Chapter 125. A Date. Part 2. Choice.
By evening, walking back from the cinema along a still-bright London street, they talked about everything and nothing, carefully avoiding the events of magical Britain. With her condition under control, Bellatrix had become far calmer and more open, which pleased Severus greatly. Even so, at times even the charms woven into the bracelet struggled to contain her fire, especially when Bella nearly killed a Muggle who stepped on her foot without so much as apologizing. It ended more or less peacefully: just a mild curse ensuring that people would step on his feet wherever he went for the next few days. Without the bracelet, Muggle police would have had another unsolvable case on their hands, assuming a body could be found at all.
"I wish we could have spent more time together, but since coming back from Brazil I've had a great deal to sort out quickly. I promise, though, next weekend you won't escape me so easily," he said with his usual impudent smile, slipping an arm around her waist and drawing her closer. Bellatrix frowned at the gesture but did nothing, understanding that brute force would get her nowhere here. Deep down, she even liked it, just a little, just a drop. She liked these small shows of attention. Over the past ten years she had very rarely been treated like a woman or had someone's feelings shown so openly, without them flinching in anticipation of a Cruciatus or a dagger in the ribs.
"If it were up to me, I wouldn't go anywhere with you at all," she replied with an even laugh, turning away from him. Severus didn't miss the opening. He leaned toward her ear and blew softly. A small involuntary sound escaped her, and Bellatrix's cheeks flushed as she fixed him with a withering stare while he barely contained his laughter.
"You shouldn't have given yourself an opening."
"Tsk. I'll kill you one of these days."
"Over one innocent joke? Ah!" He pressed a hand to his chest. "You're breaking my heart." He earned a sharp poke in the ribs.
"Stop fooling around. People are staring," Bellatrix said with displeasure, glancing at the passing Muggles, who were watching the pair with cheerful smiles.
"All right, all right. But on our next date I'll be asking for a kiss."
"You do that almost every time already."
In the next moment Severus stopped abruptly and pinned her back against a lamppost. He tilted her chin up slightly, narrowed his eyes, and looked straight into hers. "I want you to be the one who does it. You're usually quite passive in this, and it feels like I'm the one forcing things."
"And aren't you?" Bella raised an eyebrow with a cool smirk.
"Only about half the time. Lately you've been responding quite readily, and rather boldly at that. And what you did with your tongue..." He loved watching this composed woman blush, and despite himself, he sighed in frustration. If not for this wretched body that couldn't feel a thing, and the time limit, she most certainly wouldn't have gotten away with it so easily today. He let her go after a few seconds. "Next date, then. By the way, what would you think of visiting Brazil?"
"Huh?" The abrupt shift caught her off guard, but she had not earned the title of the Dark Lord's left hand for nothing. With the right hand still occupied by the Malfoys and Lestranges, Bella pulled herself together quickly and studied him with a peculiar look. She seemed glad things had ended without a kiss, though a strange, unsatisfied feeling lingered. "What are you talking about?"
"How about we Apparate to Brazil for our next date?"
"Do you have the strength for that?"
Not yet on my own, but my house-elf can manage with a little help from me. Or we go in stages." Severus answered thoughtfully, glancing to his right from the corner of his eye. He had spotted several silhouettes moving along the rooftops of the shops they were passing. Ten meters away and he had only just sensed them. They're good.
"As you think best. I don't mind."
"Then our next date will be in Brazil. I'll show you around. You'll be surprised how different the magical world is there."
Ten minutes later they reached the same park where the date had begun, the shortest path back to the Black house. With almost nowhere to conceal themselves properly, their pursuers had split up. Half stayed on them and half went around, but all kept enough distance to remain unnoticed. Without Severus's sharp eyes, and the instincts Ihiros had drilled into him, that they must rely not only on magic but also on sight, hearing, and smell, he might never have spotted them. The unknowns were operating very professionally for this world, even if they were still some distance below the caliber of those five the Lestranges had once hired.
From the glances Bella occasionally sent his way, as though gauging his reaction, he understood she had noticed the tail as well and was choosing not to show it. The seal in her body confirmed she knew nothing about these particular people. An interesting idea was forming.
Though he wanted to see her home safely, Bellatrix talked him out of it, citing her aunt, who would make her life miserable for days given how close the wedding was and here she was walking around with another man.
They parted at the park exit. Bellatrix set off toward home at an unhurried pace, and Severus turned and walked back the way they had come.
