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The Next Lord of Kobol

Chapter 5 – Silver Hands and Silver Tongues

(December 25th, 1996 - Approximately ten years before the fall of the Twelve Colonies)

-x-x-x-x-x-x

It wasn't his father's cloak; for one thing it felt off.  Harry didn't like to think of his Uncle Vernon, but he recalled a time when Vernon's overpriced status symbol of a car was in the shop and the drill salesman was forced to use a lesser model.  He'd complained about how everything concerning the loaner had felt cheaper.

Strangely, Harry could finally understand what his uncle meant.  This cloak belonged to Moody and had probably been used by Dung Fletcher.  At least, it smelled like it had.  Harry wondered what exactly the point of being invisible was if the smell of stale tobacco and alcohol was overpowering.

"Can't he bloody well get this wretched thing cleaned?"

Harry slid over to a position by a window and cracked it slightly.  The bound and gagged werewolf sitting in the chair followed his movements with his eyes, proving just how "invisible" Harry was.  Instead, he tried to focus on one of his other senses.  He’d removed his glasses for good this morning.  Just as Dumbledore suspected, Harry’s vision improved by leaps and bounds after the removal of the Horcrux and in just over a half a year, his sight was perfectly normal.

Fortunately, the ability to speak to snakes had remained, even though Harry didn’t really have a need for it all that often.

In the other room, Harry heard the sounds of movement and voices.  This shook him out of his introspection.

"I can't thank you enough for this gift, Severus.  It gives me a chance to eliminate one more reminder of my past."

Snape's caustic tongue cut through the simpering tone of Peter Pettigrew's voice.  "We question Lupin under Veritaserum first.  If he knows where Dumbledore or Potter is, we get the information and only then you may kill him.  Given our shared history with the creature, I merely wish to be the sole witness to his demise.  The rest is up to you."

Lupin tilted his head slightly and moved his leg to ensure that his wand was covered and nodded to where Harry stood.  Snape's comments signaled that it was just the two of them.

Still, the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up.  His faith in his former teacher was nowhere near Dumbledore's.  Part of him expected Voldemort to walk in with the duo.

Instinctively, Harry glanced at the Portkey dangling from his belt.  Of the many things his late godfather had taught him, one thing stood out above all.  It even eclipsed Moody's howls about vigilance.  Sirius Black had told him, "No matter where you are, always know your exits."

Remus was equally tense and rustled in his chains.  On the surface, the chains appeared to be silver.  That was just a minor color illusion.  When the command word was uttered, the gag and the chains would return to the base material they'd been transfigured from - in his case cobwebs.

Wormtail was right handed.  Harry wisely stood in a spot where Peter would have to pivot in his direction.

"We'll let's get this over with then," Peter cackled.  "Hello old friend, did you miss me?"

As the door opened, Harry caught a glimpse of Peter's face and the gleam off the silver hand.

Stunners from Harry, Remus and Snape all met up at roughly the same time where Wormtail stood and Harry breathed a sigh of relief when the Animagus collapsed.  Now, it was time for phase two of the plan.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Hello Peter," Harry said, doing his best to maintain his calm in the presence of this quivering mass of flesh in front of him.

"Do what you will to me, but the master will survive.  He can defy even death!"

Remus Lupin checked on his former friend's restraints, taking special care to avoid the magical limb. 

The werewolf said, "It was so nice of you to receive us this evening."

Harry glanced away from the silver handed death eater and around the room.  The decor of Spinner's End was cold and impersonal, much like the man who owned it.

"Is this assignment boring you, Potter?  I'm certain the Headmaster could find a more suitable task for you if there is some place you'd rather be.  You could always go lay another wreath at Black's grave."

"I'm preparing myself for what is necessary, Snape," Harry said.  "Unlike you, I'm not ready at a moment's notice to use an Unforgiveable."

"A perfect explanation of why you would fail, were this up to you alone."

