The Downfall of Lord Voldemort

Chapter II

"Arrival"

Florence had risen early to double-check everything, making sure that all was running smoothly. She had purposely looked ahead, and moved caches of things that the children would have guessed that their old Astronomy professor wouldn't have just left lying around--bottles of Dreamwater and some old coins. She decided that those objects would keep them busy--Fred and George were coming, she knew. They were rowdy, but sensible. They wouldn't find anything that she didn't want them to.

As she sat on the roof of her Astronomy tower, hugging her knees and shivering in her terry robe--the collar of which was pulled down around her shoulders--Florence decided that she felt a bit guilty about dosing Harry with Ignorance. She had slipped a few drops of the potion into his omelet that morning, to keep his scar from twanging when she and Severus attempted to begin the first steps of the Everlast Potion.

She stood. Had she been able to view her image in that moment, she would have been pleased. All she knew was that (as the winds whipped the still-wet tips of her hair onto her bare back, stinging a little) she would have to pull today off perfectly in order for her plan to work.

Voldemort, she knew, was very smart. He could have been the next Enoch, but, like his predecessor, he was a lover of the flesh. Florence knew that was what would give him away in the end. She only wished there was another woman who would tempt him.

The Everlast Potion had a very old, very strange ritual attached to its usage. The drinker would have to be dragged before the Black God, and be proved worthy. Florence hadn't pointed that out to her master because he would have seen through her at once--she would have just been another one of those girls who were spying for Dumbledore, searching for the Dark Lord's weaknesses.

Over the ridge of the Alps she could see an orange glow in the eastern sky. Dawn. Severus would arrive soon, but a second arrival would be staged to trick the children into thinking that their professors weren't up to anything illegal.

The Ministry had outlawed the potion that they were attempting to make in 1238, after Breac the Brazen had managed to attract the attention of some Muggles, only a shepherd and his family who had casually glanced in her direction and seen cows flying past his hut and land the middle of a village.

Severus and Florence were going to hold the ceremony on Beltane, as it had to be, a little west of Stonehenge. They had read about why it was created, in Muggle studies, and she had been afraid. Severus' expression had been rather blasé.

In ancient, ancient times, the stones had been set to honor the raw force that was life itself. Terrible injustices, murders and slayings in the name of life were committed there. She shuddered at the memory of the picture that her teacher, Mrs. Leoni, had shown them.

"Class...class, please listen up. I'm passing this picture around so you can see what ancient Muggles thought appropriate in those times. This "picture" is a re-creation of what had happened. There is actually a position at the Ministry, and wizards have looked into the past and seen this, take a look. After you've seen the picture, please turn to page 695 in your textbooks..." Mrs. Leoni was a stout woman, and always wore something red. She wasn't shaken by much. Florence tapped her foot against the floor, eager to see the picture. When she got a chance, she gasped and recoiled from the grisly scene in shock.

--A pen of animals, all fat and healthy with glossy fur, stared silently at a man with a silver knife. The man's proportions were blocky, and straggly hair fell down to his shoulders. He grinned, revealing a mouth with strangely few teeth. He raised the knife, and brought it down again and again, his slashes wild. There was a terrible red fury in his eyes, and soon all of the animals in the pen lay dead in a mess of blood, bones and matted fur.--

Now Florence was no longer sixteen, and she could handle these things. Had to handle them, was more like it. Of course she felt sorry for the girls the MacNair and the animals that Voldemort had killed for their precious furs, limbs, horns, feathers, etc., but really now, in the long run it wouldn't happen anymore. It was better to make sure everything went smoothly, rather than put the whole plan in jeopardy for a few teenagers and beasts. She briefly considered spiking Voldemort's potion with the deadly plant Nightshade, but surely that wouldn't work. Nightshade had a very distinctive smell, and though Florence knew very well that Voldemort had nearly failed Herbology, she didn't want to take chances. That particular approach was far too predictable. She should let the Black God deal with Thomas Marvelo Riddle. After all, he had broken the oldest Law, one thousand times over.

Florence had once been told that humans were no better than animals. Should not the same laws apply to them all?

Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your

cubs as they need, and ye can;

But not for the pleasure of killing, and seven times never kill man!

(As told by Rudyard Kipling, "The Law of the Jungle.")

She sighed. From beasts men came, and to beasts man could return. In Florence's opinion, men were already beyond redemption.

--

Harry was sitting in front of the main fireplace, staring at the fire. Every few minutes a log would slip and sparks would be thrown up into the chimney, only to spiral down again as lackluster pieces of ash. As he sat alone, feeling blissfully unaware, his thoughts turned to his parents.

Why did Voldemort want to kill Lily and James? When he thought about it, he remembered Voldemort's words--"Step aside, girl, step aside." From what Harry had heard about The Dark Lord, he knew that leniency was not his strong suit. Why would Voldemort have spared Lily?

He sighed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Deciding that he was too close to the fire, he moved across the room into a cushioned window seat.

Outside, lush grasses had turned purple, making the mountainsides flush a deep, craggy violet. They swayed gently in the wind as Harry watched. It was so peaceful in the Alps that Harry momentarily forgot everything that had been going on at the moment.

