Rating:
PG-13
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Harry Potter James Potter Ron Weasley Remus Lupin Sirius Black
Genres:
Action Drama
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 02/26/2003
Updated: 11/13/2003
Words: 164,724
Chapters: 41
Hits: 101,291

Promises Unbroken

RobinLady

Story Summary:
Sirius Black remained the Secret Keeper and everything he feared came to pass. Ten years later, James and Lily live, Harry attends Hogwarts, and Voldemort remains…welcome to a darker world.

Chapter 17

Chapter Summary:
Sirius Black remained the Secret Keeper and everything he feared came to pass. Ten years later, James and Lily live, Harry attends Hogwarts, and Voldemort remains…welcome to a darker world where nothing is as it seems. {This Chapter: Midnight pranks, mistrust, and aftermath}
Posted:
05/20/2003
Hits:
2,036

Promises Unbroken

Chapter Seventeen: Darkness Beckoning

The voices drifted in on his consciousness, and it took him a long time to realize that they weren't part of a nightmare. Once he did, it took Bill even longer to recognize the speakers, but once he did, he felt a chill run down his spine.

The voices were accompanied by footsteps. They were moving in his direction.

"Our master," Lucius Malfoy said acidly, "was wondering why you never saw fit to share the fact that you are an animagus."

There was a long pause, and finally, Peter Pettigrew replied: "It...never seemed important...Lucius."

"Really?" the senior Death Eater demanded.

"Well, um--"

"Crucio!" There was a thump as Pettigrew hit the wall, and the screaming lasted for thirty seconds or so. When it stopped, Malfoy snarled, "That is but a taste of what our master will give you, fool. Get up!"

Bill heard Pettigrew scramble to his feet, and only then did his befuddled mind comprehend what he was hearing. Pettigrew? he thought suddenly. A Death Eater? But he knew Peter Pettigrew, if not well then well enough. Of all the people Bill Weasley would have expected to be a Death Eater, Pettigrew was not one--the voices were continuing.

"Have you found out anything useful for a change?" Malfoy demanded.

"Not...not really--" Bill heard the flinch in Pettigrew's voice.

"Not really?" Malfoy mocked him angrily. "What is the use of having Potter's best friend as a spy if you learn nothing?"

They were passing his cell, now, and Bill huddled back into the corner, attempting to seem as unobtrusive and harmless as possible. In Azkaban, and to Death Eaters, the prisoners were only scenery--or toys. With a grimace, Bill tried very hard to just be scenery. Being a toy wasn't nearly as productive. Pettigrew was walking very stiffly, and watching Malfoy warily.

"Well, it's not like James really brings his work home--Lucius don't!" There was panic in Pettigrew's voice, and Bill guessed that Malfoy had been about to utilize the Cruciatus Curse again. "I'm telling you the truth, and no amount of threatening will change that! I don't know anything!"

"We shall see about that." With a grandiose sweep of his robes, Malfoy increased his pace, and Bill watched Pettigrew struggle to keep up as they passed his cell. Rounding a corner that he knew led to the prison's inner sanctum, the two Death Eaters--it was odd to think of Pettigrew, harmless Peter Pettigrew, as one of them, though--were gone. They continued in silence, but after a moment, their faded voices came back to him, although Bill could not understand the words. Finally, even that company was gone.

Their absence left his world empty, and a cold chill swept down his spine. Bill shivered, then winced as pain racked his body. Azkaban had been aptly called hell, and he could not find a better word to describe the place. Five days, he reminded himself. Then he could act, when the wand and Portkey that had been transfigured into harmless seeming fingernails would appear. He didn't have to wait much longer. Soon, he'd be able to break free, and help the twenty-eight others who were had been consigned to his hell with him.

Five more days.

------------

They stood together on the largest balcony at Domus Archipater, the ancient Snape family residence. Far in the distance, the sun was setting, but darkness had never held fear for either one of them. A poet might have referred to each of them as a creature of darkness, or a least claimed that they were born of it--and in truth, Severus supposed, there would be no arguing that. He, like his companion, was a child of darkness.

"Well," Julia said thoughtfully, "I certainly hadn't expected this."

"Nor I," Severus grunted.

She turned her cold smile on him. "No offense intended, Severus, but I certainly do not intend to marry you."

"None taken," he replied. "The mere thought of it is...disturbing."

"Tell me about it," she breathed. Julia's frosty smile cooled by several hundred degrees. "I'm glad this was not your idea."

"Do you think me crazy?" One elegant blond eyebrow arched quizzically, and Severus continued quickly before she could reply to that one. "Fine. Do you think I have a death wish?"

