Promises & Reunions

Mr. Borgin looked up from recording the day’s sales in his ledger. A slight sound from the front door made him frown. Knockturn Alley had more than its share of lowlifes, and at night the worst of them prowled the darkened streets; it wasn’t unusual for them to rattle his doorknob to see if he’d forgotten to lock it – not that he ever had in over forty years.

“Go away!” he snapped, loud enough for his voice to carry. The sounds came again. “I said leave now!” he shouted, putting down his quill and stepping out from behind the counter. “I’ll see you dragged off to Azkaban if you so much as-”

There was a brief muttering from the other side of the door, and suddenly with a horrible squeaking sound the hinges of the door began unscrewing themselves. Borgin hastily drew his wand and attempted to prevent it, but to no avail – the screws clattered to the floor and the door swung wide, revealing a tall, thin man hidden by a black cloak. Borgin stumbled backward, gibbering slightly, as the Death Eater stepped inside and replaced the door and hinges with a wave of his wand. “Borgin,” a voice muttered from within the cowl, “have you no welcome for a representative of so good a customer?” The cowl moved slightly as the man glanced at Borgin’s wand, and when he spoke again there was no mistaking the sneer in his voice. “You won’t be needing that. Accio!”

Borgin’s wand flew out of his hand, and the Death Eater caught it. “Wh-wh-who-?” Borgin managed to stammer as his back came up against the counter.

“You don’t recognize me? I am hurt, Borgin,” the Death Eater oozed with false camaraderie. He reached up with his free hand to draw back his cowl.

“Professor Snape!” Borgin gasped, barely resisting the urge to climb over his counter to be further away from the man before him.

“No longer a Professor, as you are very well aware,” Snape replied smoothly. “I have reentered a far greater service. And I am here to retrieve something I am certain you have.”

“Y-you wish to make a purchase?” Borgin asked incredulously.

Snape smiled nastily. “Perhaps it would be better for you to think of it as giving a gift, Borgin. Give me your copy of Sawol Immortalis.”

“What? I don’t carry that!” Borgin insisted, his eyes darting back and forth, looking for a way out. “Some things are beyond even my purview!”

“Of course you don’t ‘carry’ it,” Snape replied impatiently. “It is not for anyone, as you well know. But you still retain a copy – I am certain of it.” Borgin was silent, and Snape’s eyes grew colder. “You require convincing? How disappointing. Noghl-bheidte!”

Borgin’s hands balled tightly into fists of their own accord. He whimpered slightly as his filthy nails began digging into the flesh of his palms. “Stop,” he begged, wincing in pain as he tried unsuccessfully to unclench his hands. “Stop it! It hurts!”

Snape lowered his wand and Borgin regained control of his hands; he stared in horror at the blood welling from his palms. “Of course it hurt, Borgin,” Snape snarled. “But it was nothing compared to what will be done to you if you do not provide the text my master requires.”

“Y-y-your m-master?” Borgin stammered. “B-b-but…”

“”You know to whom I answer,” Snape said shortly. “And if you do not wish his personal attention you will turn over the book to me. Now.”

Borgin looked everywhere for an escape from his situation, and finding none, his shoulders sagged in defeat. “A-all right,” he muttered, and led the way to the very back of his shop. He stopped in front of an old Armoire and muttered a word that released the Sealing Charm; the doors swung silently open, and Borgin reached inside.

“No tricks, Borgin,” Snape warned sharply. “I will hardly be the only visitor you entertain should you attempt anything rash.”

Shuddering, Borgin took his hand slowly off the dagger he’s been prepared to grasp, and instead pulled out a small oak chest. He turned to face Snape, whispering another release word; with a shaking hand he lifted the lid. Inside was a very old book; it was bound in worn, rough dragon hide, and there were no words on the cover – only an image, burned into the leather, of a body being ripped open and something escaping from within.

Borgin reached around to lift the book out, but Snape barked out “Do not touch this book with your bloodied hands!” Borgin, quaking, froze and watched as Snape removed the book with his free hand. Snape flipped to the first page and glanced over the ancient words before closing the book and carefully stowing it inside his robes. “Very good, Borgin. Petrificus Totalus!”

