Behind the Looking Glass

Lord Thacker



They stood outside the seedy looking office building in one of the more questionable areas of London. Several windows were broken out and a few were boarded over, lending to the appearance of abandonment. A light rain fell on that early morning, during the time when the city was caught between stillness and noise; where occasional sounds of stirring about could be heard. Snape used a silent spell, and the boarded-up door swung freely and noiselessly opened. The two men entered into the darkness that awaited them and the door, just as quietly, closed behind, shutting out the damp and over-cast morning.

Snape immediately took the stairs two at a time, leaving Shoonmaker behind as his eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom about him. Snape barked out to him and he scrambled up the stairs, feeling his way as he went. He soon caught up, and they waited before a closed door. The light of a single floating candle illuminated its grey peeling paint and the fine film of mildew and smattering of cobwebs that covered its surface.

“Do not – over-step your bounds here. Do not speak unless spoken to, and only if it is a direct question,” Snape said as he put his right hand palm down on the door. It seemed to sink into the wood just a bit and a multitude of locks could be heard unlocking in rapid succession as the door recognized him. He removed his hand, and the mystical door swung free giving them admittance.

The room they entered could not have been more different than the hall they had just left. It was lavishly panelled in splendid, gleaming walnut and the furnishings were opulent to say the least. Ornate lamps and more floating candles added to the atmosphere, and luxuriant velvets covered the settee and matching chairs in rich shades of burgundy as sumptuous Persian carpets covered the floor. An enormous, shining desk of overly polished cherry wood sat at the far end of the room against the backdrop of an enchanted window that covered the expanse of the wall. The window changed views frequently, giving the observer a different sight of both the magical and muggle world alike. The back of the leather-bound desk chair faced them and a floating crystal ball hovered just in front and to the right of the occupant of the chair, and apparently a muted conversation of sorts was going on between the two as a somewhat distorted face with its lips moving, bobbed about inside the ball. Snape immediately thrust his arm out, preventing Shoonmaker from approaching too closely and gave him a stern look of warning to remain silent.

After a few minutes, the mysterious and strange conversation ended and the crystal ball clouded over and vanished with a quiet pop. The chair slowly swivelled around to face them and the regal looking man sitting in that chair was not young by any means; but his bearing and attitude suggested otherwise. Silver-haired, tanned and lean, with keen grey eyes that missed nothing, Lord Charles Ernest Thacker III, sat in silence contemplating the two men before him. Lord Thacker was the last of his line, sired by one of the oldest of wizarding families, and possessed of pure and noble blood. He had acquired a vast fortune with his dealings in the black market and had surpassed even that of his inheritance in only the span of a year of receiving it.

Finally speaking he said in a cultured voice, “I was pleased to hear from you Severus.” It was not a statement that required a response, nor was one wanted as Snape had learned long ago.

“I admire your punctuality, not one minute early, or one minute late,” it was another statement that Snape only slightly inclined his head to acknowledge, as no verbal answer was needed.

“You have need of my assistance. Explain.”

“I recall you have within your possession several Port-Keys the Ministry knows nothing of,” Snape stated

“You reveal nothing to me that I do not already know. You are interested in my Port-Keys. Elaborate,” Thacker leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers before him.

“My colleague and I have need of transport,” Snape met his steely gaze equally.

“Again, you answer like a diplomat,” he continued to stare unrelentingly over his steepled fingers at Snape. “Tell me, has life under Dumbledore’s rule and now under that of the prim Headmistress finally tamed you into – giving vague and docile answers, or has your stint in Azkaban become the cause?”

Snape stiffened considerably at these words, a reaction that seemed to slightly amuse the black market dealer of rare herbs and potions. He fought the urge to retort with a scathing remark, but checked himself instead knowing it would be a fruitless endeavour if he insulted the man.

“Now, for what purpose have you need of one of my Port Keys?”

“To retrieve that which I look for.”

“You try my pa-” he paused and canted his head slightly as he studied Snape; his sharp eyes and finely honed wits began to read the potions master’s actions and reluctant answers.

