And the little screaming fact that sounds through all history: repression works only to strengthen and knit the repressed. ~ John Steinbeck
Remus Lupin walked into his shabby little cottage after returning from the Delugian meeting to find the rest of the Order waiting for him in his kitchen.
Sirius looked up at him from his seat, worried. “How did it go?”
“He refused me,” he said as he dropped into the seat next to Lily.
“So much for equality,” sneered James as he held his son, the rest of the Order looking surprised.
Remus shook his head, “That had nothing to do with it; I saw several werewolves with his mark. He knows I'm part of the Order and didn't think I would actually trade sides,” he looked up at Dumbledore, “without, quote, 'the Headmaster's prodding.' I didn't think he knew about my lycanthropy either, until he told me to mind the silver when he had me escorted out of the manor.
“What do you think of him?” asked Gideon Prewett, ignoring Dumbledore's unhappy expression. “All we every get are Snape's impressions, so I want to know what you think.”
Remus shrugged, “He's very adept at connecting with his audience and he whips them into a frenzy without much effort. Sounds a lot like some of muggle ideologues, actually. Ibex is veering away from You Know Who's path like Snape said, and still seems to have most everybody's devotion.” Remus shook his head, “He got angry when one of his lackeys used the word, 'mudblood,' too, and told her what I guess is his theory for their existence.” Remus shot Lily an amused sidelong look, “If he's right, that means your family has a squib or something somewhere in the family tree.”
James gave an evil grin, “I should owl Petunia.”
Lily rolled her eyes, “Leave my poor sister alone.”
Dumbledore looked very troubled, “If he knows you're in the Order and a werewolf, and where Sirius lives, then I think we can presume he's aware of Severus but chooses not to do anything about him. Ibex does not strike me as being unintelligent, so it's very likely that he's been using Snape to pass incorrect information to us.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow, “Everything Snape has passed on has proven correct, so far.”
“That may just be Ibex building up Snape's credibility before he feeds him false information,” Remus reminded him. “This man isn't predictable at all. He's nothing like I expected and I think he may enjoy throwing people off balance. Maybe he'll fuck up someday because of it.” Remus shrugged.
“If we should be so lucky,” commented Fabian Prewett from where he sat next to his brother. “Where is Snape, by the way?” he asked.
Dumbledore looked suddenly uncertain, “I don't know. He should have beaten Remus back here, I think.”
-
They waited...and waited...and waited. It was well over an hour and a half before a pale, wide-eyed Snape opened the door to the kitchen. He made his way to a scratched and stained wooden bench at the table, and he looked shaken.
“What happened?” asked Remus after the moment had passed. Ibex had seemed mild, despite being a Dark Lord.
“He was displeased that I had not cleared you with him prior to bringing you to the meeting, Lupin.” The Potions Master sneered bitterly. “After all, I knew better.”
“Do you require medical attention?” asked Dumbledore with concern.
“I do not. I have already taken the—” Snape paused, wincing, “—antidote I was given. Though I am still in pain, it will pass.”
James raised an eyebrow, “He gave you an antidote?”
“He feels I am still useful and would prefer not to have to find a new potions master, Potter.” Snape replied.
“What exactly did he do, Snivelus?” Sirius asked.
Dumbledore shot him a look, “Behave, Sirius.”
Snape snapped, “Indeed, Black, behave. He ordered a snake to attack me.”
“Another parselmouth?” Moody groaned, slouching on the bench.
Snape glared, “Yes, another parselmouth.”
“Nagini?” asked Dumbledore.
“No, Ibex had her killed, apparently,” Snape said. “He cast Serpentsortia and he just smiled at me when it bit me, too.” He shuddered, “And then he used a spell I've never heard anything about before.”
“Mm, he seems to know a lot of things like that,” Lily commented, choosing to watch her sleeping son cradled in her arms instead of looking at Snape.
Snape avoided looking at Mrs. Potter, too, focusing on the Headmaster, who was looking at him expectantly. “It was sort of like a boggart, only in my mind,” he said, tapping his temple with spidery, pale fingers. “And there's no way to escape it there.”
“It forced to you see your fears?” Dumbledore asked.
“Live them, more like, and there's almost no chance to escape them there,” Snape almost shivered. He caught Sirius's look of mocking disdain and tore into him, “Do you want me to show you, Black? I can, if you like. I can force you to relive every nightmare to ever come trotting through that thick skull of yours!”
“Shut up, Snape! You're going to wake Harry!” James hissed as the baby started to fuss.
“I do not care about your infernal brat, Potter! Take him elsewhere if this is going to be a problem!” he snarled.
James opened his mouth to retort, but Lily placed a restraining hand on his arm, and he refrained, just barely, from issuing a scathing remark. Ithaca Jones, an older Order member, rolled her eyes at both men from where she sat on the other end of the table and moved to retrieve the now-crying Harry from his mother, leaving for the sitting room. The child quieted in her arms as she walked and the rest of the Order went back to business, though Lily couldn't help but occasionally glance into the small sitting room.
