A/N: It occurred to me that there's a plot inconsistency in chapter one, so you may want to go re-read it before you read chapter two.
I confess my sin of cliché, I grew up watching Indiana Jones movies and have a love of Middle Eastern history, particularly in antiquity—but there's a point to the escapades, I promise! Ten points to you if you can guess at least one of the locales that will be visited in the chapter (brief stops). You win the entire internet if you can guess what the third stop's pick up is. It won't be obvious when they stop there (unless you're well versed in the religion associated with the elements mentioned), but there's clues!
Final thing, italics, in this case, are a dream.
“Leadership is a word and a concept that has been more argued than almost any other I know. I am not one of the desk-pounding types that likes to stick out his jaw and look like he is bossing the show. I would far rather get behind and, recognizing the frailties and the requirements of human nature, would rather try to persuade a man to go along, because once I have persuaded him, he will stick. If I scare him, he will stay just as long as he is scared, and then he is gone.”—Dwight David Eisenhower
A breeze rustled overhead, bringing the smell of dry earth drifting down into the hole Harry was digging. It picked up, becoming louder and louder, now howling over the hole.
“Harry,” a female voice carried down to him, “I think there's a sand storm coming. We should go. Don't forget to spell a marker this time!” Hermione's bushy head appeared over the rim of earth., blocking the sun from Harry's face
Harry rolled his eyes, “I won't forget! I don't want to spend another week wandering around the desert, dodging gun-toting muggles and tank convoys trying to find this place again.” He picked up the shovel and used it to hoist himself out of the earth. Harry sat on the edge of the hole for a moment, rubbing one dirty, callused hand through his sandy hair, and looked to the west. Sure enough, there was a dirty brown smudge on the horizon. He stared at it for a moment, and it loomed higher.
“Come on, let's get going!” Hermione snapped irritably at him as she collapsed their tent. “It's coming fast and—you're—not—moving—!” She glared at him from under her blue baseball cap.
Harry rolled his eyes again and took out his wand,“Hallazgo!” A green lightening bolt struck the hole from the hazy blue sky. Blue spell plasma surged up the walls of the hole and ruffled the frayed cuffs of Harry's jeans as he stood at the edge of the earth.
He and Hermione picked up a large wooden frame covered with a drab brown cloth and placed it in grooves in the earth, which had been made for this purpose. They covered it in sand, cast a notice-me-not charm over it, and added a muggle repelling spell, just in case. The last thing they needed was a tank crushing the frame accidentally and getting stuck in the large hole beneath it.
There was no warning—the roaring sand storm was suddenly on top of them, choking them, tearing into their skin, whipping their clothes relentlessly. The sand shifted, becoming a million tiny dementors that swarmed over their flesh, leaving slimy tracks of ice behind, and nibbling with cold teeth on their souls. With an agonized cry, Harry reached for Hermione's arm, her shoulder, anything that was her. Then the storm of dementors disappeared without a trace, leaving Harry standing in the barren and hazy desert, alone.
“Hermione?”
Harry jerked awake, coated in a cold sweat. Afternoon light crept into his bedroom through his curtains and he sighed, dropping back against his pillows. The sand storm had happened some seventy five years ago. He and Hermione had lost each other for three weeks in the desert, which had scared the living daylights out of both of them. The war had just ended and so many had died—Ron, the twins, Charlie, Fleur, Molly, Ginny, Tonks, Moody, Remus...the list went on and on.
In the end, the magical population of the UK had been nearly wiped out. Of the Order, only Harry, Hermione, Arthur, Bill, Shacklebolt, and McGonagall had survived. Only Arthur and McGonagall stayed in England— everyone else scattered to the the four winds before the dust had settled on the last battlefield and the last ember has flickered out in the gutted Ministry ruins.
Harry and Hermione had run into Bill in Cairo a few weeks before the sand storm that separated them and there had been no choice but to acknowledge each him. It had been awkward for both sides and they had gone for a coffee, but within an hour, with half hearted smiles and insincere promises to owl each other, they had parted ways.
Arthur owled them several years later to tell them Bill had died on the job and would be buried next to Fleur and the rest of the Weasleys in Ottery-St. Catchpole. Harry and Hermione had attended the funeral as expected and it had been a difficult event. Percy, Kingsley, Hestia, a graying Arthur, and a few others came, too, and it had been unpleasant, with stilted conversation and truly meant condolences. Though none of them knew Bill anymore—not even Arthur and Percy.
