So Young and So Untender

*

Prologue

*

Madame Rosmerta closed the Three Broomsticks late one Wednesday night and did not reopen it the next day. The news passed through Hogsmeade quickly, as shutting down one of only two pubs in the village was no small crisis. Sympathetic friends and curious customers stopped by when the Broomsticks reopened a day later. When asked about the unexpected closing, Madame Rosmerta was not very forthcoming about the details, but told them that her niece Dora was five and was going to live with her from now on.

Pandora Wallis sat on the bed in a room above the Three Broomsticks, fingering her mum's present. She really wanted to open the acorn-sized wooden box, but mum told her she could never do that. Dora knew what happened when you broke the rules. "Vi rattus!" her mother would yell, and then Dora would be little again, transfigured into a rat. It was awful, but the worst was running under the bench before her mum's cat, Lilleth, could catch her. Claws and teeth bared, there was nothing scarier than that cat, except mum's laughter while it was all happening. But that's what happens when you break the rules, Dora mused - the rules break you back.

"Vi rattus," she said to herself, miming a swish of the wand at the doll on the pillow. She shouldn't have touched mum's wand. She was five, a big girl. She knew better, but she didn't care. She was bad. Bad, bad girl - shouldn't have touched the wand, shouldn't have turned the Muggle into a rat, shouldn't have asked Lilleth to eat him. She did eat him, though. Dora loved Lilleth.

Dora's mum was asleep with her eyes open when it happened. Dora usually preferred her like that - things were quieter. It wasn't their place; it belonged to the Muggle. He and mum were friends. He said he was her friend, too. He lied. He just pretended to be nice, until mum went to sleep. Then he jumped on her, and hurt her until she screamed. Her mum never woke up, and no one came to help. When he finally let her go, she crawled, crying, to her mother - so sore, she couldn't walk. Mum wouldn't awake, so Dora helped herself. When the Muggle came in the room, she grabbed her mother's wand and did the one spell that she knew by heart, "Vi rattus!" It made her tummy hurt, but not much more than he hurt her. Well, maybe a little more, but she was still glad when he became little. She wanted to laugh, like mum. Lilleth knew what to do, too, but the Muggle was too stupid to run fast. Lilleth caught him in the middle of the floor. Dora loved Lilleth.

Dora picked up the picture book on the table. "A is for Auror," it said, with a picture of a friendly-looking blue person waving at her. She scowled at him, and he scowled back. That was more like it - the Aurors that came all scowled. One had wrapped her up in a blanket, and they took her and mum to the hospital that night. They made mum wake up there. She was sick, and they were going to help her. Dora's mum gave her the box when she said goodbye, but no kisses or hugs.

"B is for Bludger," was the next page in the book, with a Beater knocking the ball all over the Quidditch pitch. She vaguely remembered going to a match with mum and Rosmerta, but it was a long time ago, before mum was a hag. Rosmerta was mum's sister - Auntie Rosmerta. They had been up very high, and Rosmerta and mum were happy. Dora remembered that Auntie Rosmerta wore sparkly shoes. Dora sat on her lap, and Rosmerta smelled like apples when she hugged her.

"C is for Cat," was the next page. The cat was black, not white like Lilleth. It looked at her and arched its back, hissing. "Would they feed me to that one?" she wondered. She had been waiting a long time, but nobody came. She fed the Muggle to the cat, so when were they going to feed her to the cat? She needed to run away, before more people came. She would find Lilleth and they could live together. Rosmerta had locked the door, so she had to think of another way out. The sun on her legs felt warm, and inspired her to try to open the window. That was easy. She stuck out her head, and looked around. Now all she had to do was get down the roof. She put the book away, put her box in her pocket, and crawled out the window. It was very slippery, and she skidded down too fast. Dora got stuck halfway between the window and the ground - too scared to finish going down, too scared to crawl back up. Looking out at the lake, and the setting sun, Dora felt very big - almost grown up. She could live here on the roof with Lilleth.

*

Augustus Rookwood and his supervisor were sitting in the Ministry offices, waiting for the council decision on the little witch. There was no real question what it would be.

"Bad business, this. If it were just our kind, it would be one thing, but he was a Muggle. They're going to make an example of her," the older witch said.

Rookwood looked exasperated "Wouldn't you rather set an example for her?"

She sighed. "I'm too old to be so idealistic. You know what happened - it was a mess from the very start. She was born addicted, but released to her mother anyway. Five years later, no follow up, and surprise! The mother is a hag, and the child is charged with underage magic violations and Muggle abuse. Who is responsible? Not the Muggle - he's dead. Not the hag - she's an addict. Not us - someone's head will roll. The only one punishable is the child. She'll be lucky if the cowards don't send her to Azkaban. The Daily Prophet will be howling for our blood if word gets out that five-year-olds are killing Muggles, and we're letting them get away with it. Damned Ministry softies."

"Could one softie offer another a cup of tea?"

"Only if you don't have anything stronger. This is going to be a wicked night, Rookwood. A wicked night."

*

When Rubeus Hagrid came into the Broomsticks for some mulled mead that afternoon, Rosmerta pelted him with questions.

"Hagrid, you've dealt with trapped animals. How do you calm them down? How do you make them understand they won't be hurt?"

"It's different for each one, Rosmerta. What frightens one may calm another. Usually, young people like things calm and quiet, at least at first. Keep 'em safe and warm, and they'll let you know if they don't like it. Same as unicorns, basically."

"The Unspeakables are coming tonight, to check on Dora. The child is panicking. She won't talk or eat or sleep. They won't take her away - I've told her that. I don't know if she even hears me. She won't let anyone near her."

"I may have just the cure for the tyke, Rosmerta." Hagrid said, pulling a grey kitten out of his pocket and scratching it between the ears. "I found him next to the train tracks on my way here. Not sure how he got there, but he's too young to survive on his own. If you're willing, maybe they could be friends?"

Rosmerta smiled for the first time in what seemed like weeks. "Let's go see, Hagrid." She led the big man upstairs. When she opened the door to the bedroom, he couldn't immediately see the child. The room was small but neat. There was a doll on the little bed under the window, and a table with a lamp and a picture book on it. The curtains billowed softly at the window.

"Stay here," she said as she cautiously climbed onto the bed and stuck her head out the window. "Dora? Dora, come in now. That's not safe." She held out her arms to the child. "Please, Dora, come in now." Madame Rosmerta muttered something and reached for her wand. "Pandora Wallis, are you coming in on your own or do I need to help you?" Losing patience, she flicked her wand at the child and the next instant a wild-eyed girl with matted brown hair was sitting hunched up on the end of the bed, knees drawn up to her chin. Shutting the window Rosmerta said, "Dora, this is Mr. Hagrid. He has something he wants to show you."

Hagrid smiled kindly at the child, reached into his pocket and brought out the kitten. With a look of sheer terror, Pandora lunged across the bed toward the window again, trying to escape. Rosmerta put a Petrificus charm on her before she could crash through the glass. The little girl fell softly onto the bed, tears streaming from her grey eyes.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid. I guess she doesn't like cats yet. Could you take it downstairs? I'll be down in a minute."

Hagrid nodded silently and shuffled unhappily down to the pub. He thought the kitten would help, but it looked like he had just made things worse. He hadn't ever seen a human child that frightened before, and there were many occasions to see frightened children at the castle. It made him want to cry, just thinking about what made her that frightened. He snuggled the kitten to comfort himself as he squeezed down the stairs.

There were two strangers at the bar when he got back to his pint - a young man and an older woman, dressed in dark blue robes. "Excuse me," said the younger, "do you know where we can find Madame Rosmerta?"

"She's upstairs right now with her niece. She'll be right down."

"No, we are here to see both of them. We'll just go up ourselves, thanks."

The two strangers went up together. Hagrid had an uneasy feeling about this, but he remembered Rosmerta saying the Unspeakables were coming. He guessed they were the ones she expected. Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries - bound by oath never to reveal what they did, or with whom. Scary lot - they had the power to go wherever they wanted, and to do whatever was needed. He waited as long as he could stand it, and then went back upstairs, dreading what he would find there.

Madame Rosmerta sat on the bed, crying. She cradled the little one in her lap, rocking her, trying to sing a lullaby through her tears. The child was dry-eyed, but her eyelids were heavy. "She'll be fine, Rosmerta," said the older witch gently. "I'll send Rookwood back in the morning with the scrolls. They describe all the effects of the hex. You did the right thing. It's really the only way." Rosmerta kept humming, stroking the child's head, and ignoring them. Eventually, they left.

"Are you okay, Rosmerta? Anything I can do?" Hagrid asked uncomfortably. He had never seen her so miserable.

Pull yourself together, Rosmerta. You have a business to run. People are counting on you. Dora is counting on you. Drawing a deep shuddering breath, she said, "Help me put her to bed, Hagrid."

