The Phoenix and the Serpent

The Phoenix and the Serpent

The entire Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. Any original characters belong to the author and may not be used without permission.

Chapter XIV: Through A Glass Darkly

Walking through the halls of Hogwarts that afternoon, he pondered on the steadily rising flurry of needless activity around him. With the coming of the Black Barrier, people now tended to move in clusters, whispering to each other through cupped hands, heads bowed and manner subdued. Once in a while he would see one of the First Years crying, murmuring about not having heard from their parents since it had all began. Owls sent from school had been turned back in droves. Hardly anyone knew anything, save for that one announcement: the Ministry had covered the whole of Britain with a magical dome, to "protect us from enemies of the state."

People had a word for what was going on around him: panic. Everyone, from the members of the faculty to the grimy castle keeper, was in a state of quiet panic. No matter who they were or what they were doing, sooner or later their eyes would be drawn helplessly out the window to the unnatural sky beyond.

The only ones who were not panicking, it seemed, were himself and Professor Dumbledore. Well, what was there to be afraid of? No force on earth could overcome Professor Dumbledore, and as long the headmaster was alive, he, the homunculus, had nothing to fear--not pain, not hunger, not death.

Death. Was that why people were so fearful now, because they were afraid of dying? "Death" was a foreign concept to the homunculus. Like other words such as "love" and "friendship," his understanding went as deep as the definition and no further. But as he watched them worry among themselves, he wondered if he should at least try to look more troubled.

Would Harry Potter be troubled? His progenitor was difficult to decipher at times. He could recall moments when Harry feared for his life, yet there were others when his own safety was the furthest thing from his mind. Memories were such tricky things: he possessed in his head all there was to know about Harry, could picture each actual event down to the smallest detail, but the feelings behind them were so difficult to understand.

Perhaps he could show sympathy towards Ron. He overheard him saying to Hermione that his family had been forced to evacuate from their home, the Burrow, as it was now too close to Dark Army territory. How pained his face had looked as he spoke. The homunculus did not understand how it could hurt to lose one's house, but he was willing to help in any way. He had thought of talking to Ron, but was afraid of seeing his cold stare again. The homunculus had seen that look once before, the first time he called Ron by name. Since then the homunculus never tried it again.

Hermione was more willing to talk to him. Her explanations of the world around him were quite helpful, and she was the only other person interested in any sense of normalcy between the three of them. But like Ron, she was not as he remembered her. She had the air of a fascinated observer standing behind a glass wall. She never once shared a friendly conversation, or any sort of pleasant moment with the homunculus. With Harry she was...bossier. Opinionated. Warmer.

The homunculus shrugged as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. All this didn't terribly bother him, and in a few days it would cease to matter altogether. Harry was due to come home by the weekend. Things would return to the how they were, and the homunculus could go back to sleep at last.

He paused beside an arched window on the landing and looked through the glass. Outside, leaves were raining down from the trees onto the courtyard, where little eddies of air picked them up and tossed them about in a frenetic jig. Sights such as these never failed to fascinate the homunculus. It was a terrible pity, he thought, that people always seemed to rush about, worrying about their lives, yet never seemed remember that they were alive. Just beyond this glass there was a whole universe of leaves spinning about, and it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

"I guess I'm lucky that I notice these things," he said out loud.

"Notice what, Potter?" said a familiar, drawling voice behind him.

The homunculus nearly jumped. He knew exactly whom that voice belonged to; he had been doing his best to avoid that person all this time.

He turned to see Draco Malfoy descending the stairs. Flanking him were his two self-styled bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle, and peering over his shoulder like an emaciated parrot was Pansy Parkinson. Behind them followed a coterie of some half-a-dozen Slytherins. No doubt they had all just finished a recent class.

"Well, well," said Malfoy. "Talking to yourself, now, Potter? Just a step away from the nuthouse now, I see. But then, it was never really much of a long walk for you, was it?"

A chorus of sniggering followed his remark. The homunculus had to stop himself from copying the action out of reflex. "Why are you here?" he asked in a level tone.

"Oh, no reason, no reason at all." Malfoy leaned on the windowsill, still giving the boy before him an amused look. "I just find myself rather happy today. Good breakfast, good company, beautiful sky outside..." He glanced out the window at the Black Barrier.

The homunculus' eyes widened. "People are scared of that thing out there, Malfoy. I don't find that something to be happy about."

Malfoy shrugged, still smiling. "Some people have more reason to be scared than others. How about you, Potter? You worried yet, now that the Dark Lord's getting stronger? Perhaps you're even losing it; is that why I find you talking to yourself now?" He tapped his skull for emphasis. Beside him, Crabbe gave a bull-like snort.

"I'm not--" began the homunculus.

"Or maybeit's your friends, Weasel and Mudblood, I should be talking about," Malfoy mused. "I heard Weasel and his family had to clear out of their house, or whatever passes for a house, in any case. Running scared of the Dark Army, it seems. Does he blame you, Potter? You did bring the Dark Lord back, after all. Is he mad at you? Is that why he's avoiding you?"

