Chapter 14 – Rat in a Trap
History of the World Volume XV Chapter 1 The Rule of Turpin – Rebellion Is Constant
Under a strong government, there will always be dissidents and rebels. Ideally, the rebels in question cause minimal damage to the government's infrastructure and populace. It is unrealistic to think that Rebellion can be stamped out completely. The disaffected need their vehicle with which to shout, beat their chests, and deceive themselves into thinking that things might actually be changed by their efforts...
Severus rolled out of bed before dawn with mathematics on his mind already. After months of numbers he had finally begun to dream about them. Asymptotes and outliers cluttered his subconscious, creating fitful dreams that left him cranky and tired. Paying little to heed to the robes he chose for the day, Severus dressed quickly and headed down to get in a couple of derivatives before breakfast.
But he didn't settle into his daily pattern as usual. His workstation had been tampered with. His parchments had been shifted aside, and a small gold armband had been placed at the centre of his desk. For a long moment Severus was too shocked to comprehend what it might mean. Then he looked toward Mabel's workstation. She was there, perched on her stool and watching him.
"Don't look so surprised." Mabel smiled as she jumped down off her stool. "You've been a great help to me here, and you deserve some recognition of your work. Try it on."
Severus picked up the armband, his fingers trembling slightly despite his determination to maintain absolute calm. He removed his silver armband and dropped it on his desk with a delicate clink. This was it, the end. If he didn't leave now, he wasn't ever going to get another chance. Third tier initiates met with the Emperor as their final ritual. He inspected them, approved them, and offered them their first taste of the elixir of life. As good as his Occlumency was, Severus shuddered to think what a probe from Emperor Turpin would feel like.
It wouldn't do to show Mabel exactly how unwelcome this surprise was, so Severus gave a triumphant sneer. "I am very honoured."
"You should be." With a flick of her wand, Mabel summoned her stool to her side and resumed her perch. Severus couldn't help wondering how such an ample woman could sit comfortably on the tall thin stool she preferred. "You meet the emperor later this morning."
Severus's hand twitched toward the wand in his pocket. It would be exceedingly unwise to face the emperor, his mind filled with sedition as it was. There were protective carvings in the walls here, throughout Mabel's wing of the compound. If he attacked her, he would be trapped, bound in the web of their magic until he could be arrested at the Legion's leisure. Perhaps he could leave her side under the guise of changing robes for his meeting? He had to get away.
"Don't look so green. You have nothing to fear from the emperor. He has been quite pleased with our progress and there are stirrings that we may find the seventh." Mabel grinned gleefully, as though the seventh was a holy grail.
"I should change," Severus said. He gestured at his robes and frowned. "These aren't appropriate."
"Trust me, nothing you own is appropriate," Mabel said. "Relax. They won't care about your robes. We don't have much time, and I want you to know everything, so that you can be thinking about our mission and our problem. Perhaps you'll have something new to offer the emperor when you meet him." Mabel leaned forward, a calculated eager expression on her face. "In the year 957 AD, there was a prophecy..."
Sheets of rain pelted down, striking the squirrel's naturally water resistant fur. Slipping under a cracked window sill, Edgar, in his squirrel form, scurried inside toward the seclusion of the shadows. He crept forward, using his dextrous fingers to scale a tall bookcase. From the top he scanned the room. Below him two men were playing cards. He listened to them grumble to each other for a moment. Then, satisfied that they were engrossed, he began scanning the room for parchments.
A desk caught his eye, and Edgar tried to judge the distance between his bookcase and his new destination. Jumping it would be easy, but did he want to risk making a noise when he landed? He had backup outside, but it would take them precious seconds to come to his aid. With a delicate twitch of his nose, Edgar decided to err on the side of caution. He scuttled down the bookcase and across the floor to the desk. Sliding under a partially rolled sheet of parchment, he turned so he could see the card players. They had scarcely moved from his first survey of them.
Edgar came out from under the parchments and began examining the documents, looking for his target. Fortunately, squirrel eyes were fairly sharp, if a bit far-sighted, and mostly colour-blind. Edgar didn't have to nose around long before he found his nut. It took all his strength to unroll the intricately marked map he had come to find. A squirrel Animagus had its uses, but carrying the largish documents anywhere wasn't one of them. Instead, Edgar scanned the map, top to bottom, committing salient facts to memory.
His mind so full that his temples throbbed with memorization effort, Edgar glanced at the card players before launching himself at the bookcase and his road to freedom.
The sun was on the rise, and Pai knew she should be in bed. The dancers had afternoon practice and then a full evening of shows. But she lingered at her window. The rebels from the west had gone out in the evening and they hadn't yet returned. She wondered vaguely what they left to do. Were they stealing or spying or killing?