Borgin toppled to the ground, stiff as a board; the box in his hands shattered when it hit the floor. He lay there unable to move; Snape appeared above him, a deceptively pleasant smile on his face. “It will wear off by morning,” he said casually. “Do not inform the Ministry of this, Borgin, and do not attempt to run. If you do either, you will be found, and punished severely. Or perhaps we shall simply inform the Ministry of where Draco Malfoy acquired a certain necklace and a certain Vanishing Cabinet .” Leaving Borgin immobile on the floor, Snape spun and walked to the door. “I shall let myself out, Borgin,” he called back. “You may be seeing me again, from time to time.”

*****

Fred knocked on the frame of the door, and Harry, Ginny and Hermione looked up. They were in the conference room, and Harry and Hermione had been telling Ginny about some of their more exciting adventures; since it wasn’t a secret D.A. meeting they hadn’t bothered to shut the door. “Hey Fred, what is it?” Harry asked.

“Er…do you have a second, Harry? It’s about that- other thing you have Dung doing for you.”

Harry grinned. “It’s okay, Fred, I don’t mind if Ginny and Hermione know.” He looked at Hermione and Ginny. “Mundungus has been going around re-buying all the things he stole from the House of Black and hocked. It’s part of the reason I agreed not to report him to the Ministry.”

Hermione and Ginny nodded, both of them smirking a bit. “Right…well, he gave me another sack of stuff to give you,” Fred said, holding up a clinking bag.

“Will you put it with the other stuff in the room with the Family Tree?” Harry asked. “Actually, would you and George be willing to go through all the stuff Dung has brought back? I need a list so I can compare it to everything he admitted to stealing.”

Fred shrugged. “Because we have so many oodles of spare time, I’m sure there’s nothing we’d like better.”

“Oh, none of that,” Ginny retorted. “You’ll still have plenty of spare time to shag Angelina!”

Fred flushed and scowled at Ginny before retreating. Harry chuckled. “Careful Ginny, one of these days Fred will retaliate.”

Ginny snorted. “Not likely. He values his life.”

As Harry and Hermione were about to launch into a retelling of their encounter with the troll their first year, a loud, strangled yelp drifted up the stairs from the kitchen. Without a word, Harry, Hermione and Ginny were on their feet and running down the hall, wands at the ready. They flew down the stairs and burst into the kitchen, only to pull up short at the scene before them. Parvati, Neville, Sally-Ann and Dean were all standing to one side, pointing their wands at none other than Severus Snape, who was standing in front of the fire watching them warily. Parvati’s head spun around and she started babbling. “Harry! H-he just came out of the fire again! But he can’t be here!” Her eyes flew back to Snape. “Don’t move!” she gasped in a quavering voice.

“It’s all right!” Harry cried, waving his arms to prevent anyone from throwing any premature hexes. “It’s fine, don’t do anything!” He looked over at Snape. “Sit down, okay?”

Snape peered at Harry for a moment before sitting at the table with a fluid grace. Harry shivered. Seeing those arms untied, knowing there was a wand hidden within those robes…it unnerved him horribly. “Harry,” Dean growled, his eyes and wand still fixed on Snape, “what’s going on?”

Harry just waved his hand for Dean to be quiet. “Right,” he said, sitting down across from Snape, feeling acutely uncomfortable. There was a moment of silence. “Did he give you any trouble?” Harry asked finally.

“He was sufficiently intimidated by my reputation,” Snape drawled lazily. “Although I was forced to use a particularly unpleasant hex to loosen his tongue.”

Harry ignored Hermione’s gasp. “Nothing illegal, right?”

“The last thing I wished to do was draw attention to myself, Potter,” Snape said with a sneer. “Unlike Gryffindors, Slytherins understand subtlety.”

Harry ignored that. “So you got it?”

“I did.” Snape reached into his robes (everyone’s grips tightened on their wands) and withdrew the book he’d persuaded Mr. Borgin to give him. He placed it on the table and slid it over to Harry.