"My friends aren't avoiding me," the homunculus stated in what he hoped was a defiant enough tone. "They're still good company. I can't say the same for you."

Malfoy curled his lip. "I wouldn't know about that, Potter. I'm not the one who's alone here, am I?"

The homunculus paused as the double meaning of the words sank in. For the first time he felt the number of eyes around him. The Slytherins wore smirks on their faces. Goyle leaned back on the U of the railing, grinning broadly. Parkinson's eyes glittered; she was craning her long neck over the crowd like some ugly jack-in-the-box. They all hung on Malfoy's every word, waiting for the chance to cheer him on. Maybe even get in on the act.

The homunculus's hand involuntarily tightened around the windowsill. Why was Malfoy doing this? Was he simply feeling happy about the Black Barrier? Because he feels he and his ilk have the upper hand? Then he realized it was a lot simpler than that--there were new faces in the Slytherin crowd around him. Malfoy was trying to impress the First Years. He wanted to show them he was big enough to bully Harry Potter.

The homunculus took a deep breath and returned Malfoy's gaze stoically.

"Oh? What's with the look, Potter? Was it something I said?" Malfoy stepped forward, and his voice dropped a menacing notch. "C'mon, then. Unless you're too scared, of course."

'He's trying to bait me,' thought the homunculus. Dumbledore had warned him to avoid this sort of situation, and that was exactly what hewas going to do.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy," he said.

At first, the blond boy just stared at him. Then he threw back his head and laughed. As if from a secret command, the others behind him started shaking in mirth.

"'Leave me alone, Malfoy?'" he guffawed. "'Leave me alone?' That's the best you could come up with, Potter? I thought you'd be more imaginative. Well, no, that's not quite true. I don't think you have anything but owl dung between your ears, and not enough guts to get out from behind the headmaster's robes."

"He's just a spineless wimp!" laughed a Slytherin boy.

"Some Boy-Who-Lived!" chortled a new girl.

To this, the homunculus crossed his arms and said nothing; Malfoy was insulting Harry, after all, not him. So he just stared back blankly, mirroring exactly how he felt inside.

Malfoy instantly switched tactics. "While we're talking, Potter, I just realized--I've been an utter boor to you. I've never thanked you for retiring early from Quidditch. I dare say the games were far more entertaining without you there."

'Meaning, the only way you can win the Cup is if Harry doesn't play,' the homunculus mentally countered. But still he stayed silent, even as the Slytherins hurled more insults his way.

After a few more minutes of this, Malfoy's eyes began to narrow in anger. He was getting frustrated, the homunculus realized. Maybe being witty was too much work.

"Speaking of Quidditch," Malfoy snapped, "are you still crying over Cedric, Potter? Still waking up in the middle of the night with a wet face and snot up your nose? Still calling out for him like he was your mum? Maybe you've secretly--"

"Aren't you finished yet?" the homunculus interrupted. "I've got better things to do than watch you hurt yourself coming up with insults. " He turned towards the stairs down.

Something about his disinterested tone must've gotten to Malfoy, because heshouted, "You think you're really something, don't you? Just because you've got a crack on your forehead and a headmaster you can order around like a whipped dog--"

The homunculus spun on his heel. He had no idea how it happened, but suddenly it felt like his insides were on fire. Pushing his fist through Malfoy's teeth now seemed like such a good idea. It took every ounce of his will to content himself with just shouting--

"DON'T YOU DARE TALK OF PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE THAT WAY!"

Stunned, Malfoy fell silent, falling back when the homunculus advanced on him.

Without knowing what he was saying or why, the homunculus yelled, "Professor has done nothing but care for each and every single living being here in Hogwarts, including idiotic, ungrateful louts like you! You can't even hope to achieve a fraction of his greatness! I won't let him be insulted by someone lower than a flobberworm, lower than pond scum, by a...a witless, gutless, chinless git whose only talent is spending his father's money in the shortest time possible!"

He was out of breath by the last word, and was suddenly aware of the deep silence that had fallen over the place. His anger left him as quickly as it had come. Now I've done it, he thought. Malfoy's eyes had taken on a dangerous look.

Suddenly unsure of himself, he backed away and turned to go. Goyle suddenly loomed before him, blocking the way with his bulk. "You get to go if and when we say so," he growled. Crabbe and two other Slytherin boys appeared beside the homunculus and pushed him back to the windowsill.

The homunculus felt his pulse quickening, and wondered if this meant he was "afraid." Why did he lose his temper in the first place? How did he even get that temper, anyway?

Crabbe shoved him again. The homunculus felt the edge of the sill bite into the small of his back and he cried out. Before he could regain his balance, the two other Slytherins restrained his arms. He straightened up as well as he could, then his eye caught a familiar shade of red near the second floor railing. Ginny Weasley was there, books clutched to her chest, watching the events on the landing with wide eyes. He had no idea how long she'd been standing there, but seeing her now gave him an inexplicable sense of hope. They locked gazes for a moment, but Ginny turned away and hurried down the hall. The homunculus' heart sank. She was out of sight before a curious Slytherin turned to see what he'd been looking at.

