"Fallen Star – A Tragedy in Five Conversations" for "Ophelia Crutch" Title: Fallen Star – A Tragedy in Five Conversations Author/Artist: Nancy Nightshade (inamac) Recipient: Ophelia Crutch (lettered) Characters (in order of appearance): Peter Pettigrew, Lucius Malfoy. Sirius, Bellatrix, Narcissa and Regulus Black. Severus Snape. Assorted Professors, Slytherins and Death Eaters. Rating: G Word count: 2,900 Warnings: None Summary: Between Sirius' arrival at Hogwarts, and Regulus Black's final departure the students of Slytherin House have much to discuss. Author's notes: The prompt asked for Marauder's era school fic, including the older Slytherins, with Regulus joining later. This should have been a very long story, but for time constraints, so I have picked five key moments in canon to focus on and will allow my readers to speculate on what lies between the lines. NB. For the purposes of this fic I have swapped Andromeda and Bellatrix's birthdates, thus allowing Bella to be in the Upper 6th (last year) when the Marauders arrive, and Andromeda has already left.
Conversation The First – Hogwarts Corridor, 1971
"And no running in the corridors!"
Peter Pettigrew, head down, satchel swinging, hadn't noticed that the person blocking his way was a prefect as he dodged round the obstruction and took the corner at a sliding heel-and-toe turn that sent him crashing into the group of Gryffindor first years waiting outside the potions classroom.
"S...sorry," he stuttered as the boy who had broken his fall pulled him to his feet by hauling on the satchel-strap. "I got lost."
"That," came an aristocratic drawl from behind him, "Is no excuse for breaking school rules. I should take House points."
Peter turned in distress to find the prefect who he had almost knocked down in his flight sneering coldly down at him with an expression that made it clear that he was wasting his precious time on this insignificant matter. "Oh no!" he wailed in dismay. "Please don't. I didn't mean to..."
The dark-haired boy who was still half-holding Peter upright, turned to confront the prefect. "Cut him some slack, Malfoy. I bet you got lost on your first day."
The sneer became, if possible, more supercilious. "Not nearly as lost as you, Black. You seem to have got yourself Sorted into the wrong House. Your cousins were most surprised."
"Yeah." The boy, Black, grinned. "Was worth it to see Bellatrix's face. Stuck-up bint."
"That's three points from Gryffindor for bad language, Black."
Peter, grateful that the attention of the tall blond prefect seemed to have shifted from him, began to sidle out of the way and into the classroom. He was obstructed by another body as the teacher came to the door to investigate the commotion outside.
"Now, boys and girls, what's all this then?"
Peter ducked round his portly frame and into the room, but not before the teacher had caught sight of the prefect.
"Mister Malfoy! I did not expect to find a senior student from my House involved in a brawl. Explain yourself."
Malfoy drew himself up with an affronted air. The prefect badge on his chest catching the lamplight. "Not a brawl, Professor Slughorn, just a matter of school discipline. One of these boys was running in the corridor, which is against the school Rules."
"Really?" The Professor looked around at the remaining pupils, most of whom had taken advantage of the distraction, and the open door, to file into the room and were now busy sorting out their desks. "Which one?"
"I—" Malfoy coloured. "I'm not sure. He's not here now."
"Oh well," Slughorn said cheerily, "No harm done, and it is their first day. I'll warn them all about being careful in the Castle in future. First years can be a bit overwhelmed by all our rules, but I'm sure they'll learn. Now, don't you have a study session?" He was still smiling affably, but his eyes went cold on the last words. Black, who was watching the exchange with interest, realised that perhaps the Slytherin Head of House was not entirely supportive of all his students. He filed the information for further use.
"Yes, Professor." Malfoy sketched a salute and turned away, but not before Black cocked a snook at his retreating back.
Slughorn, however, did not miss it. "One point from Gryffindor for insolence, Black. Don't let me catch you at that again."
Black gave an impish grin. "No Sir. You won't catch me, Sir." And followed his mates into the classroom.
