headmaster enter the Hall, followed by Snape, McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and another half dozen levitating candles.

"Good morning," Dumbledore said, unsmiling. "I apologize for rousing all of you from what I hope were pleasant dreams. I shall keep this brief: we have reason to believe that Voldemort may have recently gained access to important information concerning the wards surrounding this school. Measures are being taken to ensure that this information cannot be of any use to our enemies. Hogwarts is safe. I will repeat that: this school is safe." Behind Dumbledore, Snape crossed his arms and scowled. "However, as a precaution, students will be restricted to the castle for the remainder of the holiday break, effective immediately." No one even offered even a mutter of complaint, Harry noticed. There were few doubters left in the wizarding world; Voldemort had made his presence known over the last few years.

"Anyone wishing to leave the confines of these walls must petition me personally," Dumbledore continued. "Several Aurors will be patrolling the grounds under the command of Kingsley Shacklebolt. You are to obey them immediately, should they give you any orders. Those of you wishing to make other arrangements for the remainder of break are free to do so, though I will reiterate that it is not necessary." Dumbledore met the eyes of every student in the Hall, then pulled himself straighter. "Dismissed back to your dormitories."

Hermione was immediately at Harry's side. "The Daily Prophet reported several weeks ago that one of the two wizards who designed the warding system disappeared along with his family," she whispered urgently. "The Dark Mark was over his house."

Harry pushed a hand through his hair. He didn't want to think about where Voldemort had gotten his information. Or how. "I thought the wards were old?"

Hermione looked mildly irritated, and Harry realized that this was yet another question he would know the answer to if only he had read Hogwarts: A History. "The wards are old, Harry, but they've gone through several incarnations. They get redesigned and updated every few centuries. It's a security measure."

"Not a very good one, apparently," Harry muttered. "You ought to get out of here, go home."

Hermione didn't even bother answering him, just pressed her lips together in a thin line and frowned.

"Harry," called Dumbledore. "A word?"

"I'll wait up for you in the common room," Hermione whispered, before getting up and disappearing into the darkness. McGonagall followed the students out of the Hall, no doubt ready to whisk stragglers back to the dormitories. As soon as the large double doors closed behind them, Dumbledore took a seat opposite Harry. Shacklebolt and Snape stood close by behind him, though each seemed uncomfortable with the other's proximity.

Harry blinked his eyes several times and tried to push away the last vestiges of sleep. Dumbledore had obviously been up all night; his eyes were tired behind his half-moon spectacles. "I hope I have not alarmed you overmuch, Harry."

"Oh no, it's just Voldemort, no worry at all," he said, trying and failing to keep the words from sounding sullen.

Dumbledore's expression didn't change. "It is very important that you stay within the confines of the castle, Harry. I am asking you personally not to disobey me this time."

Harry didn't say anything. His invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map gave him a freedom he hated to surrender. As the Headmaster was obviously well aware.

"I could force you to stay," Dumbledore said gravely, "but I won't."

"I will," Shacklebolt interjected.

"So will I," growled Snape. The two men exchanged wary glances, as though surprised--and not entirely pleasantly--to have discovered that they were in agreement about something.

"I'll stay," Harry said, a bit of anger seeping into his tone. Perhaps he had brought it on himself, but they didn't have to act like he'd bolted for the windows as soon as the Headmaster told everyone not to leave the castle.

"Professor Snape informed me of your visit to his workroom," Dumbledore said mildly. Behind him, Snape's expression remained unreadable. "I realize that you and Hermione want to help Marie Llewellur. I understand. I do. But please trust me when I say that this is not the time. It is very important that you keep yourself safe now."

Harry snorted inwardly. Another lecture about being the chosen one. The Boy Who Lived. Hauled out now and then to battle the forces of evil, but only when it was absolutely necessary and wouldn't inconvenience anyone else.

Harry was used to both Dumbledore and Snape knowing what he was thinking, but this time it was Shacklebolt who spoke up. "Do you know why you're so important, Harry? Do you know why people come up to you in Diagon Alley and all but grovel at your feet?"

"I'm the Boy Who Lived," he spat.

Shacklebolt seemed to consider that for a moment. "In short: yes," he said, finally.

"I didn't ask for this."

"That's irrelevant," Snape interjected, and neither Shacklebolt nor the Headmaster disagreed.

"In a way, Harry," Dumbledore began, "it has less to do with you than it does with everyone else. The things Voldemort has taken from so many..."

"He has taken things from me, too," Harry protested, through clenched teeth.

"I know he has, Harry," Dumbledore agreed, gently. "Your innocence not the least of them. But please consider this for me: think of Marie Llewellur. I know you are eager to save her, so think of what it is you want to save her from. Two and a half years ago, not long after Voldemort's rebirth during the Triwizard Tournament, he murdered her parents and kidnapped her. Two and a half years, she has been in his custody, Harry. I know you have had horrible experiences in that time, but you have had good ones, too. You have been able to fight. The prophecy is a terrible burden for you, but it is also your greatest blessing."

"How's that," Harry muttered.

"Marie cannot fight," Dumbledore said, gravely. He peered over the tops of his glasses at Harry. "When she tries to fight, she fails. She is a slave, pure and simple, and she does what Voldemort wishes her to. Whatever he wishes her to. She does not have your natural immunity to the Imperius Curse. Her parents sacrificed themselves for her, but she does not have the protection that your mother bestowed on you. She is left to hope that someone else can fight on her behalf. And as you well know, Harry, you are that hope. For Marie and for so many other people. You will have your chance to help them, but you cannot do it yet."

"You sent her back to Voldemort to protect me," Harry pointed out. Snape raised an eyebrow. So he hadn't thought that Harry was capable of realizing the impact his existence had on others. Well, he was very aware.

Dumbledore took his glasses off and rubbed his closed eyes with one hand. He sighed, and he sounded very old when he spoke again. "It came down to a choice, Harry. We all must make choices. Marie cannot defeat Voldemort, however deserving she is. You can."

"The greater good..." Snape drawled, not even bothering to hide the disdain in his tone.

Harry winced as he realized that for once, he was in agreement with Snape rather than with Dumbledore. Not that he wanted to die, of course, or muck up his chance to defeat Voldemort, but he didn't want to be the reason some other person was condemned to slavery, either. Maybe he was the savior everyone else seemed to think he was. It was hard to believe, from his perspective, but not as hard to believe as it used to be.

Still, Harry had to wonder: even if he did defeat Voldemort, when that final battle came, would the Marie Llewellurs of the world--those victims of Voldemort's reign of terror--there were so many--would they forgive him for not fighting sooner? And if he lost...if he became the Boy Who Lived and Then Died...would they forgive him for stealing their hope?