He forgot all about her the next moment as a hand dug into his pocket and fished out his wand. Malfoy walked in front of him, tapping the wand against his shoulder.

"You'll pay for those words, Potter," he said with studious calm. Slowly, he aimed the tip of the wand against Harry's forehead. "If I curse you with your own wand, they won't be able to trace it to me, will they? I get a free shot at you, Potter--it'd be a pity to waste it."

The homunculus watched the tip of the wand sway a few inches from his eyes. Malfoy, however, was not done relishing his control. "So what shall I do to you?" he asked, smirking. "Shall I make warts explode over your face? Or maybe make your nose drip faster than a leaking faucet?"

'How about making my ears disappear so I won't have to hear your babbling,' thought the homunculus, and just as quickly realized that it wasn't very wise to say this out loud.

The good news was his wand could not actually do anything harmful. It was an imitation meant to fool teachers--Dumbledore had pre-programmed it with this year's curriculum of spells. But the bad news was, if Malfoy used it now, he would immediately find out it was a fake. And he could easily pass that detail on to someone else, someone who would find Harry owning a fake wand very strange indeed. Strange enough to start an investigation.

Heart hammering, the homunculus tried to pull his arms loose. The boys held him fast, wide grins on the faces. Desperate, he played the last card he had, "Dumbledore will hear about this!"

Malfoy just grinned and pointed the wand straight the homunculus' scar. As the homunculus watched Malfoy's face he realized, quite suddenly, that some people actually derived pleasure just from being cruel.

"Put that down right now!"

The voice came like a thunderclap. Malfoy jumped, dropped his hand, and turned all at the same time. Everyone turned to face the newcomer, who was descending from the second floor two steps at a time.

"P-Professor Summershield," said Malfoy, as the crowd quickly parted to let her through. "This...this is a surprise!"

The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher came to halt before them, her beautiful face marred by a frown. Today she had tied back her raven locks into a ponytail, giving her a sterner look. "I'm sure you find it so, Mr. Malfoy," she said flatly. "Might I ask what you think you were doing with that wand?"

The homunculus watched Malfoy's mouth open and close a few times, as if by doing it the blond boy could jog his communication skills. "We...we were just, um..."

"Yes?"

Malfoy looked helplessly around him. Finally, Parkinson squeaked, "Potter tripped, Professor. We were just helping him up. Draco here as about to give him back his wand--isn't that right, Draco dear?"

'Draco dear' nodded in obvious relief.

"That's a lie!" cried the homunculus.

"I know it is, Mr. Potter," said Summershield. "I know exactly what I saw." Her gazed flicked to the Slytherins flanking the homunculus, then bored straight through Malfoy.

"Professor," said Malfoy, frowning, "I hope you don't seriously believe we were attempting to hurt Potter..."

"You were holding a wand to his face, Mr. Malfoy. What do you expect me to think? That you had the sudden urge to clean his glasses? Perhaps show him a few pointers on skin care?"

"We didn't harm a hair on his head, Professor," Crabbe warbled.

"That is the only reason why I'm not going to recommend any of you for expulsion!" she snapped. "As it is, your actions today have just cost Slytherin House thirty points--"

Howls of protest erupted. Summershield's dark eyes flashed. "AND! A week's worth of detention for everyone present, adding one day for each further complaint I hear."

Everyone fell silent, except for Malfoy, "My father," he said in a low voice, "is a member of the Board of Trustees in Hogwarts. I suggest you think about your future here, Professor, because he will soon be hearing about this injustice from me."

"He'll be hearing of this 'injustice' a second time then, because I intend to tell him myself. I don't particularly care if your father happens to be King Oberon of Fae, Mr. Malfoy. I'm not impressed by status, and even less so by ill-conceived threats. I will see you all after classes today. You may leave."

Malfoy clamped his lips shut to stop an angry retort. He turned and strode down the stairs to the first floor. His coterie silently followed him, leaving Summershield and the homunculus alone on the landing.

The professor let out a long sigh. "I don't know about you," she said, "but it seems that all this inbreeding between Pureblood families has done nothing but bring out the worst in their children. Well, Mr. Potter, I trust you are all right?"

The homunculus was dusting his robes,familiarizing himself with the feeling of "relief." "I am, Professor," he said. "Thanks for helping me."

The frown on her brows softened. "I didn't really do much of a counter-threat, you know. With the Black Barrier up, our owls don't get very far before they're sent back, so I can't exactly inform his father about this."

"I doubt Malfoy's father would actually care. You'll only get yourself in trouble that way."

She shrugged. "I'm not worried. There's a value in what I do, after all. I find it best to stop bullies when they're young. Later on they're capable of doing real damage." She paused, then asked, "I've heard a lot about you two from other professors, but this is the first time I've seen this antagonism."

