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FIC: Scars, Part 4a
(This is split in two parts because the original post too large to fit in a single LJ entry. The icon is actually Gojyo from the Saiyuki manga, but it's very close to how I picture Ash.)
Title: Scars, Part 4a
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairings: Snape/Lupin, Ash/Tsubasa; also a little Theodore/Blaise, Dylan/Hermione, and Aric/Takeshi
Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts; [] indicates song lyrics.
Disclaimer: Based on the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling; song lyrics are from "Scars" by Papa Roach. No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
Warning: AU. This story contains a character from Half-Blood Prince, but does not follow the HBP storyline.
Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising, Aftermaths, The Revenant, Ash's Story, and Summer Vacation III.
Summary: Harry, Tonks, and Kingsley encounter the daughter of a Death Eater at the museum, and ask Snape for advice; Ash's attempts to court Tsubasa do not go according to plan.
Part 3
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Ash frowned at his reflection in the mirror as he got dressed for work, with much more care than usual, because today he had a fencing lesson with Tsubasa after work. He had lots of nice new robes to wear now that he was working at the Ministry, but unfortunately, he didn't really get to show them off much in front of Tsubasa. At his first lesson a few weeks ago, Tsubasa had told him that he should wear comfortable clothing that he wouldn't mind getting sweaty and dirty, so he usually changed into old, faded robes or t-shirt and jeans after work before heading to Hogwarts. But today Ash decided not to bother with that, and to just throw a nice robe on over his t-shirt and jeans. Even if people noticed that he was wearing Muggle clothing beneath the long robe, it wouldn't really matter because he was currently in favor with the Minister of Magic, and Arthur Weasley loved all things Muggle. He had been thrilled with the electric toothbrush that Hermione and Dylan had given him, and Ash had just helped him to set up his latest Muggle toy in his office: an espresso/cappuccino machine. Molly Weasley had banned it from her home after Arthur had tried to set it up himself and ended up spraying hot water and milk all over the kitchen, but Ash had got it working properly, and Arthur was even more pleased with him than ever. And of course there was the side benefit of being able to get a good cup of coffee from the Minister's office every morning.
After some thought, Ash donned a black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, fashionably faded and slightly frayed over the knees. They were not tight enough to be uncomfortable or inhibit movement, but fit snugly enough to show off the curve of his arse. He no longer had the scrawny, stick-thin figure he'd had as a half-starved runaway child; over the years, hard work and sufficient (if not always plentiful) food had filled out his body with flesh and muscle, although he was still more lean and sinewy than brawny and athletic-looking like Aric, or sleek and beautiful like the late, unlamented Lucius Malfoy.
Ash sighed as he brushed out his long, shoulder-length hair, wishing for just a touch of Malfoy-like sleekness; Lucius Malfoy had been an evil bastard, but a handsome one. He automatically pulled his hair forward to hide the scar running across the left side of his face, then scowled at his reflection and impatiently pushed his hair back. Who the hell was he trying to fool, anyway? The scar was impossible to hide completely, and trying to cover it up probably just drew more attention to it. He had been assured by numerous past lovers that he was handsome and that the scar even gave him a roguish, piratical charm. Ash would laugh and agree with them, playing at being vain, but whenever he looked in the mirror, deep in his heart, he still felt ugly...
"Making yourself pretty for your little bird?" a sleepy voice asked from the doorway. Ash snarled and hurled his hairbrush at the doorway; Kian yelped in pain as it bounced off his head.
"What was that for?" the young werewolf whined plaintively, rubbing his head.
"What are you doing here?" Ash retorted. "I thought you were at the mansion."
Kian yawned, rubbing bleary eyes. "Me and Kai were out late last night. Figured it would be better to crash here than to stumble in drunk in the middle of the night and wake up Lady Narcissa. She has a sharp tongue when she's angry, and Lukas is overprotective of his mate now that she's with cub. Merlin help anyone who disturbs his beloved's beauty rest."
"Oh, I don't care!" Ash growled. "Just mind your own business!"
Kian had to jump back hastily to avoid being hit as Ash slammed the door shut. "Well, somebody sure woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning," he muttered to the closed door.
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Kian and his lover Kai stumbled into the charity clinic in Diagon Alley later that morning, both of them looking pale and slightly ill. Takeshi immediately recognized their symptoms and fetched two potion bottles without being asked. Werewolves rarely got sick, aside from the pain and nausea in the days leading up to the full moon. However, it was currently nowhere near the full moon, and even a werewolf was not immune to a hangover.
"Ah, thanks, Takeshi," Kian sighed after he gulped down the Hangover Potion. Kai nodded his thanks as he swallowed his own potion.
"I like a glass of wine or a cup of good ale as much as the next person, but it's not healthy to drink until you're sick, you know," Takeshi scolded them.
"We were celebrating," Kai protested.
"Celebrating what?"
"Oh, having jobs and not being outcasts anymore," Kai said, gesturing vaguely. "Living in a fine mansion and learning to play Quidditch."
"You've had a job and been living in the mansion since the beginning of summer," Takeshi said dryly. "Just how long do you intend to keep celebrating?"
Kai ignored the question and added virtuously, "And we never get drunk when we have to work the next day."
"Today's our day off," Kian chimed in. "We'd never let Master Isamu down by giving less than our best at work."
"Well, at least that cuts down on the number of nights you can go drinking," Takeshi sighed, then frowned thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen Ash come in for a Hangover Potion lately, either, although I've been away for most of the summer." His friend had a fondness for Firewhiskey, and usually turned up seeking relief from hangovers on a regular basis.
"Oh, he hasn't been going to the pubs with us," Kai snickered. "He spends all his time pining over his pretty bird. I think your cousin's been playing hard to get, Takeshi."
"Well, crane courtship rituals can be rather complicated," Takeshi said with a smile. "Although since Tsubasa spent most of his childhood living among the humans, and most of his adult life living with the tengu, he doesn't really worry much about adhering to formal rituals. But he is still a pureblooded crane, and my people do not give away their hearts lightly; the instinct to cleave unto a sole lifemate is in our blood. So you might tell Ash to look upon Tsubasa playing 'hard to get' as a positive sign. If all he wanted was a one night stand or a casual affair, he would just sleep with Ash and be done with it. And if he wasn't interested, he would find a way to turn down Ash politely. But if he hasn't outright rejected Ash, then it probably means that he's at least contemplating the possibility of a serious relationship. But he wouldn't just jump into something like that."
"I guess it is complicated, huh?" Kian sighed. "Well, I wish your cousin would make up his mind, Takeshi. Ash has been rather grumpy lately."
Aric came up behind Takeshi, slipping an arm around his waist and brushing his lips against Takeshi's neck; Takeshi leaned back against him, sighing. "Tell Ash he should be stubborn and persistent," Aric said with a wolfish grin, exposing his sharp canine teeth. "Tell him not to give up."
"Stubbornness does seem to be an inherent werewolf trait," Takeshi laughed, smiling at his lover fondly.
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Laura was staring at the picture of her brother one morning, as she often did, frowning thoughtfully.
"Laura?" Rosie called from the doorway. "Hurry up, we'll be late for breakfast!"
"Oh, sorry," Laura said, hastily putting the photo away and hurrying to join Rosie.
"You're always staring at Ethan's picture," Rosie said with a smile. "I would have thought you'd have his face memorized by now."
"It's odd, but his face looks familiar somehow, even though I've never met him," Laura replied. "I was trying to figure out who he reminds me of."
"Probably yourself and your mother, silly," Rosie said. "He has your eyes, after all."
Laura didn't contradict her friend, but she thought that Rosie was wrong. It was true that Ethan had hazel eyes, like both Laura and her mother, but aside from that, he didn't look much like either of them, or Father, for that matter. Yet she had the strangest feeling that she had seen him somewhere before, although of course that was impossible.