Harry ran his hands through his hair and got out of bed, heading for the shower. He could almost feel the sand and slime trails on his skin and needed desperately to get rid of the sensation.
The evening of November first found Harry at Dolohov's manor, riffling through the Order's files as he searched for Sirius's address. He wasn't entirely sure why he was going to do this, other than an obscure need for revenge (it also explained why he was itching for an opportunity to kill Greyback). Bellatrix had died before either Harry or Neville could get to her, accidentally felled by friendly fire in the same battle that killed Remus and Fleur.
He eventually found it, and discovered that Sirius was currently living in a London row house on the West End. Harry needed to know if there was a yard attached on either side of the house and so apparated to the area.
Landing in an alley a block away, he walked through a relatively quite neighborhood to Sirius's home. The house was fairly nice, if painted in red, white, and a painfully tacky harvest yellow. There was also a very small yard in the front, edged with tall bushes and fenced in by black iron railing. Harry looked over the gate and found a small walkway had been shoveled clear of snow. He eyed it, a few interesting scenarios playing out in his head.
Sirius Black hated his cousin, Bellatrix. When he was little, she would spit on him and steal his broom and his mother never stopped it. Bellatrix had been twelve to Sirius's six and she had her own broom, which was much nicer then his toy one.
Time hadn't improved their relationship. They hadn't spoken since he had run away from home five years ago and apparently would never speak again, since her corpse was currently occupying his front walk.
“Shit,” Sirius muttered, garnering a dirty look from a passing old lady. He glared back at her before he opened the gate and walked up to the body to study it. On Bella's stomach lay an envelope with his name written on it in glittering black ink.
Definitely time to call the Headmaster.
Dumbledore was bewildered by this new Lord Ibex. He avoided killing the Potters, left their betrayer's body behind, viciously murdered a few of his followers, and deposited Sirius's least favorite cousin on his lawn. He was a threat, but Dumbledore didn't know enough yet to deal with him effectively. The letter Sirius had received along with the body was odd and vaguely menacing.
Mr. Black,
I think we missed your birthday, so happy early Christmas from Rastaban and me.
Ibex
Harry gathered his best and brightest together at Dolohov's manor on the third of November.
“Severus,” Harry drawled, knowing it irked the man, “I have a special assignment for you. I need to you to brew me a new type sleeping potion.”
Snape nodded. “Are there any specifics you need for it?”
“It should go from potion to gas when the phial is broken or if it otherwise exposed to air, and ideally, it should be short-acting with a confounding after-effect. The skin cannot act as a method of delivery,” he paused as he thought, “and lastly, it must be applicable but non-lethal to house elves. The sooner this is done, the better.”
Snape nodded, “Understood.”
Harry turned to look down the table, “Lucius?”
“Yes, my lord?” Malfoy asked him.
“There is something in your care that I require. It's in that little chamber beneath your drawing room floor.”
Lucius paled, wondering how Ibex knew about the room under the drawing room floor. “I-is it, my lord? What is it so that I may fetch it?”
Harry smiled, “Ah ah, Lucius,” he waved a finger at the man. “You'll take me to your home and I shall get it myself. Tonight, preferably, and then a few of you will be accompanying me out of the country.” He smiled coolly, “We shan't be gone long, so never you worry. Yaxely, Tillman, Ansiedora, Malfoy, you'll be coming along with me. Pack for snow and wind. Richard, you, Dolohov, and the Lestranges will be responsible while I'm gone. We'll be gone for a few days. Now,” Harry went on, “is there anything that needs our intervention?”
Lucius nodded, “There's word from the Wizengamot that several pro-werewolf laws—regarding employment opportunities, ministry-funded health care provision for after the full moon and the like—are in the works.”
“Good. Help them get passed.”
The entire table stared at him and Harry rolled his eyes, “Think about it this way. We need to create as much good will as possible and we need to help society bloom to its fullest in order to create the world we want. Part of that means preventing the spread of lycanthropy and the best way to do that is to provide social programs to ensure they can take care of themselves. The fewer werewolves, the better.”
Rodolphus looked at him curiously, “If I may ask, my lord, why not just kill them all to prevent the spread?”
