A Dissection of Modern Colloquialisms
as slippery as Slytherin adj. 1. The origin of this phrase is traced to the former rebel leader Salazar Slytherin who was able to turn his fortunes, ingratiating himself to the emperor, and achieve a third tier appointment along with all benefits including access to the elixir of life, a feat unrepeated in the centuries since he achieved it.
As awkward as the first night began, Nyt discovered that she mostly liked Remus’ parents. They were soft-spoken and kind and seemed to be rather thrilled that their son was associating with a non-wolf girl. She tried not to dwell on the implied bigotry of that distinction, or the conflict it had to create in their relationship with their son. In their defence, most everyone feared werewolves as volatile animals, and as a group they did little to discourage that stereotype. She had to admire the determination that led them to keep their infected son and even seek to acquire an education for him. Most parents weren’t nearly so bold.
So when Remus returned three days after leaving her behind, she wasn’t nearly as ready to leave as she thought she would be.
He hadn't returned her smile or embraced his parents. Remus had been quiet to the point of rudeness to her and his family. Bruises and scratches covered him, though they had mostly started to heal. Had the visit to the pack been so unpleasant then? Had he found a solution to their problem? He didn’t seem interested in discussing things one way or the other yet.
Well it was her life too and she deserved to know what he had discovered. She waited until his parents left them alone after dinner for a few moments and then she went fishing for her answers. –Remus, I’d like to know what the wolves’ healers had to say. Can they help or not?â€
As per the new usual, Remus didn’t even look at her. He just shook his head and sighed deeply.
–Does that mean they can’t help or you don’t want to discuss it yet? This is my life too, and I deserve to know what was said. I don’t deserve the silent treatment. Aren’t we friends?†Remus looked at her, his eyes wide and vulnerable.
–We are friends. You’re the best friend I’ve had in some time. The healer, she had a solution for our Vociferor problem. Lycanthropy gradually purges the cursed mark from Vociferor. I’ll be clear of it in another month or two. Unfortunately, she didn’t have another solution. She thought you should consider having a werewolf bite you if you really wanted to clear the curse.†Remus smiled bitterly and a single tear leaked down his cheek. –Please don’t ask me to bite you.â€
–Wow.†Nyt’s warm chestnut brown hair shifted, becoming wilder and darker as she purposefully mimicked a more feral appearance. What would it be like to be a werewolf? She hadn’t been a law abiding member of society in years. She would be trading one curse for another if she sought the wolves’ solution. –I don’t want to go through the rest of my life without my magic, but becoming a werewolf isn’t ideal either. I have a month before biting would even be possible. It will give me some time to consider my options.â€
A month to find another option, Remus thought. He knew exactly who to ask for help and he even had information to sell. –I’ll find another answer. Give me a chance.â€
Walking into dark arts class with Draco by his side, Harry held his head high. He knew that he was travelling with more swagger since they had risked their lives to give a couple of werewolves a chance to evade the sheriff’s monthly hunt. It wasn’t the rebellious act or the adventure itself he felt bolstered by, rather the friendships it had cemented between himself, Draco, and Lisa that had ramped up his confidence. Alliances with the group home kids were easy, a given, but befriending the two most politically connected kids in his year was an accomplishment worthy of Salazar Slytherin himself.
He hadn’t planned for things to go as they had or for them to bond so thoroughly, but he was pleased with the situation. Maybe Lisa was right about him a little, maybe he was a bit ambitious and inspired to excel. As long as he moved forward and upward with his eyes open, and Hermione was determined to keep him abreast of the truth behind the official party line, he couldn’t see a problem with a few healthy aspirations.
Riddle nodded a greeting at them as they took their seats. The other members of the class had arrived already and their professor began speaking as soon as they were settled.