When she had gone far enough, she glanced back briefly. She saw his retreating figure. He was not hurrying to Apparate, seemed to be taking his time heading back toward the park. Beyond him, several silhouettes had fallen into step behind him.
"That's not my concern anymore," she murmured, shaking her head, voice trailing off. Her gaze lingered on his slowly receding back. "He can handle it himself. I'm not his keeper."
She turned away and headed home, making a deliberate effort to put Severus out of her mind. A few minutes later she stopped. She clenched her teeth, drew a slow breath, and kept walking, but then it happened.
BOOM! A deafening explosion tore through the air from the direction of the park, followed by smaller blasts like fireworks.
Evening had already settled in, so few Muggles were still out on the street, but those nearby turned toward the park in bewilderment. No one mistook these for fireworks, and the columns of smoke rising above the treeline confirmed it. Most, faces tight with panic, hurried to get clear, though a handful of braver souls stood and watched.
"Oi, don't just stand there, get moving! Who knows what might come flying out with the next blast," a man running past shouted at Bellatrix. He did not stop or try to persuade her; his own life came first.
Even so, his voice managed to reach her. She clenched her fists, yanked out her wand, and transformed into a dark cloud, streaking toward the park. Few Muggles noticed in the rising panic, and those who did chalked it up to their own terrified imaginations.
If he dies, there will be no one left to supply us with potions. The Master will be furious if I allow this. He cannot die. I have to help. Bellatrix told herself firmly, though somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered Lucius mentioning they had found a supplier abroad. She walled herself off from that knowledge, denying with everything she had the strange feelings she had felt only once before, and only for one man.
Several minutes earlier.
Having parted with Bella, Severus walked at an unhurried pace toward the familiar deserted stretch of the park.
"They really won't leave you alone, and right after a date as well..." he thought with a sigh, promising himself that if this turned out to be the Lestranges again, he would strangle them personally. What interested him far more, though, was whether she would decide to come back for him or simply walk away.
At last he stopped and turned to face seven wizards in dark cloaks. He tried to make out their faces, but could not see through the "Dark Curtain" or whatever analog they used: a dark film that covered the face or the whole body, rendering it invisible even in full light. Had his real body been here instead of the clone, he could have seen straight through it without difficulty.
Beyond those seven, he sensed at least ten more scattered throughout the area, and they had erected a barrier around them all.
He could, of course, have returned to his original body in a second, but he was curious what they'd planned. After the evening with Bella, his mood had turned playful. He wanted to see what she would ultimately decide: help him, or leave him to his fate. That question interested him considerably more than the identities of these strangers.
He settled into his usual smile and looked at the wizards with a quiet, unhurried question on his face. What do you want?
"Mister Prince, it is a great honor to meet so young and gifted a wizard," said a man stepping forward, apparently the leader, his cloak distinguished from the others by silver inserts along the edge of the hood. By his rough voice, Severus would have put him at thirty-five to forty, though in the magical world that meant very little. One could wear the face of a twenty-year-old at a hundred. There was not a trace of joy or genuine admiration in his tone, only a faint mockery. Severus let his smile shift into a grin, making no move to speak first. He still wanted to hear the man out.
"I would like to ask you to come with us. Our leader wishes to meet with you and discuss a certain matter."
"By your tone, that sounds less like a request and more like a demand. Still, I'm listening. What I'm more interested in is who your leader is, and what happens if I decline?"
"We would prefer not to resort to force, so I ask you to come with us..."
And now you have progressed to threats as well. You are a very poor negotiator," Severus said reproachfully. In reply, the leader laughed.
"If your employer wishes to speak with me, let him come himself. He knows the address of my little shop." He gave those last words particular emphasis. The laughter stopped abruptly. A dark aura emanated from the man at once, making both his specialization and his power level immediately clear. I keep running into Magisters. That means the leader is likely the same level or above. No wonder the Ministry and the Death Eaters have been lying low. A bigger predator has come to the swamp.
"You have a sense of humor," the leader said, the earlier warmth gone. "Since you decline to come willingly, I don't suppose it would be a terrible thing to break your arms and legs first."
"Is that so? And do you think you have what it takes?" Severus answered with a smirk. A small fireball appeared in one hand, and in the other, another that shaped itself into a spear of fire.
"Wandless and nonverbal. It would almost be a shame to waste such talent." A staff as tall as the man himself appeared in his hand, nearly two meters of carved wood. The others drew similar weapons. The most striking thing was that not a single one of them carried a wand.