The homunculus thought back on Harry's probable reaction, then replied, "I can handle myself Professor. No need to worry on my account. I won't give in to him just because he thinks he's a god-child."

"I see," she sighed again. "I don't approve of any sort hostility, Potter, from either you or Malfoy. But I do understand who is at fault here.Mr. Malfoy will learn live and let live one way or another, I'll see to that. In the meantime, do your best to avoid him. Understand?"

The homunculus nodded, not knowing what to say. It was the first time that he felt someone other than Dumbledore was firmly on his side.

"And if there is anything you want to talk about," she said, "any trouble at all, my office door is open. Teachers are human too, you know?"

"I...yes, thanks. I guess I was lucky you came around when you did."

Summershield smiled at him, "Oh, it was no accident. Someone came into the lounge and--" there was a sudden chiming noise, and she checked her pocket watch. "I'll be going now," she said, frowning again. "We're having a faculty conference in a few minutes. Good day, Potter."

The homunculus watched as she hurried down the stairs and vanished around the bend. Then he slowly started up to the second floor. He had no idea where he was going now, only that he didn't want to stay where he was.

'What just happened?' he wondered, brushing the hair from his forehead.

He paused at the top of the stairs, trying to think of where to go. Gryffindor? The Owlery? The Great Hall? Hogwarts never seemed so big just now.

"Are you sure you're okay?" a soft voice asked him.

Startled, the homunculus turned to his right. Ginny was standing against the wall by the stairs, hands behind her back. Her books were in a neat little stack at her feet.

"Ginny..." the homunculus began, and suddenly remembered what the Professor had been saying before she left. "Ginny, were you the one...you were the one who called Professor Summershield?"

She nodded, keeping her gaze averted. "I figured I couldn't help you by myself. So I went to find someone who could."

"I...I guess I should thank you," said the homunculus.

She lifted her eyes. "Don't mention it. It's just that, well, I hate bullies. Especially that rotten Malfoy!"

"You do? I mean, yeah, you do."

"They were ganging up on you! I can't believe even he would stoop so low, but I guess I'm just being too kind. Malfoy doesn't belong in Hogwarts, he belongs under a rock! I couldn't just let that git get away with what he was doing--"

She caught herself, and lowered her voice. "Anyway, I'm glad you're okay. That's all."

The homunculus nodded, though he did not understand why she would be "glad." "Is that the reason you helped me?" he asked. "Because you hate Malfoy? I mean, I thought you didn't like me anyway, so..."

She shook her head. "Um, no. I-it's not that I don't like you...um...well..."

An awkward silence fell.

Ginny looked from one end of the empty hallway to the other, as if looking something. Finally she gazed back at him and said, "Look, the reason why I've been avoiding you all this time is...well...I know."

The homunculus blinked, then gaped at her as it sunk in.

"You...know? About me?"

She nodded. "Harry and Professor Dumbledore told me."

"I...I see." The homunculus brushed back his hair from his forehead. "But...I still don't understand. Why did you help me?"

She gave him an incredulous look, as if the answer was quite obvious. "Because you were in trouble! Do I need a better reason?"

"Oh." He looked about, as if searching for an escape. "Well, t-that makes sense, I suppose."

"Yeah."

"Right."

"Mhn."

Another awkward silence.

"Well," said Ginny. "I, I think you're fine. Now, that is. I...I don't hate you or anything. So I guess we can be..." She gestured,fumbling for words.

"Sure," the homunculus finished for her. "Glad to hear it." He really was. He felt very light all of a sudden.

"All right then." She perked up a little. "Well, um, I... I...guessIhavetogonowseeyoulaterbye!" She picked up the books near her feet and started down the hall.

"Okay." The homunculus waved a little as she walked away. Then called to her, "Um, say, where're you headed?"

She turned, eyeing him quizzically. "Me? To the library. I have to return these books I borrowed. Then maybe I'll just go sit in the Great Hall for a bit. I don't have much to do, now that I think about it."

"Oh, okay."

She nodded, then turned to go again.

"Say," the homunculus blurted out, "d'you...d'you mind if I come along? I don't really have much to do either."

She stopped and gazed at him, an uncertain look in her eyes.

"That is," the homunculus said, "if you don't mind the company."

Ginny bit her lower lip. She did not seem to know what to say.

"We don't have to talk," he mumbled. "I-I can just stay quiet if you like."

"No, no, it's not that. It's...just," she stopped, grasping for words. The homunculus watched her, trying to get an inkling of what she was feeling. But he could not even begin to read the expression on her face.

Finally, the look in her eyes changed, as if she just remembered something. She shrugged and gave a small smile.

"Oh, why not? Sure, come along if you like."

The homunculus nodded, suddenly relieved. Together they started down the hall again toward the library. As he fell in step beside her, he gave a little smile himself, though he didn't exactly know why.

---

"HARRY'S WHAT?"

