A Debt Repaid

Chapter Nine

Word spread through the dark streets and the crumbling alleyways where rats, both animal and human, scurried around in the dark. Shifty men and creatures of every description slinked down through dark doors and fetid passageways, whispering messages in an underground grapevine. "There is a stranger in Knockturn Alley."

Harry took his supper in the room and sipped stale water from a glass. He heard the sound outside his room. It was the sound of the drape brushing against the door. With a spoon in one hand and his wand in another he called out, "Who is it?"

"It's Marcuso, master," the voice said.

"And who is with you?" Harry asked.

"A friend who wishes to introduce himself."

"Come in," Harry said and sat back, trying to look at ease. It had been two days and he was finally getting a visitor.

The figure was tall, dressed in a black cape and also wore a hat like his own. He was followed by the Gypsy, who had a look of abject fear on his face.

"Get out, Marcuso," Harry said in Romani. The little man scurried out the door like a rat.

The man before him removed his hat and it was all Harry could do to not gasp and push back in his chair. He had never seen a vampire but he knew he was looking into the eyes of one now.

The face was very smooth and pale, the pupils of the eyes, cold, dark and glittering; the lips sensuous and red, very red. The man's face was handsome He had sandy brown hair that fell to his shoulders and he was young, not more than a few years older than Harry himself. At least that's what Harry thought, although the creature could be hundreds of years old.

"Hello," he bowed and remained standing. "I am Demitri Kaldensky." His English was very proper.

Harry nodded. He stood slowly, not wanting the creature to think he was anxious or that he had never met a vampire before. He also knew that these creatures could move very quickly and he wanted his back to a wall.

"Will you not tell me your name, sir?" the creature asked, politely.

"In good time, Mr. Kaldensky," Harry said and bowed slightly. "Please have a seat and tell me what has brought you here." He said it in Romani, vowing to not use English unless it was necessary. It was to his advantage to let others talk in front of him.

"Very well." The creature spoke Romani. He pulled off the black cloak and Harry saw that he was dressed in very rich clothes.

So Macuso has found an interpreter, Harry thought. Harry regained his seat and sat quietly. But what an interpreter!

"Please resume your dinner," he said. "I did not want to disturb you." The eyes went to the bowl of soup, swept the room and returned to look at Harry.

"My soup has grown cold and I am finished, " Harry said. "Tell me what you want of me."

"Perhaps I should ask you the same." The man waved a hand dismissively and looked around the room. "A man of your...should I say quality- does not come into these...dwellings," he spoke with disgust, "without purpose. I am here representing an entity that is most interested in your presence. He likes to keep a watchful eye on things."

"I am here because I seek information," Harry said.

The creature nodded and folded very delicate hands in his lap. "The Romani are very powerful wizards and are not normally seen in the company of- our kind," Kaledensky smiled, "other than that old stinkweed." He closed his eyes briefly and tilted his head. He was referring to the Gypsy Marcuso. "My apologies if I have offended..."

"I am not offended," Harry said.

"I hope that you are also not offended by my presence," his hand went to his chest and he bowed from the waist.

"I am also not offended," Harry said.

"Ah, the Roma have such good manners about these things," He said and sat back, produced a flask and sipped from it. He did not offer any to Harry. "Very well, shall we talk about a meeting then?"

Harry stared for a moment and realized he was talking about a meeting between himself and this 'interested party'. Harry wondered if it was Voldemort.

"I won't meet with anyone that does not have the ear of ..." Harry struggled for the correct words and the vampire interrupted.

He nodded sagely and said, "You are a very young man to brave such an venture or the information you seek is very important to you." The vampire stood and Harry followed suit. "The exchange will be in kind- information for information." He turned to leave, "I will let my master know that you wish to meet him and I will send word with that putrescence, Marcuso, when there is an appropriate time and place." He was out the door without another word.

Harry swallowed, A Vampire! he thought. I've met a Vampire and I'm going to meet his master.

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"Ron, as soon as we've finished dinner you have to tell him or I will," Hermione said helping herself to potatoes. The Sorting Ceremony was complete and they were at the opening night feast. She was staring at Dumbledore. He was sitting at the head table and sipping from a goblet. His questioning blue eyes were looking back at her and she knew he missed the presence of Harry at the Slytherin table.

Most of the school was still not aware that Harry was not dead and had been at school the previous year in disguise and a member of Slytherin House.