James glared furiously at Snape, the fire light glinting off his lenses, giving the potions master pause as a similar vision darted through his mind.
"Severus?" Dumbledore asked when Snape remained slient, "Are you all right?"
Snape nodded tiredly. “I'm simply worn out, Headmaster."
Dumbledore nodded, "Was there anything else?"
"No. Other than the snake, the Boggart Spell, and the lecture about remembering my duty, there was nothing else. I was told to clear all potential recruits with him, and that if I failed to do so again, I would probably not survive the next time.”
Dumbledore nodded, “Thank you, Severus. Would you prefer to retire?”
Uncharacteristically, Snape accepted the dismissal and left for Hogwarts and his bed.
The sea was a murky blue-green this time, but the poisonous coral spores still blossomed red and white in the water. They coated his clothes and skin, and some broke through the Bubblehead Charm, and he breathed them in before he could stop himself. He felt the mania take hold of him, just like last time, and he struggled harder to reach the soma plants as they undulated like sea grass in the current. Harry managed to grab one and pull it out of the sand, root and all, before making for the surface.
He breached the surface and slogged through the water to the beach, collapsing on the sand as Hermione rushed to his side.
“Are you ok?” she asked worriedly, looking at his pale, taunt face.
He grinned wildly, “Of course. Did you want to share the plant with me, now that we've got it?”
She shook her head, “No, thank you. I don't want to live forever.”
Harry smiled toothily. “Well, I do.” He immediately rinsed the plant off and began to strip the waxy green leaves off the stem, stuffing them in his mouth. The purple puff of what looked similar to flowers, the roots, and the coined rubbery stalk all followed in short order. He would not let a snake get his soma!
But unlike the last time, the mania did not retreat when he had swallowed the last bite of stem, leaving him hollow and penitent. Instead, it grew and engulfed him in a haze of deeper madness and he laughed as he succumbed.
-Harry hated reliving the bad bits of his life in his dreams. The frequency of the dreams had dropped over the years from every night to two or three a month, but that didn't make the nights he jerked awake any more livable as time had not dulled their sharp edges as it had the memories.
He sighed and turned over, crossing his arms on his forehead. There was no point in staying in bed since he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep this morning, so he got out of bed and cast a Tempus spell as he stretched. Bloody hell, only six in the morning! Harry sighed again and popped his back before making for his kitchen.
It was nearly noon when Rabastan Lestrange appeared at the manor, right on time for his appointment with Lord Ibex. Richard showed him to a small dining room off the ball room, where his lord sat at a round table as the house elves laid out lunch.
“Ah, there you are, Rabastan. Please, take a seat,” Ibex gestured vaguely at the empty chairs, “wherever you like.”
Rabastan settled down across from the man he hesitated to call the Dark Lord, “Thank you, my lord.”
Ibex smiled, “Do drop the 'my lord' bit for the moment, please.”
“Just Ibex, then?”
“Correct,” the green eyed man nodded, nibbling on a sweet pepper. “So, how is your recently widowed brother doing?”
“As well as someone in his situation can be, I suppose,” Rabastan replied diplomatically, and Ibex smiled.
They whiled away lunch with the social niceties that must be observed before moving on to business over tea in Ibex's study.
“If I may ask a...blunt question, Ibex?” Rabastan asked hesitantly as he sat on the brown and cream velveteen couch, sipping his tea.
Ibex examined him for a moment, and he felt like a small, furry creature being dissected in a potions lab. It passed and the other man nodded with a shrug, “Shoot.”
“What exactly is this all about? I know that you wish to remake our society, but after that?”
“Then we will get on with being a society. A core contingent will remain active and in my service to help me guide what we will forge,” Ibex said, blowing on his tea, “but the Deluge at large will probably be filtered out into positions and places that they are suited for—politics, the Ministry in general.” He waved a hand dismissively, before looking Rabastan in the eye. “I will be requiring advisers both now and then, and I intend to bring you on as one.”
Rabastan was surprised—he wasn't even thirty yet and an immortal wanted his advice? He nodded after a moment, “I would be honored.”
Ibex smiled, “Excellent.”
-
Rabastan left sometime around three and they had hashed a number of things out, including setting up a proper hierarchy for the Deluge and bringing on a few more advisers. Harry was quiet pleased Rabastan had been so willing to help—the man was well connected, well bred, and intelligent. He was a key to power.
Then there was the Snape problem to deal with. A slight smile slid across Harry's face as he remembered with spiteful enjoyment how pleasant it had been to control the man who had been the ogre of his younger years.
