Other Ends

OTHER ENDS

by Silverfish ~:

III.

Where he was, Daniel discovered, was not back in Snape's office as he had expected, but was instead on the wet ground of a dirty inner London street. He got up and wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving muddy, black prints. It was evening, the world had descended into a horrible darkness that lay inside of every shadow and every cranny and angle of alleyways. All of it was numbingly familiar, and Daniel hardened himself against it. He walked a few steps, passing a few groups of people here and there, and looked out onto the street to see the brightly coloured wares and textiles for sale, which were hung like dirty washing on tightly fastened pieces of twine. Though it was early in June, there was a distinct damp chill in the air that crawled into his bones, as though settling in to create moss.

He was somewhere in the seedier section of Lambeth, though how he had managed to get here was another question. He narrowed his eyes and surveyed the scene a bit better, wondering if maybe Snape had some odd hand in this, or maybe even if the coffee maker had turned into a portal of some kind. One never knew what to expect at Hogwarts. Daniel sighed and shrugged, and scratched the back of his head, and wondered just where in the hell one would purchase a ticket back to an 'unplottable' place and more importantly, would he be re-imbursed for the fare?

"Confused, are you?"

Daniel whipped around to see a tall man with wide shoulders leaning against the entrance of an alleyway. He was wearing dark robes, and peeking just underneath the hem of his attire were a pair of nobby looking Doc Martens, the bright yellow stitching in great contrast to the more formal wizard wear. Daniel smiled in recognition.

"Not any more," Daniel said. "You're Aristotle Crowley."

The wizard left his post at the entrance of the alleyway, slowly clapping his hands as he moved closer to Daniel. A shaft of light from a nearby streetlamp briefly illuminated his face, and Daniel beheld a fairly handsome looking man with smooth, dark olive complexioned skin and Asian eyes. Daniel was momentarily stunned by this, though really he shouldn't have been. Perhaps it was more the realization that this was the mysterious stalker who had killed his goldfish and had forced him into hiding. He choked back on a small piece of anger that dared to well over onto his calm bearing--a bomb blowing up his classroom was one thing, but to kill prize marble bubble eyed goldfish (one of whom he'd named 'Gordon' after his mother) was quite another!

"Murderer," Daniel growled at him, and it was Aristotle Crowley's turn to look confused.

"I don't recall anyone dying under my careful plans," Aristotle assured him. "Although that point on my resume is about to change today."

With this, he pulled out his wand and Daniel had barely a second to react as he shouted "ADAVRA KEDAVRA!"

Daniel managed to scramble on the ground and find a protective shield beneath an empty fruit stand, the spell just missing him and exploding against a tattered canopy above the store. He peeked out at Aristotle Crowley through the slats in the wood, mud and spoiled vegetables smearing his clothes. "I guess you don't waste time once you've decided on something," he observed aloud. "But you haven't been a man of the direct approach, have you?"

The wizard actually looked hurt by this. "I should think blowing up your classroom had plenty of punch," he indignantly replied. "Not to mention my foray into your home and placing a death curse on it. How you managed to live is beyond my understanding, anything living should have immediately died the second it walked through your apartment door."

"You got my fish first," Daniel said.

Crowley raised a brow in understanding. "Ah, so that's why. They must have canceled it out." He smiled menacingly. "You've been a slippery one. The Dark Lord himself had requested your death, especially after you had so easily escaped it all those other times. I'm not entirely sure of why your assassination is so important, but I know it has something to do with this." He reached into his robe pocket and took out a very chillingly familiar vial. The black/grey substance within it writhed and twisted against its prison. "So, you see, blowing up your classroom was an entirely courageous act in the eyes of our Dark Lord--otherwise he never would have cured me of that horrible Mudblood illness. You have to admit, my work is a delightful example of fire and brilliance."

"Not really," Daniel said, resting his hands on the slats of wood before his eyes. "It was mostly grey smoke and broken drywall. I still don't think it should qualify as courageous by any stretch of imagination, I mean if you aren't actually *there* it's hardly a fight, now is it?"