–You should all be quite proud to be in this class. I don’t teach past the second year group. To remain in my whittled class is a sincere compliment from me. It’s time you each learned why I kept you here.â€
Riddle’s lips quirked into a handsome smirk that suited his aristocratic features. –I need an apprentice and all of you are potential candidates. Each of you has strengths that I value. After the Solstice break, I will whittle this class again. All of you should take the time to research apprenticeships and start to think if you would be willing to enter that type of bond with me. If you’re unwilling or afraid, you can drop this class and join the rest of your year in Professor Noyce’s Dark Arts class.â€
–Questions?†Riddle could practically see their little second year brains working furiously at the information he had given them. –We should begin then. Pair up.â€
Between Riddle drilling them up until the moment their class released and Professor Dover’s strict feelings on tardiness, none of them got a chance to discuss Riddle’s announcement until their Spell Casting lesson released them for the day. Hermione made it a point to attach herself to Harry before Draco or Lisa could snatch him away. She needed to talk before he wandered off to Quidditch practice. –Are you staying in Riddle’s class?†she asked. –I’m staying in the class.â€
Harry nodded quickly. –Of course I’m staying. Whoever he chooses as his apprentice gets a silver armband for his or her trouble. Not staying would be insane.â€
–The man is volatile and unpredictable,†Hermione stated, –but it would be so much easier to be taken seriously with that armband. People would really listen to our ideas.â€
–We can’t both get the apprenticeship, but if I can’t get it, I wouldn’t mind it being you. You’d probably do more good than any of the rest of us with the influence and power of a silver armband,†Harry said. –If you think about it, in our class we’re the front runners. With Lisa’s background it would be a waste. She’s getting an armband without signing her life away. Would Riddle revoke the veto on Draco to take him as an apprentice? Would Draco even accept it if he offered?â€
–Agreed on all points.†Hermione grinned, already planning what she would do with the apprenticeship if she won it. Feeling positively magnanimous, she found herself bringing up a topic that was rarely broached voluntarily between them. –It’s Quidditch-practice-Wednesday. I noticed you still go, but only when Draco and Lisa go. Did you lose your spot on the national team?â€
Pleasantly surprised by Hermione feigning interest, Harry shrugged nonchalantly. –The coach wasn’t happy, but they kept me as a backup for Herriman. I’m one injury away from starting. The talent pool is still too shallow for him to kick me down to the practice squads even if I only come to practice twice a week.â€
–Typical, everything always works out for you. It’s sickening.†Hermione split from Harry to head into her dormitory, her grin still firmly in place, belying her caustic words. –I’m winning this apprenticeship, otherwise you might get too cocky to live with.â€
–I guess we’ll see about that,†Harry replied. –You may be smarter, but I’m more likable.â€
–As if Riddle cares if you’re likable or polite, though I have been pretty damn tame for weeks now. Can you even remember the last time I hit you or got into a fight with anyone?†She disappeared into the girl’s dormitory, leaving a surprised and inordinately impressed boy behind. Hermione really was a fast learner. In another year or two, she would probably be able to rub elbows with the biggest snobs around without raising an eyebrow.
Every muscle in his body ached, but George didn’t dare stop moving. His Commander had spent the last few days setting him progressively more challenging tasks. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a long audition designed to make him quit, or at least admit that he couldn’t handle what his commander was asking of him. George knew that it wasn’t a game he was playing. The rebellion was an army engaged in an active war and it was only natural for his first commander to put him through his paces. A young soldier, not even of age, the man probably wanted an excuse to send him back to Moody for a couple of years. Well, he wasn’t giving the man his excuse.
George dodged two streams of silently cast red spells, and shot a pair of stunners over his shoulder. The underbrush pulled at his robes but he kept running. Transforming would make his sprint easier, but also leave him wandless and defenceless. The charmed locket severing his connection to his brother bounced on its chain, every thump reminding him why he could not quit or be shunted backwards. Saving Fred was too important.
Spell light from three different directions had George diving and transforming. Forget offence, forget shields, now this was a sprint. Just in case any of his pursuers had considered making their own transformation, he let loose a hefty spray of eye-watering skunk musk that would torture sensitive animal noses.
He could see his goal, a tall sycamore tree, just a few leaps ahead of him. But a body bind found him. George bared his pointy teeth, unsure what would happen if he transformed while in the bind. He’s going to send you back to Moody, George thought grimly. He forced the transformation to human through the bind but the spell only stretched and conformed to his new dimensions.