There was a delicate little dance to be preformed here. He needed Snape for his abilities and it would be nice to have him to pass certain information on to the Order. On the other hand, it would be harder to control what information he did and didn't get if Snape had a standing invitation.
Lucius would probably talk to him about what was being said at the gatherings as well, even if he was asked not to. Malfoy was necessary to keep however, and Harry was reluctant to use the coercions in the mark as he would prefer that those remain permanently unnoticed; using them too much would assure that they were noticed. He had already pushed it when he forced Snape to burn the notes.
Perhaps he should modify the hierarchy he and Rabastan planned to put into practice. A upper division of the first rank consisting of his lieutenants and Richard, and a lower one consisting of the others who were dead useful but less than trustworthy, including Snape and Lucius? The fully secondary rank would still consist of those who would handle the day to day details of the assignments their divisions received.
They would answer to the first rank, who would answer to Harry.
April rolled around and Harry deviated from routine. He normally went straight home after leaving Dolohov's, but one evening he stopped at a muggle grocer's in London on a whim , hoping they had what he sought. Wizards did not have Oreos, which was a shame, and he had the single stupidest craving for them. He shucked, folded, and shrank his robes and stuffed them in his pants pocket and went in after transfiguring some dirty receipts he found on the ground into a few pounds. He looked a bit like a young businessman in his black slacks and a shirt that vaguely recalled a muggle button up, and a few people stared at him curiously as he wandered the almost-empty aisles.
Today was his lucky day! The blue and white of an Oreo package caught his eye in the back of a chest-level shelf, and it looked to be the last one, since a supply Oreos in Europe didn't last very long.
Sirius was doing his shopping at nearly midnight and was very unhappy about it. He was tired and wanted to go home, dammit! Unfortunately, there was no food in the cupboards, and Remus would be very displeased when he realized Sirius hadn't done the shopping yet so he slogged through the aisles with his cart.
He entered the junk food aisle, intending to buy a package or two of biscuits. There was another man on the aisle and for a moment, Sirius thought he was looking at James. No, definitely not James, he thought, examining the man in the dingy yellow lighting. Too short and kind of pointy. And he was dressed rather differently than his friend did when in the muggle world, looking more like he had just left a business meeting than like James's escaped university student.
It clicked. And Sirius, in his Gryffindor brashness, decided to speak to him. “Ibex,” he called, moving leisurely down the aisle as he examined the shelves.
The man looked up and met his gaze with Lily-green eyes. “Mr. Black. A pleasant surprise.”
“I'm sure,” Sirius replied sarcastically, looking over at the other man.
Ibex smiled at him, a tinge of mockery in his expression, “What can I do for you this evening? I assume you have a reason for interrupting my biscuit run.”
“'Biscuit run?'” Sirius asked incredulously.
“Biscuit run,” Ibex confirmed. “We don't have these,” he said, waving his box of Oreos. “And I like them. Again, what can I do for you?”
“You can quit this game and crawl back into the hole you came out of,” Sirius said coolly, wanting to keep his voice low. The aisle was empty but it wouldn't be if he gave into his desire to yell.
“Ah. Well, I'm afraid I haven't lived in a hole since I was eleven and going back to it is rather out of the question. And the game you're referring to? Be thankful it's me and not my predecessor. The future would have been extremely bloody in the long run, had I not interfered.”
“A seer, are we?” Sirius sneered.
“Mm, no, not exactly. Regardless, I will be better in the long run, I think. I happened to have stayed awake in history and I think I know what will work.”
“Do you, now?”
Ibex nodded. “Cruel rulers are always replaced. Weak rulers are killed. A good ruler can maintain control and avoid oppressing his subjects; there are more subtle ways to control people than holding them at wand-point.”
Sirius frowned, uncertain as to how to react to that, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I see no reason not to. Really, I don't see why you're so angry with me. What have I done to you?”
“You're trying to take over our world.”
Ibex shrugged, “I'll give you that. But I still haven't harmed you.”
“You're asking me to stand aside while you manipulate people into your service!”
A pause, “I am. You're not going to loose anything by it, though. I don't do business like Voldemort did. I'd be surprised if you oppose me, at least in practice, in the long run actually.”
“I'm always going to oppose you!” Sirius growled.
Ibex shrugged, but didn't say anything.
“I still don't understand why you're doing things this way,” Sirius told him. “It doesn't make any sense.”
“I don't really care if it makes sense to you, but I suppose explaining it wouldn't hurt.” Ibex shrugged, “Why don't we make our purchases first and then go, I don't know, to a pub? Muggle or otherwise, it's up to you.”
“You're unbelievable,” muttered Sirius incredulously. “You want me to go have drinks with you while you explain your brand of evil?”
“Surreal, isn't it?” Ibex asked cheerfully. “That's what Lucius kept muttering when we were away last winter. So, shall we go, or do you want to go on being confused?”