“To retrieve that which you look for…” his voice trailed off. “You seek something – no, someone most precious to you. That’s why you’re here with him,” he said disdainfully, as his eyes flickered over to Shoonmaker. “He finds people, not things.”

His gaze never wavering, Snape answered firmly, “Yes, my Lord.”

“Who, and why?”

“Personal reasons.”

“Yesssss. I understand now… you’ve never been one to speak of yourself in the presence of others, and I do not believe that has changed,” he looked abruptly to Shoonmaker. “Leave us.”

Delbert turned red in the face and opened his mouth to protest vehemently, but Snape silenced him with a deadly glare and leaned quite close as he whispered, “Do not anger Lord Thacker. He is quite capable and will not hesitate to make things most unpleasant if you do so.”

“Yer don’t ‘ave to explain it to me mate, I know when I’m not wanted aroun’, an’ I know when I’ve been insulted,” with that said, he turned and left through the already open door.

Lord Thacker laughed low in his throat as the door silently closed after Shoonmaker left, and commented, “You must forgive me of the formalities, but I do have to keep up appearances. Yet, there was a time when I would have had that man’s head for that sort of impertinence; I must be losing my edge.”

“You’ve nearly had my head a time or two in the past,” Snape remembered the times he had intentionally went out of his way to anger the man.

“Quite – and I would have if I hadn’t been so fond of you my friend,” he rose from his chair as he spoke. “Come, let’s sit by the fire, and have a drink. You can tell me what preys so heavily on your mind these days.”

“I was not aware I was that obvious,” Snape said as he sat and two drinks apparated on the low table between the two chairs.

“Ah, but I know you better than you think,” he jabbed a manicured finger at Snape as he took the opposite chair. “When all is right in the world for Severus Snape, he goes about quivering in anger over something, or skulking around trying to confirm his suspicions.”

Snape smirked in response as he reached for his drink, and replied rather laconically, “I do not – quiver.”

“Hah!” Lord Thacker snorted. “Now tell me Severus, what is going on that you would need my humble services?”

Snape would have rolled his eyes at that statement, if he had been the type to do so. Instead, he chose to ignore it and replied, “I – am desperate to get to Romania, and as quickly and unobtrusively as possible.”

“What, or who, awaits you there my friend?”

Snape’s gaze fixed on the fire. It was difficult for him to express emotion, much less speak of them to anyone, and the only person he had been freely able to do so with was Augusta, “The…” he drew in a deep breath and sighed, “woman I love.”

Thacker blinked in complete surprise, “I would not have guessed – I would have guessed otherwise. But, why Romania?”

“Vladimir Roshenko – that’s why.”

The old man’s face turned nearly purple with rage. He and Roshenko had clashed viciously over the years, and had a mutual animosity for each other. “Roshenko!? How does that pathetic worm fit into this?”

“We have a mutual interest. His wife – his ex-wife actually.”

“Augusta Hollingsworth? But, she died at the battle of St. Mungos!”

Snape sat, tracing the rim of his glass with his finger as he began to recall the incidents that lead up to the present conversation. An hour later, Lord Thacker sat back amazed at the tale he had been told.

“Whatever you require, if I have it, it is yours to use as you see fit old friend. Besides, it would please me immensely to see him ground into the dirt like the insect he is.”

They stood and Snape came as close as he ever could to looking grateful as they shook hands. A few moments later, he emerged, carrying a black bag. Delbert was leaning against the wall, still feeling insulted and he quickly pushed away from it and intercepted Snape, “Got it?”

“Yes.”

“W’at’s up with that ol’ devil in there? He ju…”

Snape whirled on him, his face inches away and snarled, “That old ‘devil’ is the very reason you are alive today. It was he that I got the herbs from to cure you with when you were dying of Albia-Rot when the war began, and it was he that brought supplies to the front when no one else could get through – and it was he that supported me when I lay rotting in Azkaban. No one - NO ONE did until Fawkes returned – not even you! So I suggest you keep your mouth shut, unless you know the facts.”