Sirius Black crouched beside him and placed his wand at George’s throat. –If this were real, you’d be dead or worse.â€
–Hopefully you won’t send me on too many suicide missions then, sir,†George said. –You have to admit, my odds weren’t great with the scenario you set, and I did get close.†He smiled as though completely unconcerned by the prospect of suicide missions or death. He might be bound and helpless, but admitting weakness was not on the agenda today. –Are you through testing me yet, sir?â€
–I hope we’re through testing him,†Edgar moaned. –Scourgify.†He repeated the cleansing spell three times but seemed woefully unsatisfied with the smell of his robes. –If I get sprayed one more time, my nose may die. Is that specially enchanted skunk spray? We need to transfer him to torture and interrogation. His skills are wasted here.â€
–Edgar, take the rest of the team, put them through their paces. I need to have a conversation with Mr. Weasley.†Sirius sighed, a frown on his face. He had been certain that the young man would have folded under his intense tests and orientation. He was just a teenager. Why had Moody sent him a kid? He released the body bind and gave George a hand up. –We need to discuss a few things. Moody sent enough information for us to know where and when to expect you, and that you qualified for inclusion in our unit. He didn’t say why a fifteen year old kid was dead set on joining the war effort. I assume you have a reason.â€
George nodded, unsure of how much information his commander wanted. –Moody wouldn’t have sent me if he didn’t think I could take care of myself, sir. I don’t deserve to be treated like a kid. The empire isn’t treating my brother like a kid. I’m here for him.â€
–Is your brother imprisoned or dead?†Sirius asked. Tact had never been his forte, and he needed to understand George’s situation so he could convince him to go home or at the least back to Moody for another couple of years. It was just too dangerous in the dog pack right now for a green rookie.
The redhead’s ears blushed brightly, betraying his pique. –Not that it’s relevant to my right to be here, but he’s cursed. Now I need to find him and help him. The way I figure it, combat is my best shot at seeing him.â€
A cursed brother most easily found in combat? Sirius’s frown deepened. What were the odds? –What kind of curse are you talking about?â€
George touched his shirt where the charm locket rested. –I haven’t seen it, him, with my own eyes, but he was made into a Reaper. If I could just find him, I could help him. He’s still in there. We’re twins, identical twins, and I know he’s still there.â€
Sirius allowed himself a small smile. –Seems like the powers that be knew what they were doing, steering you toward me. Finding a permanent solution to the Reapers is my personal pet project.â€
–Are you talking about killing my brother?†Mentally, George answered his own question. What did he expect really? His brother had become the physical embodiment of the Emperor’s will. The organization this man fought for existed to oppose the Empire. Of course he wanted to kill Fred.
Watching the kid in front of him wresting with the obvious answer to his pointless question, Sirius shrugged. –Killing Reapers doesn’t work. I said permanent solution.†Sirius cast an arm around George’s shoulders and squeezed. He tried to imagine how it would feel to lose a brother to the empire and then have them made into a Reaper. He imagined James’s face branded and sneering. George needed to try and save his brother, and Sirius could definitely empathize. –We’re going to catch a Reaper and see if we can’t figure out how they’re made. Then maybe we can unmake them in a way that they can’t be resurrected again. I just now decided to let you stay and help.â€
George remained tense under Sirius’s arm. Moody had sent him exactly where he wanted to go, the part of the rebellion actively engaged in handling the Reapers. No one ever said they would be handling them with kid gloves. –I can stay and help? We’re going to help them and maybe not kill them?†For what felt like the first time in months, George relaxed a degree.
–You shouldn’t read so much into what I said. Our priority is ending the Reapers, not saving your brother. The goals may be mutually exclusive.â€
George shrugged off Sirius’s arm and nodded. He remembered Dumbledore’s confession, that he had killed his younger brother after the empire made him a Reaper. However many people told him that Fred was beyond salvation, he just couldn’t accept that his brother was lost. –I don’t believe he has to die, but I understand that you can’t make me any promises.â€
–As long as we’re clear.†Sirius offered George his hand and after a brief hesitation they shook. –Welcome aboard kid.â€
As a mercenary for hire, Remus didn’t often seek audiences with anyone. His employers came looking for him, and he responded in as timely a manner as his current job allowed. Today he pulled a slip of parchment, frayed despite the preservation charms on it, and used it to request a meeting with one of his regular clients, a man he trusted as much as he trusted anyone who didn’t bear his curse. His carefully scratched words faded into the parchment and Remus was left to wait for a response.