“Because wanton killing creates both fear and ill-will. I want our eventual take over to be as smooth as possible and the way to do that is create good will. We will create the appropriate fear later. In the mean time, the better the werewolves are treated, the more likely they'll side with us in the long run, since we created and enabled the program. There's certainly enough werewolves to be worth the effort, and bringing them to our side will make our eventual coup much easier.”
The Delugians nodded, silent, either absorbing the idea or figuring out ways around it.
A few hours later, Harry entered Malfoy Manor with several Delugians behind him. He had forgotten exactly how enormous the manor was, all white marble floors and glowering portraits. The last time he had been to the Manor, he had been a prisoner here during the war in his old time line. This foyer was where Ron had been messily murdered, Harry remembered. There had been a smear of gore across the carpet and expensive Persian carpets, the only indication of it being Ron had been the half of a head resting, glassy eyed, in the corner.
Shaking off the memory, Harry followed Lucius down the halls and up the stairs to his drawing room, annoyed with himself for letting the old dream affect him now—several hours later and indirectly. Reaching the cream and brown drawing room, he watched as Lucius tapped a sequence of floor boards. A small square appeared in the floor and he tapped it. The wood slid back, revealing a gold ladder.
“Would you like me to retrieve the item?” Lucius asked.
Harry smiled, “No, thank you. I shall fetch it myself,” he said as he stepped on the ladder. He had climbed halfway down the golden rungs when he heard, “Avadra Kevadra!” and a blast of green light collided with the top of his head.
There was a crash, and Lucius looked up at the other man with shock, “You killed him!”
Agrius Yaxley grinned, looking even more unpleasant than usual, “I did,” he agreed. “I intend to lead us in the right direction, none of this—”
A jet of orange light shot out of the dark hole. Yaxley toppled sideways and landed with a thud on the floor. There was a clatter as Harry climbed out of the room beneath the floor.
He looked irritated. “Don't do that!” he snarled at the shocked room, glaring at them before disappearing again. There was a some angry muttering, a “eureka!” and Harry clambered back out of the room with a small book in hand. He tucked it away in the folds of his robe and looked down at the bound Yaxley, running a hand through his bloody hair. Harry winced slightly at the rapidly healing cut that had been opened by the curse on the top of his head. He wondered if it would have the same shape as the one on his forehead as he cast a cleaning charm on his scalp. Would it scar at all?
Harry squatted down next to the figure and propped his chin up on one palm, examining the man at his feet. He looked up at Lucius, “Is there an empty room nearby?”
The stupefied blond nodded.
“Excellent. Lead the way,” Harry said as he gestured for Snape to levitate the body.
Lucius lead them down the hall to an empty room with a marble floor. With a flick, Harry sent the carpets and sparse furniture to the walls and turned to his Delugians.
“Snape, drop him wherever,” Harry said dismissively. “Lucius, call Dobby.”
Lucius called for the elf, wondering exactly how much Ibex knew. When he appeared with a crack, Dobby was exactly like Harry remembered him being in second year; scared, anxious, and cowering.
“Dobby,” Harry said to the elf, “I have a question for you.”
The elf looked to Lucius for guidance on how to respond to Harry, and Lucius nodded. “Y-y-yes, sir?”
“Is the floor in this room sealed? Or waxed?”
Dobby blinked, “It is being both, sir. Polished to a seal and waxed for shine.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Dobby,” Harry nodded to the uncertain elf.
“Is there anything else Dobby can being doing?” he asked.
Harry shook his head, “No Dobby, thank you.” The elf bowed, taking it as a dismissal, disappeared with a crack.
Everyone in the room looked at Harry, confused and surprised.
“What?” Harry asked. “I like elves. Helpful little fellows and loyal to the bone if you're good to them.” This was met with silence and Harry rolled his eyes. “Accio Yaxley,” Harry sighed, not bothering to look to see where Snape had dropped the man.
Harry neatly sidestepped the body as it came sliding towards him from a distant corner. He looked down at Yaxley, “I suppose you didn't know that I'm immortal. After all, I didn't tell anyone.” He paused and tilted his head back and forth, thinking. “Hm. Lucius, please fetch me some golden chain oil, if you have it. If not, an angel's trumpet infusion or doll's eye elixir will do.”
Malfoy called Dobby again, and pulled him into a corner to whisper his orders.
In the mean time, Harry set about freezing Yaxley's fingers one by one, watching the man's eyes roll madly in his head as his breath sped up.
A little later, Dobby appeared, bearing a large glass bottle filled to the brim with a golden oil.