Aristotle Crowley paused, and scratched his chin in thought. "Hm, I suppose you're right. This can be a new leaf in my book for me, then, another challenging experience with my passion for fire. I should thank you for that. ADAVRA KEDAVRA!"

The bolt of blue light from the wand shot through the gloom and under the empty vegetable crate, exploding it into shattered splinters. Daniel rolled out of the way just in time, the spell missing him by mere millimeters. He knew, from the many,many lectures he'd had with Snape, that just one tiny fraction of a spark from that spell would kill him instantly. He was quite shocked by the power of it, and figured the Adavra Kedavra spell wasn't quite the perfect method of killing someone as it had been promoted to be. From where he was sitting, (behind a barrel of fermenting pickles) it looked like nothing more than a lightning bolt from the end of a black stick, and everyone knew that lightning was nothing more than an electrical charge. Aristotle Crowley still hadn't quite left his leanings towards blowing things up.

"Magic indeed," Daniel muttered in pique under his breath. "I imagine anyone would drop dead after having that kind of charge course through them."

He watched as Aristotle Crowley investigated the blown up pieces of wood, searching for Daniel amidst the rubble. The street was deserted now, and there was a screech in the far distance of police sirens possibly rushing to the scene. It was hard to say just what was about to happen, whether the police would arrive in full force, in full riot gear waiting for any number of variables, or if they might avoid the place for the time being until they could properly figure the best way to deal with it. It hadn't been all that long ago that the Brixton riots had nearly destroyed this area. The sirens petered off into the distance. The place had changed, but memory remained.

Crowley was impatiently kicking aside the stands and boxes now, and it wouldn't be long before he found Daniel out. Daniel crept backwards, between a set of stores, his foot gently nudging an old drunk in his stead, though the oily man didn't wake up. For a second Daniel thought he'd actually nudged a dead man, but the rise and fall of the bum's chest said otherwise. The street was deserted, though there were a few telling tales of grimy life in this area, needles tossed into the alley's dark corners, and used condoms laying in rubber rings against the dumpster at its end.

His first thought now was that he needed a weapon, something to club the bastard with if that's what it took. He searched amongst the rubble of the alley and found a brick. It was heavy, and rough in his palm, but he kept it ready. He backed out of the alley, and onto another equally dark and deserted street. A dog barked behind a thick wooden fence.

He turned to see Aristotle Crowley right behind him, wand poised, a look of victory on the wizard's face. Without hesitating, Daniel threw the brick at him, and would have made a good blow with it if Crowley hadn't shot it with a brief spell from his wand and said "Incentario!". The brick exploded into sandy crumbling, and scattered onto the wet pavement.

Rain was beginning to fall in soft misting Aristotle Crowley gave Daniel a wide, unfailing, grin.

"There's no hope for you now," he said, walking towards him. "Even if you run I still have a direct line to you."

"I'm afraid you're right," Daniel said with resignation. He stumbled over a stray steel pipe, and then, still keeping his eyes on Aristotle Crowley, he picked it up and gave it a few test swings. Crowley laughed.

Daniel shrugged at him. "I might as well make an attempt, at least," he said.

His feet were soaked in a puddle of water that had to be three inches deep. Daniel shivered as the rain began to pour, brown bangs plastered in wet, curling lines before navy eyes. "I'm just wondering why a wizard who had so much talent, who was first in his class in Arithmacy, would go so low as to use Muggle bombs."

Crowley chuckled as he made his way nearer, the hem of his robes remaining miraculously dry. Some wizard point of vanity Daniel supposed. "You left Hogwarts rather suddenly, Sev told me," Daniel said. "I was just wondering why."

Aristotle Crowley paused, his wand still fixed on Daniel, but an even darker expression cascading over his features. "What did Snape say about me?" he asked. Then, his expression almost softening, he said, "How is he doing these days?"

"Mostly making kids miserable," Daniel replied.

Crowley smiled warmly at this. "Ah, he always was a disturbing person," he said, and his voice was not devoid of affection. "Do you know, he used to follow me around, staring at me all the time--It's quite a feat to be someone's object of admiration, especially someone like Severus Snape. He was such an ugly kid back then--is he still as thin and sallow as ever?"