**
Conversation The Second – Slytherin Common Room, 1971
"Well I don't know why the little squirt got mis-sorted." Bellatrix Black was lying on the common-room sofa, feet propped up on one arm, head in the lap of Evangeline Edgecombe, who was feeding her baneberries from a bowl propped on the other chair-arm. The juice had stained her lips green. "If you ask me, the Hat's getting senile. Aunt Walberga will be down here demanding that Dumbledore moves him to his proper house within the week, mark my words."
"She sent a Howler to the Headmaster this morning," said her sister, Narcissa, without looking up from her manicure. "You could hear it from the bottom of the tower. Though I don't think that it'll make much difference. Sirius is the sort who who'd insist on staying with those Gryffindor thugs even if he was allowed to move."
"Better a Prince in Gryffindor than a Prefect in Slytherin, eh?" nodded Lucius. "Not that we don't have our own Prince now."
"Oh?" Bellatrix sat up, interested. Lucius nodded. "The Snape boy. If you paid any attention to pedigrees other than your own you'd have recognised Eileen Prince's son."
"Eileen Prince? Your mother's sister? The one who ran off with the mudblood?" Avery, who had been pretending more interest in his Runes study text than the common room conversation, gave a low whistle. "I'd wondered why we got a half-blood Sorted here. And why you were so keen on him joining us."
"It's always useful to have ears and eyes in every year," said Lucius. "Especially where young Sirius is involved. And when our esteemed Headmaster is spending school funds on very odd purchases. For example, why has he had that damned enchanted tree planted just outside the Castle? Cissa, you're taking Herbology. What does Professor Beery say about it?"
"He says 'Keep away, it's dangerous'," said Narcissa, dismissing the house elf and inspecting her newly-painted nails.
"It's been planted right on top of the secret tunnel that goes out to that old wreck the Wormwoods used to own on the edge of Hogsmeade," said Evangeline. "It's damned inconvenient. Bella and I were planning on sneaking out there for the Halloween party this term. It's been empty ever since old Fester Wormwood died. They say he still haunts it."
"Or, " said Lucius, thoughtfully, "someone wants us to think that the place is haunted. I think that our new students, and our Headmaster, will merit careful watching this year. Especially Sirius and his friends."
**
Conversation The Third – Lower Sixth Common Room, Slytherin House, 1972
"But he's my brother!"
Narcissa, who knew how trying siblings could be, nodded sympathetically. When Sirius had been Sorted into Gryffindor last year she had wondered whether the changing fortunes of the Black family were being reflected by changes in the Sorting Hat's choices. But here was young Regulus, Sorted into Slytherin like all his ancestors save one before him, and apparently happy to be here. Except for the enforced separation from his adored elder brother. "He's got new friends now," she said. "He's busy impressing them."
She thought briefly of Bellatrix who, having left school the previous year, had plunged herself much too deeply into her new infatuation with Lord Voldemort. She had felt it better to let the obsession run its course, until she could have her sister's attention back again, and she advised Regulus accordingly. "You need to make your own friends, in your own House. Sirius will come back to his family eventually."
The boy looked doubtful. "Are you sure?"
She concealed a sigh. She was by no means sure of anything, but it would help no one to have a morose first year pining around in the dungeon. "You could write to him, I suppose," she said. "There's a boy called Snape in second year who hangs around with one of the Gryffindor girls. Have a word with him."
Regulus thanked her with far more enthusiasm than she felt the advice warranted, and dashed off to find Snape. 'Well,' she thought, settling back to her Herbology revision, 'At least he's out of my hair'.
It seemed, however, that she was fated to be interrupted. She had barely completed a wand's-length of notes when Lucius Malfoy wandered into the room.
"Cissa, have you seen Severus?"
"No," she replied, without looking up, though she was aware that the back of her neck felt distinctly warm. She rather fancied Lucius, and tended to be tongue-tied in his presence. Should Whipfungus be picked by the light of a full moon, or planted? She couldn't remember. "I just sent Regulus to look for him. I expect he's down in the potions lab, or the library. Why do you want him?"