Sirius was only dimly aware of his chair clattering behind him; he had leaped to his feet the moment the news registered in his brain. His left arm, strapped in a sling, was pressed tightly against his chest. His right arm planted itself on the table as he leaned forward, glaring down at the man who was seated on the other side. He had been called from Birmingham, just as he was recuperating from his wounds from the last battle, when their commander suddenly dumped this unhappy piece of news on him.

Lyle Bishop did not flinch at the tone of Sirius's voice. As ever, his face held a look of utmost calm. However, the winged pixie on his shoulder immediately took refuge behind the commander's backrest.

Sirius continued to glower at him. "Will the Commander kindly explain what he just said?"

"I...I don't understand, Lyle," said Remus, who was sitting beside his co-captain. "You mean to tell us Harry's out of Hogwarts?"

"As I have said," Lyle replied, "Harry is on a secret mission to retrieve an artifact that has great potential in our struggle against Lord Voldemort. Professor Dumbledore believed that Harry alone could retrieve it, and the boy agreed to go."

"Good!" cried Sirius. "Bloody good! While we're at it, let's make Harry a member of the Order! Give him a rank! Put him in the front lines!"

"The mission was appraised to have a fair chance of success," Lyle went on, "and it was not as if he had gone on his own. Mad-Eye Moody and his associate, Daniel Oaks, went with him as his bodyguards. In addition, preparations had been made so that the operation could proceed with utmost secrecy--"

"Right!" added Sirius. "Not even I found out! Never mind that I'm a member of the Order and his godfather!"

Lyle took a deep breath. "You understand a mission of this nature needed to be handled with the utmost care..."

"I understand that a sixteen-year old boy had been sent on your hair-brained scheme to retrieve some mystical knick-knack that's supposed to single-handedly defeat the Dark Lord!"

"Incorrect. This wasn't my hair-brained scheme. This was Dumbledore's."

"I DON'T CARE!" shouted Sirius. "This is idiotic! He's just a child! He shouldn't even have been allowed to step one foot out of Hogwarts!"

Remus interrupted, "How long have you known about this, Lyle?"

"Little more than week," he replied. "Dumbledore told me a large part of his plan soon after I became Commander."

"And this artifact you mentioned is supposed to do exactly what?"

Lyle shrugged. "That, not even I know. Dumbledore's keeping that to himself."

"And he didn't bother to have me informed?" demanded Sirius.

"The harsh answer to that," replied Lyle, "is that given the circumstances, I decided it better you were not informed."

"Better I was not--I am his godfather, for the love of..."

"I heard you the first time, Captain Black. Now sit down."

"But--"

Lyle's brows knitted just a fraction. "Sit."

Sirius gritted his teeth, but Remus righted his chair, took hold of his elbow and guided him down to his seat.

"You were not told all this at the beginning," Lyle began, "because at the time this war started, you and Captain Lupin were assigned to the front lines. Your focus and participationwere essential to the fight, and I do not mince words when I say that had it not been for the two of you our first crucial victories would not have been possible. Tell me, then, from a commander's standpoint, what it would have served if you had known young Harry was on a mission of his own?"

"You're saying I wouldn't have done my job?"

"I'm saying you would have been distracted. And in the front lines, that's the quickest way to get you and your men killed."

"But--"

"If you do not think that likely, allow me to present another scenario. Let's say the enemy captured you. The Death Eaters recognize you as the captain. They decide to put you under the Imperius Curse, and order you to tell them all you know. Despite your best efforts, you tell them you are Sirius Black, a core member of the Order of the Phoenix, and that your nephew, Harry Potter, is currently out of the shadow of his protector Dumbledore and wandering around Britain. They relay this information to Voldemort. What then, Sirius? You'd be dead, Harry would be hunted down, and the entire mission would've been for nothing."

Sirius stared at Lyle. He could not think of a single thing to say.

"That's...rather extreme, Commander," said Remus.

"It's a possibility," said Lyle, getting up from his chair, "and one I'd rather avoid. I am sorry I had to keep this from you. Believe me, it was a difficult decision to make. But now there is a need for you to know. I'm offering you a chance to do something about our current dilemma."

"Meaning?" muttered Sirius.

"Meaning you get to do exactly what you want to do: look for your godson." Lyle pointed at the map on the table. "This is the town of Hillsdale, where we last had contact with Mad-Eye and his charge. The Black Barrier has cut their means of transportation and communication. We are not certain if they're still there, but there's a chance that they are. Captain Black, your mission is to locate them and bring them immediately to Headquarters. Captain Lupin, you will go with him, but I expect you back here two days before the full moon. Otherwise, take your platoon and whatever else you need to fulfill this task."

"I take it Dumbledore's arranging the transportation?" Remus queried.

"Dumbledore knows nothing about what we're doing," Lyle replied. Both captains blinked in surprise. Lyle went on, "I'm not going to wait for him to decide for us. I don't think time is our side on this one. We've got to move quickly."

"Fine," said Sirius, "as long as Harry's going to be there when we get there."

"If they are not there, then you must look for them," said Lyle. "Engage the enemy only if you must: it is best not draw attention to yourselves. Simply find Harry Potter and bring him here safely. Then we can talk about getting him to Hogwarts. That is all."