“I don't think I want to fraternize with the enemy, ” Sirius sneered. “So no, I will not go down to a pub with you.”
“All right, then,” Ibex shrugged. “Nice talking to you.” he turned away and walked down the aisle.
“Wait!”
Ibex turned to look at him, peering over his glasses at Sirius. “Yes?”
“I...I want to know—are you a Potter?”
“I'm Ibex, Mr. Black, that's all you need to know.”
“You can't possibly have just appeared from under a cabbage leaf! What family?” Sirius demanded.
Ibex paused, “I think you know what name. I'd be surprised if you hadn't been told.”
“I've never heard of that family before,” Sirius told him.
He shrugged, “Should that matter to me? There's about ten thousand of our kind on the Isles. You can't possibly know every family.” Ibex gave him a chilled smile, “Are there anymore questions you wish to ask me in the middle of a muggle supermarket?” He gestured with the package of cookies at the grimy whitish linoleum flooring and the tall beige shelves. When Sirius remained silent, the other man turned with a shrug and left.
His conversation with Sirius raised a good point. He would always be Harry Potter to himself—that was his name, after all, but he supposed he wasn't really a Potter. Potters were entirely honorable and loving and irrevocably light and they matured at a certain point.
Harry still loved and he liked doing good, when he could. He missed Hermione dreadfully, lo these fifteen years later. Part of him was happy that his younger self would have his parents and never see the inside of the Dursley's house and that Sirius would never know Azkaban. He was proud that he had done something to alleviate Remus's plight.
But he knew very well that if it had better suited his purposes, he would have left James and Lily to be killed, Sirius to go to Azkaban, and he might have instituted harsher laws against werewolves. The bit of him that time had let properly mature rather thought that his motivations sucked all the good out of those actions and left them, at best, barely neutral. That was distinctly un-Potterly. Of course, the rest of him hummed, shrugged, and went about plotting his takeover anyway.
The clues were piling up and Dumbledore was at a loss as to how to sort them. There were no records of an Issac Merriweather in Gryffindor in the last six hundred years and no one in the Potter tree that bore a similar name so far as the records went back. In fact, the only record he could find of Issac Merriweather at all was the deed to his recently purchased cottage. Ibex, as Sirius had so aptly put it, “had appeared out from under a cabbage leaf,” and people simply didn't do that.
He also seemed to know far too much for such a recent appearance and that didn't make sense. Sirius, in his little super market showdown with the man, had asked him if he thought himself a seer when he had claimed that the future would have been very bloody without him. Ibex had told him, for all intents and purposes that he wasn't, but that he still knew what would have happened.
A frown. Dumbledore didn't like where this thought was leading.
Remus, Sirius, and Severus had all reported that Ibex had the same color eyes as Lily did and he did look very much like James. Harry would look like James some day, he thought with a smile, and already had Lily's eyes.
Dumbledore frowned again...That couldn't be right...
A/N: Three things: I kept meaning to upload this to PC (and the next two chapters) but obviously I kept forgetting. Secondly, I made a mistake. Rabastan wasn't married to Bella—that dubious honor belonged to Rudolphus. I shall go back and fix that at some point, and it won't really matter if you go reread the section I change, since it's just going to be an added scene and a little alteration of words, since nothing in the long run will change.
Thirdly, someone on FFN asked if this was going to develop a slash relationship. Harry won't be in a remotely slashy relationship as I can see a potential mistress and/or significant other in the near future. But there maybe be a passing mention of a gay couple of dubious canonality ( I can cite an interview where Rowling, when asked about the subtext some people saw gave a revealing non-answer, looking off to the side and muttering something about it being a children's story) and further more, homosexuals exist in canon anyway and I don't think Dumbledore is the only one (come to think of it, there's already the mention of an umimportant character possibily being gay in the next chapter anyway). The relationship will NOT be central to the main plot or even a real sub plot, though both characters themselves are going to be very important as individuals. I very much feel, like Alan Moore has said when discussing Watchmen that for characters and universes to be well rounded and real (which I strive for) there needs to be romantic relationships or reasons for them not to exist. Remember, Silk Specter was Hooded Justice's beard, since he was actually involved with another male hero who's name I can't think of at the moment.
Given that plot line of this story is vastly different than that of Rowling's, the two characters will have relationships of some sort since they are human beings, though not necessarily of a homosexual nature. I therefore declare that even though there could be a homosexual couple mentioned that THIS WILL BE NOT SLASH as per PC requirements. An addendum, I'm fairly sure that they won't get together but that potential still exists.
However, if an admin feels that the barest mention of homosexuals and a potential more or less unimportant relationship is a problem, please let me know.
The Oreo thing is based on what I remember my aunt talking about in about 1996, I think? She lived in Amsterdam for several years in the early and mid-nineties, and she was always excited when the grocery store had Oreos.