An owl came swooping into the rear yard and Pai smiled. They were back. Other creatures came: a cougar, a beaver, and an orange tabby cat. A stag, lithe and regal with a squirrel riding its back came last. Pai just restrained a laugh at the ignominious sight. They all made it back safely, well, all but one. Her favourite, the shaggy black dog, had vanished. One night he was there and the next he was gone. He left without a word, not that words had ever been something they exchanged.
Pai didn't remain at the window to watch the Animagi transform. It was a scene she had witnessed many times now. With a sigh, she stretched out on her pallet. It wasn't that she missed her western lover. She had no shortage of lovers when she wanted them. Pai didn't even know the dog's name. It hadn't seemed important before.
Was her dog safe? Had he returned to the West? Why had he left his fellows behind if he was going home?
Was he coming back?
Lazing about, not sleeping, mooning, Pai scolded herself internally. She was a shallow child, obsessing over the toy she couldn't have. Her dog wasn't obsessing over her. He was undoubtedly busy with important matters, possibly checking in with his chubby, inbred western wife or betrothed. The satisfying image of her dog enduring an ugly cow might have sent Pai to sleep... except for the visitor waiting across the hall.
The woman had come after the rebel's departure, an exotic creature to Pai's eyes. She strolled into the brothel with her red hair, green eyes, and sensuous curves. Pai wasn't the only dancer who had been fascinated to glimpse a woman so different from their ethnic norm. But she was the only one struck with immediate paranoid jealousy. Her dog could be married, engaged, involved... and it might not be to an inbred horse.
Scrunching her eyes up, Pai tried to recapture the comforting image of her dog, miserable and pining for her.
She tried to sleep.
Rain sluicing off his cloak in sheets, James pushed himself up off the ground and spun towards Edgar. "You got it?"
"Yes, sir," Edgar gasped. He pointed to his head. "My memory won't be perfect. I think I'll need a Pensieve to get it out properly."
"We can get you to a Pensieve," James said. He looked around at the other wet and tired Animagi. They stared back at him with disgruntled, almost hostile dissatisfaction. They weren't happy with the replacement leadership, and James didn't really blame them. Their commander was the one who trained them and knew them. Sirius was the one they trusted. "For now, everyone get some rest. Edgar, if you could harvest the memory before you retire, I'll take it now."
"We'll need a bottle," Edgar said.
James groped in his cloak pockets until he found a half empty potion vial. He dumped the contents onto the mud and tossed the bottle to Edgar. "Leave it at my room," James commanded. He looked around at the lingering rebels and he shooed them toward their current headquarters. "Get out of the rain."
Allowing his troops to head in alone, James stood in the rain, the cold wetness redoubling his bone-deep weariness. He wanted to give them ample time to choose their diversions before he entered. He didn't want them to feel pressured to include him. Soldiers needed time away from the command, time to be free, to unwind, and to de-stress. Finally, deeming that enough time had passed, James abandoned the grey, predawn dampness for the dim interior of the Red Fan.
The brothel's less flashy employees were out with the sun, cleaning away the debris of last night's revels. James avoided making eye contact and headed straight for the stairs and his bed. A few hours sleep would clear his head and recharge his spirit. But his room wasn't empty.
"Lily?" James strode across the room, only half-trusting his eyes. "How did you find me? What are you doing here?" As soon as his hands were on her shoulders, and her clean scent was in his nostrils, James irrational doubt vanished. "God, I've missed you."
Lily turned his way, a faint pout on her lips. "You've missed me? Maybe you'll refrain from lying to me and chasing me away in the future?" She let James hold her close, resting her head on his shoulder. "As for what I'm doing here, there's an internal investigation afoot, and you made our list of people with enough information to be dangerous. I'm here to interrogate you. Sirius agreed that I'd be up to this one."
"He would," James laughed. "You're going to interrogate me? What are you investigating, Lily?"
She pushed away from James and settled on the seat at his desk. "You're not seriously a suspect. You just made the list of people with enough information to be dangerous. Sirius is chasing the real leads. We're on the P's: Paulson, Peterson... Potter." Lily sighed and arched an eyebrow. "You may not be a real suspect, but you are staying in a brothel. Have you been a good boy, James?"
"That can't be a serious question," James said.
"You didn't answer it, not a good sign." Lily crossed her arms over her chest. "Do I need to go get the Veritaserum?"
"No," James said. "I've never been more miserable, surrounded by beautiful, loose women. You can interrogate Sirius's Animagi if you don't believe me. They think I'm the biggest prude on the continent."
"Good," Lily said. "I was worried for half a second there."
"Is that it, then? Am I interrogated?"
Lily untied her cloak and smirked at James. "We're just getting started, Mr. Potter."
A party, wild and raucous, broiled across the main hall of Malfoy Manor. Above the mayhem, two young wizards sat together in a balcony, sipping pumpkin juice. Harry turned to Draco. "Is it all you hoped for? I invited the worst berks in the group home, even told them you were hoping for a rough party."
