Chapter 44: The Offer
After checking the two would-be thieves and gently clearing their immediate memories, Severus turned them over to the Aurors, who had descended on Diagon Alley in numbers.
He did not kill them. They had only meant to stun Karner and rob the place. Doing anything more in front of Nagini and his worker was out of the question.
Shafiki, who found out the following day what had actually happened, was told simply that Severus had a useful relationship with the Malfoys, who had sorted things out.
Shafiki was not an idiot. He understood this left out quite a lot. He had spent nearly the entire day in the shop, with only a couple of hours in the evening outside it: not nearly enough time to deal with gangs scattered across the Alley. Even the Malfoys, with all their resources, could not have managed all of it in three hours. And that fire, the one that would not go out for anything. all of it was strange.
He chose not to pursue it. Not his business. The less you know, the better you sleep was a principle he found practically useful, and the salary plus the bonus were more than sufficient to close any remaining questions.
The next day Severus spent the first half in the shop and the second walking Diagon Alley: buying ingredients, observing the general state of things. He had considered checking Knockturn Alley as well, but with Aurors everywhere he decided against drawing any extra attention and let it go.
Along with the ingredients, he bought ten more shops. Forty-two thousand Galleons: money he had without strain.
He would have bought all of Knockturn Alley if it were possible, but most of it belonged to the Ministry and various noble families who rented it out without actively using it. Exactly what Severus intended to do. He found the relevant owners by visiting, chatting, and then, with Legilimency and quiet persuasion, made his offers.
He left Karner with several new tasks, the primary one being: find and acquire more properties when the opportunity arose, as long as the price was not inflated beyond reason.
He also dealt with security: several wizards hired as guards, each of them vetted first and bound by a magical contract.
Close to nine in the evening, after leaving Karner a pouch containing fifty thousand Galleons, Severus returned to Hogwarts.
The situation in wizarding Britain was deteriorating. The war was burning hotter every day. Death Eaters were hunting Muggle-borns openly, in broad daylight, and the Ministry could barely keep pace. News that magical creatures, werewolves and giants among them, had joined Voldemort's side had sent another wave of shock through an already frightened population.
Diagon Alley told the story without words. Most buildings had their windows and doors boarded up. Owners had fled. Shopfronts that had once been full of colour were plastered with Death Eater posters. Only those certain of their own strength walked the streets, and even they went in pairs or threes. Pure-bloods were the same: they tried not to be alone.
A handful of shops still traded, kept alive by the protection of influential patrons or the Ministry itself. Severus had neither. The moment a brief investigation identified him as the owner, everyone had moved on him at once, and only his power had prevented a very different outcome.
A new law issued by Barty Crouch, recently promoted to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had expanded Auror authority to drag almost any wizard in for questioning and to use Cruciatus and the Imperius Curse as tools of enforcement, including during arrests. More panic followed. More people left the country or retreated to the far outskirts.
The country was coming apart. The war was only accelerating. One island of calm remained: Hogwarts, under its Headmaster's protection, one of the strongest wizards alive.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Approaching the castle gates, Severus noticed a scarlet bird the size of a swan perched on a statue of an eagle that held a lit lamp in its beak, illuminating two large ornate gates. Long golden tail feathers, golden talons, a golden beak.
That old man's phoenix. And it looks like it is waiting for someone. The moment the thought formed, the bird's head turned directly toward him, and it swept down and landed on his shoulder.
"What do you want?" He smiled and stroked its back. "I have not got food." Surprisingly soft feathers.
"The Headmaster is summoning you, clearly. He sent his phoenix instead of that dreadful woman," Nagini hissed from his other side, regarding the bird with distinct suspicion.
"That would seem to be it." He looked into the phoenix's eyes, where intelligence was entirely evident.
The bird did not appear remotely disturbed by the snake watching it from the other side. It nodded, with a quality that could only be described as shy, and released a warmth that moved over him like a gentle current. He did not resist it, and felt something he could not quite name, a kind of recognition.
"Then let us go. And you," he said to Nagini, lightly tapping her forehead, "back you go." He walked toward the gates, which began slowly to open.
They met no one on the way up, thanks to the map, and reached the upper floors without incident, arriving at the corridor where one of the smaller towers met the main structure and where the Headmaster's office sat.
He stopped in front of the gargoyle and said, with a smile:
"Lemon drop."
The statue's eyes flared red. It stepped aside, revealing the wooden spiral staircase, which began to rise the moment he stepped onto it.
A few seconds later the office came into view, and Dumbledore himself, standing by the desk, watching him with what appeared to be genuine interest.
"Good evening, Headmaster." Fawkes rubbed his head briefly against Severus's and flew back to his perch.
"Good evening, my boy. I see Fawkes has become rather fond of you." Dumbledore watched his phoenix with warmth. "Phoenixes are very sensitive to character. They understand, quite quickly, whether a person is good. or otherwise."
"Slytherin and good is a fairly unlikely combination. I simply like animals, and they tend to return the feeling. That is all."
"Do not be so quick to speak poorly of yourself. It is not a House, or a Sorting Hat, that decides who a person is. Only the choices they make."
"I will remember that. What can I do for you, Headmaster?" A pleasant, innocent smile.
"First, congratulations are overdue on your becoming a Master. I wanted to say so earlier, but there was a great deal to manage." Dumbledore sighed, took a lemon drop from the dish, and squinted in satisfaction. "Lemon drop?"
"Thank you, no. I have already eaten."
"I see. Very well." He seemed briefly recharged.
"But you did not call me here only for that."
"True. I have one rather self-interested request, and if you wish to refuse, I will understand completely."
"Is it connected to my business?"
"Yes, though not only." He stroked his beard, went to a cabinet, and brought out a cube that Severus recognised immediately.
"Mr. Macmillan told you?" Severus's voice was even.
"No. He told me nothing, and I owe him an apology for using Legilimency. I genuinely needed to find the person who made this artefact. You can imagine my surprise when I found out it was you, Severus."
"I should have anticipated it sooner."
He had, in fact, understood that this was possible from the moment the arrangement was made. He had simply expected it to take longer. Evidently the cube's Legilimency block could not hold against Dumbledore's level of power. And he was fairly certain there was something amplifying the old man's mental strength, something kept close and not advertised.
"Do not think poorly of him, my boy, he—"
"Headmaster. Let us come to the point."
"Very well. I want to offer you a place in the Order of the Phoenix. A brotherhood working against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Severus, my boy. We need your help."
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