"Now that, I know you do not," she chuckled.

Severus snorted. "Perhaps next week."

They laughed together, and a corner of his mind fought to study her dispassionately, and not as the sister he had known. Severus understood why any normal man would be downright flattered if Lucius wanted them to marry his sister--by any wizard's standards, Julia was a beauty. She had the classical Malfoy blond hair and gray eyes, and the finely chiseled features of an ancient Roman statue. She was cold, of course, to those she did not know well, if she spoke to them at all, but such, as always, was the Malfoy heritage. Right now she was smiling, without the icy and distant expression that he had seen so often on her face, and it was good to see her laugh. It had been too long.

"So how do we deal with this?" Julia asked.

"Honestly, I suppose." He shrugged, amazed at the oddity of those words. Honesty? From two Death Eaters? Severus resisted the urge to laugh out loud until she snorted in amusement.

"As odd as that sounds, you are probably right. The truth, in this case, can harm neither of us," she replied.

"In this case," he agreed.

She smiled. "You realize, when you asked me to share dinner with you tonight--making me Apparate all the way from South America--I never imagined this being the reason."

"I do still intend to feed you, if that's what you're afraid of," Severus said.

"I am rather hungry. Digging through Aztec tombs is hard work."

"How is that going, by the way? I should have asked sooner." He knew, of course, that Julia was Voldemort's agent in many ways, but most recently, she had been employed in uncovering Dark objects from all over the world. Her love of Ancient Runes, History, and Archeology had served her well in that respect, but her habits of traveling far and wide (while consciously avoiding Death Eater meetings) meant that he didn't see her often, and he missed his friend. She was one of the few people who had ever accepted him for as he truly was.

"Well enough," Julia replied, and her shining eyes reminded Severus of just how much she loved her work. Lucky her, he thought to himself. She hasn't yet found out how disillusioning working for Voldemort can be. "The Aztecs had some extremely powerful witches, it turns out--and only witches, mind you; I haven't found evidence of a single male magic-user among them--and they guarded their secrets well. Right now, I'm still trying to find the one tomb that I'm certain has what I'm looking for, but it's getting complicated. The most promising lead I had turned out to be a dead end this morning."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said sincerely.

"What, that there were no wizards in Aztec society?" Julia grinned. "You're a chauvinistic pig, Severus Snape."

"My students would probably agree with you," he chuckled. "Shall we go inside?" He held the door open for her.

"I'm hardly a lady that you need to open doors for, you know," she said, preceding him, however, without argument. After all these years, she knew better.

He arched one eyebrow. "Really? I would never have noticed."

"And what was it that gave me away? All the dirt under my fingernails, or was it those five years that I played Quidditch back at Hogwarts?"

"I was thinking of the time that you knocked me over the head with my own cauldron, but either example will do," Severus replied dryly, and they both laughed. He knew, of course, that Julia could be a lady if she wanted to--but her brother's oppressive influence only made her rougher around the edges as the years went by.

After several moments of walking in companionable silence, Julia asked, "So how is Hogwarts? Still the same as always?"

"Aside from the recent giant attack, yes," he replied honestly.

"I hear that the Dark Lord wasn't too happy with the role you played in that," she said quietly.

He shrugged. "There wasn't much else I could do without revealing myself."

"True," Julia conceded. "I just wish you'd be more careful. From what Lucius tells me, it wasn't nice."

"Our Lord's temper rarely is," Severus replied dryly, trying not to shudder at the thought. Not nice was a rather tame way of putting what he'd gone through for that one, even though Voldemort knew he hadn't had a choice. She must have seen the look on his face, though, because she changed the subject.

"Still hating every Gryffindor you come across?" she asked playfully.

"I've yet to find one worth liking, if that's what you mean," he growled. "Fools and glory-hounds, the lot of them."

"Really?" she arched an eyebrow at him as they walked into the dining room. "I've found that not all of them are that bad."

Severus felt a shot of anger that he knew he shouldn't, especially after all this time. It was just wrong when it was your worst enemy with your best friend. "I remember," he replied evenly. "Sirius Black. You went to Yule Ball with him in seventh year."

"My sixth." She met his gaze levelly, as always, without an inch of give in her.

"I know that," he snapped. But then he paused, making a conscious effort to lower his voice. "You loved him."

Something dark and forgotten flashed in Julia's eyes. "He's dead now, so that hardly matters."

"True." Severus shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "You did, though, and that I never understood."

"That's because you never understood him, either," Julia responded with a mirthless laugh. "But I'll give you this much, Severus. He hated you as much as you hated him--and neither of you ever understood one another." Again, something glinted in her eyes. Her voice grew cold. "Let's not talk about that."