She handed the little girl to the large man, and pulled back the bedclothes. Hagrid put the sleeping child down, and backed away as Rosmerta gently tucked her in, putting her doll into the crook of her arm. The little hand on top of the sheet was curled into a fist. "What's this?" she said, curiously, gently uncurling her little fingers. Inside was a little wood charm box, no bigger than an acorn. She half-smiled, tucked it back into Dora's hand and turned the lamp down to a soft glow. "Come on, Hagrid," she whispered, "She needs to sleep now. And I need a drink."

Hagrid sat quietly across from Rosmerta at the bar. "What happened up there?"

Rosmerta poured herself a whisky. "The Unspeakables hexed her, Hagrid. She can't touch wands anymore. She's just a baby, and they hexed her!" Rosmerta took a deep pull of the whiskey, almost savoring the pain as it burned her throat. "As if I can't be trusted to keep a wand out of a child's reach! As if that Muggle monster didn't deserve every bit of what happened!" Rosmerta took another slow sip and got herself under control. "But she'll be fine, right Hagrid? They took your wand away, and you're fine, aren't you?"

Hagrid stared at his cup intensely, trying to find words. Fine? No, he wasn't fine. He had a broken wand concealed in his umbrella at home and if anyone found out about that he didn't want to think what would happen. He was a wizard - no one had the right to deny him his magic. He was about to say so when he looked into Rosmerta's sad eyes and changed his mind. "Sure, I'm fine. Of course I'm fine." He didn't want to talk about it, even with a friend. He had to change the subject. "What was that in her hand?"

"Only an empty little charm box. Her mother won it at a carnival when we were children, pitching knuts into candy dishes. We couldn't have been much older than she is now. The glitter all rubbed off - just an empty old box now. There's no magic in it, but it comforts her, and she needs comforting after what they did tonight." Rosmerta took another drink. "But they did it to keep the peace. No malice intended. Everything will turn out fine." Rosmerta didn't sound like she believed that herself.

*

Over the next few years, Rosmerta brought up Dora like any other child, except that she didn't live with her mother. She was forbidden to touch wands, as were most of the other little children in Hogsmeade, but unlike other normal children, when Dora forgot she was likely to wake up on the floor with a burned hand. She was a fairly bright child, so it didn't take her long to learn how to help her aunt at the pub, and to treat all long, polished pieces of wood with caution, and avoid most other magical things. They were as happy and normal a family as any other in Hogsmeade.

Rosmerta and Dora were setting up the pub for the lunch crowd when an owl from the Ministry flew in with an official-looking scroll. Rosmerta unsealed the parchment, and read, "...in the considered opinion of the staff of St. Mungo's, the above referenced hag is no longer a threat to herself or others. She is therefore released from their custody... In the opinion of the Department of Mysteries, the above referenced hag is not yet able to care for her daughter... who will continue to reside with said carer in Hogsmeade... Permission is granted for her to visit, during daylight hours, under the supervision of said carer. Sincerely, Augustus Rookwood, Ministry of Magic."

"It is the considered opinion of Rosmerta of Hogsmeade that you are all full of..." she said vehemently, setting down a stack of plates with a little too much force, so that Dora couldn't catch the last bit.

"What's wrong, Auntie?" she asked, startled.

"Come here, Dora," said Rosmerta, lifting her up onto a bar stool, and taking one of her hands. "Don't be scared, nothing is going to change. You are staying here with me. We'll stay together. Understand?"

Dora nodded very seriously. Changes were scary - she had almost forgotten how scary. She reached into the pocket of her apron for her box. The sight of that made Rosmerta wince, but she drove on.

"They think your mum is all better now, Dora. They're going to let her come visit us. I'll always be here, Dora, with you. Don't be scared. She'll never need to see you alone. Do you understand? This is important - you live here, Dora. Mummy might get confused, and tell you differently, but you live here. This is your home, not hers. She can visit, but if she upsets you, if she scares you, I'll make it stop. All you have to do is tell me, Dora. I will make her stop. I promise."

Dora looked at her with wide eyes. Rosmerta was so pretty. How was she going to stop her mum? She gripped her box hard. Rosmerta saw her mute response - the child was getting frantic. Why shouldn't you - I never saved you before. I knew she was sick, and left you with her anyway. I should have taken you as a baby. It's my fault. I was a lazy coward, and you're suffering for it.

She looked first at the clock - then at the trembling Dora. Twenty minutes until lunch - well, today they could wait. She cupped Dora's chin and looked into her eyes with a determined expression. "Let's go shopping!" she said with her brightest smile, and held both the child's hands as Dora jumped off the barstool.

The two of them walked hand in hand down the street to Glad Rags. Rosmerta opened the door, setting off the enchanted sleigh bells on the door.

"Rosmerta, so nice to see you again! What can I help you with today?" said Madame Vivian, an older witch with a passion for fashion.

"Vivian, do you have anything in this shop as pretty as this little girl?" she asked, stroking Dora's head affectionately.

"Of course! I mean...no! I mean, we have clothes that will look fabulous on her!" said Vivian. "Here, come in, come in, let me show you the latest!"

Rosmerta led Dora to a small platform at the back of the shop, and helped her step up onto it. The mirrors that surrounded the platform all murmured compliments to Rosmerta and Dora. "You can see where she gets her good looks!" "Don't you two look fabulous!"

"Look at those eyes, like a stormy sea!" said Vivian.

"You've never seen the sea, have you, Dora?" said Rosmerta, smoothing Dora's fine brown hair out of her eyes. It was baby hair, like silk floss. "We'll have to go there. It's grand and cold and full of wonders!"

She walked over to a display of hair ribbons and picked out some grey silk ones the exact color of her niece's eyes. She went back to the little girl and tied one around her head with a bow. "Like it?" she asked.

Dora nodded enthusiastically. She felt happy standing next to Rosmerta, having Madame Vivian bring out things for her to choose. (Although she wished the mirrors would be quiet.) She felt like she was as pretty as Rosmerta, and all grownup. Vivian brought over some robes. There was a pink one with silver cranes. ("Just the color of her eyes, Rosmerta!" said Vivian.) There was a green one with red dragons. Dora loved dragons, but Rosmerta said that was a hideous color to wear, and picked her up a little golden dragon necklace instead. Then there was a blue one, with roses.

"Rose buds - too delicate for you, little one. You've been a fighter from your first breath. Still, you do look fabulous - and roses have thorns. Not a bad fit. We'll take it, Vivian," said Rosmerta with a smile. "Now, the best part, Dora - shoes!"

Rosmerta loved shoes. She had a closet full, and knew every pair. She never tired of shopping for shoes. Dora, on the other hand, just wanted to get some like her aunt's. She didn't have a care in the world - the letter was long forgotten. She picked out some child-sized sandals with high heels, the same color red as the roses. Rosmerta smiled at her fashion sense and picked out a matching pair for herself.

They walked back to the pub together, wearing their new shoes, Dora holding a shopping bag as big as she was, and wobbling a little as she got used to the feel of her new shoes on the cobblestones. There were a couple people out front, waiting to get in, but when Rosmerta opened the door they stopped grumbling. Dora ran upstairs to put away her new clothes, and Rosmerta threw on her apron and went back to work.

When Hagrid came in, Rosmerta confided in him about the disturbing letter.

"I don't know, Rosmerta. I know she's you sister and all, but she's been away for half that little girl's life. After what she did - after all that happened - I just don't see how this can help either her or Dora."

"I don't understand it either, Hagrid. The Unspeakables never explain anything - they just give me their decisions. As if I'm not able to decide for myself how to best care for my family! Dora's so upset - fingering that charm box like a talisman again, jumping at every noise. It took years to get those shadows out of her eyes! Hagrid, I love my sister, and I want to help her, but I will not allow that child to be hurt again!" she said furiously.

"They must know what they're doing. It's their job," said Hagrid with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "But, Rosmerta, if you need help, anything at all, let me know. I may not be able to do much, but I'll do whatever I can. And I know all your friends feel the same."

Rosemerta smiled. Hagrid was right. To an outsider, their family was little, and broken - but appearances were deceiving. She and Dora had a big family in Hogsmeade - the finest family anyone could wish for.

*

Chapter 1 - Power and Mercy

*

The first Hogsmeade Weekend of the new term arrived and a rambunctious group of Hogwarts students poured into town, ready to explore everything the village had to offer. The pub was very busy and it was the worst possible time for a visit from the Unspeakables, so, of course, one showed up that afternoon. She turned everyone's head when she came into the bar. She was young, very young, and very pretty, with a mane of golden hair almost like a veela. Too young and too skittish, in Rosmerta's opinion, but her opinion didn't count for much with the Department of Mysteries. She didn't like to leave the child alone with Unspeakables, but the bar was so busy, and how much damage could someone that young do? They'd probably pass the hour playing dolls, although at seven, Dora was too old for that. Rosmerta watched as the two of them slowly threaded their way through the crowded pub so they could have a quiet talk upstairs in Rosmerta's sitting room.