Ron rolled his eyes and continued to stuff his mouth as full as he could. Others along the table, those who knew Harry was alive, members of the D.A., were questioning him with their eyes. He nodded in surrender.

The feast ended and Ron was pushed towards the table by Hermione. "Go and I'll take care of the first years."

He walked up red-faced to Dumbledore. The old man stared down at him and stood up, walked around the entire length of the table, put a hand on his shoulder and led him through a door at the back of the Great Hall.

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"He just said that he had something to do, Professor. He wouldn't tell me what it was," Ron said. He sat across from Dumbledore in a small circular room off the Hall. A fire burned in the fireplace.

Dumbledore looked at him with a stern look on his face. Ron had never seen him look as intense. The old man nodded. "Is there anything more Mr. Weasley?"

Ron had yet to tell him about the small hand-mirror that was hanging around a chain at his neck. Harry made him promise to not tell anyone he had it. Ron shook his head, "Nothing, Professor."

"I see," Dumbledore frowned at him. "Mr. Weasley, Harry has put himself in grave danger, grave danger; more than you or he can possibly realize." Dumbledore waited.

Ron gulped and nodded, but remained silent.

"I'm keeping you from your Prefect duties," Dumbledore said dismissively, stood abruptly and waited for Ron to leave the room.

Dumbledore was looking down into the fire when another person entered through the door. He looked up. "Sit down Severus, I have something to tell you."

Snape sat in the recently vacated chair, "Yes?"

Dumbledore sat down heavily. "Severus, I am going to say something that will be cruel and unkind. It will hurt you. It will hurt me to say it and I would not do it if I thought there were another way."

The man stared back and Dumbledore noticed he stiffened slightly as if bracing himself.

"You do not have the capacity to allow someone to love you. You fear it more than death itself. And now I have two of you on my hands and I can't reach either one of you. Harry has gone in search of answers, truths that may end up getting him killed. Like you, he has stopped allowing himself to feel love from people. He searches for his father or ... someone to replace his father. There is a great longing for the person he thought could love him. A love he thinks he's missed out on and can get from no other..."

Snape shifted in his chair, his face remained closed.

Dumbledore moved to stand in front of the man. "I have watched you also search for forgiveness from a man who had none to give, a man who should have asked for your forgiveness instead! Severus, you did nothing wrong as a child that warranted his abuse of you and there was nothing wrong with you- he was an evil man who could not accept you and he was a father who didn't deserve a son like you. He did not love you because there was something wrong with you-" Dumbledore shook his fist into the air, raising his voice, shouting, "NO! NO! NO! He did not love because he could not! I tell you this, Severus, THERE IS NO DEBT YOU OWE HIM." Dumbledore stood over the man in the chair propping himself against the mantel, trembling with emotion and exhaustion.

Snape was white and breathing rapidly.

Dumbledore continued, his voice softening, "Ah Severus, each of you, in your own way, has sought the same thing. You thought to find redemption through me and I, the fool that I am, have allowed this to go on too long. I've stood in your father's shoes and allowed you to try and work this out through me. I've watched you go out into the world and get hurt, take risks and stubbornly refuse to ask for help. I have been willing to allow you, Severus, to do these things and I have not interfere because you are a grown man and I cannot keep you from making your own choices, no matter what the motive is behind them."

Snape was about to argue, his eyes narrowed, his face a work of pain.

Dumbledore raised his hands, "I realize you do these things for me, Severus. That is what I am saying. I appreciate your sacrifices more than you can ever know. It would be less burdensome if you sacrificed on your own behalf instead of mine. Being on the receiving end, watching you give this kind of gift for me... has always taken my breath away. As I have said, I love you; even if you cannot understand or feel what I have to offer. You are the son that I would have dearly loved to have had and I have tried to be a good to you. But it has not been enough because I am not your father. And he cannot give you what you want...and I cannot give it to you either."

"Albus," Snape was concerned. The old man looked as if he would collapse.

"I have never asked anything of you Severus, that you had not already been willing to give. I would never dream of abusing you or taking advantage of you in that way. I have something to tell you. You may end up killing me for it. If you don't then I am going to ask something of you, which you may very well refuse to do." Dumbledore said, " But, I intend to ask now."