Harry placed his hand lightly on the book. “And you remembered to tell him not to report it to the Ministry?”

“Of course I did, Potter,” Snape confirmed. “Mentioning the items Draco got from him was a clever suggestion; the look on his face was priceless.”

“Harry!” Dean snapped. “What is this? Suddenly Snape’s on our side? What the hell is going on?”

“Dean, relax,” Harry said. “This is…oh hell.” He met Snape’s eyes. “How much longer until you go back?”

Snape glanced at the clock on the wall. “Any moment now,” he said.

“Any moment what?” Neville enquired, and then gasped in shock. Something horrible was happening to Snape; his features seemed to be melting, and the expression on his face was clearly one of intense pain. Dean yelped and backed away, and Parvati shrieked, but Neville and Sally-Ann’s faces made it clear they finally understood. A terrifying thirty seconds later, Pansy sat where Snape had been. “Pansy – took Polyjuice Potion to look like Snape?” Neville asked in shock. Everyone looked at Harry, who rolled his eyes at their incredulous looks and nodded. “But…why?”

“Because we needed this book and none of us could ask for it,” Harry said. “Snape was the best chance we had, and Pansy’s the only one who could act the part convincingly.”

“What’s so important about the book?” Dean asked, and frowned when Harry passed the book to Hermione without comment. “What, you can tell a Slytherin but you can’t tell us?”

“Pansy doesn’t know why we need it any more than you do, Dean!” Ginny snapped. “And in case you didn’t notice, she just took a huge risk for the Army, which is more than you can say for yourself!”

Pansy smirked at Dean’s abashed look, and then gave an involuntary shudder. “If you ever ask me to Polyjuice into someone else, Potter, make sure it’s a woman! I don’t know how you boys can stand having that sack of flesh dangling between your legs every day.”

“Why not?” Parvati muttered nastily. “From what I’ve heard you’ve never minded having it between yours.”

“How dare you?” Pansy shrieked, drawing her wand. “I am a true pureblood, you half-blood bitch!”

“Don’t you talk to her like that!” Dean shouted, raising his own wand.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Harry bellowed, making them all jump. “Stop it right now, all of you, or I swear I’ll Stun you all until you calm down!”

He raised his wand for emphasis, and Ginny and Hermione raised theirs as well. Pansy looked like she had a few choice words for each of them, but she simply gave Harry an ugly look and stormed over to the basement steps; she disappeared down them, slamming the door behind her. “Stuck-up pureblood,” Dean muttered.

“Shut it, Dean!” Ginny snapped. “Get it through your thick skull that Pansy’s on our side! You don’t have to like her, but you better bloody well stop picking fights with her!”

“She’s only here to try to get Draco Malfoy off,” Dean said sourly.

Surprisingly, Neville spoke up in Pansy’s defense; “What’s wrong with that? Aren’t we all here to try to keep the people we care about safe? Pansy wants the same things as us; she just cares about different things and different people, but she still cares.”

Harry headed for the basement, pausing at the door. “Hermione, Ginny, take a look at the book, okay? I’m going to go talk to Pansy. And you two,” he continued, pointing at Dean and Parvati, “remember this: Pansy’s father is a Death Eater, and her mother is a sympathizer. If they ever found out she’s helping us, Voldemort would know, and she would be dead! Her life is in far greater danger than yours, and she’s still willing to put herself on the line for the Army! Remember what Dumbledore said at the end of our Fourth year – Hermione’s reminded me often enough – Voldemort’s best weapon is discord and enmity, and we can only fight it with friendship and trust. Would you rather have Pansy helping us, or helping Voldemort?” Not bothering to wait for an answer, Harry shut the door behind him and walked down the stairs.

When he got to the basement Pansy was nowhere to be seen. “Pansy?” Harry called out. “Pansy, where are you?”

After a minute Pansy came out of the storage closet with a few jars in her arms; her eyes looked a bit red, and she scowled at Harry. “Come to defend your friends’ attitude?”