The thought nagged at her persistently, like an itch that couldn't be scratched, but she tried to put it out of her mind for now, and changed the subject. In the Great Hall, most of the other Hufflepuff girls were talking about how "dreamy" Professor Tsubasa was. Even practical Rosie sighed and giggled along with the others. Laura privately thought that the Professor was very handsome, but a little too pretty for her taste. Her ideal type was someone who was strong and masculine, but also serious and kind--like Cedric Diggory, whom she'd had a crush on as a first-year. Not that she'd ever thought she'd had a chance with him, of course, but she had admired him, as nearly all the other Hufflepuff girls had. She was glad that Master Diggory was planning to name his baby after Cedric, because it made her feel like a part of Cedric would still live on.
But even though she didn't moon over Professor Tsubasa like the other girls, she did like him as a teacher; his lessons were always interesting. He had explained in one of his earlier lectures that wizards in other countries didn't always use a wand for what he called a "focus object," and that some of the non-human races didn't need a focus object at all. Today, one of the students asked him to explain more about the concept of wandless magic.
"If non-humans can work magic without a wand, doesn't that make them more powerful than the human wizards?" Kevin Whitby asked. "So why aren't the non-humans in charge of the wizarding world?"
"Numbers, for one thing," Tsubasa replied. "We are far outnumbered by human wizards, much the same way that Muggles outnumber wizards in general. For another, the type of magic that the non-human races can perform is generally very limited. The tanuki, for example, are masters of Illusion-type spells, but have no talent for combative magic. Therefore, they must use illusion and trickery to defend themselves, and will normally hide or flee rather than fight if threatened. My people, the crane folk, have the unique gift of Weaving magic and the ability to shapeshift at will. Some of us have a talent for Healing, and occasionally a Seer is born among us, but like the tanuki, we have little aptitude for combative magic. Werewolves, of course, possess the ability to turn into wolves, but they have no control over the transformation. It is a natural balance of power, Mr. Whitby. The shapeshifters possess the ability to cast spells without wands, but only in one or two specialized fields of magic, while humans have access to a wide variety of spells, but are limited by the need to use a wand or other focus object. House-elves are able to perform a variety of wandless spells, but are limited by the bonds of servitude to their masters."
"Hmm," Kevin said thoughtfully. "So it's like nature's way of balancing things out, to keep one group from getting too powerful?"
"Exactly," Tsubasa said with an approving smile. "At least, that is what my people believe."
"Someone should tell that to Hermione Granger," joked another of Laura's classmates, a boy named Owen Cauldwell. He rolled his eyes and added, "She's determined to save the house-elves from their lives of slavery--whether they want to be saved or not."
"But she has a point," Laura said hesitantly. "The balance of power isn't really equal. Humans still have the most power in the wizarding world."
"Well, no system is perfect," Tsubasa admitted.
"And you use a wand," Kevin pointed out.
"Yes, I was educated in the human ways of magic at Salem," Tsubasa replied. "But my Weaving ability is rather weak; perhaps that is why I was able to learn human magic with such ease. Or possibly it's the other way around, and my ability to use Weaving magic was stunted by the fact that I was practicing human magic." He shrugged, looking unconcerned. "It is the former rather than the latter, I think, since my strongest talent is Transfiguration, and shapeshifting, after all, is a type of Transfiguration magic. But I suppose that it doesn't really matter, so long as I am content with myself the way I am."
"And are you content, Professor?" Laura asked, wondering if he really was content with his life, considering that he had left his home and traveled so far away to teach at a foreign school. Was it out of a sense of adventure or a desire to promote better international relations, or was it something more?
"Content enough, Miss Madley," Tsubasa said lightly, then smiled rather ironically and added, "Some of my kinfolk are perhaps not so content with me, but that is their problem, not mine. In any case, let us continue with today's lesson." He handed out to each student a wooden stick topped with a wooden propeller. "This is a traditional child's toy in Japan, a take-tonbo, or bamboo dragonfly. And this spell is what attracted the Headmaster's attention and led to him offering me a job here at Hogwarts." He took out his wand, tapped the toy with it, and cried, "Transformare Libelle!"
The class applauded politely as the stick-toy turned into a real dragonfly and buzzed around the room a few times before returning to the teacher's desk and resuming its original form. They were impressed but not overawed, as they had seen McGonagall perform similar types of spells.
"Now you try it," Tsubasa said, and they discovered that it wasn't as easy as he made it look. Nothing happened when they waved their wands and shouted the incantation.
"Are we pronouncing it wrong?" Kevin asked, looking confused.
"Haven't you realized by now that the actual words are not really that important?" Tsubasa gently chided. "They only serve to channel and focus your power, in much the same way that your wand does. Then again, Western magic does place a great deal of emphasis on incantations, so perhaps it's not surprising that many wizards believe that the magic resides in the words themselves. But haven't you ever wondered how nonverbal spells are cast?"
"Uh...not really," Kevin confessed, looking a little embarrassed. "That's considered advanced magic; they don't start teaching nonverbal spells till sixth year, and we're only in fifth."
"I never really thought much about it," Laura added. "I mean, I know what a nonverbal spell is, but I just assumed that it worked because you recited the incantation silently in your mind."
"The words of the incantation do have importance," Tsubasa said with a smile. "But only the importance that we attach to them. The incantations used by Western mages are mostly based in Latin, including the one that I just taught you: 'Transformare' means 'to transform,' of course, and 'Libelle' means 'dragonfly'. But a wizard from my homeland might say, 'tonbo henshin!'--Japanese for 'dragonfly transform!' Or he might say nothing at all." He tapped the wooden toy with his wand again, this time without uttering the incantation, and it turned into a dragonfly once more.
"So...do you want us to practice nonverbal spells?" Owen asked doubtfully.
"No, Mr. Cauldwell," Tsubasa said kindly, to Owen's obvious relief. "I'm just reminding you that concentration and willpower are the keys to casting a successful spell. The incantation is there to help you concentrate and focus your power. Don't just mouth the words; as you recite the incantation, concentrate very hard on picturing the image of the dragonfly in your mind. Picture it down to the smallest detail--the color of its body and the shape of its wings. Transforming an inanimate object into a living creature is very difficult, but remember that the toy is made of wood, which was once living itself. Call to the life within the wood; call on it to awaken and reshape itself into the form you picture in your mind. Ready? Begin!"
Laura shut her eyes to help herself concentrate, building an image of a dragonfly in her head: bulbous eyes, a shiny blue-green body, and four fluttering transparent wings. She held her wand in one hand and clenched the take-tonbo in the other. Her fingers stroked the smooth wood, and she silently called on it to remember what it was like to be alive. "Transformare Libelle," she whispered. "Transformare Libelle. Transformare Libelle."
She still felt the wooden stick in her hand, so she thought that the spell had failed, but she heard startled gasps and laughter from her classmates, so she opened her eyes and saw to her astonishment that the wooden dragonfly was still wooden, but had begun sprouting leaves and twigs.
"That's not quite what I meant when I said to call to the life within the wood, but you seem to have been very successful in doing so," Tsubasa said with a grin. "Perhaps a little too much so; I think you have a talent for plant magic, Miss Madley."
"Herbology's my best subject, sir," Laura said, smiling sheepishly.
"So it would seem," Tsubasa said, still grinning. "Well, I'll award you five points, since you were halfway successful with your spell. You can try casting it again with my tonbo." He handed her the toy he had been using. "You should plant the other in Professor Sprout's gardens. It would be a shame to turn it back into a lifeless stick now that you've awakened it."
"Yes, sir," Laura said, blushing a little. She was a little embarrassed by the spectacular failure of the spell, but at the same time felt excited by how she'd been able to "awaken" the wooden stick. It wasn't something they had ever covered in Herbology, but surely this was useful magic for a future farmer and Herbologist to know.