"He's thin," Daniel said. "But since he's moved in with me that sallow look about him is gone. I think it was that dungeon room of his, I warned him there were probably mold spores giving him asthma." Crowley took a step closer and Daniel halfheartedly swung his piece of steel pipe at him.

Crowley looked very, very perturbed.

"What did you say he did?"

"Ruining kids' lives, making them suicidal--Same difference, I should think."

"No, that other thing."

Daniel frowned, wondering where this was going. "You mean the part about him moving in with me? Cor, I'd say that was in September, after I'd known him a couple of weeks."

If it was any more possible for Crowley to look even more threatening right now, he was certainly doing a good job of it. His face was so red and his fist so tight on his wand he half looked as though he was about to spontaneously combust. "Do you mean to tell me," he said to Daniel in all the intonations of deadly threat, "that after only knowing you for two weeks that cold, calculating snake of a man actually moved in your quarters with you?" Crowley's eyes made a quick assessment of Daniel and obviously found him lacking. "Why?" he asked. "Are you some dark wizard we haven't yet brought into our fold? Are you another turncoat who didn't have the courage to give over yourself to the Dark Lord, or perhaps you are in on a secret plan of Severus', the two of you plotting to take over the reign of the Dark Arts yourselves..."

"Hardly," Daniel replied hotly. "What's all this 'cold, calculating' business? Are you sure you're talking about the right man? The only Severus Snape I know is as high strung an overly tuned piano wire." Daniel held the piece of steel in his hand at the ready, Crowley definitely looked ready to give a death blow. "I think two weeks is plenty of time to move in with someone, especially if you're sleeping together on a regular basis."

At this, Crowley actually paled.

Daniel was impatient at this reaction. "Oh *what*?" he accused. "Come on, Muggle superstitious history practically *insists* that most wizards are gay. If you've got a problem with it, you're in a closet deeper than a pipe leading to the earth's magma."

"Bastard!" Crowley shouted at Daniel. He added a few other descriptive words as well, but they aren't fit to print here. His formerly poised speech had now descended into the kind of cockney slang one would hear at drunken rugby matches. He pointed his wand at him, a right angry business to be sure. "I'll kill you!!"

He circled the wand once and shouted: "ADAVRA KEDAVRA!"

***
Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, along with Dumbledore, had all now crowded into Daniel's classroom, where they stood with their necks craned, staring up into the watery cinema of the ceiling. Both Harry and Draco were in equal awe to the spectacle, for not only had Aristotle Crowley bent a transmigration spell to this odd angle, he'd also managed to shield the makeshift portal. Dumbledore, grunting, made his way onto the top of Deschamps' desk, stepping on a few essays in the process. Draco winced when he saw the one with the most obvious footprint had his own name written neatly in the corner.

Dumbledore tested the watery looking substance of the ceiling. with his wooden staff. It thumped against the waves as though they were solid instead of liquid. "An interesting spell," he said in admiration.

Snape, however, clearly wasn't so easily appeased, especially not with the vision of Daniel hiding beneath a wooden stand, his dark navy eyes staring out in bland assessment at the wizard approaching him. Snape jostled Sirius and Remus with a shove, and not for the first time. "What's wrong with the two of you?" he asked, furious. "Help me get rid of that barrier so we can rescue him!"

Sirius, though understanding of Snape's emotions, had little patience for being bullied. "I told you already, Severus," he said tautly. "If we get rid of that barrier all of Lambeth will come crashing into this room, and I hardly think it's large enough to hold an entire borough, or possibly even all of London!"

Snape was definitely not pleased with this news. He paced the classroom wildly, his small black eyes staring up with panic as Daniel neatly dodged yet another deadly curse, and was now hiding behind a large wooden barrel. Dumbledore sighed, and climbed down from his position on the top of the desk. He sank into Daniel's seat and clasped his hands in his lap.

"Hm. Doesn't seem to be much else we can do other than wait it out then," he reasoned. He looked up at the company gathered in the classroom and gave them all a warm smile. "Who is up for some tea?"

