The Moon Has Spoken

Chapter 7

Vulnerant omnes, ultima necat.


Her first instinct was to get up and run. Fast.
But then she remembered she had a sprained ankle and that even if she didn’t, she could never outdo a wolf, therefore, running was calling for a disaster. So she willed herself to remain calmed, not to move so as not to disturb the animal in front of her.
She held out a hand towards it, hesitantly and whispered:

“Hello there.... I won’t hurt you and you don’t hurt me. How’s that?”

The wolf sniffed at her hand delicately whilst Fiddler murmured to herself: Don’t lose it, animals smell fear, stay cool, stay cool…”, and then a wet tongue came out and licked her fingers in acceptance. Fiddler let out a very relieved sigh.

“Deal”, she said, risking to scratch behind the wolf’s ears. It didn’t pull away or bit her hand off and Fiddler smiled proudly in the dark. She’d done it again; Fiddler Greene, the human outcast, the one who couldn’t get along with mankind for the life of her, had won the heart of another beast.
Life’s ironic at the best of times, that’s what she’d always said.

“So I am guessing it’s you Triskelion saw from the window”, she told the wolf. “Are you his mate or something?”, Fiddler thought there was the chance, since no one seemed to know where had Triskelion came from in the first place. “Where is he, anyway?”
She glanced around, but Triskelion was nowhere to be found. She winced and sat properly, legs already numb from crouching… and then she was startled to feel dampness spreading through her scrub’s bottom. She moved a little and, on instinct, one of her fingers scooped a dollop and she brought it to her nose to sniff at it.
It was blood.
She’d smelled it and seen it too often at the hospital to be mistaken about it.

“Having a late supper, uh?”, she addressed the wolf, but oddly enough, it seemed anguished at the smell of blood in her hand, and started howling miserably.

“It wasn’t you, then”, Fiddler said, and getting on all fours, she sighed: “Oh, will this night ever end”.

She crawled further into the bush, following the trails of blood by mere smell and touch, until her fingers found fabric instead of grass. It was really too dark to see who it was, but obviously the wolf was fond of that person, for he tugged at the robes frantically and howled even louder.

“Shut up, wolf, you’re distracting me”, Fiddler said as she felt for a pulse. “Well, whoever he is, he’s got a good pulse”. She then struggled to turn the person over. “Gods, it’s heavy… would you give me a hand?”, she talked to the wolf again, not really expecting for it to do something, but surprisingly it did, pushing the limp form on grouground softly with its s.
.

“You know, gentleness won’t do”, Fiddler said. “We have to— what’s this?”, she held out a hand to grab the shining object on the ground, without relinquishing her grip on the unconscious person next to her.

She felt a curious tug somewhere around her navel, and next thing she knew, the wolf, the bush and the forest where gone.



~§~§~§~

Alastor Moody woke up from his slight slumber when he heard noises coming out from the drawing room.

“Trespassers!”, he howled, his wand ready, as he ran towards the door. “Lupin, Tonks, get the hell UP! TRESPASSERS!”

He kicked the lounge’s door open and froze in midstep, a killing curse struggling to come out from his lips. Inside the room, next to the hearth, were the obviously inconscious form of Severus Snape and a dark haired woman dressed in a really funny attire crouched next to him.
In that very minute, Tonks and Lupin appeared behind him, both looking drowsy and bemused.

“What’s wrong, Mad-Eye…?”, asked Tonks. “Trespassers, you say? How—”, but she didn’t continue as she took in the sight before her.

“Hey, Tonks”, said Fiddler then.

“Fiddler! What happened? What are you doing here?” exclaimed Lupin.

“Fiddler? Who the hell is Fiddler?”, asked Moody.

“Long story, Mad-Eye”, said Tonks dismissively.

“No Death Eater, though? She looks a bit like Bellatrix Lestrange…”

“MAD-EYE!”

“I’m just saying… Oi! What are you doing?”, he asked Fiddler.