Professor Sprout was just as surprised and delighted when Laura showed her the leafy stick. "You have a real talent for Herbology, my dear!" she said proudly. "I admit I had some reservations about Professor Tsubasa, but it seems that his methods are quite effective, even if somewhat unorthodox. I think that you're ready to learn some magic more advanced than what we're covering in class, Miss Madley. I know that you're busy getting ready for your O.W.L.s, but if you can spare the time, I'd like to give you special tutoring afterschool, say, twice a week?"
"Oh, I would love that, Professor Sprout!" Laura exclaimed.
"Meet me in Greenhouse 1 afterschool today then, dear. But for now, let's get your little friend planted."
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Meanwhile, Harry, Tonks, and Kingsley had picked up the magical artifacts from the archaeological dig, and were screening them at the Ministry. "Nasty bloke, this wizard," Tonks observed cheerfully. Among the artifacts was a golden torc shaped like a snake, much like the one that Master Diggory often wore, except that this one had only one head. When the hapless victim donned the torc, the serpent came to life and bit him or her on the neck.
"See here?" Tonks pointed out. "There's a chamber in the snake's head to hold the poison; the fangs are tiny hollow needles. It's really quite clever." Harry nervously pulled his hands back out of reach of the snake's mouth, and Tonks laughed. "Don't worry, Harry, the poison chamber is empty."
There was another serpent-shaped torc that was enchanted to strangle its owner, and a sun-shaped plaque made of solid gold that was probably something like a magical burglar alarm; it would shoot forth a searing blast of flame if someone walked past it without uttering the proper command word to disarm it.
"It seems to be using the type of Dark Warding spells that Professor Lupin...that Remus told us about in DADA class," Harry said. "It's defensive rather than offensive, but it inflicts harm on someone if they try to get past it."
"Very good, Harry; five points to Gryffindor," Kingsley joked. "Actually, I'm not sure whether this wizard was a 'nasty bloke,' as Tonks said, or just extremely paranoid. Most of these items, while Dark, are defensive rather than offensive in nature." He held up a silver goblet that was enchanted to identify and neutralize poisons.
"Well, he could have been both," Harry pointed out. "Nasty and paranoid."
"Quite true," Kingsley agreed, and they continued sorting through the artifacts. Most of them would be locked in secure vaults at the Ministry, and the less dangerous ones, such as the goblet, would be sent on to the Museum of Wizarding History.
"What about this one?" Harry asked, holding up a chipped stone medallion. "It has a Dark aura, but it's faint, and Master Tremayne and Theodore aren't sure what it does, although they think it might be something to do with lycanthropy."
"It should be safe enough to send it on to the museum," Kingsley said dismissively. "Even if it is Dark, it doesn't seem to be functional. Broken items usually don't work, and even when they do, they rarely work properly or effectively."
"As Ron knows from experience," Harry said with a grin, and told them the story about how Ron had broken his wand in second year.
They took the artifacts deemed "safe" to the museum and handed them over to a Professor Henry Bletchley, whom Harry was surprised to discover was the cousin of the former Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley. He seemed a good deal more pleasant than his cousin, who had once hit Alicia Spinnet with a curse during Harry's fifth year.
They were discussing the artifacts when Kingsley looked up and noticed someone hovering in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" he asked sharply, and Harry stared at him in surprise, because Kingsley was usually very good-natured. He turned to see who had gotten Kingsley so upset, and saw a woman standing in the doorway. He thought she was young, but it was difficult to tell how old she was or whether she was pretty or not, because her head was bowed, her long dark hair falling forward and obscuring her face. She looked vaguely familiar, although Harry couldn't recall where--or if--he had seen her before.
"The Director asked me to deliver some files to Professor Bletchley," she said quietly.
"Thank you, Imogen," Bletchley said hastily, rising to his feet to take the files from her. She nodded and left the room, head still bowed.
"Who was that?" Harry asked.
"Imogen Macnair," Kingsley replied, frowning as he gazed after the departing woman.
"Macnair?!" Harry exclaimed. "As in the Death Eater Macnair?"
"She's his daughter," Kingsley said. "Macnair has two children, Imogen and a twin brother, Warren. We couldn't prove that they had any connection to the Death Eaters, but I find it extremely unlikely that they had no knowledge of their father's activities, and I don't like that she was listening in on our conversation."
"You yourself deemed the artifacts not dangerous, Mr. Shacklebolt," Bletchley said coldly. "And even so, I assure you that they will be kept safely under lock and key here at the museum. Miss Macnair works here as a clerk, and she does sometimes stop by my office to deliver documents, so she wasn't necessarily spying on you."
"Is she a friend of yours?" Kingsley asked suspiciously.
"No, I barely know her," Bletchley replied. "She's much younger than I am, and I've been working abroad for most of the past two decades. I don't know her well enough to say whether she's trustworthy or not. But I do know what it's like to be viewed with suspicion and treated like a potential Death Eater just because I'm a Slytherin. I have met Walden Macnair, and I do agree that he's a very cruel and unpleasant man, but the Macnair children were too young to take part in the first war, and from what I understand, were living in Europe for most of the second, so it seems unlikely that they were Death Eaters themselves. They may have shared their father's political views, but even if that's true, haven't they been punished enough? Their father is in prison, the family name has been disgraced, and Warren has been unable to find anyone willing to hire a Death Eater's son. Imogen was able to secure a clerical position here at the museum only because one of the curators was a friend of her late mother, and took pity on her friend's daughter. And it's a position that would normally be far beneath the status of a wealthy pureblood woman. So you may take pleasure in knowing that the Macnair family has been quite humbled and humiliated, Mr. Shacklebolt."
"Kingsley didn't mean it that way, I'm sure," Tonks said, giving her fellow Auror an anxious look.
"She caught me by surprise," Kingsley said stiffly. "I didn't know that Miss Macnair was working here."
Bletchley nodded curtly, and the three Aurors rather awkwardly said goodbye and returned to the Ministry. When they were back at the office, Harry asked, "Do you really think that she was spying on us, Kingsley? Do you think she wants to steal the artifacts?"
"I don't know, Harry," Kingsley sighed, rubbing his hand across his bald pate. "It startled me to see her, as I said, and I admit I may be somewhat biased. Her father personally hurt and killed many of my colleagues."
"And so did Thaddeus Nott, and Evan Rosier," Tonks reminded him. "But Theodore and Dylan aren't like their fathers."
"Yes, but they've proven themselves by fighting on our side during the final battle," Kingsley said. "And they have no reason to be loyal to the Death Eaters: Thaddeus tried to sacrifice his own son, and the Death Eaters killed Dylan's mother and tried to sacrifice his aunt. I have no idea where Imogen Macnair's loyalties lie. You would have a better idea of whether or not she might want to carry on her father's cause, Tonks. Didn't you go to school with her? In fact, I think she was still at Hogwarts while you were there, Harry. Didn't you ever meet her?"
"I don't know," Harry replied. "I thought she looked sort of familiar, but I didn't get a good look at her face. And I didn't spend much time around the older students, especially the Slytherins."
"She would have graduated at the end of your third year, Harry," Tonks told him. "You wouldn't have had any classes together, so there's no reason for you to have met her, although you might have seen her sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall during meals; perhaps that's why she looks familiar to you. I was a few years ahead of Imogen and Warren." She winked at Harry. "That was before your time, of course. Can't say that I liked them; they were typical Slytherins, proud and snooty, and of course they looked down on a half-blood like me. Our paths didn't cross much, though, because of the age difference. I thought that they were arrogant and obnoxious, but I can't say if they were actually evil. Warren hexed a few kids he got into arguments with, but minor spells and nothing dangerous--certainly no Forbidden Curses. It seemed like typical kid stuff at the time; a lot of my Gryffindor friends got into worse mischief than the Macnairs. In fact, Imogen never really got into trouble at all, that I know of. I mean, she said some insulting things to those of us with less than pure blood, but it never went beyond a few snide remarks. I never saw her cast any hexes or do anything to get detention. Severus didn't believe that they were actively involved with the Death Eaters; as far as he knew, they never took the Dark Mark, and he never saw them at any meetings. And they were living abroad for the past few years, as Professor Bletchley pointed out, so they were never charged with any crimes."