That last query had come out in a rather accusatory tone. She hoped that he hadn't noticed. Lucius could be dense at times.
"I just had a floo-call from Bella. She's been doing some investigation into the old Wormwood house."
"The place with the blocked up secret tunnel they call the 'Shrieking Shack?" Narcissa was interested in spite of herself. She turned to face Lucius.
He nodded. "It seems that the mysterious purchaser was Hogwarts – or at least the purchase was funded through one of the school vaults at Gringotts. But no one has been near it since the sale. Except for the ghosts, or banshees or whatever it is that makes that racket once a month."
Narcissa raised a querying eyebrow.
"Yes. At full moon." He smiled. "Isn't that suggestive?"
"And what has this to do with Severus?"
"Because young Severus was something of an expert on Dark Magic even before he came to Hogwarts. You could say that it runs in the family. And this started the year he arrived. It has something to do with his year-intake. He's ideally placed to do some sneaking around to see whether my suspicions have any foundation. And he'll enjoy it."
Narcissa nodded. "Why was Bella so interested though? It's not like her."
Lucius turned away, off on his search for Severus. He paused in the doorway. "She was looking for a place for Voldemort's gang to hold their meetings. A haunted house that no one goes near would be a good place for the sort of thing that they're dabbling in. So long as they stay clear of full moon nights."
**
Conversation The Fourth – Potions Classroom, 1973
"Pettigrew, isn't it?"
The Gryffindor student thus addressed set aside his ladle and made a note in his potions book of the stage that he had reached. The boy who had interrupted him waited patiently as he did so.
"What do you want, Snape? I'm not delivering another of your notes to Lily."
Slytherins and Gryffindors rarely had much to do with each other, or with any of the other Houses, outside lessons, and the teachers this year had taken further steps to separate them even then, in the wake of Sirius Black and James Potter's increasingly inventive 'jokes' at the expense of Slytherin students in general and Severus Snape in particular.
McGonagall had enforced stern discipline, resulting in most of her students, in both houses, facing the prospect of six-foot long essays or very inventive detentions. The next step, she threatened, would be Transfiguration of the offending student – regardless of School Rules.
Binns, faced with complete anarchy in his classroom, had commended the students on an accurate portrayal of the excesses of the Second Goblin Wars and awarded House points all round.
Slughorn, the Potions Professor, was particularly vigilant, especially as he regarded Snape as his most outstanding pupil, so passing notes in his class was fraught with danger.
"Not for Lily," he whispered, folding the parchment note into Pettigrew's hand under cover of the desk, "for Sirius Black. From his brother."
Peter's eyes widened. "Another one? I thought they weren't speaking," he whispered back.
"That's why he needs to read the note. Please, Pettigrew."
"What's in it for me?"
Snape frowned. This he hadn't expected. Sirius Black's mercenary attitudes were clearly affecting his classmates. "What do you want?"
The other gave a sly smile. "An introduction," he whispered. "To the cool Black sister."
"Narcissa Black?" Snape said. He could probably engineer that.
"That stuck-up cow? No, her sister. The one who was all over the Prophet last week at the Wild Magic gig. She's fab."
"She's twice your age," Snape pointed out. Pettigrew shrugged. Age apparently knew no boundaries when one was in the throes of a passionate crush. Snape considered for a moment. He knew that Bellatrix occasionally visited Hogsmeade and dropped in to see her sister. And there were the regular meetings at the Wormwood place that Lucius had let slip about last year during his leaving 'do' in the Three Broomsticks. If all Pettigrew wanted to do was ogle from afar something might be managed.
"I'll see what I can do," he said."
"Okay." Peter slipped the note into his pocket and picked up his ladle. "I'll deliver this – on a promise."
Snape nodded. "And tell Lily I... I'm thinking of her."
"I always do."