“Ah, excellent. You do have Golden Chain.” Harry cast a wicked grin at Lucius. Accepting the bottle from the elf, Harry fished the diary out of his robes and dropped it on Yaxley's chest.
“You attempted to betray me, Yaxley. I made it clear—or so I thought—that betrayal is punished most severely,” Harry said as he doused both the man and book with liquid, knowing that golden chain severely burned the skin. “All right, everyone to the walls,” Harry called.
When all the Delugians had complied, he settled himself comfortably in a chair near the open door and flicked a minuscule ball of liquid flame at the diary. It landed with a puff, hissed, and then exploded upward in a ball of bright fire, mushrooming towards the high ceiling. Harry watched calmly as the tongues of flame tickled the ceiling, blinked when the rush of hot air that accompanied the explosion ruffled his hair, and ignored the high pitched wails of man and book that echoed through the room.
Still sitting, Harry looked at the shaken men and women in the room, and called the quaking house elf out of the corner behind Lucius.
“Dobby, do you think you can clean this up?” Harry asked him gently.
Staring at the black star of soot on the floor and the flickering embers, the elf nodded, “Dobby thinks he can, sir.”
“Excellent. Snape,” he called, knowing the black-haired man would be desperate to report this to Dumbledore, “I'd like you to get started on that potion, if you don't mind.”
“What do you mean, he's immortal?!” Sirius Black shrieked.
Severus Snape resisted the ever-increasing desire to hex Black senseless and gooey. “I said, he survived a Killing Curse. As in, it hit him, he fell off the ladder, got back up, and hexed Yaxley before going back down.”
Dumbledore looked grave, “This does not bode well.”
“You think?” Sirius asked snidely. “We can't even kill the bastard!”
“So far,” Remus pointed out, “He hasn't actually hurt any of us. Only Death Eaters and Delugians, or whatever they're called.”
“Delugians,” Snape confirmed. “Merlin knows why he picked that name, but we're 'The Deluge.'”
“Indeed,” agreed Dumbledore, wondering where he had heard the phrase before. “Has he mentioned the Order at all?”
“Other than asking for the files—apparently to find your address, Black—he's ignored the Order. I don't think he's aware of my double agent status, but I could be wrong.” Severus shook his head, “He has a freakish way of knowing things he shouldn't already know, so it's possible he's aware that I am an Order member.”
“I expect you'll be extra careful, then?” McGonagall asked earnestly from her end of the table.
“I'm always careful.” snapped Snape. Dumbledore cast him a look and Snape ignored it, going on, “Ibex is going about things in a totally different way then the Dark Lord ever considered doing. He's ordered us to avoid 'wanton killings' and to help institute what he calls social programs—the current one specifically dealing with the werewolves.”
“I bet Malfoy doesn't like that,” James commented, cradling his cooing son.
“No,” agreed Snape, supposing the child was there for the lack of someone to care for it, since Lily was here as well. “But he's not going to cross Ibex, especially after watching him destroy Agrius Yaxley. His son, Draco, is the same age as your brat, Potter and he doesn't want to die any more than you do.”
Dumbledore gave Snape a look that said, you're pushing it, and asked, “Do you think he will come after the Order?”
Severus shrugged, “I can't even guess at what he's going to do—there's no consistency, no predictability, to his actions. He's nice to house elves, orders Lucius around, ordered us to support werewolf rights, and murdered six people in two days. He made Yaxley explode tonight,” Snape said. “But he's going to be out of the country for a while—he didn't say exactly when he was coming back, but I would predict a week or so.”
“Who did he put in charge?” James asked.
“The Lestrange brothers, Dolohov, and a younger recruit, named Richard, I think.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow at Snape, “The Lestranges? He killed Bellatrix—does he really think he holds that much sway over them?”
Snape shrugged again. “Rastaban doesn't seem to be mourning at all, and he and Rodolphus seem loyal to Ibex already. I don't think I can de-construct anything in just a week.” Severus seemed to pause, staring at the wooden table, “I need to get working on a project he set me, actually. He'll want it by the time he gets back.” He looked at Dumbledore, “Is there anything else, Headmaster?”
“On last thing, yes,” Dumbledore nodded. “Did you discover his name—”
“—Is he a Potter?” James cut in, not noticing Dumbledore's annoyed expression.
Snape sneered at him, “I don't know if he's a Potter. He certainly doesn't seem like it, though, Gryffindor or not.”