"I take it you didn't feel the need to hide where you're from, since you didn't bother trying. Those staves can only be made in one place: Durmstrang." Severus nodded toward the double-headed eagle carved into the wood. "You don't look like students, but that doesn't change the fact that you're not from this country."
"Fewer words, boy!" The leader struck his staff on the ground. A powerful wave of air rushed toward Severus. Rather than panic, the leader saw the smile on the "boy's" face grow wider, and he went sharply on alert. He had been warned not to underestimate Severus, that there was nothing straightforward about him, though it was difficult to believe the near-mythical figure who had bent both the Ministry and the Death Eaters to his will was standing here in front of him.
"Much appreciated. I was wondering how to strengthen my flame a bit," Severus said, and tossed his small fireball directly into the oncoming air wave.
As if sensing something wrong, the cloaked man snapped, "Shields! Everyone!"
They were startled but didn't argue. They weren't particularly hurried about it, because what could possibly happen when a small fireball met their leader's spell?
In the next moment both spells collided. Instead of simply dissipating against the powerful gust of wind, something happened that shocked everyone present. By then it was too late to do anything, and only a few managed to raise any protection at all.
BOOM! A tremendous explosion erupted. The wind, rather than smothering the fire, fed it, and the barrier was overwhelmed. A few seconds later it shattered. Those outside were hurled aside, and those inside who had not managed to shield themselves burned alive within seconds. They did not even have time to understand how they died, because this was not ordinary fire but magical, only slightly weaker than what the real Severus could produce. Burning a human body to nothing was a trivial matter for him.
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Chapter 126. A Date. Part 3. Rescue.
Severus watched with a smile as fury twisted the leader's face. Two more of his men, relatively intact, had held their barriers and survived the makeshift furnace created when their two spells collided, escaping with little more than light burns and singed hair.
Severus himself was in perfect condition. It was his own fire, after all, and would not harm him. To hurt him with it would require something far worse, such as the flame of his real body currently banishing the clone from home.
Of the trees, grass, and other vegetation that had filled this open area moments ago, nothing remained. The few survivors stood on a blackened expanse covered in ash, thin columns of smoke still rising, and here and there small tongues of fire still burning.
Glancing to the right, he spotted a handful of others who looked more or less unhurt. Beyond them, about six more were closing in from different directions. That was no surprise; they had been maintaining the barrier. Because it had absorbed roughly ninety percent of the blast, they had barely suffered, though one had lost his eyelashes, eyebrows, and a good portion of the hair on his head.
Ten more, then. The next moment he snapped to the right, dodging a magical wave sent from that direction.
"Take him alive, and no wind-element spells!" the leader roared, glaring at the "boy" with bloodshot eyes. "Do what you must, but he must not be killed."
"Yes!" the wizards answered in chorus, anticipation clear on their faces. Each of them understood that even from a dead body, memories could be extracted so long as fifteen hours had not passed since brain death. Still, they obeyed and aimed to disable rather than kill, targeting his limbs.
None of them underestimated him the way they had at the start, especially not after that display. Most had no idea what had actually happened inside the barrier, so they gave him credit for all of it. They decided to hold nothing back, because the opponent was too dangerous to treat otherwise.
What followed was a genuine bombardment. Severus wrapped himself in acceleration charms built on wind and barely managed to stay ahead of the incoming spells. Over the past year he had grown accustomed to enemies shouting their incantations, which made it easy to predict what was coming.
That did not apply to the staff-users. All they had to do was think and strike the artifact against the ground, and magic happened. That was one of the advantages of such a conduit.
Even so, he was in no hurry to finish them. Any of their attacks could drop him without much difficulty, but encounters like this were rare, and he had grown far too accustomed to British wizards announcing every spell. He needed to sharpen himself against something harder.
He did not only dodge; he countered when he could, using weaker fire magic like a whip. With it he managed to bring down one of the higher-ranked Magisters, simply coiling around him and slamming him into the ground. The others tried to help, but they were too slow.
When a second went down to a simple wind spell, a needle of compressed air driven clean through the man's skull, the leader finally entered the fight himself.
He could have tried fire and wind again, but the leader was watching too closely now for that to work. That would have been too easy. In the clone's body, he was not particularly worried about his survival. He wanted to extract everything he could from this confrontation. Even so, even if he had once been a three-time Archmage in another life, defeating a Magister while confined to a body with an Apprentice core was simply impossible. Escape, yes. Avoiding death, perhaps. Victory, no.