"Perfect," Draco said. "There are some things you can ignore, and some things that have to be commented on."
The sound of shattering glass tinkled up from below and Harry winced. "I know your father has been giving you the silent treatment, and I know you intend to force him into breaking that silence, but are you sure you want this kind of attention?"
"I know what I'm doing," Draco said. "You brought the riff raff, and thanks to a little favour from Lisa, not a single respectable wizard or witch showed up. My cousins aren't even here."
"What did Lisa do? I didn't know she was helping." Harry drank the last of his pumpkin juice and craned his neck around so that he could see what a group of the revellers were pulling out of a closet. It looked like a stuffed and mounted Yeti. "What do you mean no one respectable came? Aren't I respectable? I may not have family connections, but I am top of my class."
Draco smirked dismissively. "On my request, Lisa let it be known that she wasn't coming to my birthday party, and she didn't think anyone else should either," Draco said. "The name Turpin has enough weight to keep everyone away, even your little friend Ronnie. As for your respectability, you're the number one in our class, but you aren't top of the class. The savage scraped that designation out, or didn't you read the final class ranking for the year."
"True, maybe I'm not respectable enough to skip your party. Should I join the riff raff?" Harry asked. "Those fellows levitating the bust of Venus seem to be having fun."
"Please," Draco spluttered. "You may not be respectable enough to skip this party, but you aren't nearly tough enough to mix freely."
"Not tough enough?" Harry gestured at the kids below. "These are my roommates. I've lived in a home with them for most of my life, mixing freely. I've survived so far."
Draco joined Harry gazing over the rail. "I can't really imagine it, living in that kind of free for all. It's a wonder you learned to eat using cutlery."
"They're not that bad." Harry rolled his eyes. "You asked for the worst of the lot."
"Asked for the worst of the lot? I would hate to think my son would sabotage his own birthday party." The boys turned to find Lucius lurking just outside the balcony's archway, his cool blue eyes staring out at the wreck of his home. "Draco, we need to talk. I'm certain your friend can amuse himself for a few moments."
His father had taken notice, as planned, and all of a sudden Draco wasn't so sure he wanted the attention he had drummed up. He followed his father into the hall and on to their library. The room was dimly lit, the ceiling-high book shelves standing sentry around the room. Lucius just waited there quietly, without turning to face his son. Was he going to stand there all night? Was he going to yell? How would he punish his son for this? Draco opened his mouth to speak, but closed it ineffectually. He had no idea what to say.
"Are you really feuding with Lisa Turpin, or did she help you orchestrate this travesty? Your cousins are cowering at home in either case." Lucius looked over his shoulder. "Well?"
"She's a friend, and she helped me with... the party."
A half-smile curved at Lucius's lips and he nodded. "Good then. You can go back to your guests."
Was that it? Draco hesitated but turned to leave. His father's silence was broken at last, and he hadn't even been upset. Was it his imagination or was his father actually pleased? Draco had opened the door, when his father spoke again. "An alliance with the Turpins would be invaluable. Just try not to wreck the house the next time you play a game with your new friends. Your mother's hysterical."
Lounging carelessly in the only available seat, Sirius waited impatiently for the next person on his list of potential traitors to return from lunch. When he started the project with Lily, he had been geared up for a painful series of intense interrogations. But so far he hadn't found anyone guilty enough to require more than a dose of Veritaserum and a Memory Charm. Sure, he'd uncovered a couple of petty thieves and minor delinquencies, but by and large the entire operation had been a bust.
They were moving through the list alphabetically, and if you hadn't found any traitors by the letter P, what were the odds you were going to find one in the second half of the alphabet?
Scanning the office of the master scheduler in question, Sirius rolled his eyes. The place was a cluttered mess. A scheduler should have minor organizational skills, shouldn't he? The man who belonged to the office entered with a flurry of activity. He scurried past Sirius and started sorting through the papers on his desk. "You must be here for the carer schedule for next month. I had it here this morning, sir. I just need a second."
Sirius started to address the scheduler, but he paused, staring. He knew this guy from somewhere. "I know you, don't I?" Sirius said. "Pettigrew, Peter. Peter Pettigrew." A smile spread over his face. "You used to follow James around during school breaks. You weren't class one, but your parents worked at the Potters."
Pettigrew actually looked up and his mouth dropped open. "Sirius Black? I...What are you doing here?"
Shaking his head, Sirius pulled a shot glass out of his pocket. He poured a finger of Veritaserum-laced wine into it, and set it in front of Peter. "This is an internal review. Drink it."
"But, what is it?" Peter stared at the glass as though it might bite him. "What do you want?"