The three remaining Marauders all squeaked.
“A Griffyndor?” Remus squawked, “he was a Gryffindor?”
Snape looked contemptously at him, “Rest assured, Lupin, he did not graduate with your illustrious class.”
Harry hadn't liked this last time he'd done it either, but the second time around, finding the old ruins of the temple library was much easier. He knew the general location, so all he had to do was triangulate the location in this time frame for it. It had no definitive markers, having succumbed to the desert sands three thousand years ago, but finding it only took four days—far less time than it had taken the last time, though no less frustrating.
However, the look of pure fear and loathing on Lucius' face when he was chased by an extremely large and translucent spider almost made up for it all. The girlish screams of terror and the dull thud of Malfoy falling over in the sand were incredibly entertaining.
Ansiedora grinned at him as she squashed the offending spider with one dainty black boot. “Manly, Lucius,” she said, tossing long auburn hair over her shoulder as she ground the spider into pale sand. “Your wife must positively swoon every time you walk into the room.”
He snarled at her, “Shut up!”
“Remind me, Malfoy, exactly how old are you?” she asked sweetly, “because I could have sworn I was told your fifth birthday is coming up soon!”
“Girls, girls,” Harry chided patronizingly as Lucius opened his mouth to retort, “No fighting.”
Tillman snickered as Lucius and Ansiedora glared at each other, and Harry looked at the three of them with amusement from the edge of the hole. He blinked, “Oi! Why am I the only one digging? Get in here! We're looking for a black chest with a horned snake lock. It should be about as long as your arm.”
In quick order, the other four jumped down into the hole and began to dig, using their wands to shear earth away from the walls and banish it.
The hole had gotten considerably larger by the time it was finally found. With an “aha!” Ansiedora gave a mighty heave, and a large black chest came sliding out of the wall. Looking hopeful, Harry pushed his way to the box and turned it around, spelling it clean.
The lock on the chest was the open mouth of a horned snake, the lock itself resting between two pairs of very large fangs, while the body of the snake curled around the lid. On the top of the lid was a woman. She had a sultry look on her face and her lower body was obscured by a crescent moon. Her head was surrounded by a nimbus of four point stars.
“Excellent, Ansiedora,” Harry grinned before murmuring a spell. The bronze lock opened with a gritty pop and he carefully pried the lid open just enough to peek inside. “Most excellent,” he said to her again as he shrank the box.
The four of them climbed out of the hole and dusted off, Lucius looking pained as he shook dirt out of his hair. Harry eyed Lucius' grimace calmly, “We've done well today—very well. Let's head back to the inn for the rest of the day.”
There were several grateful sighs.
---
The next day, Harry warned them to dress warmly as it was going to be very cold where they were going. The four of them portkeyed to a hostel in the mountains they would be staying in, and after dropping their things off, they were side along apparated to the ruin of a city in the mountains. Iron grey clouds loomed over the buildings and a wind howled through the lonely stone pillars. They stood on a grey marble floor, covered in snow, near buildings that had been carved out of the hillside.
Harry wished he had reviewed the sections of Hermione's notes about locations more closely as he searched the room carved into the mountainside. He hmmed, and strode up and down the walkway, examining archways and door posts. He hummed again, and slipped into one of the buildings, past a particular pair of winged, man-headed lions that guarded the entrance. The Delugians followed him in and just as Tillman was crossing the threshold, Harry shouted, “Stop! Back up!”
Tillman stepped back over the threshold, bumping into Lucius and Ansiedora in the process. They caught him by the shoulders as he teetered precariously, nearly falling on to the dust clouded tiles.
Harry shook his head and went back to carefully making his way across the room, hopping from tile to tile in a seemingly random pattern. Left, center, hop twice on the round tile, hold! two-three-four, hop to the third one down on the right side...
Finally, he reached a stone dais and moved across it, stopping before an enormous, elaborate lotus flower carved into the stone, which sat below a man sitting on an eagle-winged disc. Harry tapped the pistols of the flower and stretched up to draw a shape on the center of the disc.
A handle appeared on the right side of the center flower petal and after saying a long, strange sounding incantation, Harry opened it and stepped through. A few moments later, there was a roar that rapidly turned into piercing, blood-curdling scream and a spray of gore as a huge chunk of flesh flew out of the petal door, skidding across the platform and falling off it with the scrape of bone shards against marble. There was a snarl and then a crunch. The snarling stopped abruptly.
