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Dark Gods In The Blood	By : Hayseed Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 3951 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
A/N: We�re past the
halfway mark now, and my current favorite theory is that somehow Alice killed
Harry. But no hints in the author�s
notes. There are plenty of them in the
story itself <g>. Thanks for
reading!

Summary: A wandering
student comes home, a broken man pays his penance, and a gruesome murder is
both more and less than it seems. Some
paths to self-discovery have more twists and turns than others.

Rating: Even as she missed
his old lopsided grin and wanted it beside her as she berated Ron for his
sloppy living habits, she treasured her memories of it. �I imagine you�ve gotten owls as well,� she
said once the laughter died down.
�After all, you�re in quite an enviable position -- one of very few wizards who�s gotten to hex Lucius Malfoy and
lived to tell the tale. �Course, I
always thought you�d come closer to doing advert spots than Harry ever would.�

Ron sobered and picked at
a hangnail absently. �Nah ... although
I will say there have been times I would have appreciated the extra money.�

He evaded her eyes as she
searched for a response.

But he soon looked up and
his blue gaze was cheerful and his smile genuinean san style="mso-spacerun:
yes"> �I�m not nearly pretty enough for all that, love. But Neville ... he�s gotten to be quite
good-looking through the years. I�m
sure you noticed, when you saw him coupla months ago. Even did a couple of interviews with Witch Weekly, according to
Ginny. Gladrags approached him. So did -- can you believe it? --
Ollivander. As if he�s
ever needed adverts to drum up business.
No ... Neville turned it alwn -wn -- too shy for all that fame
stuff. I think he works at one of those
private nursery places popping up all over now. Works with exotic plants.
I don�t keep up with him like I should, but Ginny keeps me appraised.�

�Ginny ...� she mused
aloud. �Are Ginny and Neville ...?�

Ron shrugged
expressively. �Who knows? I�m sure Mum, probably, would like to, but
Ginny hasn�t been forthcoming with anyone on that particular
account. She and Neville have been good
friends since Hogwarts, though. He patched
her up after that awful Malcolm Baddock left her in the lurch the year after
you left, and she kept him from eating a bullet when Luna Lovegood broke their
engagement two weeks before the wedding.�

Hermione�s eyebrow
quirked with interest, but she remained silent, tacitly asking him to continue.

�But, according to Fred,
Neville�s been around the Burrow more often these six months past. They�ve been more ... ambiguous than usual.�

�Hrm ...� she finally
said. �I�d never actually given them
much thought before. With Ginny�s ...
enthusiasm and Neville�s ... well, his ...�

�He�s not nearly as mousy
as he was when we were kids, you know,� he told her reproachfully. �As for my part, I�m willing to reserve
judgment until I know more about the situation. Now ... where does this blasted thing go?� He held aloft a metal bowl with holes poked
in at regular intervals. �For that
matter, where did it come from? I
didn�t know I owned one of these spaghetti-stays-in-water-goes-out bowls.**�

�Educated folk call it a colander,
Ron,� she retorted, unable to resist throwing him a superior smirk. �Just put it by the stove. And, for your information, you don�t
own one. When I needed one, I
transfigured it from one of your more mangled salad forks -- I was afraid the
tines would break off if I tried to bend them back into place, so I put it to
better use.�

�Don�t you ever get tired
of being perfect?� he asked nastily as he tossed the colander toward the stove
with little ceremony or care. It clattered
as it skidded across the metal surface.
�And don�t forget about my question.
Snape ...?�

With a huff, she began
wringing out her dishrag. �You�re as
bad as a dog with a ratty old bone, Ron.
Or ... Dobby with a particularly hideous sock.�

He did not laugh.

�Oh, all right.� She spread the cloth across the sideboard to
dry. �Did ... do you know why he�s up
in Yorkshire?�

Shrugging, Ron sat down
at the battered kitchen table -- one of its legs had several nails dangerously
protruding from its side as a result of a shoddy repair job; Ron had informed
her every Repairing and/or Binding Charm he knew had failed to keep the leg on,
so he�d simply put about a dozen nails into it one frustrated day. It wobbled ominously as he rested his elbows
on the surface. �Not as such,� he said
thoughtfully. �But I can speculate --
Snape always was a dour fellow. Would I
be off the mark?�

�Not much,� Hermione
said. �As far as I can gather, he tried
to kill himself, Dumbledore had him committed, and he�s spent five years
resenting it awfully.�

�I wonder ...� Ron
began. �I wonder if he resents being
sent to Perkins or if he resents Albus thwarting his, erm, efforts.�

She laughed
bitterly. �Six of one, half-dozen of
the other, Ron. Although, I suppose he might simply be angry about the loss of his physical
freedom. He absolutely hates his therapist.
To be honest, I don�t see why Dumbledore allows Dr. Cuthrell to continue
on working with him. It�s not as if
he�s actually helping Snape.�

His answering chuckle was
more genuine. �I expect you�re not
giving Albus the credit he deserves.
I�d wager Snape�s the sort of fellow who�s not going to be helped by
anyone -- it�s got to strictly come from him.
So it might be better for him to have an adversary, all things
considered. Might come closer to ...
jump-starting his psyche, like.�

�I am astounded by your
eloquence, Auror Weasley,� she said in a dry voice, trying to mask her surprise
at his insight.

�Oh, don�t get all high
and mighty just because I had an idea you didn�t, missy,� he said loftily. �And don�t attribute it to undiscovered
genius on my part, either.�

�No worry of that.�

He grimaced and proceeded
to ignore her. �Anyway. I was going
to say only that I�ve worked fairly closely with Albus Dumbledore for ten years
now and I�m in a decent position to guess at his motives, is all.�

�Hark at the brilliant
Auror, intellect only outshined by his dazzling charm,� she said, dripping sarcasm
in a deliberate attempt to annoy him as she shoved her robe sleeves up her
arms.

Ron�s facial expression
remained impassive as he watched her fumble about in the sink, under the soapy
water, searching for the stopper. �I
can believepan>pan>you�ve been spending a fair
amount of time around Snape, what with your newly-found sunny disposition and
all. What do you two talk about,
anyway? You know ...� he continued
after a brief pause. �It would probably
be easier to do that with a Summoning Charm.�

�The word easy is most often in disharmony with the word effortless,� she muttered absently through grit teeth, grunting
as her fingers tugged.

�Huh?�

The stopper finally
pulled free with an audible popping noise and Hermione regarded it with
satisfaction, barely noticing Ron�s bewilderment initially. Finally, as she saw his confusion, she
attempted to explain. �Well ...� she
hedged. �My master says that some
times, when he can see my eyes complaining.
I think it means that while the simplest way is always best, simple
doesn�t necessarily mean easy.�

�How is that better than what your master says?� he asked
faintly. �Hang on ... master?�

Hermione chuckled, giving
the sink one last rinse. �I can see
that Fran�oise has not told you.� She
found her thoughts disturbingly echoing a sentiment Snape had expressed and
thus spoke them out loud. �Ask me again
one day.�

Perhaps Ron caught a
glimpse of her thought in her strange smile.
�Hermione?� he asked gently.
�Hermione, you�re avoiding talking about Snape again, aren�t you? What is it that you don�t want to tell me?�

Itckerckered briefly
through her mind that he might be using some interrogation trick from the
Aurory on her. She was surprised to
realize that she did not care, that she would possibly tell him everything on
her mind, not in spite of, but rather because
of that fact.
�I don�t know what we talk about,� she admitted. �There are just these days that I need to go
see him. Some days are worse than
others.� Her smile turned grim as she
joined him at the table. �Did you know
that Dumbledore is his uncle?�

Clearly flabbergasted, he
blinked. �Really? Albus never said ...�

�I get the impression
neither of them talks about it,� she replied.
�But Dumbledore�s the one who had him put up in Perkins, like I
said. And he�s keeping him there. Apparently, Dr. Cuthrell defers all
decisions to him. He actually told
Dumbledore that I was visiting Snape, to see if he disapproved.�

�I�m still stuck back on
the fact that there�s blood between them,� Ron said vaguely. �And Snape actually told you this?�

�In grandstanding, epic
storytelling fashion, even,� she answered, mood uplifting slightly. �It seems that Dumbledore raised Snape, for
the most part, but he didn�t publicly acknowledge it, for whatever reason. So I think he was glad to volunteer his background. To defy Dumbledore, maybe.�

�Or maybe he realized he
has absolutely nothing to either lose or gain by telling people now,� he said
thoughtfully. �After all, I can see how
many years ago, Albus would have preferred to keep it quiet. Protection and all.�

Curious, she arranged her
hands in her lap neatly, willing herself not to fidget. Her fingertips were shriveled from the
dishwater. �How so?� she prompted.