Conversation The Fifth – The Shrieking Shack, 1979
They were shouting about babies. At least, Severus was shouting. Lord Voldemort barely ever spoke above a whisper, whether in English or that chilling Parseltongue. He never needed to raise his voice. They would do whatever he demanded.
Eventually.
So Severus was wasting his time trying to get any sympathy for Lily Potter or her child. If Voldemort had any compassion for pregnant women he would not have insisted on her presence in this cold, creepy old building.
Narcissa knew why he had done it. She was his hostage against her husband's obedience. The Malfoy money and influence had put Lord Voldemort in this position of power, and he was not going to allow his servants to leave now, no matter how much they wished it. She suspected that Lucius was under the Imperius curse for much of the time – certainly when he was in Voldemort's presence – and she could not see any escape for either of them.
Perhaps when her child was born? She settled a hand over his beating heart and tried to relax.
The meeting was taking place upstairs, and she had been left to watch the entrances to ensure that they were not disturbed. There was no expectation that they would be, so when the crate that masked the outlet of the secret tunnel to Hogwarts was pushed aside she was quite startled.
The boy who emerged, finger to lips, covered in the dusty earth of the tunnel, was not exactly an intruder. Regulus Black pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself off as well as he could.
"Is He here?" he whispered.
"Upstairs," she replied, in the same tone.
He glanced at the corner where the rickety stairs ascended to the upper room. The voices above could still be heard, Severus seemed to be pleading now.
"I wouldn't disturb them now," Narcissa advised.
Regulus swallowed and nodded. He looked nervous, and Narcissa gestured to him to take the stool at the table. He sat, but was clearly distracted. Narcissa sighed. Dealing with a jumpy teenager was the last thing she wanted at the moment.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"I don't..." He met her eyes. "Mrs Malfoy, you have house elves, don't you?"
"Yes." She couldn't – quite – keep the note of smug pride out of her voice. The way that the Blacks had treated their house elves had meant that she had only had one, young and inexperienced female to bring as her dowry, but both Malfoy Manor and the Malfoy's London house had a full complement of elves – plural – and she was learning to handle them with proper Malfoy respect rather than the casual cruelty that Walberga and Orion had passed on to their children. From things that Peter had let fall she sometimes wondered whether Sirius' treatment of his gang owed something to his parents example towards their elves.
"If someone asked to borrow one of your elves, what would you say?"
She wasn't sure whether the baby kicked, or whether the question had so shocked her that her reaction was physical. What wizard could be warped and cruel enough to even ask such a thing? The answer came in a hiss from above, and Regulus' responsive flinch.
Voldemort.
The answer to Regulus' question was an emphatic 'No', but it was not an option if the questioner was Voldemort. Any answer other than 'Yes, my Lord' would be received by torture at best, death at worst. And that was not what Regulus wanted to hear.
"I would want to know why the person wished to use an elf," she said. "And I would give very specific instructions to the elf regarding its actions. I might neglect to tell the... borrower... that an elf's loyalty always lies with its Family. And that their magic is very different from ours."
Regulus nodded. "I can't ask why he wants to use Kreacher," he said.
"But you could ask Kreacher to tell you what task he has been required to perform." Narcissa said.
"If he survives."
"House elves always return to their Master." She smiled reminiscently, remembering an old family scandal. "Even if they are dying. And they are very difficult to kill."
The boy looked thoughtful. He obviously remembered the same family stories that she did.
"He's mad, isn't he?" His glance told her who he meant, but she shook her head.
"What is madness?" she asked. "He wants power. He is leading us towards a world where those of pure blood will have power. Is that madness? Or is Dumbledore, who has repeatedly renounced power, a place on the Wizengamot, to teach half-bloods and mudbloods to take the place of their betters in our world, the real madman?" She sighed, leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. She wanted an end of all this, a place to nurture her child and live her life free of war and politics. "It's your decision, Regulus. Loan him your elf, or leave and hope that he will forget you. You are young. You still have all your life ahead of you. Your decision."
The baby kicked again. When she had soothed him and turned her attention again to the room, Regulus was gone.