The four Delugians waited with baited breath as the minutes ticked by and the soft whimpering of something large echoed out of the chamber. There was another ear-piercing screech and a wet splat, and a blood soaked Harry reappeared with a series of scrolls under his arm. He closed the flower chamber door, stepped down onto the slab of flesh in front of the door, and made it glide across the floor, climbing down when it reached the doorway.
“Come on,” Harry said as he slipped past them, leaving bloody foot prints behind, “We have two more stops. One's nearby, and we can return to the hostel for the night.”
---
In short order, Harry dragged the others to another ice-cold mountainside. As soon as they stepped on to the white limestone steps that lead down to a cave, a wall of roaring fire appeared before them and the wind whipped up behind them, forcing them towards the fire at the foot of the stairs.
“The spell,” Harry yelled over the roar of the flames as they crouched against a wall, “is 'Agua primal.' The motion is the same as windgardium leviosa, but direct the water at the foot of the flame! Ansiedora, Lucius, that's your task.” Harry was sincerely wishing he had covered this before setting foot on the stairs. “Tillman, use as many shielding charms as you can possibly manage against the wind. I'll be out as quick as I can. Ready?” he asked, hoarse from yelling.
“Yes!” All three yelled back
Harry held up a hand, counting down from three, “Go!”
Ansiedora and Lucius kept the wall of flame on the run, attempting to spray every lick of fire. With each sweep of water, the fire rallied back, struggling to keep the wall solid. Tillman bellowed a shield charm and the wind abated, allowing Harry to race through a small break in the wall of flame, the heat beating against his skin as he ran between the walls. He continued to run through the cave, heedless of the puddles on the slick cave floor, icy water splashing up with each stumbling foot fall. He held his wand aloft as the light from the fire behind him dimmed, stopping just long enough to search the white rocks for the stone table he knew was there. Fuck it, there wasn't time for this!
“Accio scrolls!” Several scrolls of parchment flew towards him out of the dark and he caught as many as he could, stooping to pick up the rest. Harry shrank and stuffed them in his cloak before racing back to the surface as he zigzagged around stalactites. With his own bellowed “Agua Primal!” Harry raced through the gap it provided and yanked Lucius and Ansiedora towards the bottom of the staircase. “Cast a Protego! On three!” Harry pulled a sagging Tillamn towards himself, as they counted down and, as one, bellowed,
“PROTEGO!”
An emerald green shield popped into existence long enough for them to escape the staircase, stumbling to a stop a few feet away.
The moment the last foot left the last stair, the wind and fire disappeared, as if they'd never been there in the first place.
“Thank Merlin,” Harry sighed.
---
They rested for two days after the cave, all of them very, very tired. The final stop, in comparison to flying chunks of meat and sentient walls of fire, was anti-climatic. Not that this was a problem, of course.
They arrived in a foggy valley bottom in what Ansiedora thought might be Cork, where they were required to confound a muggle security system while Harry raided a little museum that stood near an old monastery.
It was past midnight when they approached the building, forcing Harry to actually consider how best to approach the issue of security systems. The ones he and Hermione had dealt with in the early two thousands had been considerably more advanced then what little he knew of alarms and cameras in 1981. Harry didn't have any idea what would and wouldn't work.
Tillman was apparently a half-blood and knew a little about how current security systems worked. Enough, anyway, to short circuit the cameras with one jabbed spell. He circled the building, seemed to come to a conclusion, and used a tree close to the museum to reach the roof. A halo of spell plasma sparked down the sides of the building, and Tillman stuck his head over the side of the roof. “All clear,” he said in a stage whisper.
Harry unlocked the door and slipped into the dark, creeping through the dark. Reaching the center of the room, he lit his wand and searched the displays.
He was looking for a book made of vellum about the size of his hand and two finger widths thick. He didn't see in the in main displays, so he walked past the velvet ropes and glass display boxes to the back, making for the curator's office.
Harry riffled through drawers and cabinets, each of them coming up empty. Swearing, he ransacked the curator's desk and finally found the book under a pile of dust-covered forms in one of the bottom drawers.
He sighed gratefully and slipped out of the museum. “Come on,” Harry said. “Let's get back to England. Dolohov's and then you're free to return to your homes.”