His thoughtful expression
intensified into a probing one. �Two
points, one far worse than the other.
The first one is natural -- imagine how Snape would have been treated as
a kid, not only at Hogwarts, either, if everyone knew he was the ward of one of
the most powerful wizards in the world.
He either would have been more insufferable than the imaginary love
child of Draco Malfoy and Dudley Dursley, or he wouldn�t have even managed to
survive childhood, for all of the people in the world thinking he needed to be
�taken down a peg.��

�I never thought of
that,� Hermione replied, brow furrowed.
�And I�d forgotten that Dumbledore was the one to leave Harry with those
wretched relatives when he was a
baby.� Her expression darkened. �Seems drastic, though, to deny someone who
is, for all intents and purposes, practically your son, just on the off-chance
of something going wrong.�

�Well ...� Ron drawled,
folding his hands behind his head, elbows flapping in the air as he
continued. �We�ve come to my second
point ...�

She sighed, annoyed as he
allowed the sentence to dangle in one of his more obnoxious habits she recalled
from childhood. Ron absolutely delighted in holding bits of information over people�s
heads. Even responses to simple questions, like, Ron, will you hand me that
quill over there? turned into gigantic
productions. As it was, then, her voice
grated with impatience and suppressed anger.
�Ron ...�

Unperturbed, he continued
to grin, enjoying his moment. �I wonder
...�

�Ron!� she snapped.

�Did
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named know about Snape and our Albus?� he asked flippantly,
finally reaching his punch line.

Hermione was silent as
she processed his question. After many
moments of turning it over and over in her mind, she glanced up to see Ron
watching her expectantly. �I�m sure he
didn�t, actually,� she said. �Because
if he had intended to eliminate Snape for that reason, he had ample
opportunity. And if he�d wanted to
torment Dumbledore with the knowledge that his heir was part of the Death Eater
organization, Snape would have been in a higher position of authority than he
was. He wasn�t even in the inner
circle.�

�True,� Ron
conceded. �Lackey of a lackey isn�t the
best thing to be able to throw into your enemy�s face. First lieutenant or right-hand man would be far better, and Wormtail�s rise to power should have shown us
that something as paltry as incompetence wouldn�t have kept You-Know-Who from
promoting Snape. Although, I would
suspect that Snape was nothing if not competent as a Death Eater.�

�He struck me as rather
... squeamish as he spoke about it, actually,� she said. �To be honest, I was a bit surprised. I mean ... I knew Snape couldn�t be terribly
evil -- Dumbledore wouldn�t have let him around
little children if that were the case.
But I always figured he would be able to ... well, if he needed to ...�

Snorting at her inability
to produce a coherent sentence, he attempted to complete her thought. �He can
kill if the situation calls for it,� he said to her fumbling efforts. �I�ve seen him do it. Of course, for that matter ...� He gave her a pointed look. �So can I.�

She tried to hold his
gaze. �How many have you ...?�

Ron sighed. �Enough.
But actually, I don�t think Snape would have been valuable to Voldemort
because he can manage to kill someone if they�re shooting Killing Curses at his
nose. Everyone forgets. The Death Eater organization was not just a
loosely collected consortium of murderers, getting their jollies off tormenting
Muggles. They were a tight syndicate, completely dedicated to obtaining power and bringing about ...
Oh, what was it that Avery said while we were questioning him all those years
back? Oh, yes. �The dawn of the new order. When wizards truly become the Masters of the
World that we have always been destined to be.�� Rolling his eyes, he made a noise of disgust. �No, Hermione. Snape would have been valuable for other reasons. Quite possibly, many of the same reasons
that made him so valuable to the Order of the Phoenix. Loyalty, bravery, and that damned ability of
his to carry out whatever task Albus gave him, no matter whether or not it
seemed to be impossible. Not to mention
that he has more lives than that horrible cat you had when we were kids.�

She regarded Ron
curiously. �Who would have thought that
you, of all people, would sing his praises if given an opportunity?�

�Oh, I�m not,� he
said. �Severus Snape has all the
personality of a coffee table, make no mistake. And was about as good a teacher as a rabid hippogriff would have
been. But he was a damned brilliant
soldier. I�m willing to admit
that. All things considered, we�re
lucky he chose our side, else we might be kowtowing to the Dark Lord as we
speak.�

�You�re just being nice because he saved your life,� she
said, only half-teasing.

Thoughtfully, he ran his
fingers through his hair. �Maybe.� His rejoinder was sly and swift. �But I�m not the one who goes to visit him.�

Hermione found herself
doing something she had not done in more than a decade -- she stuck her tongue
out at Ron Weasley.