An important man like Albus Dumbledore might not receive his message for a while and it might be even longer before he could meet with his werewolf associate safely. Remus didn’t normally mind waiting, the truths of his life had taught him patience, but time felt short. He only had a month before Nyt might ask him to help her and he had to have another solution before then.
A bright, tinkling laugh drifted through his bedroom door, Nyt’s laugh. She had struck up a quick, easy friendship with his parents. They were so pleased that he was travelling with a girl who was a friend and lacked his furry problem. His mother had practically offered to lend him her old engagement ring if he needed it. He hadn’t been able to make her understand that he and Nyt didn’t have that type of relationship. Sometimes men and women were just friends.
What would they think if he bit her, his friend? In over thirty years of his curse, he had never spread the condition, never bit another person. It was a source of personal pride and allowed him some small measure of peace. He wouldn’t bite her, better to live without using magic than to become a werewolf. Surely Nyt could see that. After a month’s deliberation she would reach that obvious conclusion.
If Albus Dumbledore could remove the mark of Vociferor, there didn’t need to be a choice.
A messy, slanted scrawl appeared on Remus’s parchment, lingered for a few seconds then faded away.
Come now, by floo, and we will discuss your offer.
A.
Mentally preparing himself to negotiate, he cast a handful of Floo powder into his room’s fireplace. His father had prepared the hearth at his son’s request that morning splicing a temporary connection to the public network. For someone who knew how and wasn’t cursed by Vociferor, it wasn’t so hard to manage temporary connections. –Albus Dumbledore’s office.â€
Remus emerged into the luxury of second tier life with a graceful double step. He brushed off a bit of clinging soot and nodded to the elderly man across the room.
–Remus, come in, please have a seat. I have to say, your message intrigued me.â€
Remus crossed the room to stand in front of the man’s cluttered desk but silently declined to sit. He curled his hands around the back of the cushioned chair he had been offered, and forced himself to smile as though everything didn’t depend on this negotiation. –I have information from one of your spies. He is now deceased.†On another day, in another situation, the information he held might have been sold for a significant sum. Today he just hoped Albus could and would help Nyt for him.
–As your note said. What information were you given and by whom?†Albus leaned forward in his chair. –Or would you prefer to negotiate price a bit before going into more detail?â€
–Negotiation won’t be necessary. The price is already set. I took a job breaking a man out of Vociferor. Along the way, I ran into an old friend, Severus Snape. I can’t tell you the information he wanted you to have. He insisted on writing it into a charm and concealing it in my mind beyond my reach. He didn’t trust a werewolf to bring the information to you, so he made sure you would be the only one who could retrieve it.â€
–Severus?†Albus closed his eyes, digesting the confirmation of his friend and best placed spy’s demise. –Name your price. You know I’ll pay it.â€
Remus prayed that Albus could meet his price. –I need you to remove the mark of Vociferor from a witch who helped with the break out from the Killing Fields. It summons their hounds if the bearer uses magic. Remove the mark and the information is yours.â€
Already shaking his head, Albus rose. –Such marks can’t be removed, Remus. They are a type of curse that can’t be destroyed or even mitigated to my knowledge. You should know better than most, certain curses must be lived with.â€
–I suggest you find a way if you want to know your spy’s dying declaration. It’s my price.†Remus crossed his arms over his chest, determined to make Albus change his mind. Nyt needed a solution, damn the impossibility argument. Nothing was impossible. There were just problems that didn’t yet have solutions. –You have to try.â€
Albus stepped around his desk, his blue eyes boring into the desperate wolf’s. –Forgive me, but I don’t.†His wand was in his hand, and in an instant, Remus was bound in conjured ropes. –You’ll receive a fair price. I’ve always been fair with you, Remus.â€
–No, you will pay my price,†Remus said, knowing full well that he couldn’t stop Albus from taking the information. –I trusted you.â€
–Severus was placed with Mabel Turpin, working as close to the emperor as anyone not already inducted to the Third Tier. The information you hold could potentially change the world for the better. As distasteful as I find this, your trust is not worth the fate of the world.†Albus touched his wand to the red-faced man’s temple; gently, he coaxed the charmed information, the most delicate of silver threads, free.
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