“Checking his pulse, of course”, and indeed, so she was, and it felt right still. She opened his eyelides next, and there was nothing abnormal in his pupils either. “Right, he’s breathing by himself and pulse and pupils are fine. I believe he’s just knocked out. Now, I need to find the bleeding source”.

Three pairs of eyes observed her intently as she parted his hair meticulously, in search of injured scalp. She finally found it, near to the nape of his neck, a reallly-lly-looking wound surrounded by a wide purple area and dry blood.

“That must have hurt”, said Moody’s voice behind Fiddler.

“Tonks? Why don’t you get me some warm water and some soap? I need to clean this up”.

Tonks waved her wand in the air and a bucketful of soapy water and a sponge appeared out of thin air next to fiddler.

“Of course. It’s easier that way”, she conceded. She proceded to scrub and rinse thoroughly, and sat back as she finished, examining the clean cut. It was deep and even, but apparently there was no skull damage; and it was, Fiddler calculated, around ten stitches long. She said that out loud and Moody barked with laughter.

“Forget stitches, we’ve had bad experiences. No, we can mend it easily like this”, he said, and waving his own wand this time, he touched it to Snape’s head and the flesh started knitting right away.

“That would have saved me a lot of time at the ER”, Fiddler said, amazed. “Well, I didn’t see signs of skull fracture, but I would need a CT to be absolutely certain… It seems like someone got him on the back”.

“That it would seem, indeed”, Moody agreed. “Now. Would you care to explain who you are and what are you two doing here?”

Fiddler nodded and got to her feet, stretching her numb lower limbs. Tonks used mobilicorpus to levitate Snape to a sofa, and Lupin conjured some coffee and cinnamon cakes. Fiddler limped her way towards a chair and groaned softly as she sat down.

“Are you hurt?”, Lupin inquired.

“It’s nothing, just a wrenched ankle”, she smiled. Lupin eyed her thoughtfully, but said nothing else, so Fiddler told them everything, from the moment Triskelion had jumped out of the window until she’d grabbed the shining object next to Severus, which was currently lying next to the hearth. Lupin went over to pick it up and examined it carefully.

“A Portkey. Set up by Dumbledore, apparently”.

“How do you know?”, asked Tonks.

“Well, it’s a Galleon, you see, but it’s got Fawkes carved in this side”.

“Ah”.

“What’s a Portkey?”, asked Fiddler.

“A magical travelling device. Pretty much the only one that’d work at Hogwarts”, clarified Tonks. “Heavily warded, Hogwarts… Always been, but ever since You-Know-Who returned… Well, Dumbledore saw fit to… um… extreme precautions”.

“And how did the two of us managed to get here?”

“Well, I assume you were in contact with Snape when you grabbed the Portkey, weren’t you?”

“Um…”, Fiddler frowned. “Yeah, I think I was”.

“That would be it”.

“Was there anyone else around when you found him?”, asked Moody.

“No, just the wolf”.

“That wolf. It could be an animagus for all we know”, growled Moody. “This is getting dangerous. This house’s been exposed too many times already, and we cannot risk—”,

“It’s not an animagus”, said a hoarse voice from the sofa.

“Pardon me?”

“I said”, repeated Snape, sitting up, “that the wolf is not an animagus. She’s my… familiar”.

“Lay back down”, ordered Fiddler in her best doctory tone. “You’ve been knocked out”.

But of course, the man ignored her. Drat him twice.

“Well, Snape”, said Lupin then. “I didn’t know you cared for pets. A wolf, is it? So it’s only werewolfs you can’t stand, then?”

Snape opened his mouth to retort, but he went silent as he heard the noise of a door being shut down below. Moody was on his feet immediately and he had his wand in his hand.

“Were you followed?”, he asked gruffly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mad-Eye, they got here by Portkey”, spoke Tonks.

“There’s someone down there”, said Moody stubbornly.

“Probably just Kreacher”, Lupin interceded.