"I don't know, Severus," Lupin countered.  "Most of us get by rather nicely without having to stain our souls.  Albus manages."

Snape crossed his arms and made a sound that was a mixture of a grunt and a laugh.  "Feeble, Lupin.  The boy is no Dumbledore, even were he to live a thousand years.  He isn't even in his father's league."

"Careful Snape," Harry said.  "I know for a fact that he and mum are listening.  I may not be in my dad's league, but what really mattered was when it came to my mum, you weren't in his league either."

Even Peter gaped at Harry's reply.

"You dare!"  Snape bellowed.

"Please Snape," Harry said.  "They let me know who told Riddle about the prophecy.  Regardless of how this plays out, you will one day be held accountable for what happened to the Potters and let's not forget the Longbottoms either.  You've got your little pardon for this life, but the next won't be nearly as forgiving."

Dumbledore had advised Harry to express himself more.  His exact words were, "Harry, here is something quite liberating about saying what is on your mind.  For the truth is one of the simplest and most powerful magics of all." 

Somehow, the young wizard doubted this was what his mentor had intended, but it did feel right to get this off his chest.

"Maybe we could test how well that prophecy protects you," Snape threatened.

"That would be a bad idea," Lupin said as it felt like the temperature dropped ten degrees.  "Because I'd finally fulfill Sirius' wish, from all those years ago, and kill you, but this time I wouldn't regret it."

It was obvious to Harry that this group wasn't chosen for their ability to get along.  Snape had lured Pettigrew to his home with the promise of killing off Remus Lupin once and for all.  Instead, Harry, Remus, and the turncoat Snape captured the rat Animagus.

With the only possible Horcrux left being Riddle's snake, Nagini, the plan called for Harry to place Peter under the Imperius curse and count on Harry's raw power coupled with the debt the rat owed the young wizard to hold Pettigrew under his control long enough to end the reptile's miserable existence.  Snape provided a concoction of deadly poisons to be added to the monster's next meal.

Other than placing virtually everything on Harry's ability to control an unforgiveable curse, it wasn't half bad.  Snape was also going along for the ride and his devotion to Dumbledore gave Harry hope that the Head of Slytherin would step in, risking his cover, if need be and complete the task.

If he didn't loathe the man, Harry could've found a measure of respect.

"...and if the goblins cared, they'd return the Potter, Dumbledore, and Black fortunes the Ministry gifted them, then everyone could be friends forever!"

One of the things Dumbledore had withheld while Harry was dealing with Sirius Black’s death was that the Ministry’s version of an apology to the Goblin nation included the two organizations confiscating and splitting the contents of their collective vaults. The goblins had threatened to go to war and Fudge’s ministry…or was that Voldemort’s ministry…these days the distinction was becoming harder to identify…offered the vaults up to avert a war.  Other than the few coins Harry had in his bag, he was a veritable pauper.  Somewhere out there, Draco Malfoy’s cheeks probably hurt from that shit eating grin that was stuck on it.

Harry didn’t really dwell on it.  Money wasn’t something he craved.  Dumbledore wasn’t terribly bothered either and had said that there was too much clutter in the family vaults.  That said, when the Ministry seized Aberforth Dumbledore’s bar in Hogsmeade, Fudge’s spacious manor house disintegrated overnight.  It didn’t burn down.  It simply began to age so quickly, like those shows on the telly where Harry had seen time lapse photography used.

Aurors going there found only the foundation and a picture of the Malfoy estate hovering in the center and the minister transfigured into a goat tied up outside.

Aberforth’s bar was returned to his possession three hours later.

Harry wouldn’t mind sitting down with Aberforth Dumbledore for a quick lesson sometime, but there was a mission to accomplish.  “Well this is getting us nowhere,” he said.  “Let’s just get this over with.  Peter, I have a job for you to do.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The Dark Lord shifted on his throne and a troubled expression was evident on his face.  Those who had been in his Inner Circle long enough knew not to meet his gaze.  Next to the chair was a heavily warded, protective, runic circle where the snake named Nagini circled.