"How can you even think of tea!" Snape bellowed at him. He really was a horrible looking colour at present, a rather reddish tone to his now paler complexion. His wand was held out and was fiercely in his grip at his side, which he tapped impatiently against his thigh. "The vial was stolen, and now Daniel is going to meet his death over it! And you expect us to just sit here and watch it all happen, and sip *tea*??"

Harry and Draco shrank a little from Snape's rage, neither of them had witnessed their potions master quite *this* angry before. They both held themselves aloof from the scene,afraid to even remark on it to each other just in case some stray piece of anger flew from one of the wizards to settle nastily in their direction.

Dumbledore 'hm'd' and stroked his beard in thought at this. He then gave Snape a warm smile and nodded. "You're right, of course," he said to the Potions master, who instantly calmed slightly.

"Sir, I suggest if we attempt to break through certain places in the barrier, perhaps create a hole through which..."

"Coffee is a much better idea than tea," Dumbledore finished. He nodded in the direction of the adjoining door to the potions room. "Sirius told me you have a Proctor Silex 2001 coffee machine in there, is that right?"

Snape fired Sirius a glare that should have stopped his heart in mid beat. Sirius sputtered a bit, insisting he'd never intended to 'report' such a thing, it was merely making the Headmaster aware....

"I hear Muggles make excellent brews with these machines. Professor Snape, if you could be so kind as to make us a pot."

Snape's teeth were clenched as he spoke. "Sir...With all due respect..."

"Coffee," Dumbledore said, and clapped his hands happily together. A shout of ADAVRA KEDAVRA! erupted overhead, and Snape's head shot up in fierce panic. "Ah, Harry, Draco--Perhaps you both could go into Professor Snape's office and bring in the 'machine'? Harry, as a resident of the Muggle world during summer, perhaps you have the knowledge needed to make a pot? Excellent. I believe you'll find it in the locked cabinet, which is conveniently not locked anymore." His eyes were twinkling as he looked at back at a very enraged Snape. "I've grown quite fond of Muggle coffee, to be honest. Especially the Irish method."

Above them, Daniel was standing in a puddle of water, a steel pipe in his hand. Aristotle Crowley had raised his wand, pointing it directly at the helpless Daniel Deschamps' chest. Snape watched on in pure horror as the most terrifying words known to Wizardkind were hurled at his only friend for the third time.

***
The spark from Aristotle Crowley's wand grew as Daniel watched this second that would define the entirety of his life. His existence flashed before him, as was the usual custom, and he watched it with all the detachment of a man who had gone through this kind of thing many times before. He could see his dull childhood, his mother who smoked cigars and his father who worked for a dry cleaning company coming home smelling of gasoline and soap. He saw his life lost in books and in the algorithmical patterns of science, his recognition of the dullness of his life by the time he was thirty giving him the career change he wanted into becoming a homicide officer, leaving the lab behind. He saw that little girl who had life stolen from his own careless need for a death defying thrill, his own existence sinking inside the black cavern of the pupil of her eye.

This was where the images ended. He held the steel pipe in his hand with careful precision. When the blue lightning strike of the Adavra Kedavra spell hurtled towards him and over him, it skipped along the surface of his body, entwining its way around the steel pipe.

The spell charged away from it, hitting Aristotle Crowley square in the chest.

His arms splayed wide, a look of furious shock on his features as he fell. He collapsed to the ground, the most deadly spell known to the world of wizards sparking around him before finally dissipating and charging itself out.

Aristotle Crowley was dead.

Daniel tossed the steel pipe to one side, and wiped at his face with a wet sleeve. The rain was in a steady fall now, water pooling in deep sections of broken and uneven concrete. He walked over to Aristotle Crowley's body and without hesitation searched the newly dead man's pockets. His hand found something ice cold, and he clasped his grip around it. He brought it out and then stepped away from the body before opening it, his attention both relieved and wary of the small vial of Death in his grip.