Sirius and Remus stood up, and Lyle nodded to them. "I wish you luck, Captains. The Godland keep you."

Sirius gave him a curt nod, then turned and strode out the door. Remus took a deep breath, gave a formal salute, and quickly followed him.

"I don't believe this," seethed Sirius as they hurried down the hall. "I can't believe they actually kept this from me."

"You don't think Lyle and Dumbledore had good reason to?" Remus asked.

Sirius stopped and whirled to face him. "I think I should've had a say on this matter from the very start! Why didn't Dumbledore consult me? Why didn't Harry consult me!"

"Harry may have wanted to, you know," Remus reflected. "But it's likely Dumbledore had forbidden it."

"Why would he do that? I could have helped! I mean, we could have been his bodyguards!"

"Oh yes," Remus replied, grinning. "Us. Bodyguards. A werewolf and a notorious criminal. Perhaps you and I ought to wear target circles on our backs while we're prancing about the countryside."

He didn't quite make Sirius laugh, but the joke merited a grim smile at least. "All right, fine," said Sirius, "but I don't like it that all this happened behind my back, and I like it less that they bring me in only after the damage's been done. Someone owes me an apology!" He turned to go.

"Perhaps," said Remus, "but at least consider that this is just as hard on everyone else as it is on you."

Sirius turned back. "I'm not getting you."

"You will if you take a minute to think about the implications."

"I don't have a minute! What implications?"

"While we're going on this mission there will be a gap in the defenses. Lyle will have to send someone else to the front to cover for us. And since we're short on men, he'd have to send people from home base. He'd have to send--"

Remus fell silent, his eyes flicking to somewhere over Sirius's shoulder. Sirius turned, and saw Melvincent Galino walking down the other side of the hall. The elder gentleman did not bother to look at them, nor did he seem to have the least bit interest in what they were talking about. He kept his leisurely pace until he reached the door of the meeting room where Lyle was, and vanished behind it.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a grim look.

"Fine," Sirius said. "So be it. I don't care. I just want to find Harry." He turned and continued down the hall. "We'll load up on supplies and get to Hillsdale as soon as possible."

"Hey," someone piped up. "Did you say Hillsdale?"

Sirius and Remus turned to the speaker, who had just emerged from an antechamber. The lad resembled Lyle, but his face was more open and his eyes reflected young man's curiosity.

"It's Covenant, isn't it?" Sirius said. "Yes, that's what I said. What about it?"

"You know, I'd just come from there," said Covenant. "I was sent on a medical mission--which turned out to be very much an emergency, let me tell you. But wait...are you two going on a mission there yourselves?"

Remus glanced at his partner. By the look of his eyes, an idea was growing in Sirius's mind. "Yes, we are."

"Well," said Covenant, getting excited, "I'm not doing anything at the moment--Lyle wants to keep me here as a house Medi-Wizard. Do you need healer on your side? If it's not too much trouble--"

"Trouble? No trouble at all!" Sirius grabbed his hand and pumped it vigorously. "Actually, we won't need a healer as much as we need a guide. Did you happen to meet Mad-Eye while you were in Hillsdale?"

"I did!" Covenant said. "In fact, the person he was protecting was my mission objective!"

"Sirius," Remus interrupted, "I don't think..."

"Quiet, you. That's perfect, Covenant! Absolutely perfect! Can you guide us through town, then? Take us to where you last saw them?"

"Sure I can! But they must've left the Everglade Inn by now--"

Remus grabbed Sirius's arm. "Excuse me a moment," he said to Covenant, and dragged Sirius a few steps away.

"What are you doing?" demanded Sirius.

"What are YOU doing?" Remus retorted. "This is Lyle's little brother we're talking about! You can't seriously consider taking him with us without informing the Commander!"

"Why not? Lyle did order us to 'take whatever else we need,' right?"

"Yes, but--"

"And we do need a guide, don't we?"

"Correct, but--"

"And since Covenant has been to Hillsdale recently, he is the most reliable guide we have now, correct?"

"Right, but--"

"I'm glad you agree with me, Captain. We'll be airborne within the hour, so get ready." He walked resolutely back to the young man and started explaining the mission details.

Remus heaved a defeated sigh. "There are times," he said to himself, "when I greatly miss the nice quiet life of a penniless werewolf."

---

Gallowbraid was displeased. He did not like what was currently happening. Or rather, what was clearly not happening.

First, he was not getting his long-awaited confrontation with Alastor Moody. Until now he didn't have a clue where the old Auror was. According to Fudge, Moody had retired from public service several years ago. It was suspected he had rejoined his old colleague Dumbledore for active duty in the Order of the Phoenix, but his whereabouts were unknown. This is no fun, thought Gallowbraid. Surely he had not forgotten about his old rival? Surely he would leave himself available to settle some old scores?