Dumbledore was shaking, his voice quivering, "There is a boy out there, a young man, who is following in your footsteps. You are the only one who knows how to find him and reach him." Dumbledore stumbled back into his chair and Severus jumped as if to reach over to him. Dumbledore put out his hand, tears filled his eyes. "Harry has gone to Knockturn Alley. He has gone to his death and it is my fault. I could not tell him what he so desperately needed to know. I could not tell you what you should have known years ago." The old man continued to speak and Snape sat rigidly in the chair in front of him, his eyes growing ever wider as Dumbledore spoke.

Snape then helped Dumbledore down the hall and up to his quarters where he put him to bed, snuffed the candle with his fingers and left the room.

It was only then, in the privacy of his own room, in the dank dungeons, could he let out the grief trapped inside. His body shook, sweat broke out on his brow. In a fever of grief, anger and sorrow he broke most of the furniture in his room. Spent, he fell asleep on the cold hard floor, his last thoughts drifting in , "Why didn't you tell me, Albus?" He fell asleep groaning.

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Harry slept in the chair and caught himself jerking awake at every noise, including the rats that crept up to his boots and tugged at the hem of his trousers. He kicked at one in the dark, heard the squeal and the dull thump when it hit the opposite wall.

He comforted himself by thinking about the feast, the Sorting Ceremony and his soft, comfortable four-poster bed at Hogwarts. He thought about Ron. He knew that Ron would remain silent at least until they were on the Hogwarts Express. He wasn't sure how long after that Hermione would pin him to the wall and make him tell her where he was at. Harry also knew that Ron would not tell anyone about the mirror.

All I need is some time, Harry thought. To do what?

He thought about it. Find out about Percy, Moody and Shacklebolt; that was the first step. Find out what Voldemort was doing.

That was a long-shot, he considered.

In exchange for what? They wanted information. What information did he have? What information would they want? And how was he going to get in and out alive?

But there was something more that he wanted and he couldn't put it into words. He wanted information that Dumbledore was not willing to share; that he knew Dumbledore would never tell him. Harry was angry with the old man. Harry knew that he had been partially right. It had become increasingly harder for Harry to feel anything. He felt himself backing away from people who cared about him. He didn't want their love; he didn't deserve it. It hurt too much. He never wanted them to feel like he did when he lost Sirius.

He heard the soft knock on the door in the early hours of the morning. He had just been drifting off into a dream. "Who is it?"

"Marcuso, Gov'na," the gravelly voice was muffled.

"Come in." Harry tucked his wand protectively under the table. "What is it this time?"

The Gypsy stood in the doorway and whispered, "You are to follow me."

Harry stood and stretched, feeling the soreness in his shoulders. He retrieved his hat and stuffed it into the sack, drank a sip of water and spit it out through the open window. It felt to him as though he had swallowed to much of the foul air in the room. He pulled the cloak around his shoulders and the hood over his head and stepped into the hallway.

"If it was me, I wouldn't go," the man said.

Harry smirked in the dark. "Let's go." He listened before following the scuffling footsteps of the man. It was quiet.

Harry followed the stench of the man as he made his way down the hall, to the stairs and down into the street. Harry hesitated. The street was empty and only the feeble light of the half-moon outlined the narrow walkway.

He followed Marcuso for some distance, keeping to the shadows. The little man stopped and whispered, "There will be another in a minute to take you the rest of the way. Latcho Drom (safe journey)."

Harry had to smirk, Safe journey, huh! He'd be lucky to stay alive through the night. A figure emerged from the doorway down the street, walked within ten feet, stopped and seemed to sniff the air. He raised an arm and waved at Harry to follow. Harry kept behind the figure, amazed at the creature or man's ability to sense him.

He was led down an alley, down stairs, through a courtyard, another street and up some stairs. He knew they were trying to confuse him so that he would not be able to find his way out of the maze of streets, rooms and yards. Harry kept glancing up at the half-moon sleeping under drifting clouds.

A voice spoke to him from the dark, "Stop."

Harry's heart was suddenly racing. It was wickedly dark in the garden. He knew it was a garden because of the odor of rotten vegetation; a garden that should have been sweetly aromatic in the late summer, and wasn't.

"We must have your wand and your bag, Wizard or we cannot proceed," the voice was cultured.

"If I refuse?" Harry asked in Romani.

They seemed to understand. One said, "We will leave you in the dark to find your own way."