The Ministry had told the truth about Bertha Jorkin's death--murdered by You-Know-Who. But they had neglected to mention that Peter Pettigrew had led her to his master--it would have been politically harmful to Fudge's campaign to rescind Pettigrew's First-Class Order of Merlin. The current Minister's leadership skills left much to be desired.

Harry shook his head, as much to clear it as to show his lack of enthusiasm where it came to Fudge's handling of the situation.

He sat up quickly, because the fire had just roared up to an unbelievable height and turned a shade of sparkly emerald.

Green and copper don't mix, Harry thought ruefully as the one of the Weasley twins emerged from the fire, head first. A moment later Fred and George both stepped out of the fireplace, followed by Ron and Hermione. All of the newcomers were rendered speechless for a few moments by the surroundings. Then Hermione broke the silence.

"Wow, Harry! I had no idea that wizards live like this! I can see why you wanted to stay here, rather than go to the Weasley's..."

"So can I," Ron said darkly, a sullen tone in his voice. He took comments about like this very harshly, and from what Harry could discern, would use this against Hermione all year. Quickly, he stepped in before anyone could say anything more.

"I sure hope you two won't be at each other's throats like you were last year. I'd hate to have to ignore you both." He glared at his two best friends.

Reluctantly, Ron shot a last glare at Hermione (who was tapping her foot against the floor and staring defiantly in the opposite direction) and addressed Harry.

"What have you done here, so far? It looks like a pretty interesting place. Like the library. Then you realize the most useful thing to do by far is learn." He cut off Hermione's playful protests with a shake of his head. Slightly shocked, Harry realized that they were flirting.

That's what you get for neglecting your best friends all summer, he thought regretfully. They move on with their lives, and say that's what you would've wanted them to do.

Fred and George were holding a clandestine little meeting a few meters away from the trio of soon-to-be 5th years. There was a definite change in their moods from when Harry had last seen them. Now that they had had a summer with a thousand galleons at their complete disposal, the twins had obviously done some inventing. They had new robes, and walked with a purpose. If you considered the purpose you might be more careful around the redheaded boys. For their last year at Hogwarts, they had planned something a little like the Spectacular at the end of a light show--a little bit of research done, a whole lot of fireworks. Out of respect to Professor Sinistra they hadn't bought any with them, but the temptation had been nearly overwhelming.

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked over to the twins. Ron couldn't help but to bend down and brush the tips of his fingers against the soft, midnight-blue carpeting that matched the (almost) genetic marker of a Sareni--the eyes. Had he thought a little bit about it, and looked at his father's family tree, he would have discovered that his great-great-great-great grandfather had been one, which explained the twins' eyes.

"So..." George began, dragging out the vowel. "Young Harry, If I may be so bold as to ask...how's your summer been going?"

"Very well," the younger boy said automatically. "Actually, I've just been loafing around. It's great, to be able to play Quidditch and not have Wood nagging you at every other turn."

"Speaking of Wood, we, er, I heard from Angelina that Wood is going to play for England." Said Fred, flushing slightly at his mistake.

Ron grimaced. "About time we got a decent Keeper. We were slain by Luxembourg and all because of that stupid oaf that they dared to call a Keeper--"

"Oh, not you too, Fred!" Hermione said, joining in. Harry secretly rejoiced. She had found a way to counter all this "boring" Quidditch talk. She continued. "First Percy, always up in his room scrawling notes to Penelope, and now you and Angelina will be just like..." Hermione laughed as Fred took a playful swipe at her.

"I never!" Fred protested indignantly. He mock-pouted, absurdly sticking out his lower lip and folding his arms over his chest. "People in love are boring."

"By the way..." Harry interjected. He was feeling a bit woozy. Could this be an effect of his scar? "Sirius Black, or Mr. Padfoot, is here. Remember he helped write the Marauder's Map."

"Where is he?" George managed to say. "I mean, he did--he wrote..."

"I imagine he's still asleep. He's not as thin as he was, but he..." Harry trailed off, his words made thick by his tongue, which now felt as though it were made of lead.

Their Astronomy professor was wearing a terry robe laced to the floor, which she self-consciously pulled over her her shoulders in response to the stares of the assorted teenagers in her living room.

"If you want something, ask one of the house elves. I have to make a potion, I'll be in the uh, lower levels if your life is in danger. Don't go into the crypt unless you really need me. Just wake Sirius if you are lost, Harry can show you where he is."

She turned to Harry. "Why don't you start with a tour? I'm sure your friends would like to see the mansion. Don't touch anything that your senses say not to touch. See you later."

"By the way," Florence added, seemingly as an afterthought. "Professor Snape will be here in the afternoon, around three o'clock. I'd steer clear of him if I were any of you." She left.

"Has he been coming here a lot, Snape?" Ron asked.

"Not that I know of," Harry said truthfully. "All I can say is that if he was, Sinistra's done a pretty good job of keeping the two of them--Sirius and Snape--away from each other. Elsewise, I would've heard them shouting at each other."