A new pack of six little Slytherins came through the door, more curious than thirsty, from the look of them. They were all new faces, and walked over to a table in the center of the room. Rosmerta finished pouring Madame Pince's drink, and walked over to their table. "Welcome to the Three Broomsticks, boys. What can I get you?"

"Butterbeer all round," said the blond boy nearest the hearth. He looked like the leader of this pack, with his golden hair and patrician face. It looked like he was used to telling the rest what to do, and they were used to doing it. "And some crisps."

"Butterbeer and crisps it is," repeated Rosmerta, walking back to the bar.

"Lucius, what do you suppose is up there?" asked a dark haired boy on his left, watching the Unspeakable go up the stairs.

"I don't know. Why don't you find out, Ian?"

Rosmerta returned with their snack.

"No, I'd rather hear what we're going to do with all Morag's dungbombs when we get back to the castle."

"I'll tell you as soon as I find out what's up those stairs," said Lucius, getting up from the table quietly as his friends munched.

Lucius walked up the stairs nonchalantly, looking for the pretty witch. He heard voices at the end of the hall. "... like a little Imperius Curse, to help you remember not to use magic. It doesn't hurt - just sit still and relax. Here, want to hold Jasper while I do it?" Remember not to use magic? What kind of nonsense was this? Lucius heard a high keening scream, then the witch yell, "No! Drop it!" He pushed open the half-closed door at the top of the stairs. A rat was running wildly around on the floor, and he saw a grimacing little girl, with a wand drawn, pointing it shakily at the witch's feet. The witch scooped up her panicking rat protectively, and said something so quickly he couldn't catch it. Then an icy-cold pain stole his breath and he saw a dark hooded creature Apparate between him and the witch, and heard a whimper as he slid to the floor. In an instant, he watched his mother in bed, her beautiful golden hair fading to ash grey, the fire in her eyes burning brighter and brighter as her pain grew more unbearable. As his eyes closed, he saw her body shrivel up, the disease consuming her, until her hands slipped out of his grasp. As he lost consciousness he felt like he was slipping into a great empty black hole after her.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please wake up!"

Lucius opened his eyes to see the blonde witch bending over him, with her wand back in her own hand. "Oh, thank goodness. Here, eat this!" she urged as she pulled a chocolate out of her pocket, and helped him to the couch where a little girl was sitting, white with fear and trembling. The witch wrapped an afghan around him and tried to give the little girl some chocolate. "It helps, Dora. Eat it." Dora looked like she was going to be sick.

Madame Rosmerta was at the door, panting after her run upstairs. "Dora, what happened? What's wrong? What have you done to my niece?" she gasped.

The witch said quickly, "The boy startled me - I thought she was going to kill my rat, or the Hag came back. After she took my wand, after what she has done, I thought-I was frightened, and called...I called for help."

After what she's done, you brought a rat in here? What did you expect, fool! "What kind of help? What did you do?"

"I called a guard. She grabbed my wand away! She pointed it at me! She is forbidden to do that - ever. 'No magic of any kind' was a condition - It's in the scrolls! That's why I'm here - to make sure the hex is still strong enough, that she can't..."

"Just stop - I don't want to hear anymore!" Rosmerta said, holding out Dora's burned hand. "Here - look at her! She's still as crippled as they left her! Now these children need more chocolate. Do something constructive - get it!" The witch almost ran from the room. Rosmerta conjured a bandage for the little girl's right hand, gently bound the long burn across her palm and fingers. Looking at the door with an exasperated sigh, Rosmerta conjured two steaming mugs of chocolate herself. "It'll be okay, kids. This can't last, the misery can't last. Remember and try to control yourself. Nothing lasts really - neither happiness nor despair." She paused to help Lucius steady his cup. He was shaking so hard she was afraid he'd scald himself. "So, what are you doing up here, young man?"

"It's not right, what they did. They can't take our magic away - they made her lower than a house-elf. That's not fair."

"You're just a child. You don't understand. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent, but only a fool withholds a little thing like that from someone with a wand to his throat." Rosmerta said absently. "Where is that stupid girl?! She must have gone to London for chocolate!" Half the village was downstairs, but not the half she needed to stay with Dora when she was like this. She turned and looked at Lucius, who was considerably better, though not fully recovered. "Son, I'm going to Honeydukes. Could you stay with Dora until I get back? I promise I'll bring you the biggest bar of chocolate they sell."

Lucius didn't really want to stay, but neither was he prepared to go downstairs to his friends. He wasn't about to walk into the crowded pub with his hands still shaking - there was no excuse for showing weakness, ever. "I'll stay."

"Thanks, son," she said, as she ran out of the room.

Lucius looked at the girl on the couch. She was shaking from head to toe. He pulled the throw off his shoulders and roughly wrapped it around her. "I am not weak; I am not a child," he lectured himself.

"What?" the girl said flatly.

"I'm not a child. She called me a child, and I'm not," Lucius said, wondering if she heard him. She was staring right through him.

"Is your mother alive?" Dora asked, a little of the shadow lifting from her face as her eyes refocused.

"No," he said, lifting his chin.

"Then you're right - you are a grown up. Everyone else loves you because of something you do, but mothers love you just because you are. When they're gone you have to be a grownup."

"When did your mother die?" Lucius said, slightly shocked that he was discussing family with a stranger.

"She's not dead. She's just gone. When did your mum die?"

Lucius thought it was a rude question, but then realized he had just asked her the same thing. "Years ago."

"I'm sorry. It still hurts, doesn't it? I miss my mum. I hate her, and I miss her."

Lucius looked at the strange little girl, who had already shivered herself free of the blanket, and wrapped her tighter in the throw. She needed a hug - not a boy/girl hug, but an "I miss my mum, too," hug. He held her uninjured hand to calm her down, like his mother would have wanted him to.

*

It was a couple years later when Lucius finally saw Dora's mother, the Hag, in action. She was sitting alone in the back corner of the pub, smoking her pipe, when Lucius walked in with his new girlfriend, Narcissa. They looked beautiful together - a golden couple. Dora felt happy just to be in the same room - they had an energy together that neither one had separately. It was like being swept up by the tide.

"Who are the pretty people, Dora?" the Hag asked her.

"Hogwarts students, mum."

"Is there a prettier sight in this entire pretty world than the privileged class gracing us with their presence?" she asked sarcastically.

" The view from my window? Have you seen it? Come have a look," Dora said, thinking Get out of here mum. Get out before you embarrass me.

"I've seen your room. As I expected. A cell. Curtains."

"Right then. Do you want anything else?"

"Something to smarten up my dull as dishwater squib of a daughter?"

"You've hated me ever since I was born, haven't you?"

"Before, really," said the Hag, pinching the back of her arm, hard.

Suppressing a yelp, Dora stormed off to take the students' orders as Rosmerta walked over to the Hag, a grim expression on her normally happy face.

Dora only looked at the people in the booth in front of her, "Hello, Lucius, Narcissa. You look fantastic today. What can I get for you?"

Rosmerta said something quietly to the Hag, who muttered something foul and stamped to the hearth. Tossing in some floo powder, she said "Knockturn Alley", made a rude gesture to the people in the pub, and disappeared.

Narcissa looked angry. "You shouldn't let her talk to you like that. No one should put up with that kind of insult."

"It's a character building learning experience. After ten minutes with her, I can crush a smart-mouthed customer like a worm. Even clever Hogwarts students like yourselves!" Dora said with cheerfulness that sounded a little strained.

"She called you a squib." said Lucius.

"Lucius, I am a squib. I can't touch wands, I'm not going to that school of yours..."

"I'm not talking about that; I'm talking about behaving like a wizard. People have to answer for insults like that. You have to make them answer for it." said Lucius.

"Why? Who said I had to?"

"I say. It's the Malfoy Code. Back in the bad old days, Muggles stoned people, burned their homes and their goods. They'd come to us for protection. We would take care of the problem. We'd speak a word or two in the ear of the people who matter in the village. And if that failed, perhaps the village's crops failed, too. And if that didn't make an impression, perhaps the beasts died, and then the people. It was all very calm, very orderly, very thorough, and very effective. Eventually everyone became our friend and behaved respectfully because the alternative wasn't terribly safe..."

"They sound like the most ruthless bastards in the realm," Dora thought, wiping the table. Then she smiled and said. "I can't do that, Lucius. I'll leave defending the standards from the vulgar masses to you and Narcissa."

"You are part of this fight, Dora. People like us can never let our standards slip," said Narcissa.

"Listen to my Dragonheart! Spoiling for a fight? Out to conquer corruption today? I like it better when you fight with me exclusively," said Lucius with obvious admiration. "You're too much a force of nature to battle little girls. Leave that to me." He turned to Dora, who was looking at the floor, and lifted her chin with one long finger so she looked in his eyes. Then he said with some gravity, "Little one, never talk about anyone's family like that. It's also something I'll make you answer for."

