Post by MinnieQuill on Jun 3, 2007 23:17:40 GMT -5
Despite the Falling Snow
By Minniequill[/b][/center]
Author's notes: I thought it was about time I tried my hand at a chapter ADMM fic. I've done numerous one-shots, and attempted one before (damn thing changed pairing on me!) so I thought the time was ripe for another attempt! Therefore, for those ADMM'ers out there – I hope you enjoy!
I've used character names that many will recognise but I figure that the same pure-blooded families would have supported Grindlewald. Little is known about this era, so I have a large scope to play with. At times it will get confusing (I get confused with my fics, and I bloody write the things) so ask your questions and I'll be most happy to answer them.
And Minerva went to Durmstrang (more explained later.) This is not a student/professor relationship.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything JKR created; I merely take them for a (very long) walk every once and a while. I also am not responsible for the brilliant 'Bleak House'; that accolade goes to the extraordinary Charles Dickens, or the work of Robert Graves whose poem inspired the title of this novella, or R.S Hawker whose work will also be used briefly.
She tells her love while half asleep
In the dark hours,
With half words whispered low:
As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers,
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.
'She Tells her Love While Half Asleep' by Robert Graves
Chapter 1:
...Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city...
The words of Charles Dickens ran briefly through the mind of Albus Dumbledore as he rested his forearms on London Bridge and looked into the river below. Fog surrounded him, so thick that he could barely see three feet in front of him. His blue eyes watched the white harr that floated above the water, furling and unfurling in a never-ending pattern. The wind was chill, and he shuddered as the breeze passed easily through the thick wool of his muggle coat.
Behind him, obscured by the roiling mist, cars drove past, their engines dulled by the roar of the bombs that shook the very earth he stood upon. None had dared to use their headlights, the Nazi's and Grindlewald's forces would treat them as target practice should they do so, and thus they drove blindly through the streets. He turned and leant against the rail of the bridge as a shadowy silhouette drew closer.
“I've heard that the rain is quite heavy in Ivanhoe,” the man said, pulling his bowler hat down to obscure his face.
“Hello, Alastor," Albus said, grinning slightly as the younger man looked upward at him, a look of utmost indignation on his handsome visage.
"Dumbledore!" he said angrily. "You know that we have to follow guidelines!"
The older wizard held his hand up, silencing the newly-promoted Auror instantly.
"You have news," he said flatly, looking at the parchment that Alastor had withdrawn from inside his overcoat.
The ground shook as another bomb was sent down from a Nazi plane above, and Alastor waited for the noise to pass before resuming the conversation.
"In a manner of speaking," he said slowly, his brow furrowing. "There's a young Auror under Avery's care, and she suspects..."
"She?" Albus interrupted. "Since when did the Auror department start recruiting women?"
Alastor gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Believe me, Dumbledore. This girl's more than a match for any man."
Albus nodded absentmindedly as Alastor handed him the parchment and his blue eyes widened. He conjured a lighter which he held close to the yellow page as he scanned the neat script.
"Where did you find this?" he asked, now turning the parchment over. A perfect representation of Diagon Alley looked back at him, and he traced the lines of the buildings. Every tunnel, pipe, even the sewerage lines were drawn in intricate detail. Merlin, if this got into the wrong hands...
"I didn't," Alastor said succinctly. "But it seems that Mr. Avery had changed allegiances."
Albus' eyes snapped toward the younger man's. "Avery? Marcus Avery? He's been the Ministry..."
"For years," Alastor concluded, his voice suddenly weary. "I know. But this war, Albus...it brings about insanity. And he's in the perfect position to filter information to Grindlewald. He's privy to all of Crouch's stratagems. If you think about it, all of these 'leakages' make perfect sense."
The Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts nodded wearily, and leant his elbows against the rail, looking once again down at the fog rising from the river. "Who else has been told of this, Alastor?"
"Only you, me and the young Auror, Albus. And she won't tell anyone. In one of these attacks her entire family, including her five-year-old brother was killed. I've never seen someone so hell-bent on revenge."
Albus sighed wearily. "Revenge breeds anger, Alastor. And anger clouds your judgment. I don't want her anywhere near this case."
Alastor snorted. "I highly doubt that she'll do anything...rash; she's too smart for that." He glanced at his watch. "I had best be off," he said, lowering his bowler hat once more.
Receiving no response from the auburn-haired wizard who was still staring downward, he shrugged and walked back through the mist, disappearing into the white within seconds. After he had left, Albus turned and leant his back against the rail, now looking upward at the sky. The Nazi planes had disappeared and London was eerily quiet. Slowly he pushed himself from the bridge and walked the opposite way to Alastor toward the Leaky Cauldron.
Tom raised his hand in silent acknowledgment as he passed through the small pub and through the magical barrier into Diagon Alley. As he entered, he wondered briefly, as he often had when passing through into the wizarding world, whether or not he had imagined the atrocities he had witnessed that night. Though the world was still black, the sky shone with stars and not the fire from planes, and the night echoed with the sound of wind through the buildings and tress, not with gun fire and bombs. There were no screams, no bodies on the ground flooding blood into the gutters until the street swam with crimson.
He shook his head slightly and moved forward toward a small house on the far corner. The building, with its thatched roof and small garden looked as though it belonged in the village of Hogsmeade rather than in busy London, but Albus knew that inside housed the woman who read the stars and fates which the Light used to their advantage. He drew level with the small gate and it opened with a soft 'creak'. As he moved up the past, he found that a terrifying, yet totally unfounded presentiment overcame him, and he withdrew his wand and held it aloft as he knocked on the door.