"They were supposedly living abroad," Kingsley said, "but who's to say that they never returned home secretly from time to time? Or that they weren't carrying out some mission for the Death Eaters in Europe?"
"I think that's unlikely," Tonks replied. "Severus said that Voldemort was concentrating his efforts on killing Harry and gaining control of England before trying to take the war abroad."
"You're probably right, and I'm probably just being paranoid," Kingsley conceded. "But still, I think I'd like to talk to Snape about this again."
So they sent a message to Hogwarts, and Snape stopped by the Ministry later that afternoon, accompanied by Lupin. Kingsley hadn't specifically asked for Lupin to come with Snape, but Harry wasn't really surprised by his presence; ever since they had gone public with their relationship, the two of them were rarely seen apart, outside of their classrooms. And Harry suspected that if it had been possible, Lupin would have conducted a joint Potions/DADA class with Snape (although Snape would probably not have been so willing, since he complained loudly whenever Lupin embarrassed him by acting affectionate in front of the students). But the Potion's Master's bad temper aside, a combined class would not be practical--Harry could just picture a misfired Defense spell knocking over a Potions cauldron and setting off an explosion, which would in turn cause Snape to explode, figuratively speaking. Personally, Harry would much rather deal with an exploding cauldron than an exploding Snape.
But today Snape seemed...well, not in a good mood, exactly, but no more sour than usual. Lupin, of course, smiled sunnily and greeted everyone cheerfully. Snape listened to the story of their brief encounter with Imogen Macnair, then said, "I cannot say whether Miss Macnair's presence was purely coincidental or if she had ulterior motives, but I am absolutely certain that she and her brother were not Death Eaters."
"Well, maybe not officially, but are you certain that they weren't unofficially helping out their father?" Kingsley asked. "And are you sure they were really in Europe for the past few years?"
"I am absolutely certain," Snape said firmly, looking a little annoyed at having to repeat himself. "Macnair is a sadistic bastard, but he loves his children." He smiled wryly at the look of surprise on Kingsley's face. "Macnair noticed, as all the Death Eaters did, the signs that Voldemort was returning the year of the Triwizard Tournament. There was the Dark Mark cast at the Quidditch World Cup, and the Marks on our arms growing increasingly darker. Thaddeus Nott and Lucius Malfoy had no qualms about turning over their children to the Dark Lord, but Macnair didn't want to risk his offspring being injured or killed if war broke out--and I'm sure he knew that the Dark Lord was just as much danger to them as the Aurors, if not more so. He sent Imogen to be apprenticed to a witch in France; wealthy young pureblood women often go to France after graduation for an 'apprenticeship' that's really more of an extended vacation, a chance to gain some sophistication and culture. It's not as common now as it was in my mother's day, but it's still considered the genteel thing to do among a certain social set. As for Warren, he was sent to an acquaintance of Macnair's in Romania, a famous Dark Wizard. Macnair claimed that he had sent his son to study the Dark Arts in order to make him worthy of becoming a Death Eater, but it was really just an excuse to send his children away from England and out of Voldemort's reach."
"And Macnair confided this to you?" Kingsley asked skeptically.
"Of course not, you idiot," Snape replied irritably, while Kingsley glared at him and Tonks lifted her hand to her face to hide a smile. For some reason that Harry couldn't quite understand, Tonks seemed to like Snape, and found his rudeness more amusing than annoying.
"He would never openly discuss his weaknesses with anyone, not even a fellow Death Eater," Snape continued. "Admitting that he didn't trust our Master would be considered treason, and admitting to loving his children would mark them as hostages that could be used against him. However, as a skilled Legilimens and spy, it was quite easy for me to discern Macnair's true motives without him needing to state them openly."
"But did the other Death Eaters--and more importantly, Voldemort--really buy such a flimsy story?" Tonks asked.
Snape shrugged. "I doubt it, but most of the Death Eaters probably assumed that he just didn't want to put his heir at risk; even Lucius valued Draco to a certain extent, as his heir and the means to carry on the Malfoy name, if nothing else. As for the Dark Lord, he was too preoccupied with figuring out how to destroy Potter to worry about the Macnair children, although it did mark Macnair as being somewhat less than completely devoted to his Lord. But I'm sure that Macnair thought he could play it both ways--to keep his son and daughter safely out of England if Voldemort lost the war, or to bring them home to take the Dark Mark as loyal Death Eaters if Voldemort won. As it turns out, he was right to have sent them away. And whatever favor he might have lost in his Master's eyes, he quickly regained when he was able to convince the giants to side with the Death Eaters. He had also betrothed his son to Augustus Rookwood's granddaughter as a show of his commitment to the Death Eaters, but the Rookwood family broke off the engagement after the war ended and Augustus was arrested."
"Do you think that Macnair's children are dangerous, Professor?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice neutral and non-accusing.
Snape scowled at him anyway, but answered his question. "Yes and no, Potter. Warren and Imogen are devoted to their father and would no doubt like to seek revenge for him if they could. The Macnair family is unusually close for a bunch of ruthless, ambitious purebloods, perhaps because the twins' mother died in childbirth, and Macnair raised them himself and never remarried. However, Warren and Imogen are reasonably intelligent, or at least they were when I taught them at Hogwarts, and I doubt that they would be foolish enough to attempt a prison break or an attack on the Ministry now. They're smart enough to know that such an attempt would certainly be doomed to failure with the Aurors watching them so closely, and without any support from their father's colleagues, who are all currently dead or in prison. In a few years, perhaps, when the fear of the Death Eaters has died down and people have begun to forget...but for now, I don't think that they'll do anything foolish."
"That's not exactly reassuring, Snape," Kingsley sighed.
"You didn't ask me to be reassuring," Snape pointed out sourly. "You asked for my opinion of the Macnair children and I gave it to you."
"And we're grateful for the information, Severus," Tonks said soothingly. "Thank you. We'll continue to watch the Macnairs, but it's good to know that they're not an immediate threat. Could we offer the two of you some tea as thanks for your help?"
Snape looked as though he wanted to say "no," but Lupin cheerfully replied, "Thank you. It would be nice to have a chance to talk to Harry about how his new job is going."
"It's going fine, Prof...er, Remus," Harry said, grinning at Lupin while Snape scowled.
"We can't stay too long, though," Lupin continued, giving Snape a sly sidelong glance. "I have some...research...I'd like to conduct this afternoon."
"Research?" Tonks asked, although from the way Snape's face was turning red, Harry had a feeling that he didn't really want to hear Lupin's reply.
"Oh, I'm writing a book about lycanthropy," Lupin said sweetly. "A textbook to correct all the lies and misconceptions in less well-researched publications."
"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Remus!" Tonks said enthusiastically. "Don't you think so, Severus?"
"Lupin is certainly dedicated to this new project," Snape replied dryly. "He's been conducting downright exhaustive 'research' on it."
A slightly sarcastic emphasis on the word "research" caused Kingsley to raise his eyebrows and Lupin to laugh--a surprisingly wicked sound for the mild-mannered Gryffindor; it sounded almost Slytherin-ish. Snape actually smiled when he heard it.
"You really don't want to know," Harry whispered to Kingsley.