Narcissa looked puzzled. "But what about mercy, Lucius? When will you be powerful enough to pardon someone? How much power will it take to raise you above your own standards? Or are you cursed to live this drill your whole life?"

Dora listened intently, but Lucius didn't say a thing. He looked angry, but Dora didn't want him to be angry with Narcissa. She liked the big girl - Dragonheart - she was like a great terrible dragon. Beyond just beautiful, she was a good match for Lucius - she wasn't scared of him at all. "Don't worry, Lucius. Someday you'll be big enough for mercy." Lucius glared at her. It was bad enough having Mum there - now Lucius hated her, too. Fighting back tears, Dora muttered, "SSSorry. What can I get you?"

*

Two years later, Dora saw the Malfoy Code in action. It was the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and Lucius was holding court at his table in the center of the pub. Some young Third-Years were gathered around him, suitably impressed with the Slytherin Head Boy. Narcissa came into the pub later, looking like she just stepped out of a picture in Mage Vogue.

Narcissa glided over to Lucius' table. "Lucius, thank Heavens! I was bored to death. I haven't seen one attractive man in Hogsmeade since I arrived. Isn't that terrible? I said to myself, 'Don't handsome men come to the village anymore?' And then I saw you, and I was saved - I hope."

"Tell me, Narcissa, have you been getting results with a line like that, or would I be surprised?"

"If you'd be surprised, Lucius, I'd be surprised."

The Third-Year boys all looked enchanted. A dark-haired one took out the joke-wand he just bought at Zonkos and changed it into a bouquet of roses. Acting as silly as someone under a veela's spell, he tried to give them to Narcissa. "Excuse me, Miss, but ..."

Lucius cut him off. "Do you know this greasy git, Narcissa?"

"I think Severus is charming," she said with a dazzling smile. "But no, I hardly know him."

"Then you know him better than he deserves," said Lucius dismissively.

Dora recognized that tone as Lucius at his worst. She felt sorry for the boy - he wasn't much older than her, and probably had no idea what was about to happen. She winced involuntarily and Lucius noticed. He looked into her eyes - sad mirrors of his own grey ones. Straightening up to her full height, she raised her chin and asked for mercy with her eyes. Asked, not begged, and with proper Wizard Pride, just as he taught her. He himself had taught this child the dangers of mercy, yet she still asked it for this little git! She challenged him - was he strong enough to grant pardon? Was he a man or a boy - could he rise above the Malfoy Code? Could he ignore this?

Lucius didn't need to decide. His friends knew the drill as well as he did. Nott reached across the table, grabbed Snape by the hair and smashed his face into the table. Lucius saw the disappointment in Dora's eyes - sadness for him, Lucius Malfoy. How dare she see this as a failure! He glared at her and thought to himself, "I wish I could trust you. I wish you were a wise, kind little friend, instead of just a gossiping barmaid I've known for years and will forget by next summer." But without a word, Lucius and his crew left the pub, leaving a bleeding Snape in their wake.

Dora grabbed a clean bar towel and gently pressed it to his face. "It's not broken. Sit still - I'll get some ice."

"Leave me alone!" said Snape, batting at her hand and twisting his face away. Dora couldn't read his eyes. They were so dark and deep - like the lake at night - she couldn't tell what was hidden there. He was more upset than he wanted to reveal, but Dora could only guess how upset that was.

"This was no disgrace. Don't pretend that it was. You took a chance and tried to beat the odds. The odds beat you. You learned a valuable lesson today."

"What's that?" he said bitterly.

"Never come between a ruthless, competitive bastard and his goal."

*

After Lucius finished school, Dora felt a little sad. Narcissa was only going to be around for another year and she missed the Golden Couple. Lucius and Narcissa always had a synergy, a tension that was hard to describe. Without him, Narcissa acted like she was drowning - slipping into a void she created with her own intensity. She searched in vain for a worthy sparring partner - someone to balance her. Snape would only play when there was no audience and Narcissa lived for the crowd's acclaim. Dora put up no more fight than a puppy dog, and very much like a puppy with an old sock, she kept coming back for more, for the fun of it. There was no victory in those fights for either of them. If anything they frustrated Narcissa more - she was too old to be playing with children, even ones who worshiped her as a goddess incarnate. So she crushed whoever was closest to her, lashing out at any unsuspecting person who might wander into her path.

In February, it was particularly awful for Narcissa. The students in the pub were especially sweet to each other, and it enraged Narcissa to see it. Even Dora seemed to have a secret delight, babbling about owling for Valentine surprises. They were all too happy, like someone had cast a cheering charm on everyone but her. James and Lily - there was a gruesome twosome. The sight of the two Gryffindors looking at each other with ill-concealed love was more than she could stomach. She walked right over to the table they shared with James' roommates, and sat down. The boys at the table were only too glad to make room for her. They sat entranced as she started in on the only rival for the boys' attention.

"Lily, what are you doing to your hair?"

"Do you like it? I thought I'd try something new."

"Well, at least it doesn't make your face look fatter. I mean, how could it?"

"Narcissa, Lilly, is this a private fight or can anyone join?" said Dora, a little ashamed at her hero for picking on such an unprepared opponent. Not that Lily was unable to defend herself, but she took no joy in the game. She thought it rude and repulsive. She hadn't been brought up with it. Or maybe she had, and just refused to play. In any case, Dora didn't like to see Narcissa pick on the other girl. There was no joy in it, no contest, and perhaps Dora was a little jealous herself. Dora heard the train whistle - somehow she had to keep Narcissa there just a little while longer - maybe a good catfight would entertain her.

"Oh, please - don't mind me while I die of passive boredom. Of dull-as-dishwater-company induced stress," Narcissa sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Well, they say greatness leads by example, but if you can't pull that off, brute intimidation works pretty well, too," said Dora, quoting one of Narcissa's favorite lines.

"The down-side to being great is that people tend to assume you are being pretentious," countered Narcissa.

"Come now, Narcissa, I've always told people you're generous to a fault," said Dora with her fawning, puppy eyes.

"To a fault!" agreed Narcissa.

"But not to other people's faults," said Dora, suppressing an annoyingly giddy grin.

"I'm not unforgiving, Dora, I just haven't been in the mood for the past five years."

"But you do still despise me, don't you, Narcissa?" said Dora.

"Oh, if I gave you any thought, I probably would."

"Stop it!" said Lily. "How can you both be so horrible? Especially you, Narcissa. She's just a little girl!"

"I'm not so little, Lily. Don't cry on my account." Dora said, inclining her head in defeat. "Congratulations, old girl. I'll get you next time."

"Never be afraid to share your dreams with the world, Dora. There's nothing the world likes better than the taste of sweet little dreams," Narcissa sneered.

Dora's eyes twinkled as she looked up and saw the door open. A gust of cold air swept through the pub, and Lucius appeared at her side.

"Narcissa, what's a nice girl like you doing with company like this?"

"Tell me, Lucius, have you been getting results with a line like that, or would I be surprised?"

"If you'd be surprised, Narcissa, I'd be surprised," he said with a slow smile.

*

Chapter 2 - Love, Unrequited

*

The Hag flooed into the bar the next fall, late in the afternoon, after most of the students were back at school. Dora was not prepared for a visit from her mother. She was tired and very depressed - she had an impossible crush on one of the students, and no one she could confide in. Rosmerta would dismiss it as silly, because it was silly, and Dora didn't want to disappoint her. Rosmerta always prided herself in how levelheaded she was, except when it came to shoes. Dora didn't think she'd laugh off this boy the way Rosmerta laughed off a pair of uncomfortable (but beautiful) new boots. Dora didn't want to laugh it off and she didn't want sympathy. She just wanted to feel better. Or die.

"What's wrong with you tonight, Dora?" the Hag rasped. "No welcoming insult for your mum? Cat got your tongue? Or is it still chewing on that Muggle you fed him?"

The Muggle I fed him. Thanks for reminding me, mum. Dora felt sick inside; the barb had hit its mark. There was yet another reason why she had no business even dreaming of a boy, let alone a Hogwarts student, wanting her. Shying away from that memory like she was burned, Dora bit her lip. How she hated that horrible, hurtful creature.

"What can I get for you tonight, mum? Your favorite whisky and whisky?"

"Not tonight, I've switched to hemlock punch. Eases the aches."

Dora closed her eyes and rubbed her palm against her forehead to ease that ache. "That's a slow poison, mum."

"I'm in no hurry. Now be a good girl and get mummy her drink."

"Let me get you something else. I can think of something. I can ask Madame Pomfrey. I've got nothing else to do tonight." She sighed and handed the noxious brew to her mother, knowing she couldn't win this argument.