He nodded, but that something in Julia's face made Severus think. I wonder... Few were the fellow Death Eaters that he recruited for the Order, but there was something about Julia that made him realize that everything was not how it seemed. He knew why she'd become a Death Eater eleven years ago: the loss of Black had broken all her ties to the light, and there simply hadn't been another side for a Malfoy to be on. However, until that moment, he'd never even gotten a hint that she was unsatisfied--and now he wondered.

He'd have to be careful, but Lucius' ideas might just have some merit after all, even if it wasn't in the way the senior Death Eater had intended.

------------

Remus knocked loudly on the door to Hagrid's hut, knowing that the gamekeeper was probably asleep, but having to awake him anyway. After a moment, he saw a flicker of light from inside, and then the door opened to reveal Hagrid, clad in his pajamas and with his umbrella in hand.

"Headmaster!" the half-giant exclaimed. "I hadn' expected ter see yeh this late." Hastily, he set the umbrella aside, making Remus smile. Officially, of course, he didn't know a thing about that umbrella--but Dumbledore had warned him, ages ago, that it contained the remnants of Hagrid's broken wand. The gamekeeper hurriedly stepped aside. "Come in, Headmaster. Has somethin' gone wrong?"

Remus stepped inside. "No, nothing has gone wrong, Hagrid," he reassured the other. "I'm sorry to wake you up so late, but I have a message from Albus Dumbledore for you."

"From Dumbledore?" Hagrid closed the door behind the headmaster, looking at him strangely. But Remus only nodded. "Can I offer you somethin' to drink, Headmaster?"

"No thank you, Hagrid. This won't take long." Taking out his wand, Remus cast a quick silencing spell on the hut, which earned him another odd look from Hagrid. He took a deep breath, though, and began to speak.

"Three months ago, Dumbledore asked you to speak to the giants on his behalf. Unfortunately, your initial contacts fell through, and you returned to Hogwarts. Shortly after that, Voldemort caused a group of giants to attack--"

"Wait jus' one minute," Hagrid cut in, and Remus watched his eyes flicker briefly to where his umbrella rested next to the door. "How d'yeh know this?"

Remus smiled slightly. "From Dumbledore, of course." Then he let his expression grow serious. "You are not the only member of the staff, Hagrid, who is part of the Order of the Phoenix."

Understanding dawned on the gamekeeper's face. "What does Professor Dumbledore wan' me ter do?"

"The same thing as before," the headmaster replied. "We need to make contact with the giants--now, more than ever before. Another attack like the one here will destabilize the magical community, especially if it succeeds."

"Uh, I hate ter tell yeh, Professor, but they weren' too keen on me talkin' to them in the firs' place. I don' think that a second time will be any better," Hagrid said honestly.

Remus nodded. "Normally, we would agree with you. But certain...sources have told us that the giant community is unhappy with the way Voldemort has wasted their lives, especially in the failed attack on Hogwarts." He paused to let Hagrid mull that one over for a moment. Contrary to popular belief, most of the giants that joined Voldemort did so out of a desire for freedom and equality, not out of pure hatred or spite. But with the way Voldemort had sent them on a suicide mission, some of them had to be thinking twice. He continued: "If we act quickly, there is a chance that we might be able to sway them to our side."

"When d'yeh need me to leave?" Hagrid asked immediately.

"Next Wednesday, if you can," he replied.

"What about the gamekeeper duties here?"

Remus smiled. "I'll find someone."

------------

"Horribly," Lily replied in response to his question, looking up from the pile of work in front of her.

The old man chuckled as he peered at her over the rims of his half-moon glasses. "Things cannot truly be going that badly, Lily."

"Would you care to take a bet on that?" she arched her eyebrows expectantly, and watched Dumbledore smile, gently shaking his head and gesturing that he admitted defeat. After a moment, she returned his smile with a tired one of her own, and sighed. "Perhaps Project Guardian is not going entirely amiss...but mostly would not be an understatement."

"How so?" There was no expression on his face, save mild interest, but Lily couldn't shake the feeling that she had somehow disappointed him. Albus Dumbledore was such a kind man, always so patient and so caring, yet she knew how important her work was, and she hated failure. Too many people were depending upon the Unicorn Group.

"Well, to start with, we aren't much further from where we were three months ago when we conceived the entire idea in the first place. Furthermore, the more research we do, the more complicated the project becomes, and of the four people who would know how to actually pull a stunt like this off, the one we need the most is dead."

"Sirius Black."