"I think you're right, Harry," Kingsley replied, and changed the subject to talk of Quidditch while a giggling Tonks put on a kettle of tea to boil.
Part 4b
Title: Scars, Part 4a
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairings: Snape/Lupin, Ash/Tsubasa; also a little Theodore/Blaise, Dylan/Hermione, and Aric/Takeshi
Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts; [] indicates song lyrics.
Disclaimer: Based on the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling; song lyrics are from "Scars" by Papa Roach. No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
Warning: AU. This story contains a character from Half-Blood Prince, but does not follow the HBP storyline.
Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising, Aftermaths, The Revenant, Ash's Story, and Summer Vacation III.
Summary: Harry, Tonks, and Kingsley encounter the daughter of a Death Eater at the museum, and ask Snape for advice; Ash's attempts to court Tsubasa do not go according to plan.
Part 3
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Ash frowned at his reflection in the mirror as he got dressed for work, with much more care than usual, because today he had a fencing lesson with Tsubasa after work. He had lots of nice new robes to wear now that he was working at the Ministry, but unfortunately, he didn't really get to show them off much in front of Tsubasa. At his first lesson a few weeks ago, Tsubasa had told him that he should wear comfortable clothing that he wouldn't mind getting sweaty and dirty, so he usually changed into old, faded robes or t-shirt and jeans after work before heading to Hogwarts. But today Ash decided not to bother with that, and to just throw a nice robe on over his t-shirt and jeans. Even if people noticed that he was wearing Muggle clothing beneath the long robe, it wouldn't really matter because he was currently in favor with the Minister of Magic, and Arthur Weasley loved all things Muggle. He had been thrilled with the electric toothbrush that Hermione and Dylan had given him, and Ash had just helped him to set up his latest Muggle toy in his office: an espresso/cappuccino machine. Molly Weasley had banned it from her home after Arthur had tried to set it up himself and ended up spraying hot water and milk all over the kitchen, but Ash had got it working properly, and Arthur was even more pleased with him than ever. And of course there was the side benefit of being able to get a good cup of coffee from the Minister's office every morning.
After some thought, Ash donned a black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, fashionably faded and slightly frayed over the knees. They were not tight enough to be uncomfortable or inhibit movement, but fit snugly enough to show off the curve of his arse. He no longer had the scrawny, stick-thin figure he'd had as a half-starved runaway child; over the years, hard work and sufficient (if not always plentiful) food had filled out his body with flesh and muscle, although he was still more lean and sinewy than brawny and athletic-looking like Aric, or sleek and beautiful like the late, unlamented Lucius Malfoy.
Ash sighed as he brushed out his long, shoulder-length hair, wishing for just a touch of Malfoy-like sleekness; Lucius Malfoy had been an evil bastard, but a handsome one. He automatically pulled his hair forward to hide the scar running across the left side of his face, then scowled at his reflection and impatiently pushed his hair back. Who the hell was he trying to fool, anyway? The scar was impossible to hide completely, and trying to cover it up probably just drew more attention to it. He had been assured by numerous past lovers that he was handsome and that the scar even gave him a roguish, piratical charm. Ash would laugh and agree with them, playing at being vain, but whenever he looked in the mirror, deep in his heart, he still felt ugly...
"Making yourself pretty for your little bird?" a sleepy voice asked from the doorway. Ash snarled and hurled his hairbrush at the doorway; Kian yelped in pain as it bounced off his head.
"What was that for?" the young werewolf whined plaintively, rubbing his head.
"What are you doing here?" Ash retorted. "I thought you were at the mansion."
Kian yawned, rubbing bleary eyes. "Me and Kai were out late last night. Figured it would be better to crash here than to stumble in drunk in the middle of the night and wake up Lady Narcissa. She has a sharp tongue when she's angry, and Lukas is overprotective of his mate now that she's with cub. Merlin help anyone who disturbs his beloved's beauty rest."
"Oh, I don't care!" Ash growled. "Just mind your own business!"
Kian had to jump back hastily to avoid being hit as Ash slammed the door shut. "Well, somebody sure woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning," he muttered to the closed door.
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Kian and his lover Kai stumbled into the charity clinic in Diagon Alley later that morning, both of them looking pale and slightly ill. Takeshi immediately recognized their symptoms and fetched two potion bottles without being asked. Werewolves rarely got sick, aside from the pain and nausea in the days leading up to the full moon. However, it was currently nowhere near the full moon, and even a werewolf was not immune to a hangover.
"Ah, thanks, Takeshi," Kian sighed after he gulped down the Hangover Potion. Kai nodded his thanks as he swallowed his own potion.
"I like a glass of wine or a cup of good ale as much as the next person, but it's not healthy to drink until you're sick, you know," Takeshi scolded them.
"We were celebrating," Kai protested.
"Celebrating what?"
"Oh, having jobs and not being outcasts anymore," Kai said, gesturing vaguely. "Living in a fine mansion and learning to play Quidditch."
"You've had a job and been living in the mansion since the beginning of summer," Takeshi said dryly. "Just how long do you intend to keep celebrating?"
Kai ignored the question and added virtuously, "And we never get drunk when we have to work the next day."
"Today's our day off," Kian chimed in. "We'd never let Master Isamu down by giving less than our best at work."
"Well, at least that cuts down on the number of nights you can go drinking," Takeshi sighed, then frowned thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen Ash come in for a Hangover Potion lately, either, although I've been away for most of the summer." His friend had a fondness for Firewhiskey, and usually turned up seeking relief from hangovers on a regular basis.
"Oh, he hasn't been going to the pubs with us," Kai snickered. "He spends all his time pining over his pretty bird. I think your cousin's been playing hard to get, Takeshi."
"Well, crane courtship rituals can be rather complicated," Takeshi said with a smile. "Although since Tsubasa spent most of his childhood living among the humans, and most of his adult life living with the tengu, he doesn't really worry much about adhering to formal rituals. But he is still a pureblooded crane, and my people do not give away their hearts lightly; the instinct to cleave unto a sole lifemate is in our blood. So you might tell Ash to look upon Tsubasa playing 'hard to get' as a positive sign. If all he wanted was a one night stand or a casual affair, he would just sleep with Ash and be done with it. And if he wasn't interested, he would find a way to turn down Ash politely. But if he hasn't outright rejected Ash, then it probably means that he's at least contemplating the possibility of a serious relationship. But he wouldn't just jump into something like that."
"I guess it is complicated, huh?" Kian sighed. "Well, I wish your cousin would make up his mind, Takeshi. Ash has been rather grumpy lately."
Aric came up behind Takeshi, slipping an arm around his waist and brushing his lips against Takeshi's neck; Takeshi leaned back against him, sighing. "Tell Ash he should be stubborn and persistent," Aric said with a wolfish grin, exposing his sharp canine teeth. "Tell him not to give up."
"Stubbornness does seem to be an inherent werewolf trait," Takeshi laughed, smiling at his lover fondly.
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Laura was staring at the picture of her brother one morning, as she often did, frowning thoughtfully.
"Laura?" Rosie called from the doorway. "Hurry up, we'll be late for breakfast!"
"Oh, sorry," Laura said, hastily putting the photo away and hurrying to join Rosie.
"You're always staring at Ethan's picture," Rosie said with a smile. "I would have thought you'd have his face memorized by now."
"It's odd, but his face looks familiar somehow, even though I've never met him," Laura replied. "I was trying to figure out who he reminds me of."
"Probably yourself and your mother, silly," Rosie said. "He has your eyes, after all."
Laura didn't contradict her friend, but she thought that Rosie was wrong. It was true that Ethan had hazel eyes, like both Laura and her mother, but aside from that, he didn't look much like either of them, or Father, for that matter. Yet she had the strangest feeling that she had seen him somewhere before, although of course that was impossible.