Honing in on her upset, the Hag changed her tactics. "If you're really that bored, sweetie, maybe I can show you something interesting. Let me finish my drink and I'll meet you around the corner."

"Really?" For the first time her mother seemed to have listened to her. She was acting like she liked her, no, that's not right. She was acting interested in her? Dora was suspicious, but curious. She knew Rosmerta wouldn't approve, but it would be safe enough during daylight.

The Hag swallowed the rest of her drink. "Give me ten minutes, then meet me in back of the sweetshop. Don't be late," she said, and quietly slid off the barstool and left.

A group of Slytherins came in a few minutes later, carrying bags from Honeydukes and Glad Rags, making for what Dora always considered the Slytherin table since Lucius held court there. Evan Rosier sat down with Jocasta and Portia Martin, twins that he and Severus Snape were paired up with more often than not. They were both lovely and dark, beautiful in a kind of anti-Narcissa-ish way. Dora wasn't sure how serious the pairs were, but didn't really want to find out more. She hated them all - for sitting in the wrong place and with the wrong people.

In that temper, she walked over to ask for their order. "Hello, Evan, girls. How are you today?"

"Bored to death," answered Evan. "I've been to more exciting graveyards. What in the world do you people do around here when we're gone?"

"Zeitgeist blows from here, Evan," she said in a conspiratorial whisper. "This place is so edgy it's dangerous to walk around in the dark. You might be mauled by the latest fashion sweeping out to London. Even during the day, we set the standard for youthful exuberance. Crowds of people come in here the minute we open the door. Then we play a high stakes game of Chutes and Ladders. Sometimes they run into the next morning. We had one tournament going on for two days last summer. It looked like it was never going to end."

"I know I'll regret asking this, but how did it end?" said Portia, rolling her eyes.

"A Muggle tour bus took a wrong turn backing up on that single-track road. Then someone came running in from the fog to get directions."

"What did you do?" said Jocasta, horrified.

How can the two of you be related? Dora thought to herself, and said the most outrageous thing that came to mind. "We stripped naked, ran outside, and clog-danced until they went away," Dora said with a serious expression.

"So that was you I saw this summer," smirked Evan.

"You looked very smart in that uniform, Evan. How long have you been driving busses?"

"It keeps me in butterbeer. What do you do for a living? When you aren't dancing, that is."

Put me back in my place, eh, Evan? Mustn't get too familiar! You don't deserve to sit at this table, THEIR table, you pompous ass. None of you do. "What can I fetch you?" she said.

"Can I get a round for me and my friends?"

Dora walked silently back to the bar and gathered the mugs for them. "Rosmerta, can I take a break outside for a few minutes? It's almost sundown, and I want to get some air before the Shrieking starts."

Rosmerta took the mugs from her and shooed her out the door. It had been a long day, and she noticed that Dora was in a foul mood. Even the arrival of the students hadn't cheered her up. But then, she hadn't seen Severus Snape in the pub yet. Dora hadn't said anything, but Rosmerta knew, and she knew Dora would die a hundred deaths if she realized how obvious it was. Dora became unusually quiet when that boy came in the pub and tried every maneuver she could to make sure she waited on his table. There wasn't anything between them, Rosmerta was sure, but she'd lived long enough, with lots of young people around, to know a severe case of puppy love when she saw it. Dora was a sensible girl, but hadn't Rosmerta herself fallen in love with a picture of the Chuddly Cannons Keeper at that age? She smiled sympathetically at her own remembered foolishness as she brought the mugs to the table.

It was cold outside, and Dora pulled her coat closer as she walked down the dusky street. It was a grey day, and it would probably freeze that night. She saw the Hag huddling in the alley behind the sweetshop.

"There you are - I was beginning to think you wouldn't come," said the Hag with what might have passed for a smile, if she had teeth.

"I'm here. What did you want to show me?"

"It looks like you were unhappy back there. Bored, you said. I remember growing up around here. Dull as dirt. It's a wonder a clever girl like you hasn't gone mad. There's nothing here besides the school, and you can't even go there," the Hag said with mocking sympathy.

Dora was getting annoyed. "What did you want to show me, mum?"

"Something to make it better, Dora. To take the edge off the boredom. There are some very talented alchemists around here, and they make fantastic stuff."

"What do you mean?"

Her tone more businesslike, the Hag said, "I mean, anesthetics. Like these..." She held out her hand to show Dora two luminous green vials and a half-dozen yellow ones. "These take the pain away and make you feel happy."

An hour ago, that was exactly what Dora wished for, and now, there was her mother, offering it to her. No, not offering, showing it to her. "What do I have to do to get some?" she asked suspiciously.

"Just try it today, and if you like it, I'll see what I can arrange."

"What is it?"

A familiar low voice behind her made Dora jump. "The green vials are Abseroth, and the yellow are Ludexin. Very dangerous to make, more dangerous to take. Get out of here, Dora."

Dora didn't move - this was a waking nightmare. The only voice which would have upset her more was Rosmerta's. No, that was a lie - nothing could upset her more. She was acting shamefully in front of the one boy who could make her feel self-conscious without even looking at her. Snape reached up and grabbed her by the back of the neck. He had a very strong grip - it must be the Quiddich - and it hurt. But that wasn't why her knees felt weak, or why she felt like dying. "Come on," he said roughly, and pulled her out of the alley. The Hag put her hand back in her pocket, muttered something about interfering gits getting OWLs in Potions but not knowing how to use a syringe, and disappeared.

Snape shook her by the shoulders. "Are you insane? You could have been killed! People like her sell their children for potion ingredients!" he hissed.

"I didn't know alcohol was a potion ingredient," said Dora dully.

Snape looked at her, puzzled. Then he remembered - Narcissa had told him about Dora's mother, an abusive hag who was so awful it sparked Narcissa to feel protective, once. That was her mother who was selling her that crap. No wonder Dora looked sick. She seemed close to tears. Maybe he had scared her too much. "Are you alright?" he asked more gently.

That gentle tone was nearly her undoing. She didn't want his pity. She was none of his business - no matter how much she wished otherwise. "Yes, I'm fine," she said with a negative shake of her head. She lifted her chin the way she'd seen Lucius do when he was upset. It always worked to make him look more formidable. She wanted to be formidable. She wanted to be anyone, anywhere, but not herself, not here, and most especially not so close to Severus Snape that she could feel the heat of his hands through her coat. "Severus, you're a very talented alchemist, aren't you?"

"I am," he said matter-of-factly.

"Talented enough to make that." It was a statement, not a question.

"I didn't, Dora," Snape said, exasperated.

But you know who did, and so do I. And if I want to, I can get it directly from the source. At least for a while. She found the thought exciting. She wouldn't, probably. If Severus found out, he could hate her. No, he would dismiss her as another lost cause, like her mum. He didn't care enough to hate her. He never would. She was glad she knew who to go to for those potions.

As they walked into the pub together, Madame Rosmerta suppressed a knowing smile, but not before Dora saw her. "Just let the floor open up and swallow me now," she prayed.

"That was quick, Dora."

"It's getting dark. I can't stand the sound of that shack in the dark," she said curtly, putting back on her apron.

The Slytherin group was just getting up to head back to school. "Good night, Rosmerta. Good night, Dora," they said as they left.

"Goodnight, girls. Goodnight. Oh, Evan," Dora said, looking keenly at the last member of the Slytherin group heading through the door, "Thanks for helping my mum with her stuff."

He looked hard at her, but without missing a beat decided she was harmless. "You're welcome. Any time," he said absently on his way through the door.

*

Chapter 3 - Unintended Consequences

*

That winter, another group of Hogwarts students became the undisputed stars of the Three Broomsticks. Old favorites with Madame Rosmerta, the Gryffindors' laughter kept everyone's spirits up over the cold months. Guessing what prank they would pull next, and explaining how they did it to Dora, kept Rosmerta and the rest of the patrons busy. The invisibility cloak especially intrigued Dora - she thought every family should own one. If she had her way, it would be part of her daily wardrobe. She just wanted to disappear when the exuberant students swarmed into the pub.

On Valentine's Day, James, Remus, and Peter were in a booth at the back of the pub. They asked for six butterbeers and a bowl of nuts.

"Expecting company, or subtly criticizing how much salt I use?" Dora asked archly.

"Just thirsty. Sirius is in trouble again, so it's just the three of us!" said Peter, a little too cheerfully.

"Saint Sirius in trouble? I don't believe it. Was he saying his prayers too loud?" Dora said jokingly as she left to get the drinks.

When she returned, they were all very quiet. Suspiciously quiet. She passed out the mugs and turned to James, "Will Lily be joining you?"

"Oh, yes, probably, when she's done shopping, in a little while," he stammered uncomfortably.

Dora scowled as she looked at the table. The three of them were all holding mugs, but there were only two left on the table. "I know I brought six..." she thought, then figured it out. "Next time you see him, tell your friend he should get a new tailor. He's much too pretty to hide his charms under such baggy clothes."