“No, actually I told them off for being such wankers,” Harry replied. “Neville spoke up for you too, and I know Ginny and Hermione understand.” He hesitated. “I wanted to thank you properly, too. Dean and Parvati might not get how hard this is for you, but I do. Snape told me that Voldemort especially hates what he considers blood traitors – I bet he wouldn’t think too highly of what you’re doing here.”

Pansy shivered as she put down the ingredients she was carrying. “Hell, Potter, I wish you’d stop saying his name.”

“I know, but I won’t. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. Voldemort may be powerful and evil, but he’s still a man; he can be killed just like anyone.” Harry smiled slightly. “It might help if you said his name too.”

“No,” Pansy said flatly, shivering again. “You don’t get it, Potter…it’s different for those of us who’ve spent our entire lives knowing of him.”

“Neville says his name,” Harry pointed out. “Ron even started.”

“And look what happened to him!” Pansy reddened a bit when Harry looked stricken. “Sorry.”

“Never mind, you have a point. I didn’t say you shouldn’t fear him. But Voldemort isn’t immortal…no matter what he may want everyone to believe.”

Pansy nodded distractedly as she added a few pinches of something to a cauldron that was just starting to simmer. “N- Longbottom defended me?” she asked.

“Yeah. He pointed out that all of us are here to help keep the people we care about safe – you just care about different people than most of us.”

Pansy actually blushed a bit. “Do- do you think you’ll really be able to help Draco?”

“I have no idea,” Harry answered truthfully. “The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced he’s like you; he has different priorities from me, but he’s not evil – just scared for the people he cares about. But even if that’s true, I don’t know how to help him. He’s so deep into it.”

“I know, but you will try, right?” Pansy asked plaintively. “That was our agreement!”

“I will if I can,” Harry promised. “But I won’t risk everything we’re doing here for one person.”

Pansy snorted in disbelief. “Not even the Weasleyette?”

“No, not even her. Don’t think we haven’t talked about it, Pansy. Ginny knows that when it comes down to the end, every one of us is expendable.”

“Bloody Gryffindor stupidity,” Pansy muttered.

Harry shrugged. “Call it that if you want, but you know better. Like Neville said, we’re all just fighting to protect the people we care about.” He smiled. “Thanks again for what you did. The book is going to be a big help. I wish I could have seen the look on Borgin’s face when you showed up.” Pansy smiled tentatively, but Harry thought it was the first real smile he’d ever gotten from her.

As Harry passed through the kitchen on his way upstairs he stopped briefly to chat with Neville and Sally-Ann, who were having supper. He thanked them both for their quick reactions, and for understanding that he couldn’t explain everything. “We knew when we joined the D.A. that there would be things we wouldn’t know about,” Sally-Ann told him. “Personally I’m quite happy being in the dark about some things.”

“But next time, Harry,” Neville added, “warn us when Snape’s going to be running around!”

Harry waited long enough for Dobby to put together some food for him, Ginny and Hermione, and he walked carefully up the stairs balancing the tray. When he got to the conference room he found the door cracked slightly, probably for his benefit. He pushed the door open with his foot and stepped inside.

Hermione and Ginny were seated next to each other, their heads practically touching as they pored over Sawol Immortalis. They were murmuring to each other and didn’t notice Harry come in. Harry placed the tray on a small table just inside the room and shut the door; the click of the latch made Ginny and Hermione turn and look at him. “So, anything good in there?” he asked.

To Harry’s surprise, Hermione leapt to her feet, and with a cry of “Oh, Harry!” threw her arms around him, crying. Ginny joined Hermione a second later; there were tears in her eyes as well. “Wh-what?” Harry stammered, deeply confused. “It can’t be that bad! Even if it’s not useful to us, we still-”

“No Harry, you don’t understand!” Ginny interrupted. “The book- it’s not just about Horcruxes, it’s about all sorts of Dark magic! And there’s four entire chapters on Curses that affect the memory!”

“Memory?” Harry’s eyes widened in understanding. “You mean…?”

“Yes,” Hermione gasped, smiling at Harry through her tears. “This book might be exactly what we need to bring Ron back!”