Chapter 135. The Potters.
As the first of September drew closer, the time came for all Hogwarts students to return to the castle. Strange as it may seem, the majority of parents, from ordinary half-bloods to the grandest aristocrats, were thoroughly relieved. At last they could breathe, if only for a while. Their children would spend the coming year under the protection of Britain's most powerful wizard, in one of the safest places in the country.
Shops began reopening one by one. The streets were quiet, but crowds gathered to buy school supplies, and the number of patrols in Diagon Alley had doubled, though mostly for show, to create an impression of safety. The council and the Minister understood perfectly that no serious action would be taken against the ordinary population for now. The gang war was far from over; it was only gaining momentum. Of the twenty or so known groups, only ten remained. Two of those belonged to the Death Eaters and Black Star, with the latter steadily gaining the upper hand.
Over the following weeks, several explosive news items shook the wizarding world. One was the release of the Lestrange brothers, which made the front page of every newspaper. As members of one of Britain's oldest families, it was no wonder the story dominated conversation for a week afterward.
The Ministry, naturally, did not admit to having detained them on suspicion of supporting the Dark Lord. Instead, they claimed the brothers had been framed, and that only after a fresh investigation did it come to light that the aristocrats were guilty of nothing worse than minor financial irregularities. Everyone knew the Lestranges were Death Eaters, mark or not. After the Hogwarts incident, Tom had refined the Dark Mark so that only he could see it.
Nor had the Ministry employed Unforgivable Curses, Veritaserum, or anything of that nature to extract information. The brothers were not common wizards; one was the heir to one of the wealthiest families in Britain. Without direct evidence, the Ministry was powerless. The entire aristocratic community would have rallied behind them instantly, including certain Ministry insiders. Accusations of trampling aristocratic rights would have flown from every direction, and Voldemort would have seized on it without hesitation. Fighting on three fronts was the last thing they wanted when they already had their hands full with the Death Eaters and Black Star.
The brothers' release would not have happened without Severus, of course. In exchange for the favor, he had provided two new potion recipes: an improved Magic-Enhancing Potion, and one that negated the weakness caused by the Physically Enhancing Potion for a full minute. He had planned to hand them over to the Ministry regardless, and this way he extracted the maximum benefit from doing what he would have done anyway.
The second piece of news that left people reeling was the breaking of the engagement between the Lestranges and the Blacks. No reasons were given, which naturally unleashed an avalanche of speculation from aristocrats and commoners alike. Some said Rodolphus had discovered new preferences during his time in the dungeon. Others claimed Bellatrix was no longer a maiden and had been unfaithful during his arrest. Witnesses materialized in support of both versions, people who swore they had watched the parties in question by candlelight and observed every detail unfold.
This story almost entirely buried the first. It was chewed over for roughly three weeks before dying down, neither side having offered so much as a comment. Once it became clear that no statement was coming, interest faded.
Severus spent all of this time pressing ahead with the ritual and making solid progress. He also built a small chain of shops in the Muggle world, which he called On the Line, selling electronic equipment. The company had come to him from Malfoy as payment for the Lestrange business.
The Dark Lord, though he despised Severus to his core, made no move against him. He and Harold thought alike on that point: neither was ready to make an enemy of Ichiro. But this humiliation would not be forgotten. Tom's nature was cruel and his memory was long.
There were only days left before term. Severus decided to walk through Diagon Alley with Nagini and pick up writing supplies, his seventh-year books, and, finally, an owl, so he wouldn't have to keep dispatching the house-elf with letters. They were just coming out of the pet shop, carrying a cage containing a black owl with a white belly and face. From the cage, the bird regarded Nagini with cautious suspicion, while Nagini, tucked under Severus's collar, studied the feathered creature with open curiosity.
"You'll be Darti." He looked into the owl's eyes with a smile.
"Strange name."
"In one of the ancient languages, 'dar' means black and 'ti' means white. Darti. Do you like it?" As if she understood him, the owl began nodding and hooting, apparently very pleased with her new name.
"She actually understood you." Nagini sounded genuinely surprised.
"But how does she..."
"Don't ask. I'd have to dissect her to find out, and I have no particular wish to do that. Unless you'd like to?"
"Absolutely not!" The panic in her voice was sharp and immediate. Severus laughed. The owl regarded her new owner with wariness. She had been taught the meaning of that word, trained to be wary of certain individuals.