He neglected to mention all that rushed into his head after he said that. It came back to him briefly, as though he were there--the rift between them, Lily and Narcissa's friendship torn apart, Florence literally gluing her face to any book that happened to come her way, and her duel with McClellan that had left him nearly dead. It was bad enough, having to live with Voldemort and Pettigrew after him, and it wouldn't hurt to forget how James had almost lost his girlfriend to Snape (an arranged marriage by wizarding relatives Petunia Dursley had never known about.)

--

Meanwhile, Professor Sinistra was standing on the open railing of the second-floor balcony, and leaned casually over the wooden railing. She was waiting for Severus Snape, her one-time friend and ally. She sighed. Severus had once been a carefree, fun-loving boy, but those days were gone. Now all anyone (excepting herself and Dumbledore, of course) ever saw past the intimidatating exoskeleton.

The sun had risen and the sky was a fiery orange, which was rapidly turning to a brilliant morning blue. Florence looked at her watch. It was only 7:30. Glancing up, she was startled to see a black shape flying straight toward her.

She didn't stop to think. Plunging her hand into her robe, she drew her wand and opened her mouth, then recognized the imposing figure before her.

Severus had brought the broom to an graceful stop before his colleague. He hovered effortlessly above her, then jumped off of his Firebolt and landed neatly onto the railing beside Florence. It happened so quickly that she wasn't quite sure of what had taken place until he spoke.

"Have you found a place suitably far enough away, that we can pick vervain at the last minute?" He looked at her mildly. "Thomas will be most displeased if you don't. The next meeting is in two weeks, as you know."

He was all business. Florence tried hard not to think of who may or may not be listening to their conversation. She quickly stepped in before anyone could eavesdrop.

"Why don't we go down to the Crypt and talk? You can quiz me there, and we can work on the potion." If he wanted to be cynical, she could be blunt. "But you'll have to hide yourself somehow, and dodge Sirius Black, the Weasley twins, Ron, Harry and Hermione."

Snape frowned, and Florence resisted the urge to say, It takes seventy-two muscles to frown, but only fourteen to smile. As it was, the corner of his mouth then twitched upward. "What is it with you, woman? Do you collect Gryffindors or something?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I wanted every single Weasley currently in existence to pose for the future wax museum." She sighed. "No, silly. I wanted to seem as though I had Harry's best interests in mind."

As an answer, Snape waved his wand over his head and turned into a long black shadow which followed her into the main house. It took approximately three agonizing minutes to get down to the basement level, and two more in order to reach the room Florence had wanted to use.

As soon as Snape materialized, Florence shut the door with a snap and placed warding charms on the door and windows. Anyone could be listening. And for further insurance, she and Severus each swallowed a few drops of the Silvertongue Potion, which would convince anyone listening that they were being truly earnest. They hadn't tested it on Voldemort yet--it wouldn't pay to be caught like that.

For the next few hours, they were not interrupted. The silence was deafening. While Severus added the beginning ingredients to the Everlast and Florence busied herself looking up spells in Shape Changing and Ways of the Immortals.

--

The assorted Gryffindors found Padfoot in the library, his head cushioned in a pillowesque-looking book. He may not have woken up, but Fred and George couldn't stop telling each other to be quiet so that Sirius could get some sleep.

The former convict gasped and sat up straight, feeling for his wand. When he saw it was only the children, he sighed and, smiled.

The twins gaped at him, completely lost for words.

Harry began to recount his misadventures for the Weasleys once again, some of the pain having been dulled by the passage of time. When he mentioned the Marauder's Map and how Moody had used it to kill his father, Sirius gasped and swore a blue streak.

"Harry, that Map...oh no, what have I done?" Everyone heard the shock in his voice and stared at him, waiting for a full explanation.

"The Marauder's Map, when it says Aiding Magical Mischief Makers we meant it! Did you ever get into trouble after you looked at it?"

"Not that I can remember..." Harry said slowly.

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed, and turned bright red when Sirius turned to look. "Remember when we left for the first Hogsmeade trip? You weren't going to go, but you did after Fred and George gave you the Map!"

The twins simultaneously began to blame each other.

"Fred, you were the one who suggested it!"

"Well, you--"

Sirius held up a hand. "Stop, stop. I can't work on an empty stomach. Harry, do you want to get the Map so I can check on something?"

Harry walked slowly to his room and fetched the Map. When he got it to Sirius, the ex-convict snatched the ragged piece of parchment away and pointed his new wand at it.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

Once again, the letters formed and within seconds, a map of the Sareni mansion appeared on the paper, in a special golden ink. Sirius blushed. No one commented.

Hermione leaned forward to locate Professor Sinistra. "She's in the Crypt, along with...that's strange. I could've sworn this said Severus Snape a few minutes ago."

"Lemme see that," Sirius said, pulling the map towards him. Hermione looked surprised at Sirius's tone of voice--it was almost a snarl.

"Yes. Yes indeed." There was a strange look in his eyes. "Let's see what they're up to." He walked in the apparent direction of the Crypt. Fred and George followed.

Hermione appeared distressed. "But Sinistra said not to go unless your life was in danger..." she whispered to Harry and Ron, wringing her wrists together.

Until We Meet Again,

Elena