The thought nagged at her persistently, like an itch that couldn't be scratched, but she tried to put it out of her mind for now, and changed the subject. In the Great Hall, most of the other Hufflepuff girls were talking about how "dreamy" Professor Tsubasa was. Even practical Rosie sighed and giggled along with the others. Laura privately thought that the Professor was very handsome, but a little too pretty for her taste. Her ideal type was someone who was strong and masculine, but also serious and kind--like Cedric Diggory, whom she'd had a crush on as a first-year. Not that she'd ever thought she'd had a chance with him, of course, but she had admired him, as nearly all the other Hufflepuff girls had. She was glad that Master Diggory was planning to name his baby after Cedric, because it made her feel like a part of Cedric would still live on.
But even though she didn't moon over Professor Tsubasa like the other girls, she did like him as a teacher; his lessons were always interesting. He had explained in one of his earlier lectures that wizards in other countries didn't always use a wand for what he called a "focus object," and that some of the non-human races didn't need a focus object at all. Today, one of the students asked him to explain more about the concept of wandless magic.
"If non-humans can work magic without a wand, doesn't that make them more powerful than the human wizards?" Kevin Whitby asked. "So why aren't the non-humans in charge of the wizarding world?"
"Numbers, for one thing," Tsubasa replied. "We are far outnumbered by human wizards, much the same way that Muggles outnumber wizards in general. For another, the type of magic that the non-human races can perform is generally very limited. The tanuki, for example, are masters of Illusion-type spells, but have no talent for combative magic. Therefore, they must use illusion and trickery to defend themselves, and will normally hide or flee rather than fight if threatened. My people, the crane folk, have the unique gift of Weaving magic and the ability to shapeshift at will. Some of us have a talent for Healing, and occasionally a Seer is born among us, but like the tanuki, we have little aptitude for combative magic. Werewolves, of course, possess the ability to turn into wolves, but they have no control over the transformation. It is a natural balance of power, Mr. Whitby. The shapeshifters possess the ability to cast spells without wands, but only in one or two specialized fields of magic, while humans have access to a wide variety of spells, but are limited by the need to use a wand or other focus object. House-elves are able to perform a variety of wandless spells, but are limited by the bonds of servitude to their masters."
"Hmm," Kevin said thoughtfully. "So it's like nature's way of balancing things out, to keep one group from getting too powerful?"
"Exactly," Tsubasa said with an approving smile. "At least, that is what my people believe."
"Someone should tell that to Hermione Granger," joked another of Laura's classmates, a boy named Owen Cauldwell. He rolled his eyes and added, "She's determined to save the house-elves from their lives of slavery--whether they want to be saved or not."
"But she has a point," Laura said hesitantly. "The balance of power isn't really equal. Humans still have the most power in the wizarding world."
"Well, no system is perfect," Tsubasa admitted.
"And you use a wand," Kevin pointed out.
"Yes, I was educated in the human ways of magic at Salem," Tsubasa replied. "But my Weaving ability is rather weak; perhaps that is why I was able to learn human magic with such ease. Or possibly it's the other way around, and my ability to use Weaving magic was stunted by the fact that I was practicing human magic." He shrugged, looking unconcerned. "It is the former rather than the latter, I think, since my strongest talent is Transfiguration, and shapeshifting, after all, is a type of Transfiguration magic. But I suppose that it doesn't really matter, so long as I am content with myself the way I am."
"And are you content, Professor?" Laura asked, wondering if he really was content with his life, considering that he had left his home and traveled so far away to teach at a foreign school. Was it out of a sense of adventure or a desire to promote better international relations, or was it something more?
"Content enough, Miss Madley," Tsubasa said lightly, then smiled rather ironically and added, "Some of my kinfolk are perhaps not so content with me, but that is their problem, not mine. In any case, let us continue with today's lesson." He handed out to each student a wooden stick topped with a wooden propeller. "This is a traditional child's toy in Japan, a take-tonbo, or bamboo dragonfly. And this spell is what attracted the Headmaster's attention and led to him offering me a job here at Hogwarts." He took out his wand, tapped the toy with it, and cried, "Transformare Libelle!"
The class applauded politely as the stick-toy turned into a real dragonfly and buzzed around the room a few times before returning to the teacher's desk and resuming its original form. They were impressed but not overawed, as they had seen McGonagall perform similar types of spells.
"Now you try it," Tsubasa said, and they discovered that it wasn't as easy as he made it look. Nothing happened when they waved their wands and shouted the incantation.
"Are we pronouncing it wrong?" Kevin asked, looking confused.
"Haven't you realized by now that the actual words are not really that important?" Tsubasa gently chided. "They only serve to channel and focus your power, in much the same way that your wand does. Then again, Western magic does place a great deal of emphasis on incantations, so perhaps it's not surprising that many wizards believe that the magic resides in the words themselves. But haven't you ever wondered how nonverbal spells are cast?"
"Uh...not really," Kevin confessed, looking a little embarrassed. "That's considered advanced magic; they don't start teaching nonverbal spells till sixth year, and we're only in fifth."
"I never really thought much about it," Laura added. "I mean, I know what a nonverbal spell is, but I just assumed that it worked because you recited the incantation silently in your mind."
"The words of the incantation do have importance," Tsubasa said with a smile. "But only the importance that we attach to them. The incantations used by Western mages are mostly based in Latin, including the one that I just taught you: 'Transformare' means 'to transform,' of course, and 'Libelle' means 'dragonfly'. But a wizard from my homeland might say, 'tonbo henshin!'--Japanese for 'dragonfly transform!' Or he might say nothing at all." He tapped the wooden toy with his wand again, this time without uttering the incantation, and it turned into a dragonfly once more.
"So...do you want us to practice nonverbal spells?" Owen asked doubtfully.
"No, Mr. Cauldwell," Tsubasa said kindly, to Owen's obvious relief. "I'm just reminding you that concentration and willpower are the keys to casting a successful spell. The incantation is there to help you concentrate and focus your power. Don't just mouth the words; as you recite the incantation, concentrate very hard on picturing the image of the dragonfly in your mind. Picture it down to the smallest detail--the color of its body and the shape of its wings. Transforming an inanimate object into a living creature is very difficult, but remember that the toy is made of wood, which was once living itself. Call to the life within the wood; call on it to awaken and reshape itself into the form you picture in your mind. Ready? Begin!"
Laura shut her eyes to help herself concentrate, building an image of a dragonfly in her head: bulbous eyes, a shiny blue-green body, and four fluttering transparent wings. She held her wand in one hand and clenched the take-tonbo in the other. Her fingers stroked the smooth wood, and she silently called on it to remember what it was like to be alive. "Transformare Libelle," she whispered. "Transformare Libelle. Transformare Libelle."
She still felt the wooden stick in her hand, so she thought that the spell had failed, but she heard startled gasps and laughter from her classmates, so she opened her eyes and saw to her astonishment that the wooden dragonfly was still wooden, but had begun sprouting leaves and twigs.
"That's not quite what I meant when I said to call to the life within the wood, but you seem to have been very successful in doing so," Tsubasa said with a grin. "Perhaps a little too much so; I think you have a talent for plant magic, Miss Madley."
"Herbology's my best subject, sir," Laura said, smiling sheepishly.
"So it would seem," Tsubasa said, still grinning. "Well, I'll award you five points, since you were halfway successful with your spell. You can try casting it again with my tonbo." He handed her the toy he had been using. "You should plant the other in Professor Sprout's gardens. It would be a shame to turn it back into a lifeless stick now that you've awakened it."
"Yes, sir," Laura said, blushing a little. She was a little embarrassed by the spectacular failure of the spell, but at the same time felt excited by how she'd been able to "awaken" the wooden stick. It wasn't something they had ever covered in Herbology, but surely this was useful magic for a future farmer and Herbologist to know.