"Nor would I. If I ever need to find someone, I'll manage without her. And making sure an owl can never find you takes a single spell." A grape appeared in his hand. He tossed it to the bird. She caught it neatly, swallowed it, and hooted with apparent satisfaction. "I wonder how intelligent she'd become if she ate one of those fruits. Ah well." He caught Nagini's impatient look. "Come on. We'll see what else we can find on the way back."
He had barely taken a few steps when he heard voices he had long since stopped expecting, voices he had never thought he would hear again.
"...Lily, come on. You said you wanted to look in this shop." A young man in glasses, grinning broadly, tugged at the hand of a slightly embarrassed red-haired girl and steered her toward the pet shop. An adult couple followed behind them, smiling, along with two more young people who were whispering together and exchanging pointed looks at their friends.
"Another day. Let's go to the bookstore first; we still need new cauldrons, and then..." She stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes had found Severus, standing still, watching. Like someone caught in a moment of guilt, she pulled her hand free. She couldn't meet his eyes and looked down at the sidewalk instead. What am I doing? The reaction startled her. They weren't together. They could barely be called friends anymore. So why had she reacted like that? The thought unsettled her, and for a few seconds she forgot entirely that she wasn't alone.
"Severus." Potter's voice was a hiss, his eyes burning. Just when things had finally started to go somewhere, when she had even let him kiss her cheek, this damn Snivellus materialized out of nowhere and ruined it simply by being there.
James's mother, a kind-faced woman with short red hair, watched the silent standoff. She read the situation quickly enough. That girl's reaction was one she recognized. She studied the young man who had apparently lodged himself so firmly in the hearts of her future daughters-in-law. There was nothing particularly striking about his appearance, she decided. Quite ordinary, really. Thin. A nose that was slightly long with a bump in it. Rather large black eyes. A narrow chin. Fine dark brows. Moderately long dark hair drawn back in a loose tail, two strands falling forward to frame his face. His height was notable, though. He was even taller than her husband. And although his robes concealed his build, she had the distinct sense that he was in excellent physical condition, which was unusual for someone of his background. Aristocrats generally considered that sort of thing a foolish waste of time.
She glanced at her husband. He was looking at the young man with a faint displeasure that was very unlike him.
Fleamont Potter, a wizard with a splendid black mustache, wire-rimmed spectacles, and threads of gray at his temples, felt a flicker of irritation at the sight of Severus. Thanks to that Beauty potion, he had lost a substantial portion of the income from his Sleekeazy's Hair Potion recipe. He had sold the manufacturing company, yes, but the rights to the recipe remained his. He received four percent on every bottle sold, and Severus had cut that income nearly in half. He had expected those percentages to carry on well into the nineties, possibly even beyond the turn of the century, building a tidy sum for James, for grandchildren, great-grandchildren. Perhaps even further.
But he didn't resent Severus. Fleamont understood business. Everyone did what they had to. He had been exactly the same in his youth. What he regretted was that his own son showed none of that instinct, none of that talent for it, none of that particular kind of mind. He loved James fiercely and was enormously proud of his Quidditch, even though the game itself held no interest for him.
Fleamont and Euphemia had tried for children for years and had given up hope. Only in their old age had Euphemia finally carried James to term. They had adored him. Spoiled him thoroughly. Which was why he had grown up so arrogant, so certain of himself. It was far too late to change any of that now.
Lupin and Sirius stood beside James. Severus sighed quietly, shook his head, caught Fleamont's eye, gave a short nod of acknowledgment, and walked on toward the bookshop.
"She's not as indifferent to you as she'd like to be." There was amusement in Nagini's hiss. She was watching Lily, who followed his retreating figure with a complicated expression.
"So? Are you jealous?"
"Hmph. There's nothing to be jealous of." Severus said nothing, though he caught a faint trace of jealousy in her emotions. She still feared, he knew, that his old feelings for the redhead might resurface if Lily made a move.
He wasn't blind. Over the years he had noticed how the Maledictus did everything within her power to keep him and Evans apart, having Nelly track the witch and report her exact whereabouts.
He had explained countless times that nothing would ever happen between him and the Gryffindor girl. It made no difference. So he had simply stopped fighting it. Even so, he'd be lying if he said he didn't find her concern, in its own way, rather touching.
They went into the bookshop, bought a complete set of seventh-year textbooks and writing supplies, and with the school shopping finally done, headed home.
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