“All the more a reason to be concerned. You two, come with me”, Moody ordered. “Fiddler, stay with Snape”, he was about to leave the room when he rolled his magic eye down to peer through the floor. “On a second thought”, he added, stopping. “We might want to use that portkey back to Hogwarts”.

“Why?” asked Fiddler, although she already knew the answer.

“Death Eaters. And a good number of them, too”.

“But the house’s Unplottable!”, wailed Tonks, disbelieving.

“Well, someone plotted it all right”, growled Moody. “Now shut up and go to the Portkey”.

“Are we going to just flee, then?”, Tonks spoke, in a rather disappointed voice.

“Don’t be stupid, Tonks, it’s three of us against at least twenty of them, and I—”

“Four”, said Snape. Everyone turned to look at him and he elucidated: “There is four of us. But as much as I hate to admit it, Moody is right. We are outnumbered. And, I don’t know about you, Tonks, but I am certainly not into foolhardy self-sacrifice. And I do have a cover to keep”.

“But the portkey’s too small for all of us”, Fiddler said.

“It will do”, stated Moody, grumpily. “Besides, it’s the only way we have to get there… Without being followed. Once there, the castle wards will protect us. Now hurry before they reach us”.

He followed Lupin towards the sofa where Snape sat and held the Portkey-galleon out to him so he could press a finger to it; they all did the same and in no time they were stumbling on the floor of the Headmaster’s office.

He seemed to be waiting for their arrival.



Dumbledore listened carefully to Moody’s account, and remained silent for quite a moment after he’d finished. Finally, he asked Severus if he was all right, and at his curt nod, he stood up and walked to the hearth, to call for Minerva McGonagall.

“They’ve broken into Grimmauld Place, Minerva”, he said with no preambles. “And I have just learned that the house is currently on fire…”, Minerva’s anguished face was but a mere reflection of the others’ expression. “Pleaget get the Weasleys, Hermione and Harry, and see if you can contact Arthur and Molly. A course of action must be taken right away”.

Minerva nodded silently, and the green flames disappeared along with her.

“On fire, Albus?”, Tonks exclaimed then. “The house’s on fire?”

“I am afraid so, Nymphadora”, replied Dumbledore. “That was a very narrow escape”:

“Don’t mind that, Albus, we need new Headquarters!”

“I am aware of that. We need to find a new location and make it swift, so we can ward it. This is just the beginning, I fear”.

“How did you know the house was on fire?”, asked Fiddler then.

Sadly, Dumbledore showed them a black envelope and pulled out a single moving picture of a cross caught on fire right in front of the stairs, and more flaming letters shinning across the wall: Vulnerant omnes, ultima necat.

“Well, they have a sense of the dramatic”, Fiddler spoke to herself.

But Moody heard her.

“What do you mean by that, lass?”

“I— Um…”, Fiddler hesitated. Moody’s magic eye uneased her. “It’s the words, you know… what they mean… each of them shall hurt, the last one shall kill”. Originally, the phrase was used in reference to the hours, but this is a rather twisted meaning, I say. And the cross… It… reminded me of the KKK”.

“The what?”, asked Tonks.

“The KKK. It’s… a Muggle thing. You wouldn’t want to hear about it”.

“Oh, we do, Fiddler. Do continue”, spoke Dumbledore.

Fiddler shifted in her chair, whining inwardly at her injured ankle, wondering how to begin. She could feel everybody’s gazes fixed on her, and she tried to shield herself against Severus’ scowl. He really shouldn’t keep doing that. His face will stick that way. Oh, nevermind, it happened already. She stifled a giggle and sighed before she finally spoke:

“Let’s see. The original Ku Klux Klan was organized in the United States by—” she heard Severus’ derisive grunt and stopped. She couldn’t help it. What are you doing, you twit? Don’t stop. “…By ex-Confederate elements to oppose the Reconstruction policies of the radical Republican Congress and to maintain ‘white supremacy’. Originally there were many… Um… shall we say it, informal vigilante patrols, for there were fears of black outrages, but then, General Forrest, a cavalry leader, was made Grand Wizard of the Empire and—”

“Grand what?!”, exclaimed her audience in unison.