Professor Sprout was just as surprised and delighted when Laura showed her the leafy stick. "You have a real talent for Herbology, my dear!" she said proudly. "I admit I had some reservations about Professor Tsubasa, but it seems that his methods are quite effective, even if somewhat unorthodox. I think that you're ready to learn some magic more advanced than what we're covering in class, Miss Madley. I know that you're busy getting ready for your O.W.L.s, but if you can spare the time, I'd like to give you special tutoring afterschool, say, twice a week?"
"Oh, I would love that, Professor Sprout!" Laura exclaimed.
"Meet me in Greenhouse 1 afterschool today then, dear. But for now, let's get your little friend planted."
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Meanwhile, Harry, Tonks, and Kingsley had picked up the magical artifacts from the archaeological dig, and were screening them at the Ministry. "Nasty bloke, this wizard," Tonks observed cheerfully. Among the artifacts was a golden torc shaped like a snake, much like the one that Master Diggory often wore, except that this one had only one head. When the hapless victim donned the torc, the serpent came to life and bit him or her on the neck.
"See here?" Tonks pointed out. "There's a chamber in the snake's head to hold the poison; the fangs are tiny hollow needles. It's really quite clever." Harry nervously pulled his hands back out of reach of the snake's mouth, and Tonks laughed. "Don't worry, Harry, the poison chamber is empty."
There was another serpent-shaped torc that was enchanted to strangle its owner, and a sun-shaped plaque made of solid gold that was probably something like a magical burglar alarm; it would shoot forth a searing blast of flame if someone walked past it without uttering the proper command word to disarm it.
"It seems to be using the type of Dark Warding spells that Professor Lupin...that Remus told us about in DADA class," Harry said. "It's defensive rather than offensive, but it inflicts harm on someone if they try to get past it."
"Very good, Harry; five points to Gryffindor," Kingsley joked. "Actually, I'm not sure whether this wizard was a 'nasty bloke,' as Tonks said, or just extremely paranoid. Most of these items, while Dark, are defensive rather than offensive in nature." He held up a silver goblet that was enchanted to identify and neutralize poisons.
"Well, he could have been both," Harry pointed out. "Nasty and paranoid."
"Quite true," Kingsley agreed, and they continued sorting through the artifacts. Most of them would be locked in secure vaults at the Ministry, and the less dangerous ones, such as the goblet, would be sent on to the Museum of Wizarding History.
"What about this one?" Harry asked, holding up a chipped stone medallion. "It has a Dark aura, but it's faint, and Master Tremayne and Theodore aren't sure what it does, although they think it might be something to do with lycanthropy."
"It should be safe enough to send it on to the museum," Kingsley said dismissively. "Even if it is Dark, it doesn't seem to be functional. Broken items usually don't work, and even when they do, they rarely work properly or effectively."
"As Ron knows from experience," Harry said with a grin, and told them the story about how Ron had broken his wand in second year.
They took the artifacts deemed "safe" to the museum and handed them over to a Professor Henry Bletchley, whom Harry was surprised to discover was the cousin of the former Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley. He seemed a good deal more pleasant than his cousin, who had once hit Alicia Spinnet with a curse during Harry's fifth year.
They were discussing the artifacts when Kingsley looked up and noticed someone hovering in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" he asked sharply, and Harry stared at him in surprise, because Kingsley was usually very good-natured. He turned to see who had gotten Kingsley so upset, and saw a woman standing in the doorway. He thought she was young, but it was difficult to tell how old she was or whether she was pretty or not, because her head was bowed, her long dark hair falling forward and obscuring her face. She looked vaguely familiar, although Harry couldn't recall where--or if--he had seen her before.
"The Director asked me to deliver some files to Professor Bletchley," she said quietly.
"Thank you, Imogen," Bletchley said hastily, rising to his feet to take the files from her. She nodded and left the room, head still bowed.
"Who was that?" Harry asked.
"Imogen Macnair," Kingsley replied, frowning as he gazed after the departing woman.
"Macnair?!" Harry exclaimed. "As in the Death Eater Macnair?"
"She's his daughter," Kingsley said. "Macnair has two children, Imogen and a twin brother, Warren. We couldn't prove that they had any connection to the Death Eaters, but I find it extremely unlikely that they had no knowledge of their father's activities, and I don't like that she was listening in on our conversation."
"You yourself deemed the artifacts not dangerous, Mr. Shacklebolt," Bletchley said coldly. "And even so, I assure you that they will be kept safely under lock and key here at the museum. Miss Macnair works here as a clerk, and she does sometimes stop by my office to deliver documents, so she wasn't necessarily spying on you."
"Is she a friend of yours?" Kingsley asked suspiciously.
"No, I barely know her," Bletchley replied. "She's much younger than I am, and I've been working abroad for most of the past two decades. I don't know her well enough to say whether she's trustworthy or not. But I do know what it's like to be viewed with suspicion and treated like a potential Death Eater just because I'm a Slytherin. I have met Walden Macnair, and I do agree that he's a very cruel and unpleasant man, but the Macnair children were too young to take part in the first war, and from what I understand, were living in Europe for most of the second, so it seems unlikely that they were Death Eaters themselves. They may have shared their father's political views, but even if that's true, haven't they been punished enough? Their father is in prison, the family name has been disgraced, and Warren has been unable to find anyone willing to hire a Death Eater's son. Imogen was able to secure a clerical position here at the museum only because one of the curators was a friend of her late mother, and took pity on her friend's daughter. And it's a position that would normally be far beneath the status of a wealthy pureblood woman. So you may take pleasure in knowing that the Macnair family has been quite humbled and humiliated, Mr. Shacklebolt."
"Kingsley didn't mean it that way, I'm sure," Tonks said, giving her fellow Auror an anxious look.
"She caught me by surprise," Kingsley said stiffly. "I didn't know that Miss Macnair was working here."
Bletchley nodded curtly, and the three Aurors rather awkwardly said goodbye and returned to the Ministry. When they were back at the office, Harry asked, "Do you really think that she was spying on us, Kingsley? Do you think she wants to steal the artifacts?"
"I don't know, Harry," Kingsley sighed, rubbing his hand across his bald pate. "It startled me to see her, as I said, and I admit I may be somewhat biased. Her father personally hurt and killed many of my colleagues."
"And so did Thaddeus Nott, and Evan Rosier," Tonks reminded him. "But Theodore and Dylan aren't like their fathers."
"Yes, but they've proven themselves by fighting on our side during the final battle," Kingsley said. "And they have no reason to be loyal to the Death Eaters: Thaddeus tried to sacrifice his own son, and the Death Eaters killed Dylan's mother and tried to sacrifice his aunt. I have no idea where Imogen Macnair's loyalties lie. You would have a better idea of whether or not she might want to carry on her father's cause, Tonks. Didn't you go to school with her? In fact, I think she was still at Hogwarts while you were there, Harry. Didn't you ever meet her?"
"I don't know," Harry replied. "I thought she looked sort of familiar, but I didn't get a good look at her face. And I didn't spend much time around the older students, especially the Slytherins."
"She would have graduated at the end of your third year, Harry," Tonks told him. "You wouldn't have had any classes together, so there's no reason for you to have met her, although you might have seen her sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall during meals; perhaps that's why she looks familiar to you. I was a few years ahead of Imogen and Warren." She winked at Harry. "That was before your time, of course. Can't say that I liked them; they were typical Slytherins, proud and snooty, and of course they looked down on a half-blood like me. Our paths didn't cross much, though, because of the age difference. I thought that they were arrogant and obnoxious, but I can't say if they were actually evil. Warren hexed a few kids he got into arguments with, but minor spells and nothing dangerous--certainly no Forbidden Curses. It seemed like typical kid stuff at the time; a lot of my Gryffindor friends got into worse mischief than the Macnairs. In fact, Imogen never really got into trouble at all, that I know of. I mean, she said some insulting things to those of us with less than pure blood, but it never went beyond a few snide remarks. I never saw her cast any hexes or do anything to get detention. Severus didn't believe that they were actively involved with the Death Eaters; as far as he knew, they never took the Dark Mark, and he never saw them at any meetings. And they were living abroad for the past few years, as Professor Bletchley pointed out, so they were never charged with any crimes."