It swung open at the slight touch, and he cast an illumination charm quickly. His hand flew to his mouth as he looked at he scene of utter devastation before him. Where normally the small living room was tidy and ordered, now the couch was upturned and the many ornaments on the mantle shattered into small chards on the floor. He moved cautiously inside, his boots silent on the carpet floor as he approached the centre of the room. The coffee table was on its side, and he felt bile rise in his throat as he saw crimson blood soaked into the carpet. The red liquid was still glistening, and he closed his eyes briefly before peering over the edge of the table.
Cassandra Trelawney lay on her back, her pale green eyes wide and staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Blood oozed from the wound in her throat, and he saw the hilt a small dagger protruding from the wound. Scarlet liquid also dripped from her mouth as he looked closer he realised (to his horror) that her tongue had been cut out and now rested on her breast, a grim reminder of human cruelty.
And have they fixed the where and when?
And shall Trelawney die?
The muggle rhyme ran through his mind, mocking him and he closed his eyes, dispelling the words. Slowly he reached over and closed Cassandra's eyes and wiped away some of the blood from her face, though he would never be able to remove the look of utmost terror evident in the curve of her mouth. Cassandra's greying hair splayed out beneath her, the long strands matted with dry blood and Albus turned away and stared fixedly at the ceiling. Her hand was clenched around a small piece of parchment, and Albus withdrew the piece carefully, not wanting to tear the fragile page. He unfurled the parchment, and his brow furrowed as he read Cassandra's cursive script.
Thirteen - thirty-one
There were no other words, and Albus shook his head wearily and placed the parchment back in his pocket to study later. Looking once again at his long-time friend, he cast a locking charm on the door and windows and apparated with a faint crack to the Ministry to report her death.
And shall Trelawney die?
And shall Trelanney die?
Rain thundered down and Minerva McGonagall hunched her shoulders and pulled the collar of her trench coat up to shield her from the wet. The wind was strong and she resisted the urge to shudder as it passed easily through the wool of her coat, icy cold against her skin which was barely covered by the thin blouse and calf-length skirt she wore beneath the long coat. Her heeled boots were soaked through and she ran the last few years to the phone box that led to the Ministry for Magic Headquarters.
A wave of her wand saw the phone box descend quickly underground and she cast a warming charm upon herself and flicked her shoulder-length hair over her shoulder. Hidden safely in her pocket was her report from the whore-house on the outskirts of London. She smiled to herself, three weeks it had taken her to obtain the information; it was amazing really, how men could be manipulated through a few...tricks for lack of a better word and a 'misplaced' Imperious Curse, though the latter would never find its way into print form.
The phone box shuddered to a halt and she stepped into the gleaming hall, bypassing the wizard at the counter and hurrying to Marcus Avery's office. She was not stupid, she was well aware of the man's true allegiance, but Alastor had expressly told her to continue to siphon the correct information to him. Finding the door to his office locked, she sat down and crossed her legs, reaching for the ever-present packet of cigarettes in the lining of her coat.
She took the thin stick from its paper package, and held it between her lips as she tapped the end with her wand. The first intake of breath was like a hot bath after a particularly hard quidditch match, and she leant her head against the wall behind and exhaled at length; the grey smoke unfurling before her eyes and dissipating into thin air.
Avery's betrayal was unexpected, and Minerva knew that she had to be careful in his presence. The man was a gifted leglimens and any...indication that she knew of his true nature would see her...what was the muggle phrase...swimming with the fishes. She grinned to herself in spite of the situation she had inadvertently found herself in. She had to give credit to where it was due; Muggles were quite intelligent when they wanted to be. Who would want to trawl the murky waters of London? Who would, for a moment, think that the Ministry had sanctioned these...executions? In a way it was rather brilliant.
She tapped the ash of her cigarette into a conjured ash tray before taking another long drag. The smoke filled her lungs, and she exhaled at length, sending the grey cloud upward toward the ceiling. The smoke unfurled outwards, and she watched in fascination as it looked to form a grim (an improvident foreshadowing if there ever was one.) The dog vanished into thin air, along with Minerva's brief enervating wave of apprehension.
The sound of hurried footsteps caught her attention and she raised her eyebrows as Avery came into view with a tall, auburn-haired man she didn't recognise behind him. The two were speaking in hushed tones, and though Avery inclined his head in her direction as he passed, the other man didn't spare her a second glance and followed Avery into his office, slamming the door behind him. It was an obvious sign that her presence was not wanted at this time, and Minerva shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as she dragged again on her cigarette.
She would not deny that she was curious about the heated argument that was emanating from the office, and her hearing (sensitised due to her feline animagus form) caught snippets of the conversation.
"Seer...dead!"
"We'll manage..."
"How?! For Merlin's sake, she was one of our last hopes!"
"...overly dramatic..."
The door flew open, rebounding off the wall, and the tall wizard marched from the office, the tip of his crooked nose pointed in the air. He glanced briefly down at Minerva, his eyes narrowing as he saw the cigarette held loosely in her hand.
"They could kill you!" he said angrily, gesturing at the packet on the seat next to her; another cigarette and a packet of matches at the ready.
Minerva's eyebrows flew upward, and she took a deliberately long drag, blowing out a long stream of smoke before she answered. "So can a lot of other things," she said, leaning back in the chair.
The man's jaw clenched and he stalked away, leaving an amused witch behind him. Minerva looked to Avery who was standing in the doorway, staring after the tall wizard.
He shook his head wearily, and gestured for her to come inside. "I hear you have information for me, Minerva..."
Author's notes: Please review. The next chapters are much longer (think 'For the Hearts You Break.'. Even a 'love it' spurs me to write faster. And I hereby solemnly swear not to start any more stories (whacks 'Manda who is laughing.) Honestly, I won't. Even I have realised I've probably bitten off more than I can chew. Cheers. Minniequill