Lily sighed. The name alone brought back too many memories. "Yes," she replied quietly. "Unfortunately, he's the one who enabled the Marauder's Map to identify people, and neither James, Remus, or Peter can remember exactly what spells he used. Molly and I have worked out how to focus spells over a large area to detect Dark magic use, but without being able to pinpoint who is doing it, Project Guardian isn't going to do us any good. Peter was a big help in figuring out how to restrict the information that we do receive, and James and Remus have been giving us tips in their free time, but I'm afraid we're stuck right now. No one can figure out how to identify people."

"Yet you are doing rather well, all things considered. Mapping all of London and focusing a Dark Detecting spell on an entire city is no mean feat of work, Lily," Dumbledore pointed out.

She shrugged. "Only if it works."

"You're beginning to sound like James," the old man said with a smile.

"We are married, you realize."

"Indeed you are. And both admirably dedicated to your work, but go home, Lily!" The Minister of Magic leaned over her desk (the real desk, which was hidden deep within the unplottable basement of the Ministry, not the one where she played secretary all day long) and looked her in the eye. "It is nearly midnight, and you have done quite enough for one day. Get out!"

Startled, Lily glanced at the clock on the far wall, and noticed that it did indeed read Too Late! in brilliant yellow lettering. She'd been so engrossed in her research and spell diagramming that she hadn't realized that it was so late. For a moment, she thought to argue--after all, the work was important, and she obviously wasn't the only one staying late--but then Dumbledore's words sank in. He's right, she realized. I always accuse James of being a workaholic, and yet here I am, pushing eleven fifty-seven at night, with my nose buried in paperwork. Lily groaned out loud. I'm never going to hear the end of this.

"You're right, Albus," she sighed. "I should go home. James is probably worried about me." If he's even there.

He smiled. "I have it on reliable authority that James will be leaving the Auror Division in about ten minutes." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled mischievously. "If you hurry, you can still beat him to Godric's Hollow."

"You're the best, Albus." Smiling, Lily leapt to her feet and planted a kiss on the Minister's cheek. It was such a small thing, really, but even after all these years of marriage, she loved be home to greet her husband when he came home from work. There were few moments that she and James could simply be themselves, though, and she would beg, borrow, or steal every one of them that she could get.

In a flash, she was gone.

------------

Four days later, angry shouts woke him from a nightmare. Or was it unconsciousness? Bill could not tell; everything was beginning to blend together, and it was a struggle to figure out how much time had passed. Sinking into oblivion was beginning to seem a very tempting possibility, and he had to fight against the urge to give up. He sucked in a shaky breath. He'd been in Azkaban for what, six days? It was almost impossible to believe that men and women endured still longer... But he only had one day left to go. One day, he told himself repeatedly. One day and I can end all of this.

He shivered, but it was just from habit. As near as he could tell, there were no Dementors nearby--they gravitated towards emotion, and the angry shouts hinted at a feast. Someone, or something, had set the Lestranges off; Bill had been in Azkaban long enough to recognize their voices easily. A part of him shuddered, thinking about Voldemort's two torturers, but Bill pushed the thought aside. The interrogation sessions had all started to blur together, anyway, and it was no good thinking of that... He shivered again. His cell had a small window, and the icy wind was blowing in.

Bill curled up and tried to go back to sleep. His body ached, and it was hard to keep his eyes open in the few moments of peace that he had. It was impossible to sleep with Dementors around, and the Lestranges seemed intent on continuing his sleep deprivation eternally. He'd need all the rest he could get, come tomorrow. He closed his eyes...

And awoke to laughter.

It was high pitched and evil laughter, though, not something that he was accustomed to. Confused, Bill pried his eyes open just soon enough to realize that he was back in an interrogation room. They must have stunned me while I slept! he thought desperately, testing the chains out of habit, but finding no give--but when he realized who stood in front of him, Bill felt fear shoot through his body. He couldn't help it. He'd never come face to face with Voldemort before.

And the Dark Lord was laughing, which couldn't be good. Bewildered, the Auror glanced around himself, and saw the triumphant grin on the face of Bellatrix Lestrange. He couldn't' understand why they were so pleased--and then he saw what Voldemort held in his left hand.

His wand.

Bill felt his eyes grow as wide as hubcaps, but he couldn't help himself--his eyes flashed wildly around the room, and then he realized. He saw what the Dark Lord held in his other hand.

The Portkey.

Oh, damn.

But Bill hardly had time to register the implications of all this--or of how they'd realized he even had a transfigured wand and Portkey. Had he been betrayed? Fear wormed its way into his belly. The transformations were not supposed to happen for another day...unless he had lost track of time. Had he miscalculated? Had he doomed them all because of his own stupidity and--

"Crucio!"