"They were supposedly living abroad," Kingsley said, "but who's to say that they never returned home secretly from time to time? Or that they weren't carrying out some mission for the Death Eaters in Europe?"
"I think that's unlikely," Tonks replied. "Severus said that Voldemort was concentrating his efforts on killing Harry and gaining control of England before trying to take the war abroad."
"You're probably right, and I'm probably just being paranoid," Kingsley conceded. "But still, I think I'd like to talk to Snape about this again."
So they sent a message to Hogwarts, and Snape stopped by the Ministry later that afternoon, accompanied by Lupin. Kingsley hadn't specifically asked for Lupin to come with Snape, but Harry wasn't really surprised by his presence; ever since they had gone public with their relationship, the two of them were rarely seen apart, outside of their classrooms. And Harry suspected that if it had been possible, Lupin would have conducted a joint Potions/DADA class with Snape (although Snape would probably not have been so willing, since he complained loudly whenever Lupin embarrassed him by acting affectionate in front of the students). But the Potion's Master's bad temper aside, a combined class would not be practical--Harry could just picture a misfired Defense spell knocking over a Potions cauldron and setting off an explosion, which would in turn cause Snape to explode, figuratively speaking. Personally, Harry would much rather deal with an exploding cauldron than an exploding Snape.
But today Snape seemed...well, not in a good mood, exactly, but no more sour than usual. Lupin, of course, smiled sunnily and greeted everyone cheerfully. Snape listened to the story of their brief encounter with Imogen Macnair, then said, "I cannot say whether Miss Macnair's presence was purely coincidental or if she had ulterior motives, but I am absolutely certain that she and her brother were not Death Eaters."
"Well, maybe not officially, but are you certain that they weren't unofficially helping out their father?" Kingsley asked. "And are you sure they were really in Europe for the past few years?"
"I am absolutely certain," Snape said firmly, looking a little annoyed at having to repeat himself. "Macnair is a sadistic bastard, but he loves his children." He smiled wryly at the look of surprise on Kingsley's face. "Macnair noticed, as all the Death Eaters did, the signs that Voldemort was returning the year of the Triwizard Tournament. There was the Dark Mark cast at the Quidditch World Cup, and the Marks on our arms growing increasingly darker. Thaddeus Nott and Lucius Malfoy had no qualms about turning over their children to the Dark Lord, but Macnair didn't want to risk his offspring being injured or killed if war broke out--and I'm sure he knew that the Dark Lord was just as much danger to them as the Aurors, if not more so. He sent Imogen to be apprenticed to a witch in France; wealthy young pureblood women often go to France after graduation for an 'apprenticeship' that's really more of an extended vacation, a chance to gain some sophistication and culture. It's not as common now as it was in my mother's day, but it's still considered the genteel thing to do among a certain social set. As for Warren, he was sent to an acquaintance of Macnair's in Romania, a famous Dark Wizard. Macnair claimed that he had sent his son to study the Dark Arts in order to make him worthy of becoming a Death Eater, but it was really just an excuse to send his children away from England and out of Voldemort's reach."
"And Macnair confided this to you?" Kingsley asked skeptically.
"Of course not, you idiot," Snape replied irritably, while Kingsley glared at him and Tonks lifted her hand to her face to hide a smile. For some reason that Harry couldn't quite understand, Tonks seemed to like Snape, and found his rudeness more amusing than annoying.
"He would never openly discuss his weaknesses with anyone, not even a fellow Death Eater," Snape continued. "Admitting that he didn't trust our Master would be considered treason, and admitting to loving his children would mark them as hostages that could be used against him. However, as a skilled Legilimens and spy, it was quite easy for me to discern Macnair's true motives without him needing to state them openly."
"But did the other Death Eaters--and more importantly, Voldemort--really buy such a flimsy story?" Tonks asked.
Snape shrugged. "I doubt it, but most of the Death Eaters probably assumed that he just didn't want to put his heir at risk; even Lucius valued Draco to a certain extent, as his heir and the means to carry on the Malfoy name, if nothing else. As for the Dark Lord, he was too preoccupied with figuring out how to destroy Potter to worry about the Macnair children, although it did mark Macnair as being somewhat less than completely devoted to his Lord. But I'm sure that Macnair thought he could play it both ways--to keep his son and daughter safely out of England if Voldemort lost the war, or to bring them home to take the Dark Mark as loyal Death Eaters if Voldemort won. As it turns out, he was right to have sent them away. And whatever favor he might have lost in his Master's eyes, he quickly regained when he was able to convince the giants to side with the Death Eaters. He had also betrothed his son to Augustus Rookwood's granddaughter as a show of his commitment to the Death Eaters, but the Rookwood family broke off the engagement after the war ended and Augustus was arrested."
"Do you think that Macnair's children are dangerous, Professor?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice neutral and non-accusing.
Snape scowled at him anyway, but answered his question. "Yes and no, Potter. Warren and Imogen are devoted to their father and would no doubt like to seek revenge for him if they could. The Macnair family is unusually close for a bunch of ruthless, ambitious purebloods, perhaps because the twins' mother died in childbirth, and Macnair raised them himself and never remarried. However, Warren and Imogen are reasonably intelligent, or at least they were when I taught them at Hogwarts, and I doubt that they would be foolish enough to attempt a prison break or an attack on the Ministry now. They're smart enough to know that such an attempt would certainly be doomed to failure with the Aurors watching them so closely, and without any support from their father's colleagues, who are all currently dead or in prison. In a few years, perhaps, when the fear of the Death Eaters has died down and people have begun to forget...but for now, I don't think that they'll do anything foolish."
"That's not exactly reassuring, Snape," Kingsley sighed.
"You didn't ask me to be reassuring," Snape pointed out sourly. "You asked for my opinion of the Macnair children and I gave it to you."
"And we're grateful for the information, Severus," Tonks said soothingly. "Thank you. We'll continue to watch the Macnairs, but it's good to know that they're not an immediate threat. Could we offer the two of you some tea as thanks for your help?"
Snape looked as though he wanted to say "no," but Lupin cheerfully replied, "Thank you. It would be nice to have a chance to talk to Harry about how his new job is going."
"It's going fine, Prof...er, Remus," Harry said, grinning at Lupin while Snape scowled.
"We can't stay too long, though," Lupin continued, giving Snape a sly sidelong glance. "I have some...research...I'd like to conduct this afternoon."
"Research?" Tonks asked, although from the way Snape's face was turning red, Harry had a feeling that he didn't really want to hear Lupin's reply.
"Oh, I'm writing a book about lycanthropy," Lupin said sweetly. "A textbook to correct all the lies and misconceptions in less well-researched publications."
"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Remus!" Tonks said enthusiastically. "Don't you think so, Severus?"
"Lupin is certainly dedicated to this new project," Snape replied dryly. "He's been conducting downright exhaustive 'research' on it."
A slightly sarcastic emphasis on the word "research" caused Kingsley to raise his eyebrows and Lupin to laugh--a surprisingly wicked sound for the mild-mannered Gryffindor; it sounded almost Slytherin-ish. Snape actually smiled when he heard it.
"You really don't want to know," Harry whispered to Kingsley.
"I think you're right, Harry," Kingsley replied, and changed the subject to talk of Quidditch while a giggling Tonks put on a kettle of tea to boil.
Part 4b