“Yes, I know how that sounds. That’s what worries me”, Fiddler said. “They had a rather unique form of organization, which indeed reminds me of the Death Eaters… or should I say, the other way around. Let’s see…”, she frowned her eyebrows in concentration, and she continued: “So there was the Grand Wizard and his ten Genii, which would be the highest in rank. It was virtually impossible to reach the Grand Wizard and the Genii were his inner circle, the men he most trusted. Then, each State constituted a Realm under a Grand Dragon with eight Hydras as a staff; those were the seconds in the power scale, but not any less ruthless than the Genii… And then, came the Grand Titans, who controlled a Dominion, constituted by several small counties, aided by six Furies each. Each county itself was a Province on its own, ruled by a Grand Giant and four Night Hawks, and last, there was the local Den, or each town, governed by a Grand Cyclops and two Night Hawks. The individual members where called Ghouls”.

“Merlin’s wand…”, whispered Tonks. She seemed shocked to the core.

“The Klan was often able to achieve its aims by terror alone”, Fiddler continued. “They played upon people’s fears and supertitions… their language and commands, their midnight rides, their disguises—”

“Disguises?”, asked Lupin.

“Yes. They… would muffle their horses’ feet and cover them with white sheets. They themselves would dress in flowing white robes, white masks on their faces, skulls on their saddle horns… and the Cross Firing ritual. That cross”, she ended, pointing at the photo Dudoredore still held.

“White supremacy…”, whispered Tonks.

“They believed in it, eyes closed. They were truly convinced that it was upto them and them alone to rule the world. They even had their initials for what one should be to become worthy; I think there was a time when all children’s aim was to be a WASP”.

“WASP? ”, asked Moody, momentarily nonplussed.

“White, Anglosaxon and Protestant”, Fiddler said, lip curling up in a mocking smile. “It’s the same thing with you, isn’t it? Purebloods, Halfbloods, Mudbloods, and, God forbid, Halfbreeds… It’s the same old story, wand or not”.

No one found a reply to that.

“That was certainly enlightening, my dear”, said Dumbledore. “I have always been aware that Voldemort’s interests went beyond… the obscure. Evermore. He must have picked the idea from his travels”.

He surely had, but Fiddler barely agreed, because she had heard Severus’ voice in her head, as clear as though he was snarling at her face: Just what we needed, Muggle History lessons by another know-it-all”, and she couldn’t help it. Her mouth opened of its own accord and she heard herself say:

“And yet you lived ruled by them for most of your life”.

She’d done it. Snape stood up abruptly, rage contorting his sallow face. He took a step forward but swayed violently as faintness took over him. Fiddler jumped to his side, mindless of her sprained ankle, and grabbed him by his flourishing robe to prevent him from falling. He jerked away and hissed:

“Do not touch me”.

It was barely a whisper, but menacing enough to stop the approaching Lupin in midmotion. But Fiddler was a doctor, after all, and she was used to aggressive patients, so she curled her arm around his waist (he was too tall to try and round his shoulders), and led him back to the chair, limping slightly herself. That jolt had done nothing good for her injured ankle.

“Sit down and shut up”, she ordered him curtly. Lupin sat back down next to Tonks and they both stared at Fiddler in amazement. No one, not even Dumbledore, had ever talked to Severus Snape like that. They observed her as she took his wrist and tensed when heked ked it away. Moody sd tod to be enjoying the show.

“I said, do not touch me”, Severus spoke through gritted teeth.

“And I said, shut up. I have to check on you, so please…”, Fiddler resumed her pulse checking, but he grabbed her own wrist, strong enough to make her step back, but not a sound came out of her lips, although she very much wanted to whine in pain. But if you think you’ll have that satisfaction, think twice.