Sirius didn't answer specifically, but he smiled. "Don't worry about it. It won't poison you, I promise." He dropped a hand into his pocket and curled his fingers around his wand. "We know each other. Drinking that is a tiny formality." Sirius pulled his wand out, fully prepared to bully the wine down Peter.
"Okay," Peter said, staring at Sirius' wand nervously. "I don't usually just drink anything set in front of me." He gulped the wine down and winced. "Not a very good vintage."
Sirius shrugged. "The Veritaserum makes it bitter."
Peter eyes widened and dropped heavily into his chair. "What is this about? I'm not a thief."
"Duly noted. This interview should be fairly painless." Sirius set up an enchanted quill and parchment. "State your name." He could see the intoxicating effects of the Veritaserum settling in. Peter's jaw had dropped open and his eyes looked glassy.
"Peter Pettigrew."
Sirius made sure his quill was recording their conversation properly and continued. "Have you ever betrayed the rebellion?"
"Yes," Peter said.
Another petty thief, Sirius thought, but he continued with the list Lily had provided. "Have you ever dealt with a witch named Oscasia?"
"Yes."
Sirius paused again. In nearly one hundred interviews Peter was the first to say yes to that question. From Lily's briefing, Oscasia was a sick one, a child broker. "What were your dealings with Oscasia?"
Peter's head lolled to the side and he frowned. "No, I shouldn't tell you. I shouldn't say." He rose as though to run away.
"You have to say," Sirius said. He circled around the desk, throwing Peter back into his seat. He planted a knee in the traitor's groin. "Say what you've done." He applied pressure until Peter began to whimper helplessly.
"I... I write to her and tell her about the children. Then, from time to time, I help her collect them. She pays me for my letters and for the children -- three sickles for a letter and fifty... fifty for a... for a child."
Sirius breathed in the stale, sweaty scent of his newly discovered traitor. Disgust washing over him, he asked his next question. "You sold children to her? You... list every child you ever sold."
Peter shook his head, trembling from the agony of Sirius's restraint. "I don't remember them all, so many names, so unimportant. So insignificant after the first... showed you all with that one... I showed you all how important I really am. I taught you better than to leave me behind."
Sirius applied a bit more pressure and was rewarded with a scream. This vagueness was the fundamental flaw of Veritaserum. Pain sometimes clarified it. "Names, Pettigrew, I want every name you can remember."
"I remember Isobel Potter," Peter screamed. "I remember Harry... Seamus. I remember Alicia Izzary. I remember the fires and the accidents and the lies. Fooled you all... I fooled you all. Stupid Class IV wizard, fooled you all."
His mind spinning with the names Peter had shared, Sirius stumbled back. "You sold James' children." In the next moment he had his wand up and torture curses were falling from his mouth. "Crucio!" He watched the rat squirm, vaguely aware that he couldn't afford to kill him or drive him mad, not yet.
Sirius crouched down by Peter and sneered bitterly. "Where are the children, Peter? What does she do with them?"
"I don't. I don't. I don't know." Peter was trembling so hard that his words were almost incomprehensible. "Swear, I don't know."
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In the shadows of the Emperor's massive throne a seer stood, casual and calm. A first glance she was young, perhaps a teenager. But she wasn't nervous or awkward. She stared back at the other immortals of Turpin's inner court without trepidation. Though her body proclaimed her youth, her eyes had seen centuries pass, and they still occasionally glimpsed the future.
The court was unusually full, Spero thought. She tucked her black hair behind her ear and restrained a yawn. There was to be a new initiate, and that always brought out the curiosity seekers. The main chamber doors creaked open. Surrounded on all sides by faceless, masked legionnaires, a sallow-faced, hook-nosed wizard strode in. He had to feel vulnerable, surrounded, wandless, and unsure of his acceptance. Spero decided that she liked the wizard's face. It was interesting.
Peeking out of the shadows, Spero touched Turpin gently on the shoulder. That contact was enough to ask permission to mentally scan their new arrival. His silence was ample assent for her to continue. She silently cast Legilimens and let its power trace along the new wizard's barriers. She cast again and again, feeling for a chink, an entry point. No one could maintain perfect calmness in this situation, not for long.
And Spero found her chink. It was ironic really, that a bubble of hope would ripple through his barriers and open the door for her invasion. She slipped through his memories, his fears, his hopes...his secrets.
"Spy," Spero hissed after only a moment. "He is a spy."
Turpin looked up and settled his gaze on their intruder. "The field," he said. "Send him." While the masked legionnaires led the spy away, Turpin turned to another of his helpers. "Bring me Mabel. She's made another mistake."
"A serious one this time," Spero whispered.
Author's Note:
Well, Peter has finally been exposed. Snape is in trouble. And The kids are just trying to have an enjoyable break. Next chapter, Sirius has news, Harry, Draco, and Lisa have Quidditch camp, and Remus will discover more than he bargained for while helping captain Nyt.
And with that, I'll see you all in April.