Second, the men he had sent to Hillsdale to investigate, well, whatever there was to investigate, were two hours overdue. Now he had to account for them. Fuming over the ineptitude of these Death Eaters, he obtained a map and a Apparation Pass fromMinister Fudge and transported himself to Hillsdale to look for them. Inept or not, they were his subordinates, and with all the work of manipulating key officials in the Ministry, he needed every man he could get.If they had no excuse for this delay, he would literally show them hell.

It was mid-afternoon when he arrived at the town's deserted, leaf-strewn main street, and a good hour before he discovered the whereabouts of the Everglade Inn. To his surprise, he found the establishment surrounded by a platoon of Death Eaters.

When they saw him approach, those on watch at the entrance suddenly snapped to attention. Though their faces were masked, the unmistakable look of fear in their eyes showed that they already knew of him.

"G-glory to the Dark Lord!" one of them shouted, as if to remind the visitor they were on the same side.

"That's it, fool," Gallowbraid hissed, "shout it outand let everyone know whose handiwork this is."

The man blustered, lowering his eyes.

"Who ordered you to come here?" demanded Gallowbraid.

"The command came directly from Lord Voldemort, sir," replied the other guard. "He told the Captain to go and check on the progress of your investigation..."

Not good. Gallowbraid bristled at the thought. He was being interfered with. "And what has happened here?"

The guard lowered his head, reluctant to be the bearer of bad news. "We...we're not sure, sir. We found some of our men injured and bound. Some kind of fight--"

"Who is your captain?"

"Er, Captain Magnus Aragon, sir. He's upstairs right now, investigating the area."

Gallowbraid swept past him and entered the common room. He heard one of the men behind him breathe a sigh of relief.

The area was littered with broken glass and overturned chairs. A side door hung off its hinges, giving him a view of a kitchen floor strewn with vegetable peelings and broken eggs. Upstairs, on his way down the hall, he caught sight of the four men he sent. They sat together on the bed in a nearby room, covered from top to bottom with bruises and bandages. Officers were questioning them, but the blank looks of their eyes told Gallowbraid that their memories had been wiped clean.

He found Magnus Aragon in the fourth room from the staircase. The captain had three junior officers with him. One was examining the unkempt bed, another the blast marks on the walls, and the last was jotting notes rapidly on a nearby table. Captain Aragon himself stood at the other side of the room, his huge silhouette framed by the window. He was examining something in his palm.

The junior officers lifted their heads as Gallowbraid entered the room. Magnus did not bother. He held the object--a discarded bandage--to his nose, and briefly sniffed it. "Agrias's Balm," he said, "used mainly to treat infections caused by contact with undead creatures."

"Should we send a team to investigate the local cemetery, sir?" asked his junior officer.

"No need," said Magnus. "We've not time to waste. Once we're done here we shall pull out at once before the Order can--"

"I thought the Onyx Wing was the watchdog of the Dark Lord's home," interrupted Gallowbraid. "You must have a remarkably long leash to be nosing about a long way from your Isle."

"The Dark Lord commands his men as he pleases, to perform whatever tasks he sees fit," Magnus replied without turning to face him. "If he finds some servants more capable than others, will he not favor the betters with the important tasks?"

"What are you doing here, Captain? What does the Dark Lord want?"

Magnus nodded to his subordinates. "Leave us. Command the men to assemble outside." The three men vacated swiftly.

"At first, I was sent here to ensure that you do your job," said Magnus, "Lord Voldemort felt the Order of the Phoenix was planning something here. The Dark Lord's intuition has oft proven sharper than the minds of his underlings, and it seems now is no exception." He turned at last, looking Gallowbraid squarely in the eye. "You have failed in your task. Your men had stumbled upon something important, but they were swiftly defeated by no more than three men. I fail to see wisdom in sending only four scouts--men with no significant experience in reconnaissance, to boot--on a mission that had been clearly deemed significant by your superiors. Your carelessness and inept planning has allowed your quarry to escape."

"Is that what you think?" Gallowbraid asked, smirking. "This debacle speaks less of my planning and more of the Death Eaters's skill--or lack of it. If they had failed to capture three simple individuals, their stupidity is to blame. I find myself wondering about the effectiveness of your so-called training program."

"The failure of those four men is plain enough," Magnus returned, eyes narrowing, "andappropriate punishments should be meted out, as they must. But the final responsibility falls on their acting commander. This failure is on your head."

Gallowbraid gave him a cool stare. "I have not failed yet," he said. "If there truly were agents of the Phoenix involved here, as your lord puts it, they will not get far with the Black Barrier up. I will catch them myself, if I must."

"No doubt," replied Magnus. He slipped the discarded bandage into his pocket and gathered up his notes. "You understand, however, that the Dark Lord brooks no incompetence, and hardly doles out second chances to fools. No. At his behest, I am to take over this operation."

"You," Gallowbraid spat out. "Voldemort thinks a runt like you can replace me?"