“Leave me alone”.

She stared at him challengily, ignoring the fury in his voice, and finally, the tight grip on her hand eased.

“Stop acting like a child, will you?”, she told him. “I am trying to help you”.

“I don’t need your help”.

“Oh, yeah, I can see that”, she mocked.

“Severus”, Dumbledore spoke, and the relief on Tonks’ face was blatant. Fiddler had to fight the urge to smile. You wouldn’t do good at the ER, girl, she thought. “Severus, let her help you”.

It wasn’t Dumbledore’s usually amiable voice; it had sounded like an order.

And about time too, or we’d been here all night.

Severus closed his eyes, still shaking with anger, and sat in repressive silence until Fiddler was done with her examination. Once she pronounced him free of life-threatening conditions and ordered bedrest, he looked up to sneer at her, but he was confronted instead with her right hand and the first outlines of a rather spectacular bruise around her wrist.
And he felt a rather unusual emotion.

Guilt.

He held out a hand to touch the damaged hand, to touch her… but he thought better of it and quickly withdrew. She didn’t seem to notice.

Minerva was coming inside in that very moment, with what it seemed the whole of Weasley family, Harry and Hermione on tow. Severus watched Fiddler hide her bruised hand in the sleeve of her jumper and the pang of culpability hit him again.

I did that to her and she’s hiding it for no one to see it.

“Arthur and Molly just arrived by portkey”, Minerva informed then. ave ave told them the essentials. Where will we set up new quarters?”

“Yes, there is still that matter to solve”, spoke Dumbledore calmly, letting out that the subject had been pusout out of their minds for a moment.

They regarded him in silence as he appeared immerse in deep thought, and when no one said anything for a while, Fiddler spoke:

“You know, we could use my house”.

They turned to look at her.

“What?”

“Yeah, my house! I mean, think of it, no one of that lot knows it exists, and if anything, Albus could ward it and make it unplottable or whatever… And it’s big enough to fit us all in”, she smiled.

“But the Muggles… the—”

“Oh, no one lives near it, it’s atop of a cliff and completely lonesome… No one lived there but me”.

“A most excellent idea, Fiddler, thank you”, interceded Albus and the twinkle of his eyes was firmly back on place. “That is a great service you’re doing us”.

“It’s all right”.

“How would we get there?”, asked M Wea Weasley. “I don’t think it’s connected to the Floo Network… Would we use a portkey? Or brooms?”

“No, Molly, I am afraid you will not use magic of any sorts. You know it can be tracked, and we cannot risk that. I am afraid you will have to get there by Muggle methods”.

Molly seemed horrified.

“But Albus, think of the luggage, the lot of—”

“He’s right”, growled Moody. “Don’t argue, Molly”.

“Will we go as well?”, asked Harry.

“As soon as you graduate”, replied Dumbledore, and Fiddler could see the anguished expression on Severus’ face. “We cannot risk Draco Malfoy informing his father that the lot of you have banished from school. Now”, he raised from his chair and petted Fawkes. “Molly. Nymphadora. Alastor. Arthur. Remus. You will get ahead of us and set things ready. Minerva and Severus will stay behind so as not to rise suspicions. You will be allowed to perform some spells to ward the house, but when the rest join you, magic will be restrained. I will personate myself in the house to Unplot it and to perform the Fidelius Charm. I think that will be all for now”.

They all rose to leave then, and Severus watched Fiddler limp her way to the door. She was rubbing her still hidden right hand, but her face was expressionless. In the last minute, she turned to see Albus and spoke:

“Albus, since I am sure he won’t listen to me, could you please make Severus see that he n his his rest? Despicable as you might find Muggle medicine, I assure you I know what I am talking about. Thank you”.

And with a rather anguished dignity, she left the Headmaster’s office.






A/N.
TBC, Please R&R!!!
Once again, thanx a million to my beta reader Ian!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don’t recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!