"Dora, I don't know what..." began Peter.

"What is he in trouble for now?" she asked, looking at the "empty" seat to James' right.

"It was just a joke," said Peter. "Snape was sneaking around, and Sirius led him to a werewolf."

"Sorry?"

"Don't worry! He was fine, in the end. James got it all sorted out. It all worked out - he was safe, safe enough, anyway," said Peter, looking like he was trying to convince himself.

"No, he wasn't," said Remus and James simultaneously, glaring at the empty seat.

"It was incredibly stupid and thoughtless, but he meant it as a joke. Sometimes we all act like idiots," argued Peter. Out of nowhere, a peanut bounced off Peter's forehead and landed in Remus' mug with a plop.

"I never found much humor in dismemberment, myself," said Dora, fighting to keep her emotions in check. Joke, Dora. Tell a joke. Keep it light; it's your job. They aren't evil. They can't be - Rosmerta likes them. They make her laugh! Tell a blasted joke! She couldn't - she could barely keep from screaming. Luckily, she was saved by the appearance of Lily and a huge shopping bag. James pushed over and squished Sirius into the corner. Unfortunately, that was also where James had put Lily's flowers - and they were crushed under the young man's invisible bulk. James was annoyed - he had just spent his money on those, and now not only were they ruined, he didn't have enough money to buy a substitute. He glared at the invisible Sirius. For his part, Sirius felt guiltier about the squashed roses than he did about anything else that had happened that week. Valiantly trying to help, he transfigured his own wand into a single perfect rose, and passed it to James through the cloak. James gave him a smile and passed the rose to Lily.

"Oh, thank you, James! It's so beautiful!" she said, giving him a kiss. "Dora, look what James gave me!" she said excitedly, passing the flower to her.

Dora touched the flower, and held it for a second before the pub began to spin and her fingers started to burn. Shaking all over, her knees buckled and she pitched face first into the table, smashing into the untouched mug of butterbeer on her way down to the floor.

"Dora, what happened? Are you OK?" Lily said, trying to help her sit up from where she fell. Dora shook her head, trying to clear it, but was rewarded with another nauseating wave of vertigo. Madame Rosmerta came over, and she and Lily both helped Dora upstairs to her room to clean up.

"Chalk another one up to the Law of Unintended Consequences," Peter said to Sirius, passing back the beer-soaked rose as he mopped up the mess.

*

A month later, James and Sirius came into the pub and picked out a table near the fire. Dora noticed they were unusually quiet, and hardly greeted anyone. When friends came by to sit with them, they received cool looks, and when Dora came by to get their order, apart from telling a sarcastic joke about Belfast, they didn't banter with her at all, answering mostly in monosyllables.

Dora was confused, and asked Madame Rosmerta, "What's the matter with James and Sirius? They're awfully rude today."

Madame Rosmerta smiled grimly, and said, "Not themselves, eh, Dora?" in a leading way.

Feeling stupid, Dora admitted she did not understand what her aunt was trying to tell her.

"Don't worry, dear, it's just Polyjuice Potion. Its harmless - changes your shape temporarily. They're up to some prank, no doubt."

"But why a potion? Can't they just transfigure themselves?"

"It's harder than that, Dora."

"But how can you be sure it's not them?"

"Sirius just ordered a Bass from under an invisibility cloak in the back room."

"What should I do?" asked a very agitated Dora.

"Bring them their drinks, dear," said Rosmerta calmly as she set off to the back room with a Bass ale and a bright smile.

Dora was very upset when she went back to the boys' table. She had figured out who they were - the only student to drink Drambuie that year was Evan Rosier. And the only one who needed to avenge a prank was his best friend Severus Snape. Dora couldn't just wait to see what they were going to do. She knew how angry she'd been, and they must be a hundred times angrier. In their own way, they could be as ruthless as Lucius. She didn't want to see it - she didn't want to know what they would do, but she had to make sure it didn't happen in the pub.

It was happening again and this time it was all her fault. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears. Who was the rat, where is the cat? Not here not here not here not here. She and the Hag had fouled their home before. Fouled it completely. This time Dora did it all by herself. She made her choice, and now Evan was teaching her about consequences. He thought he could do as he pleased, because she owed him. Just like her mum's Muggle. She was just as selfish as her mum ever was - too stupid and self-centered to remember there were other people involved. Consequences - eleven years of consequences hadn't taught her anything. Her world was collapsing around her and there was no one else to blame. Dora had to stop this - she couldn't live through it again. Her whole body seemed to vibrate with terror. Not again not again not again. "Calm down," she told herself, "You can't win like this. They respect strength - begging will only make things worse. Don't beg. You have to be strong, like Narcissa. Be Dragonheart. Be brave, or you'll lose everything. Be smart." It was so hard to pretend to be smart when her thoughts were jumping about like hysterical chickens. Consequences consequences consequences. Make them see the consequences, she thought. Severus is smarter than you are - he'll listen. He'll see them for himself. He has to.

Dora walked up to the table and said quietly, "I don't know what you clowns are up to, and I don't want to know. I'm not going to pretend I can stop you. But remember this, if you try anything in here, in my home, I will raise such hell - and you know I can."

"James" glared at her, "Is a squib trying to scare us?"

"Every professor at that school comes in here...they'll want to hear about why we're so angry."

"Don't be silly, girl. Betray us and you'll be upset, all right! Rosmerta will be sorry to hear why you are so upset. I own you - you can't afford to get on my bad side. A week on your own and you'll be so sick you'll be begging to get back in my good graces."

"I won't beg, 'James.' I may not be the Big Bad Hag, but you don't want to see me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." She turned to 'Sirius' and put her heart in her mouth, "There's no winning at revenge - only degrees of losing."

"They tried to kill me."

"Then what will it take to make you whole? Safety? Make it so. Anything else is a waste - they'll never pay you back for what you lost, or what you're throwing away now. They can't. All you can do is make yourself whole, without passion, without anger. This path is more destructive to you than it is to them. They can't give you what you want."

"I want revenge."

"They will, too. It's never enough. It never ends. Quit before you make yourself miserable! Take yourself out of this game."

"Ignore her. We'll come down on them like an avenging gods," said Evan.

"'Those whom the mad would destroy they first make gods'," Dora replied franticly. "Narcissa told me that. Don't trust me - trust her. You can't get away with this! This is my home! I won't give it up! I'll tell. I swear I will."

"Sirius" stared at her for a long moment, and finally spoke up, "How extravagant you are, throwing away your friends. They may be scarce someday." But he had heard the panic in her voice - they had tortured him, but he wouldn't sink to that level. He wouldn't take his anger out on her. He didn't want to do anything else with Evan that night. 'I own you...' You bastard - you lied to me. You sold that crap to her. She's just a screwed up little kid - a quivering wreck. What have you done to her? What are you planning to do? Snape's anger turned to sickness, and he just wanted to be alone - no friends, no enemies, and no agenda. He imagined himself near the ocean, and it calmed him as it always did. Would he leave off vengeance? No, never. But he would get it his way - what he wanted, for himself, by himself. Neatly. He got up from his seat and walked out of the Three Broomsticks, leaving "James" to scramble after him.

*

Snape didn't come back to the Three Broomsticks that year until after he finished his NEWTs. He came into town to catch the train to his new job at St. Mungo's. Professor Pauling had recommended his best pupil to the staff of their lycanthropy project. Snape thought he should stop by to say goodbye, just to see how they were. Evan had made him a promise, but he wanted to see for himself that everyone there was fine.

It was fairly early in the day, and Dora was alone behind the bar, polishing the mirror when he arrived. They were not officially open, but the door was ajar to let in the warm spring breeze.

"Severus! It's good to see you again! It's been a long time. Portia tells me you're off to cure lycanthropy - that's wonderful! They're lucky to get someone so passionate about his work. You'll be brilliant." Dora said. Keep it light, keep it light, and don't cry! She finally understood how Narcissa felt after Lucius left. He took the very air she breathed away with him. She felt like she would explode into the vacuum he left behind.

"I'll miss it here - I half want to stay," he said.

"No, you'd be miserable living here. The wind comes howling down across the lake, and I don't think we've even heard of sushi," Dora quipped.

"Sushi is over-rated. I'll miss this old place."

"How flattering! Over the years Rosmerta and I will grow in beauty and wit in your memory, until someday we'll be the stupid dreamy look that your girlfriend has to beat out of you when you get distracted. How romantic!" How romantic indeed. How would it feel to have you look at me and see someone lovely? How would it feel to drown in the dark warmth of your eyes? What would you do if you knew how I felt? You'd run. You'd better. Run away.

"Are you a Romantic, Dora?" he teased.