“It was almost surreal, Severus! Lord Ibex made us get in a hole and dig!” Lucius said, gesturing wildly with his brandy glass. Snape wondered briefly if Lucius had been drinking before he had arrived. “And he was right there with us,” the blond added after a thoughtful pause. No, Lucius wasn't drunk—just moody. “He didn't stand on the edge and make us do it by ourselves. And he was genuinely please when the girl found the box.”
“Would this be the girl who saved you from the camel spider?” Severus asked with a chuckle.
“Is that what those things are called?” Lucius made a noise of deep disgust, “And yes, that's her.” He shook his head, flying back to the conversation, “and then there was the second stop! He went in to a chamber—alone—and something screamed and a gigantic animal flank came flying out, and then it screamed again when he returned. He rode the piece of meat across the floor! There was a giant streak of blood across the floor from the dais to the doorway and he was covered in it—absolutely covered! Lord Ibex left a trail of bloody red footprints halfway down the mountain.”
“Do you know what it was that he killed?” Severus asked curiously.
“I have no idea. All I know is is that it was enormous, brown, furry, and that it whimpered. I never saw it—other than the bit that served as Lord Ibex's fleshy chariot, of course. I only ever heard the thing, and only when it was screaming.” Lucius shrugged.
Snape nodded, “Tell me about the rest of the trip—what else was I lucky enough to miss?” he asked with a mild smile.
“You're only lucky if you got that potion done for him in time. Otherwise, I was damn lucky and you'll probably get to test out bone hammers or something. Anyway...”
“So you've completed the potion I asked for?” Harry asked Snape, longing lazily in his obsidian throne in front of the audience gathered. It had been two weeks since the trip abroad, and three since Snape had received the order. He damn well have better finished by now, Harry thought irritably.
Snape nodded once, “I have, my lord.”
“Tested it?” he asked, picking absently at the white hem of his blue robe.
“I have. It acts exactly as you require.”
Harry nodded absently as he fiddled with a seam. “Do you have a phial of it on hand?”
“I do.” Snape fished a small glass bottle out of his robes, filled with a swirling green potion.
“Bring it here,” Harry ordered without looking up, enjoying Snape's moment of hesitation as he wondered how to approach the throne.
The black-haired man seemed to settle on a method and climbed the stairs. He stopped two steps below the throne and knelt, holding the phial in his extended hand.
Harry let him kneel for a moment before reaching down to pluck the glass container from the palm of Snape's hand. He examined it for a moment, “There's more, correct?”
“Yes, my lord.” Snape nodded.
Harry conjured a chest with a careless flick of his hand, “Place any remaining phials of it you have in the box.”
Snape placed three more phials of the potion in the chest and Harry nodded, “Excellent,” he said before rising. “Come with me, Severus,” he beckoned Snape down the stairs.
Eying Harry, Snape followed him down the stairs. The black-robed crowd parted like the sea as Harry strode through, his robes trailing after him. Snape followed, pausing as Harry stopped before the door to the same side room he had spent Halloween night in.
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Snape's features when Harry opened the door and gestured him into the room, but he entered the room.
“How long does this work on humans?” Harry asked, holding up the phial.
“Six hours,” Snape said.
“Good. Will Ennrevate work?”
“I believe so, my lord.” Snape nodded.
“Excellent,” Harry nodded. With a smile for Severus, Harry tossed the phial into the room and shut the door as the glass shattered.
He turned to look at the crowd. “Someone check in on him in fifteen minutes—I want to know the effects.”
There were a wave of murmurs and Harry made his way back to the throne, long robes trailing behind him as he crossed the room and walked up the black steps. Once he had settled back on the throne, one leg thrown over an arm, he called, “Tiddles!”
There was a small crack at the foot of the stairs and the elf appeared, “Yes sir?” she squeaked.
“Have you finished the task I set you?” Harry asked.
An odd smile crossed the elf's face, “Yes sir. We was completing it before you was coming back.”
“What did you do with the body?” he asked.
“We was thinking Sir might want to see it, so we is keeping it. Was Sir wanting to see it?” Tiddles asked.
Harry nodded and the elf gave that odd smile again, disappearing with another small crack. There was the oddly hollow thud! as something large, heavy, and frozen landed on the marble floor before the throne. Nagini. She glittered purple beneath the shining, swirling frost that coated her scales.
Tiddles reappeared next to the body, “We froze her, sir, and then I was cutting off her head!” she grinned triumphantly as she dropped the head of the snake on the bottom step.