"Speak to me Lucius," Voldemort said.  "What news do you have from the elected fool who claims to run this country?"

Malfoy approached and bowed deeply before saying, "He offers little resistance to my control.  The sanctions against those of less than pure blood move forward."

Voldemort nodded, and addressed his assembled minions, "Very good.  I have heard the rumblings of discontent among you.  There are those who question your master's vision in silence and wonder why I would not simply eliminate the muggleborns from our society.  McNair!  Should I kill off all the dragons?"

The Death Eater, known for his skill with magical beasts, appeared puzzled for a second and replied, "If that is your will master, it is my wand.  If you are asking for my council, I would recommend against it."

"A good answer," Voldemort said as he stood and made a sweeping gesture with his arms.  "Why do you suggest I avoid this course of action?"

"Dragons can be powerful guardians, with the proper training.  They blood is useful in many potions and their heartstrings are essential components in many wands."

"So we can agree that dragons have a role in our society, yes?"

Murmurs of agreement met the evil wizard’s statement.

"Now take a muggleborn.  With the proper training would one be capable of guarding your estate or working in a business owned by you?  A particularly fetching one might even make a suitable concubine, if taught to respect our ways and know her place.  My loyal friends, England is an island.  If we ever wish to step beyond this rock and bring the world under my rule, we'll need expendable fodder and allies beyond our borders.  Otherwise, this whole country is nothing more than a glorified version of Azkaban and the rest of the world will simply surround us and cut us off."

The assembled death eaters digested this news.  Most nodded, though several chose to keep their thoughts to themselves.

“Consider this,” Voldemort added and pointed at ranks of his minions.  “You have every right to be proud of your sons and daughters.  They are the leaders of tomorrow, just as you are the ones making that possible.  When their time comes, they will lead their lesser into battle.  Any one of them is worth ten muggleborns and if it is the destiny of those muggleborns to lay down their lives, I say it is far better for them to do so in my service so that a pureborn wizard or witch does not have to.”

This time the crowd nodded vigorously.  Though the Dark Lord had a less than human face, his charisma and silver tongue could still sway a group as easily as a young Tom Riddle charmed his way through Hogwarts.

“Milord,” Peter said and stepped forward and held covered serving tray.  “If it pleases you, I have brought a gift for both you and Nagini.”

“What do have for me, Wormtail?”

Pettigrew removed the lid and revealed the severed head of a former Hogwarts professor surrounded by hunks of bloody meat.  With a slight cackle, he said, “Milord, I present the head of Remus Lupin, delivered to you on a silver platter.  By myself, I tracked him to a hovel in Scotland.”

“Were you able to learn where Dumbledore hides?”

“The werewolf did not break easily,” Peter said, looking at the gore in his hands.  “He did not know where the old man and boy were, but he knew they hid in Norway until last month.  He strongly suspected that they are in Ireland, under the protection of the clans.  That is all I got out of him…well not everything.”

“Indeed,” Voldemort said.  “Our trackers will investigate both Norway and Ireland.  I congratulate you on your kill.  You may feed the werewolf’s head to Nagini.”

“As you command, Master.”

Wormtail walked to the edge of the runic circle and a small gap opened allowing him to slide the tray inside.  Slithering forward, the snake opened its maw.  With unhinged jaws, it scarfed the head in one bite. The death eaters cheered.

“Now to our next bit of business,” Voldemort said as the noise died down.  “Amelia Bones continues to present a problem.  Since she will not resign on her own, it is time…”

The Dark Lord’s words were interrupted by a strange sound coming from the snake.  It hacked and spit the head back up.  This time the head wasn’t that of a werewolf, it was that of a pig and it was on fire.

Nagini hissed and backed away from it, twitching from the internal injuries.  The fire spread to the floor and grew with an unholy intensity trapped with the snake inside the protective circle.