Once the leader entered the fight in earnest, Severus began taking hits. The man was a master not only of spellcasting but of wielding his staff as a proper close-combat weapon. He could cast without even needing to strike the ground. After Severus strained to dodge four spells in rapid succession, leaving vast pits in the earth that glazed over almost instantly with a thin layer of ice, he felt danger from the leader an instant too late. A powerful magical shockwave flung him sideways with tremendous force, and a vast dark wave rolled in behind it, meant to swallow him whole.
He could have dodged, but at the last moment he caught sight of a familiar dark cloud, and his smile widened. Bella appeared beside him, seized him by the scruff of the neck, and drew her wand. They became dark smoke together and shot away.
By the time the others understood what had happened, there was nothing to be done. Severus and Bellatrix were gone.
"Damn it! He was almost in our hands!" The leader slammed his staff into the ground. "What am I supposed to tell Vitold?!"
"Maybe... we pay his home a visit?" suggested a bald man with no eyebrows, unease in his voice. "We know where he li..." One look from the leader and his mouth snapped shut.
"We fall back. We report to the boss first and let him decide. Who knows what traps that boy has laid around and inside his house. That's his ground. Hasn't he shown you enough to understand that we badly underestimated him, and that is why we lost twelve people?" He pushed his anger down and spoke in a flat, clipped voice, sweeping his gaze over the survivors. Each of them flinched when it landed on them. And I should kill those damned informants who got us into this mess. Rage surged again, but he pulled it back and barked, "We fall back!"
"Yes!" they answered as one.
But just as the group turned to leave the ruined clearing, a low, elderly voice broke through the silence and they spun around.
"You had your sport with my student and now you're leaving? How very rude." Not far from them, a slightly stooped figure in a cloak stepped out of the void. Beneath the hood there was nothing visible but two red points of light where eyes should have been. The others stared in bewilderment, but their leader was drenched in cold sweat. Within the organization he was known for an unusual sensitivity to magical power. He could judge a wizard's strength from the colored aura surrounding them.
Muggles had no aura at all. Squibs showed a thin layer, less than a centimeter, and from there came real mages. The larger it was, the more powerful the wizard, with very few exceptions. The largest aura Nestor had ever seen in his life had been Vitold's: forty-nine centimeters across, tinted green by his gift for plant magic. What he saw now, before him, was a sun.
He did not even consider running, let alone attacking. Before him stood a monster. A monster he could never defeat. A monster that would leave not even ash behind him. A monster from which there was no escape, not even to the far end of the world.
To the astonishment of everyone around him, their leader, renowned for a strength almost equal to the head of the organization itself, decisive and unyielding, the one who bore the title "Tyrant," sank to his knees and bowed his head before the unknown wizard, trembling from head to foot.
"I beg you, spare my life!" And with that, the last of the cold Tyrant's image shattered in the eyes of every man who had followed him.
At the same time.
Above a long drawbridge in the center of London, a dark cloud appeared and dove sharply down onto the roof of one of the towers. Night had already fallen, so no one below noticed. The moment it touched the stone it dispersed, and two people tumbled onto the rooftop: a young man of about twenty, and a woman who could barely be called twenty-three. Severus and Bella.
"Why didn't you Apparate us away immediately?" the aristocrat demanded with a frown.
His smile warmed. "Thank you. You saved my life."
"I'm sure you had a way out even if I hadn't stepped in."
"I did," he admitted. "But admit it: there is something rather pleasant about being saved by the person you love in a moment like that."
"So you knew about them all along..." She stared straight into his eyes, her squint anything but kind.
"I knew."
"You were testing me?"
"I only wanted to know your true feelings toward m..." In the next instant a sharp slap cracked through the night air, and he felt a faint sting on his left cheek, which flushed slightly.
"Did you find out?"
"Yes." He rubbed his cheek, faintly embarrassed. "It was rather pleasant, though also somehow..."
"Let go," she ordered coldly as his arms closed around her waist and he drew her firmly against him.
"I don't want to. Not until I know you've forgiven me. We can spend the whole night here if need be."
"I'll hit you."
"Try it." With his usual impudent smile, they switched positions in a flash and now he was looming over her.
She tried to incinerate him with her gaze. He held it without flinching, never looking away. That went on for about a minute until, without warning, Bella lunged forward and he met her halfway, and their mouths came together in a fierce, passionate, breathless kiss.
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