"Oh, yes, desperately so. I've broken my heart over people who might as well be pictures in a magazine! I'd be surprised if I had enough heart left to fall in love with a real person anymore. But it doesn't matter. I dreamt myself a fairy tale, then pricked my arm with a needle and hoped that Prince Charming will come and rescue me. We both know how that worked out," she said with a shake of her head and a rueful half-smile.

"Does that make Evan your Prince?"

"Goodness, no! I haven't seen Evan since the last time you were here. He values your friendship too much to risk it over my problems. No, I'm afraid you rode in on a white horse and rescued the squibby skivvy from her vices," Dora said with a bitter smile. She said more than she planned, but he wouldn't notice - he was leaving. He had a whole new life to distract him.

"You are cruel to yourself," he said, shaking his head.

"And you are too sweet," she said sharply, punctuating each word with the tap of beer mats on the bar in front of him. "Seriously, no more sympathy. You need to put your armor back on - St. Mungo's is a miserable place. I've been there; I know. It will break your heart."

"What heart?" he said sarcastically.

"It's too late for that, Severus! I know you now!" she said in a voice that betrayed some of her frustration. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. Anger wouldn't help. She continued in a low voice, "I used to think you were like the sea - dark and powerful and cold. You may be dark and powerful, but the rest is a fraud! You can come in here and make sarcastic jokes about car bombs, but show you a lost cause - a dead dog in the motorway, or a second-generation skag-hag - and you lose all objectivity. You're as cold as mulled mead." Shut up you idiot! Shut up! She dropped the beer mats and ducked under the bar to hide her embarrassment while she collected them. She stood up a moment later when her face no longer betrayed her. "Here - I have a present for you, young Galahad," she said roughly, taking a small wooden box out of her pocket and handing it to him. "Fix it to your shield. This is deep magic - my mum told me so. All the answers to all the questions you'll ever ask are in there, but you must never open it."

"Why - will they run away?" he said with a smile in his eye.

"No, all the answers, right and wrong, are in there. Open it and you won't be able to tell the difference. But if you wish properly, the right answer will work its way out for you. Take it to St. Mungo's - it will help your work."

"No, I can't - you need it here."

"I know all the answers here. This is my home. You'll need it more where you're going. Take it, please. A souvenir of the Broomsticks! Send it back with your children when they come to Hogwarts. Or your grandchildren. I'll be here, and ask I'll ask them about their famous Granda who saved the werewolves."

Snape smiled and put the box in his pocket. "Owl me at St. Mungo's, and ..."

Just then, the Hag flooed in through the hearth. In the dim light of the pub, she looked less threatening and horrible than usual - her eyes were glassy and unfocused, and she gripped the chair to steady herself.

"The hounds are after me, Dora. Help!"

"Severus, could you run next door and get Rosmerta for me? I can't take care of her when she's like this. Please, right away?"

Severus quickly went next door, wondering why a docile Hag would set Dora off. When he got next door, Rosmerta had already left on another errand. He saw a Ministry wizard in dark blue robes near the train station and ran over to ask for his help with the Hag. He said he would let the Hit Wizards who were looking for her know where she was, and meet him at the pub. Satisfied that some help was coming for Dora, and still with a half hour to kill before the train arrived, he walked calmly back to the pub.

He walked in just as the horrible old creature cuffed her daughter and made for the cash box. Severus twisted her wand arm behind her back and propelled her out the door and around the corner.

"No, Severus, don't hurt her!" cried Dora, pulling at one of his arms. The old woman was ready, and when Dora had him off-balance, she twisted away and turned on him.

Dora cried, "No, Mum!" and tripped him to the ground, pushing him around the corner, out of sight. The Hag hit the only person left standing - Dora - with a Cruciatus Curse. The shock of pain held her upright for a moment, then she fell face first into the dirt, screaming.

By then, the Ministry wizard had shown up, but was intimidated by the Unforgiveable Curse. I'm no Auror - and I'm not risking my career to throw out something powerful enough to stop them. Even if it works. And it probably won't. He cast a shield charm on himself and Snape, and held onto the youth's arm, just in case he tried something foolish.

To Snape, it seemed he just watched as the Hag threw curses at Dora. She had no defenses - she just lay there like a broken doll, twitching with every new curse, and screaming. Snape couldn't stand to watch anymore. He broke free from the restraining hand and ducked out from behind the wall to try to help her. But the older man shouted "Petrificus totalus!" as he rounded the wall and Snape fell to the ground, flat on his back, more embarrassed than hurt by the simple spell, but completely unable to even blink his eyes.

Dora saw him fall, and thought him dead. Suddenly, the pain was trivial. This is all my fault. He was killed because he came to help me. She could see his body lying between her and the wall, and she could see his wand where he dropped it. This is the end, Mum. Enough. Either one of us dies or both of us do - it doesn't matter. Neither of us deserve better. She reached as far as she could and barely touched the wand with the tip of her finger. There was no horrible sensation, or maybe she just couldn't feel it anymore. She tried to get a hold of it, her mind completely focused, her body still screaming.

The Hag watched - her whole body was shaking from the effects of the potions she had taken. Half-blinded by the sun, she could only distinguish movement and shadow. She looked at the creature before her, crippled with pain. It was her own fault - all of it was Dora's fault. Dora was the reason the Hag had been locked up in the first place. Dora let the cat into the room. Dora transfigured that man into a rat. He was a good friend, for a Muggle. He wasn't trying to hurt her. It wasn't his fault - he was drunk. "He should have come to me," she thought. She looked at her wretched daughter reaching for the wand, picking up a wand to attack her mother, and cried "Incendio!" to set her sleeve on fire. Dora's screams were hoarser, but she was still yelling. Would she never shut up? Just like when she was a baby - always crying!

"Want a wand? Going to turn me into a rat, too, Dora? I won't change as easy as that Muggle did. In fact, I don't think I'll change at all," she sneered. With a flick of her wrist she shouted "Flagellum Fragmentis!" and it was over. A thousand invisible lashes ripped what was left of her daughter into a haze of blood and ash, and her baby was quiet at last.

Snape lay on his back, breathing a charred smell that turned his stomach, listening to a silence that froze his very soul. Staring up at the cloudless blue sky, he felt a warm mist blow across his face. He couldn't close his eyes as the red cloud blew over him, and settled on the wall that protected the other wizard. The sun beat down on him, started to burn his eyes, and he couldn't close them. His eyes filled with protective tears. He heard more wizards behind the wall - the Hit Wizards must have arrived. They called out to the Hag, "Drop it!" but the Hag just cackled. The next sound he heard was a chorus of "Expelliarmus!" More laughter. "Stupefy!" she shrieked. He wished a stray spell would catch him as they shouted at each other. Who the Hag was aiming at, he had no idea, or what good she thought it would do. She was too jelly brained to Apparate - she wasn't going anywhere. Did she think they'd let her walk away from this? Finally, a different voice called out "Avada Kedavra," and it was silent again.

He heard the boots coming toward his head as the Auror stepped out from behind the wall to free him from the hex. "Finite Incantatem," he said, helping Snape sit up. "What were you thinking, fool, to run between two battling potion addicts? Are you mad?"

Snape sat up and saw his hands and robes were covered with dust and tiny flecks of red. He saw the stain on the stucco wall next to him. "She wasn't like that," he choked out.

"They're all the same, son. Shooting up today, whoring and thieving tonight. All the same."

The choking sensation in Snape's throat got worse. He couldn't swallow. The red haze on the wall seemed to float across his eyes again, and the knot in his stomach grew tighter and tighter until something hard in his belly just snapped. In a rage, he pulled back his arm and slammed his fist into the Auror's face with all his strength. He wanted to hit him in the mouth again and again until - Snape heard the other one yell "Petrif..." and felt his victim's fist on his face before he passed out.

*

Chapter 4 - Banquet of the Damned

*

"Good Evening, Mr. Snape," said a cool, refined voice. "I trust you are feeling better?"

Snape opened his eyes to a modern, institutional room, with no windows and a barred door. It was a strange place, and he felt very uncomfortable lying there on his back. He rolled into a sitting position and looked around. An official-looking witch in dark blue robes sat across from him, her blonde hair in a tight bun, a scroll in her lap.

"Where am I? What am I doing here?"

"You're in London. There was an incident in Hogsmeade. An Auror was attacked..."

He looked down at his dirty hands and felt the choking sensation coming back. "That's what you call it, 'an incident'?"

"It is an extraordinarily sad case, Mr. Snape."

"Indeed," he said icily.

"Arabella, I'll take over from here," said an impeccably dressed wizard on the other side of the barred door.

Arabella looked a little annoyed, but said, "Of course, Mr. Malfoy," and gracefully slipped out the door, leaving it open.

"It's been a long time, Snape."

"Yes, it has. You know why I'm here," Snape said without inflection.

"I do."

"They're not going to do anything about it."