“Fiendfyre!” Voldemort screamed.  “Seize him!”

The nearest death eater, Yaxley, leapt to the tiny entrance and sent a jet of water into the circle, trying in vain to slow the spread and give the snake a chance to make it to the opening.

Voldemort drew his wand and began unraveling the protective circle.  Unfortunately, his spell work was too complex to be undone so quickly.

“No!  No!  No!”

As the last ring fell, thick black smoke rose obscuring everything.  It coalesced into his face and threw back its mouth in a howl before dissolving.  Yaxley and two others worked to contain the spread of the eldritch flames.

Wormtail hadn’t struggled and now Voldemort rounded on him. 

The man-rodent looked unfazed…clearly bewitched.  Pettigrew smiled and said, “I have a message for you, master.  Harry Potter says that even though there are worse things than death, he’ll settle for your death!  Enjoy the feeling of mortality.  You won’t have it for long.”

“Let him go,” Voldemort said.

“What just happened?  Master?  Master!”  Wormtail’s scream indicated that he must have been released from the curse holding him as a thrall.

“You have failed me, Peter Pettigrew.  I do not tolerate failure.”

“Please!  Spare me!  Potter…he…urk”

Riddle’s gesture caused the silver arm to reach up and grab the wizard’s throat.  Pettigrew spun around clawing at his traitorous appendage with his human hand.  The fingers tightened and yanked pulling a handful of flesh with it.  The enchanted limb displayed Pettigrew’s throat to the former owner as the Animagus sank to his knees gurgling and spilling blood down his front.

Even as the wretch of a man died, the arm thrust itself high into the air displaying the gore for the rest to see.

“That,” Voldemort said and watched as the onlookers met his stare and failed miserably to look unafraid. His wand summoned a pillar of fire under the corpse and began reducing it to ash. “That is what awaits those who fail me.  You are the only ones who can prevent this from becoming your fate.  Do not let this become your fate!”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry exited the Pensieve containing Snape’s memory of Pettigrew’s last moments.  Voldemort was definitely angry and as far as Harry was concerned, that was a good thing.

On the other side of the room, Dumbledore spoke with Snape as the master brewer applied a salve to his Dark Mark. 

Snape grimaced and said, “It will make the pain of resisting his call less intrusive.”

“If the pain becomes unbearable, we can always give you a draught of living death.  You’ve done more than I could ever ask, my friend.  Others can see this through to the end,” Dumbledore offered.

“Perhaps Albus, but I would bear witness to his downfall if I am able.  For now, I will endure.  Nevertheless, I have answered him for the final time.”

Harry looked at the chest by Snape’s feet and said, “As well as cleaning out his potion stores.”

“Severance pay, Potter.  Since I am no longer in his employ, I decided to compensate myself.  Much of it was my work, so I am merely taking what is mine.  Does that bother you boy?”

Harry shook his head and said, “No, I was actually impressed.  It’s something Sirius would do.”

There was an awkward moment of silence as both tried to figure out whether that was the best or worst backhanded compliment ever.

“I’m going upstairs,” Harry said breaking the silence.

Sitting on his bed, Harry listened to the black and silver cassette player that once belonged to Sirius.  He'd gotten it in Spain or Portugal.  It was sturdy and the sound quality wasn't spectacular and didn't compare to that stereo Dudley had been given during the summer between Harry's fourth and fifth years, but i was one of the few Muggle devices he'd seen that functioned despite being around magic.

It even had a little bit of magic inside.  Instead of batteries, it had something that looked like a pair of them, but was in fact a tiny generator with a motion rune on it to produce the correct voltage.  All that was required from Harry was a tap of his wand and to funnel a small trickle of his power into the rune.

"Even though it would likely violate some bloody law, Arthur Weasley would love this," thought Harry as he swapped out Genesis for Queen.

Not that Harry had much respect for English laws anymore.  He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that it was a nice place to visit, but he didn't want to live there.