The archway overhead was lit with the weakest of lights. Two figures stood in front of him. He recognized neither. Both had their hoods drawn over their faces. He handed them the wand and bag. They searched the bag and handed it back to him. The wand was kept by the larger of the two.

He followed the smaller one and the larger followed him. They walked up a flight of stairs, over a bridge and onto an adjoining street. Harry wondered at it. He didn't think there could be anything as vile and dark as Knockturn Alley and he'd been wrong. He thought he had to be in a sewer. The street was covered in filth and he held the cloak to his nose to keep from breathing the vapors. They walked a short distance and then climbed several steps where he could take a deep breath of fresh air. The two men stood aside and one swept a door open to allow him to enter in front of them.. A beam of brilliant yellow light struck him and blinded him.

He pulled the hood from his head and stepped into magnificent splendor. The room was bathed in warm light, the walls dressed in sheer drapery. Pillars were gilded in gold and it reminded Harry of a picture he had seen once of a Sultan's palace. Ornate carpets covered the floor and sofas graced the length and bread of the room; which was immense.

Men stood intermittently along the walls on both sides. At least they looked like men, but had the breadth and height of half-giants. Hagrid was still big in comparison, but Harry felt very small walking between them. It was obvious they were guards. As he passed, each took one step back and disappeared into an open doorway behind them.

Harry walked slowly towards a man laying comfortably on a couch, dressed in silk pajamas and a red silk robe. He took in every detail of the man and his heart climbed in his throat. Seated before him, smiling broadly, was the spitting image of James Potter. The same eyes, the same mouth, even the unruly hair. If Harry had not been disguised by a charm he could be looking at an older version of himself. The man was definitely a Potter. However, their was evil in these eyes. Harry thought he would never see the same bright, burning evil in anyone but Voldemort's eyes; that same evil he now saw in this mans'.

"Hello, good morning," the man gestured and rose from his chair. "I hope we haven't inconvenienced you by waking you too early. Oh, I have forgotten my manners." He gestured and a figure emerged from the shadows. It was the vampire Kaldensky, "I have someone who can translate for us, since I understand you do not speak our language." The vampire translated in Romani what Harry had just heard in English.

"What would bring a Romani wizard into these... quarters?" the man said sitting. He motioned for Harry to sit down in the chair before him.

"I have come looking for information and assistance," Harry said.

The man nodded, politely offering a cup of tea delivered on a silver tray in china cups. "What you come seeking is death, good sir, if what WE ask is not forthcoming."

Harry was too curious to let the announcement upset him. He could not take his eyes from the face. This is what my father would have looked like, he thought.

"Now you must forgive us but we will have to test your sincerity and your truthfulness. We cannot have an imposter in our midst," The man raised his wand and pointed it at Harry. "CRUCIO." The green light exploded at him and Harry reached up and caught it as he would the Golden Snitch or money at the Fair. Jolie had spent hours showing him how to deflect the spell. He threw it at the vampire. The vampire stood solid as a statute. It had no effect on him.

The twin image of James Potter applauded. "Bravo, bravo! Very good." He smiled at Harry. "Only a true Vardo Gypsy could deflect the spell. Congratulations!" He noticed Harry looking at the Vampire. Don't worry about Demitri, he is not capable of human pain or feeling."

"Shall we get down to business," Harry said.

"I like to know who I'm dealing with Mr.....?"

"Why do you need a name, I am here." Harry picked up his cup and studied the very expensive oriental carpet. He didn't think anymore spells were coming his way. He waited for the vampire to translate.

"We will exchange information," the man said and grinned, "I like this game so I will go first. I am Jeremy H. Potter."

Harry nodded. So we are related, he thought. "I have heard of this name, Potter."

"Yes, I imagine you have." The white teeth glimmered. "It is not commonly known, but I have a...well shall we say a nephew by that name." The eyes grew darker. "Now that I have shared so much, don't you think it's time you tell me about yourself?"

Harry knew his time had run out, "I am here to serve the Dark Lord. I am Tommy Snape."

Potter threw a look at Kaldensky, who disappeared instantly. The face grew cold and he stared at Harry. They remained silent. Harry remembered what Dumbledore had told him once, that Voldemort had many followers almost as terrible as he. Harry could believe it. The man staring back at him was a vile, evil monster. He had been checkmated in one move.