“Thank you, Tiddles,” Harry nodded to the creature.
Tiddles bowed deeply before disappearing and Harry looked down at the corpse. With a flick of his wand, Harry sent a tiny pinpoint of light at the snake. It wandered haphazardly through the air, shifting colors from red to purple as it wandered down. Seemingly almost accidental, the fleck of light landed on the snake's spine.
There was a skitter and spark of violet energy that raced down the frost and the headless body reared up, thrashing wildly. Ice cracked off the animal in chunks that slid across the floor, and with a final, violent convulsion, the corpse stilled as a wail echoed through the room.
“Antonin,” Harry called, “deal with the body, please.” As Dolohov moved forward, Harry stood to speak to the crowd, “I bid you good night, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy your evening. Richard—stay behind, please.”
The Delugian in question hurried to the foot of the dais as Harry descended the pumice stairs. “My lord?”
“Please check on Snape, and then I'd like to talk to you in the library on the third floor.”
Richard nodded and scooted off to check on the potion master as Harry made his way to the library.
Harry had started to sift through the reports that had piled up on his desk. It wasn't so much paper work as reading and filing—after, of course, he had figured out if the report contained anything important.
He had gone through a dozen reports when Richard slipped into the room, tugging off his mask as he walked across the plus cream colored carpeting. This would be the first time Harry had ever seen the man's face, though he knew Richard's voice very well by now. He was very ordinary—of average height, with brown hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. His voice however, was distinctive, sounding bright and a little harsh when he became excited.
Reaching the tiger oak desk, the brunette bowed deeply and stood until Harry gestured to a chair nearby. As he sat, Harry searched his memory for a man similar to Richard Greene and found none. Hm. Must have died before I met him last time.
“You wished to talk to me about something, Lord Ibex?” Richard spoke into the silence, sounding nervous as Harry studied him.
“My apologies,” Harry said after a moment. “Yes, I want you to take a position as my personal aide.”
Richard's eye widened in surprise. “What would be required of me? In that capacity, I mean.”
Harry smiled a little, “You would attend meetings with me and note anything you might think is important that is said or done. You would also be sent on errands, and be in charge of compiling the information that comes in. Can you do that?” he asked Richard.
The young man nodded, “I believe I can, my lord. When do I start?”
“Tonight. I need the report on Snape. As soon as you have given me that, you are free for the evening. I expect to see you by noon tomorrow, however.”
Richard nodded, “I'll be there. As for Snape, he's fine. I had to cast a bubble-head charm to get in without breathing in the potion myself, but I checked him. No problems.”
“Great,” Harry nodded. “Very good. Enjoy your evening, Richard,” he said, getting up.
“Thank you, my lord. You too, sir.”
Harry nodded with a smile and left to wake up Snape.
Harry cast the bubble-head charm and opened the door to the Snape's side room. A soft green mist drifted out of the room and Harry stuck his head in. Severus lay sprawled on the floor in front of the door, so he simply reached down and physically dragged him out of the room by the collar of his robes and shut the door behind them. After putting the potion master down on the ballroom floor, Harry returned to the room and trotted around in it for a bit, sweeping through the delicate green fog.
After ascertaining that a bubble head charm would indeed work, Harry returned to Snape and Enervated him.
Severus woke with a start, searching the confines of the ball room with wild, confused eyes.
“Relax, Snape, relax,” said Harry, standing over the man. “You've done an excellent job on the potion. I'm quite pleased, actually.”
Snape barely managed to repress a glare, “I take it it met standard?”
“That it did,” Harry nodded. “Burn the notes,” he ordered.
The potion master's jaw dropped, “What?”
“I said,” he repeated coolly, “burn the notes. All of them.” Harry pulled on the compulsion magics woven into the ibex mark.
Snape's eyes dulled slightly as the magic took effect and he nodded. “I will, my lord.”
“Very good!” Harry said jovially. “I trust you'll be at the circle meeting on Saturday night?” he asked. The circle meeting was, more or less, a gathering of the inner circle to discuss events, and he had quite deliberately not invited Snape to the last one. Even though he suspected Severus would see through this particular action, he expected the potion master's insecurity and need to be recognized to pull him in anyway.
A correct expectation, if the fleeting look of pride was anything to go by. “What time will it be, my lord?”
“At nine in the evening,” Harry said. “See you then, Severus,” he nodded before disappearing, leaving the man alone on the cold marble floor.