He was watching this, and nothing else, the twining of the blackish grey substance mesmerizing within the vial. He walked away from the scene wondering vaguely how he was going to get back to Hogwarts, if ever at all. Somehow, the events of this night had done more to make him feel as unconnected to that world as ever.

He glanced up and saw her. She was as tiny as that first time he had met her, her dress marred with blood, her eyes round, and large, and abysmally black.

He smiled, sadly.

He held up the vial.

"I've been wondering when you were going to finally show up," he said.

He took a step towards her, his foot sinking into an especially deep puddle.

He fell.

***
Draco and Harry brought in the coffee machine, though the contraption wasn't happy about being forced to leave its happy lair within Snape's dark, damp cabinet. Holding it arms length, the brought the machine into the classroom. Inside of the glass carafe a murky brown mess of Something was writing inside of it, huge tentacles spilling out of its lid and reaching for an intruder to strangle. The two young men set the machine roughly onto a desk and backed away from it, the tentacles reaching a little farther than they had anticipated once it got its bearings. Harry scrambled to the left, while Draco bolted to the right, the Something's reach just missing them both. The brown, tentacled Something withdrew into its carafe when the threat wasn't so clear, though one tentacle stayed outside of the lid, testing these unfamiliar surroundings. Its slimy tip left a brown smudge over the words Proctor Silex near the 'on' switch.

"Dear me," Dumbledore observed. "Muggle coffee isn't very good once its been sitting for a while, is it?"

Sirius and Remus were both at the back of the classroom, doing their best to prevent Snape from seeing the drama enfolding above them on the ceiling. They didn't have to do much at present. With that final Adavra Kedavra curse, Snape had covered his face with his hands and collapsed in a wail of despair that set both Sirius and Remus on edge.

"If he wasn't dead right now," Sirius said, angry. "I'd kill him again myself!"

"Stop it," Remus said to him, nodding at the miserable form of Snape in their grip. "You're being an ass."

"I'd warned that bastard," Sirius complained again.

"I'm warning *you*," Remus added.

The unhappy pall that had fallen over the room was suddenly destroyed by a loud shout, and the sound of an awful lot of water collapsing onto them all. The ceiling. let out a huge gush, and then, in an instant, dried up into a crackling desert of water damaged drywall as the street scene above disappeared. In the center of the classroom, Daniel Deschamps lay groaning slightly on the ground, the small fall from the ceiling. had bruised a few ribs. He got up unsteadily, his clothes matted with mud and torn from the scuffle with Crowley. He took a deep breath and looked in the direction of Snape, who had taken his hands from his face to stare at Daniel as though he was having a terrifying hallucination.

"Hey Sev," Daniel said.

Snape opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. He shook his head. "But...how?"

"Electricity," Daniel said. "The human body is an amazing conductor. All I needed was a good grounding, and the puddle sufficed."

Everyone was incredibly relieved, Snape most of all. He practically leapt from the desk he'd been seated at to run at Daniel, and heedless of whatever anyone else saw or thought or surmised from this he grabbed him into a fierce embrace and hugged him close.

Daniel disentangled Snape's arms from around him, but not before enjoying this feeling just a little while longer. He held Snape away from him at arm's length, and shook his head.

On the floor, near his foot, was the vial. It was broken, the murky contents gone.

"Don't," Daniel said, and stepped away from Snape. The look of hurt and pain Snape was giving him was so horrible even Dumbledore couldn't face it. He coughed and patted down his white beard with his palms.

"I don't understand," Snape said to Daniel. He narrowed his small black eyes at him. "What do you mean, 'Don't'? Don't what? I watched you nearly die, Daniel! What do you mean by this 'Don't' business, when we've...When you've been in my life..."

Daniel shrugged, and scratched the back of his head. When his hand came back to his side, it was smeared with a thick layer of blood. He glanced at the fingertips with a sad sigh.

"It was all wrong, right from the beginning," he said. He raised navy eyes to meet Snape's wide black ones. "It was *my* death, and now...well, let's just say it finally found me."

He gave Snape a look of tortured apology, Snape's confused hurt the last thing he saw before the familiar black took over, and he fell, completely, into it.