Actually, even visiting was a stretch at this point.  Using the resurrection stone, he spoke with Sirius and his parents about what to do when this all finally ended.  Both Sirius and his mum said he should reconnect with Hermione and the Weasleys on the other side of the pond.

Surprisingly enough, James Potter's advice was to, "Get as far away from England as you possibly can and go where you can be your own man."

Sirius changed his mind and immediately began recalling every myth and half-truth he'd ever heard about the females in Australia and Asia.

Naturally, or as natural as a conversation with the dead could be, James Potter reminded his friend that Sirius had never been anywhere outside of Europe.

"Congratulations on sending Peter over to this side," Sirius said, changing the topic.  "Little bastard won't show his face around here, probably stuck in some kind of purgatory for buggers just like hum, but I'll run into him eventually."

"Sirius," James said.  "I'm glad Peter is dead and we've been avenged, but I'd prefer not to be congratulating my son for killing someone."

"He's in the middle of a war, James," Black replied.

"I'm acutely aware of that.  Harry did what was necessary, but he shouldn't celebrate it."

"I suppose you're right," Black conceded.

Harry scowled feeling like he was being treated like a child again.  His mother must have recognized the look and approached him.

"Your father is right, Harry," she said.  "Fight when you must.  Kill when there is no other option."

James agreed and said, " I was lucky enough to be raised in a caring environment.  I didn't have the Dursleys like you, or Petunia's jealousy like your mother, or ever present threat of the Black family like Sirius.  I was an arrogant berk through much of my Hogwarts years.  In my fifth year, as the first war began to heat up, I told my father that I was ready to fight for the light.  He gave me a piece of advice and I'll pass it on to you.  Do not measure your victory in a battle by the number of foes you defeat.  Instead, measure it against the number you did not have to defeat.  Does that make sense to you?"

Again Harry was surprised at how the stories of his parents tended to emphasize his mother's brilliance and charm over the attributes of James Potter.  Had he lived, his father would have no doubt been a powerful foil to the likes of the Malfoys.

“It does,” Harry said.

“Good,” James continued.  “One way or another, this war will end soon.  Do what you must to win and then be prepared to live a long and full life.”

A knock at the door interrupted further conversation with his loved ones.  Harry said his goodbyes and answered it.  Albus Dumbledore stood in the doorframe looking as stalwart as ever.

“Sir?”

“As reluctant as I am to interrupt your conversations with the departed, I need the stone.  In two days’ time, we break Tom’s grip on the Ministry and I wish to confer with the spirits of former Unspeakables to finalize my strategy.  I thank you again for the use of your cloak and hope its replacement is serviceable until it can be returned.”

“Do you happen to know a charm that’ll clean it properly?”

Dumbledore laughed and said, “Yes, bring it here and I will demonstrate.  Unlike your cloak, great care must be exercised when cleaning them.  They are far less durable.”

“Maybe Moody should insist Fletcher bathe before using it?”  Harry offered.

“I doubt the battle cry of ‘Constant Hygiene’ would impress our dear Mr. Fletcher,” the elder wizard replied.

“Will you return to Hogwarts once the war is over?” Harry asked and handed the smelly cloak to Dumbledore.

“I might like to, but then again, the idea of never attending another staff meeting appeals to me.”

“Are they really that bad?”

With a whimsical look on his face, the ex-headmaster said, “Meetings are the bane of every sensible adult’s life, Harry.  They are a purgatory unto themselves.  Learn to avoid them whenever possible.”

“I’m not sure I follow you,” Harry said.

Sighing, Dumbledore said, “Sadly, by the time you understand, it will be too late, lad.  Now, allow me to demonstrate the charm I told you about.”

• Previous
• Shall We Depart? Paying Delores a Visit Even Legends Must Die Athena's Warning Silver Hands and Silver Tongues Veiled Intentions The Dog Runs Fast Offerings and Revelations An Unexpected Reunion Culture Shock Priorities The Caprica Cowhenge
• Next