"Lord Voldemort thinks more than that. If I were you, I would thank the fates on my hands and knees that His Lordship chooses not to stay here on the mainland, else your punishment would have been both harsh and swift." The meanest hint of a smile appeared on the corner of Magnus's mouth. "Fear not. It is merely delayed, not forgotten. Your reckoning will come later. It would be amusing to watch you so humbled, old man."

Gallowbraid's patience finally snapped. With a snarl he lowered his glasses. Damn the Dark Lord; he would fill this man's head with nightmares until he was gibbering on the floor!

But before he could focus his will, before the Evil Eye could begin the work of breaking his victim's mind, his entire surroundings vanished into darkness.

Gallowbraid blinked in surprise. Magnus called out to him in the gloom, his voice seeming to echo from all around: "I had wondered about you, Gallowbraid, since we first met on Onyx Isle. How could a man cast magic without a wand, and with both hands behind his back? What manner of Grand Wizardry did he possess?

"Later I found out about your Jagan. Yes, your feared Evil Eye. I realized it: that time, you did NOT have your hands behind your back. You were holding a wand like any normal wizard. Only you made everyone think you were unarmed. What they had been looking at was an illusion of yourself, a perfect simulacrum, while your real self stood a safe distance away.

"You manipulate people's minds with illusions, Gallowbraid. They are quite potent, I'll grant you that. If I had faced you that day, you would have slaughtered me with ease. But this time I am prepared. Prior to arrival I had set an event-triggered spell system in this very room, designed to cast a simple thirty-second Darkness should you attempt to use your Jagan. Well, wizard? Your loud breathing tells me where to strike. Can you work your illusions if you cannot see your victim's eyes?"

Gallowbraid gritted his teeth. But he stayed very, very still.

"As I thought," said Magnus, satisfaction in his voice. "I believe I've made my point. Don't worry; I'll let you live. Lord Voldemort has use for you yet, and I shall respect his wishes. But do not threaten me or my men--ever. Else I will find it worth risking my lord's wrath just to see your body lying cold on the ground.

"Till next we meet, old man."

When the darkness lifted, Magnus was gone.

Gallowbraid pushed his glasses back up his nose and remained where he was. It took a long minute to will his rage to pass. 'Not yet,' he thought. 'Later, soon, sooner than he thinks. I'll see him dead for this, dead or worse. Defeated. Broken. I swear it.'

He stormed out the room, but came to a halt in the hallway. The four injured Death Eaters under his command were standing there, waiting for someone--anyone--to tell them what to do. They blanched when they saw him, fear twisting on their faces. But Gallowbraid regarded them thoughtfully for a long moment.

"S-sir," the leader said at last, "I...I'm sorry, we don't recall...we've been told we've failed, but I don't know what went wrong."

"No," said Gallowbraid softly, "of course you don't."

"They said we'd been Memory Charmed..."

"Yes, indeed you have."

The man fidgeted a bit, then went on. "Sir, m-my lord, please forgive us...we know we failed you. If you can but give us another chance..."

"I suppose I can."

"My lord?"

"You can aid me yet." Gallowbraid took step towards him, watching him intently through his glasses.

The leader brightened up. "Command us, sir! We'll give it our best, I swear it!"

"Oh, you will. I'm sure you will." Gallowbraid's face was stony and cold. "I simply require some information. Specifically, the face of the one who attacked you."

"W-what? But sir, like I said, our memories had been wiped! I can't recall--"

He fell silent as Gallowbraid stood an arm's length away before him. "Your mind doesn't recall, but your body is smarter than you know. Corpus Memoriam. You have seen his face, and that image has been burned somewhere in your eyes. I want to see it." He lowered his glasses. "I just need to borrow your eyes for a bit--you don't mind, do you?"

A gasp of horror went up as his men beheld the sick silver-yellow of the Jagan. Gallowbraid grasped the leader's shoulders. The man was too terrified to break his grip; his mouth dropped open, ready to scream. The pupil of the Evil Eye gaped in reply, like adoorinto the void.

And Gallowbraid's will pierced his victim's eyes, ripping out the images they had seen in the last few hours. The world around him roiled and swam as the pictures flew across his vision. He did not know if the process was painful for his subject. Given the way he shook and screamed, it probably was.

He quickly found what he was looking for. A door that had burst open, revealing a man with a long coat and a great bulging eye. The familiar, gnarled face of an old, old enemy.

Gallowbraid grinned. Ah, life's little coincidences.

He released the man from his grasp. He was barely aware of his victim's low whimper, and of the pool of rank liquid at his feet. He had more important things to think about now. Oh yes. Moody had been here. Moody was but a few hours away from him, probably heading for the nearest place of safety. Where would that be? Ah, details, details. With a captured member of the Order in their hands, he would find out soon enough. He would not be able to harm Captain Aragon, at least not yet, but he could steal his victory. And at the same time, take his revenge on Alastor Moody. What a thrill, this old game of cat-and-mouse. What fun!

He walked past the frozen forms of his men. Their leader still stood there, weeping softly to himself. It was the only thing his eyes were good for now.

The Jagan had struck him blind.

To be continued

Chapter XV: The Serpent by the Footpath