"You are free to go. It has been noted that you had just been through a traumatic experience, and the Auror was not seriously injured. Combined with your excellent character references, your misjudgment has been chalked up as a youthful indiscretion which will not likely be repeated."

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?" said Malfoy smoothly.

Snape's rage flared in the face of Malfoy's calm demeanor. "They're not going to fix it! They didn't stop it, and now they're not going to fix it! They'll use a Time-Turner so some idiot at Hogwarts can finish his Arithmancy homework, but they won't use it to save an innocent girl's life?"

"I'm sorry."

"You never used to be," said Snape accusingly.

Malfoy raised his chin and looked down at Snape. "Your trunk and wand are under the bunk. Clean yourself up. You are coming home with me tonight, and after dinner I'll put you on the train to St. Mungo's."

"And if I decline your gracious invitation?"

"My wife and I will be terribly disappointed, and you'll miss meeting someone who may change your life. Don't pretend to be stupid, Severus, come with me."

"I'd be delighted," said Snape, trying unsuccessfully to sound sincere.

The two young men walked in wary silence the four blocks from the Ministry to Malfoy's townhouse. It wasn't the manor, but it was still impressive, in a grand old building overlooking a gated park. Narcissa met them in the hall as they entered, wearing rose colored robes and a dazzling smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Mrs. Malfoy, you look more beautiful every time I see you."

"Thank you, Severus," she said, taking his hands in hers, "And please don't be so formal - we're old school friends, we three." She turned to her husband. "Lucius, Voldemort is in your study. I told him about what happened and he's looking forward to meeting you especially, Severus." She gave his hand a little squeeze before releasing it. "Dinner will be ready at seven. Would you like me to leave you alone for a while, or do you need a hostess?"

"We'll be fine, Narcissa," Lucius said, brushing a kiss across her cheek. He wasn't usually so demonstrative in public, but tonight it seemed right. He could see that Narcissa was more upset than he expected. His wife never struck him as particularly maternal, but Dora's hero-worship of his Dragonheart had brought out her protective feelings. Those feelings made her vulnerable. "Go make everything perfect, and come get us when you're ready."

*

A man stood with his back to the door, reading a large book by the light of the setting sun streaming in through the window. The negative light made it impossible to see his features, just a tall black silhouette against the red window. As they came in, he closed the book and turned to his host.

"Lord Voldemort, may I introduce Severus Snape, one of the finest minds of his generation. Severus, this is Lord Voldemort, arguably the finest wizard of any generation."

As he reached out to shake the stranger's hand, Snape thought the light was still playing tricks on him. The man had red eyes. The look of confusion on his face made Voldemort laugh, a high-pitched titter that made him seem even less human.

"I'm sorry," he said with a smile, "My eyes, I see they disturb you! I have that effect on many people." He returned Snape's strong handshake with one of his own.

"Lord Voldemort has subjected himself to numerous magical transformations, pushing back the boundaries of our current understanding. His thirst for knowledge is as great as your own, Severus. In fact, if the Ministry had any idea of how far he has already gone in his research, I think they would be quite alarmed."

You are the Ministry, Malfoy. Are you threatening him? thought Snape. Voldemort didn't look at all uncomfortable.

"What path are you following to enlightenment, young man?"

"Lycanthropy at St. Mungo's. Have your transformations given you any insights into that condition?"

"Some, especially the strong healing powers. I study the basic mysteries - life and death. The specific forms of life hold off death in unique ways, taking it from others and folding it into themselves. Fascinating subject." Snape was fascinated, almost against his will. Voldemort had a commanding presence.

Lucius poured them all drinks from a crystal bottle on the table. The liquid smoked slightly in the glasses he handed them.

"Try it, Severus," he said, sipping his own. "I don't think they serve it at the Three Broomsticks, but I assure you, you'll like it."

Snape stiffened a little at the name, but took an experimental sniff of the smoke, and it seemed to clear his head of all the fog that had been there since he woke in London. A taste of the clear liquid was very smooth, and he felt a pleasant warmth spread through his body from his tongue to his toes.

"Please, gentlemen, sit," said Lucius, motioning them to a leather couch as he walked around to a big overstuffed chair.

"I don't think you found this potion on Diagon Alley, Lucius. What would the Ministry do if they found one of their rising stars imbibing contraband potions? Send a pack of Aurors to confiscate it?"

"Not likely. They're too busy protecting Muggles from us, Voldemort. They need to stalk dangerous five year olds who have the audacity to protect themselves and make sure they never grow up into dangerous wizards. And convince Mudbloods that they'll never have to worry about our scary little world bothering Muggles. They don't have time to protect us from ourselves. That's an issue for the next election."

"'We force our own to the edge of society, then punish them for surviving there?' I didn't know you read philosophy, Lucius. Or did Narcissa take you on as a student?"

"I'm not the disciple Dora was, but she puts up with me." He took another drink, "Do you know why Pandora Wallis never went to Hogwarts, Severus? She was forbidden to for underage magic violations. I read it in the report today. A Muggle monster abused her, and the Ministry did nothing. When she protected herself, the Ministry was all over it - she was ruled incorrigible. They hexed her - stripped her of her birthright to protect some damned Muggles!"

Voldemort looked thoughtful. "If the Ministry is not protecting the mages, why does it exist?"

"It exists because it has power. It will continue to exist until someone takes that power away. And they won't give it up without a fight."

"I'm willing to fight. If they're using Dark Arts against us, hexing untrained little girls, someone has to stop it," Snape said. Then he thought, "This was a mistake. I'm too angry to be talking now. And this potion is probably contraband for a reason."

"There is no Dark Art - only power. Light and dark exist only in the hearts of those who wield it," said Voldemort.

"You should listen to the wisdom of your elders. Your hot head has caused us both enough trouble for one day," said Lucius.

"Don't be so harsh, Lucius. There is wisdom in knowing what path to take, but integrity lies in taking it," said Voldemort.

"Forgive me, it has been a trying day. I spoke out of turn," said Snape, running his hand through his hair and wishing he were far away.

"No, you didn't," said Lucius, leaning forward and to catch Snape's eyes. "But it sounds like you want to resort to their methods. If we do that, what will happen to our culture?"

Voldemort spoke up. "The culture will survive - look at Italy under the Borgias. It had warfare, bloodshed, terror, and murder. It produced Michaelangelo, DaVinci, the Time Turner and the Invisibility Cloak. Look at Switzerland - years of brotherhood and peace, and what did they produce? Enchanted fondue forks."

"That is the most specious argument I've ever heard. He thinks I'm an idiot because I'm half his age," thought Snape, listening to a distant church bell toll the hour. Still, Voldemort seemed so confident, so certain. Snape schooled his expression to keep from revealing his confusion, reached into his pocket and pulled out the box.

Lucius watched him intensely. "Is that Dora's?" he said, watching Snape fiddle with it.

Voldemort looked at the thing that distracted the young men from his argument. "What is it?"

"A child's treasure. Nothing."

Voldemort held out his hand for it. Snape almost put it back in his pocket. It wasn't right to feel that way - it was just a piece of rubbish. What was he afraid of? Reluctantly, he handed it over.

Voldemort examined it closely, pulling back the lid. It was empty. "Gentlemen, I propose we put some hope back into Pandora's box."

"The Ministry will destroy us," said Snape.

Nodding as if in agreement, Voldemort said, "There is danger, yes." Pausing, he looked Snape in the eye. "A ship in the harbor is safe, but that is not what ships were made for. Greatness lies not where we stand, Severus, but in the direction we are moving. We must sail sometimes with the wind, and sometimes against it. But sail we must - not drift, and not lie at anchor," said Voldemort.

"People will hate us," said Snape, but he felt himself falling under the older man's spell again. Voldemort was pure confidence - it was intoxicating. Snape started to feel like he could accomplish anything, even change the world.

"Let them hate, so long as they fear. We can not allow people to be protected from their birthright!"

"Suppose we do chose ethics over convenience, and truth over popularity. How can we few prevail over an entrenched bureaucracy?" said Lucius.

'We few, we happy few' - as thick as two short planks, aren't you Lucius? thought Snape, the anger rising up and choking him for the third time that day.

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world, Lucius. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." Speaking slowly and clearly, as though to a child, Voldemort continued, "We will make them suffer. We will give them a taste of what they're ramming down our throats. Cruiciatus, Imperious..."

Narcissa walked in at that moment.

"...Avada Kedavra - the Banquet of the Damned." Voldemort stopped and took a drink.

Narcissa started at the mention of the Unforgivable Curse, but composed herself and sniffed dismissively, "'Death Eaters' - how ridiculous!"

Lucius stood up and took her hand. "A wise woman once said, 'Fanaticism and ignorance are forever hungry, and need feeding.'"

She looked up at him, confused. Pulling back on her hostess smile and said to them all, "Gentlemen, on that rather inauspicious note, would you please come in to dinner?"

*