He looked momentarily
taken aback at her audacity but ruined it by throwing his head back and
practically howling with laughter. �Oh,
sweet Merlin!� he cried as he roared, wiping tears out of his eyes. �I missed you so much, Hermione!�

�You idiot,� she said
affectionately, laughing at his antics.

�You know,� he told her
as he began breathing more normally once more.
�You still look about twelve when you do that.�

�Eurgh,� she
groaned. �Don�t say awful things like
that. I was a pitiful looking child.�

His smile was charming
and Hermione wondered briefly why he seemed to think himself unattractive. �You were,� he agreed, ducking her playful
swat at his head. �But I will say that
you�ve matured quite well. I, however, always knew that you would. You always were cute as a fluffy little bunny.�

�I will ignore the jab
you just made about my old teeth, Weasley,� she announced imperiously. �But I�m afraid I�ve got to agree with you
about my hair. It�s still unmanageable.�>

�I like it,� he said
firmly. �It suits you now. I guess ...� His expression was crafty.
�You�ve finally managed to grow into it. Anyway,� he continued in a brighter voice as she tried to work
out whether or not he�d just insulted her again, �at least it�s a normal
color.�

�Too normal,� she said
with a gesture of distaste. �I always
envied Ginny for her hair. And it�s
still that lovely coppery sort of red.
Just like when we were young.�

Ron grinned. �She lucked out with her particular version
of the Weasley curse. Although you
should know that she sunburns terribly
with that matching porcelain complexion.�
He sounded satisfied as he presumably imagined his sister�s distress at
such a predicament. �Given that, I
almost don�t mind my own.� He gave his
own red locks -- still much closer to scarlet than copper -- a lackluster tug. �And the freckles faded, the older I got.�

�Ron ...?� she asked
solemnly, breaking the air of amusement they�d been sharing.

He hummed, lowering his
gaze to the table, a lone fingernail tracing a single grain in the wood.

�Did Harry ... I haven�t
seen any pictures ...�

Wordlessly, stoically, he
stood, walking toward the other end of the flat, toward the bedroom that
Hermione had left mostly untouched, only changing the sheets and clearing out a
couple of drawers for the contents of her suitcases. She heard a few rummaging noises, one loud bang, and then he was
back, holding a fistful of photographs.
�I put them away,� he said, sitting down again. �I couldn�t bear ...�

Hermione touched his hand
in understanding and his fingers opened, spilling the photos out onto the
table. She picked up the one that was
closest to their joined hands in her free one, trying to ignore the impending
tears. Ron, she could see, had already
conceded defeat as a single tear made its way down his cheek.

There was Ron, gangly as
ever, smiling sadly up at the two of them, his red hair flashing every now and
again as the photographed sun picked up hidden glints. His arm was casually looped over the
shoulder of a man with black hair and familiar, round spectacles. A dog rolled around in the dust at their
feet, every now and again taking a mouthful of the black-haired man�s robes in
its teeth and tugging lightly.

Harry Potter�s photograph
smiled up at Hermione and he gave a little wave. Her breath caught on a sob as she ran her thumb over his face,
wishing the smooth paper under her touch was Harry�s skin.

She could tell, standing
beside tall, angular Ron Weasley that the adult version of Harry Potter was a
neat fellow of average height, dwarfed by his friend�s stature. While Ron still looked to be all hands and
feet, gawky and adolescent even as a grown man, Harry was well-proportioned,
his hands appearing graceful and agile as he moved about in the picture, waving
at Hermione and making playful jabs at the photo-Ron. He looked happy, a sparkle in his always intense green eyes that
had not been there when they were children.
Even his scar, an angry slash across his forehead throughout their
childhoods, had apparently faded, barely visible in the picture.

�Oh, Ron ...� she cried
softly, tracing the photo�s edge with her finger.

�That was the spring
before he and Fran�oise were married,� Ron told her in a quiet voice. �We were up at Hogwarts, horsing around
after an Order meeting. Harry was
living in Hogsmeade, then. I�d already
moved to London for work, but I came up to see him pretty often. That dog there is a stray he took in when he
moved up there -- it just kept following him around, so he eventually just gave
up and bought him a collar. He passed
away when Nicholas was a couple of years old -- he was already old when he took
up with Harry.�

She looked more closely
at the dog flopping around in the picture.
Had a fair amount of sheepdog in him, unless she missed her guess. Apparently taking notice of her scrutiny,
the dog cocked an ear at her, dropping to its haunches as its tongue
lolled. His fur looked silky as the
sunlight played with the color. �What
was his name?�

Ron laughed. �Harry tried to name him Snuffles, after ... well, you know. But the damned dog wouldn�t respond to it,
no matter how often Harry shouted at him.
So he�d usually just throw his hands up in the air and glare down at him
and say, �you stupid dog!� Then,
of course, it went crazy, barking and licking him and all such nonsense. So at the end of it all, Harry wound up just
calling him Stupid. He was a good dog,
though, for all his, erm, stubbornness.�

Smiling, Hermione watched
Stupid bound off into the picture. �He
looks like one.�

�Speaking of quirky pets
...� he said, not taking his eyes from the photo. �Whatever became of your cat?�

�For all I know,
Crookshanks is alive and well,� she replied.
�He never showed any signs of slowing down with age, even though I know he had to be getting on in years. I took him with me when ...�

�When you went away,� he
supplied flatly.

�Yes,� she agreed. �But I realized that it would be rather
unkind of me to continue lugging him about like a second suitcase. There was this little girl ...� She trailed off, a fond note in her voice as
she lost herself in the memory. �I stayed
with her family for a few weeks in Mexico.
And she just ... fell in love with Crookshanks. She was an only child and her village was
small -- she was rather lonely, I think, and grateful for the company. And Crookshanks seemed to enjoy her as well. So when I moved on, I just ... left him with
her.�

Shaking his head, Ron
sighed. �First Tibet and now Mexico ...
.Hermione ...�

But his question went
unasked and equally unanswered as a chime sounded in the den, alerting them to
an incoming Floo message. Exchanging a
curious look with her, Ron stood and walked over to the fireplace, crouching
down and lighting a small fire with his wand.
Hermione followed slowly, hanging in the doorway.

A head that was dimly
familiar to her popped into the flames.
�Ah, Weasley,� it -- a man -- said.
�Glad I caught you here.�

Ron looked rather
disgruntled. �It�s Saturday,
Shacklebolt. Are you at work?�

Shacklebolt was not to be
dissuaded, apparently. �This is big,
Weasley. I mean �Death Eater conspiracy
to overthrow the world powers� big. Not
just �Fudge�s stupid nephew�s dog in a tree� stuff. I need to talk to you.�
His eyes flickered over to Hermione, hovering near the sofa by this
point. �Alone.�

Folding his arms, Ron
glared down his nose at the head. �This
is Hermione Granger, Kingsley. She�s
not leaving. My clearance isn�t high
enough for you to be telling me anything that she can�t hear.�

�Hermione ... Granger?�
the head asked, recognition flickering in his eyes.

She nodded hesitantly.

It smiled. �I can see that you don�t remember me. I�m Kingsley Shacklebolt, Miss Granger. We spent some time at the Order headquarters
together many summers ago.�

�Oh ...� she said,
thinking hard and finally coming up with the memory. �Well, erm ...�

The head turned back to
Ron, unwilling to undergo any sort of pleasantries. �Ron, how much of the Potter file have you read?�

�Kingsley ...� he began,
Hermione recognizing evasion in his voice.
�I haven�t ...�

�Don�t give me shit,
Weasley,� Shacklebolt warned. �I�m not
in the mood. I know I told you to stay the hell away from Potter�s file,
but I also know that the odds of you following that order are roughly on par
with Cornelius Fudge winning Witch Weekly�s �Sexiest Wizard Alive� award. So ... how much?�

His eyes were firmly on
his bare feet. �Most of it,� he
admitted. �Three of your top suspects
are dead, by the way.�

�I�m bringing you in,
Ron,� he said sharply. �It�s not just
the Potter case any more. And we need
your expertise. We�re all running
around like Nifflers with our heads cut off over here.�

Both Ron and Hermione�s
heads jerked up, staring at Shacklebolt with wide eyes. �What?�
Ron whispered.

�You heard me. There�s been another one. Circumstances are nearly identical to Harry
Potter�s death. Amelia Bones
went to visit her son and his family and found him laid open on the dining room
table and Flooed the Minister. She�s at
St. Mungo�s, now, heavily sedated. Get
over here now, Weasley. We�ve got one hell of a puzzler on our
hands.�

Hermione felt the blood
drain out of her face as she stared at Ron.
His manner shifted completely -- Harry Potter�s mourning friend buried
under the purposeful Auror ready to battle demons -- as he strode to the fireplace. �I�ve got to go, Hermione,� he said briefly,
taking a handful of Floo powder. �Will
you owl Fran�oise and let her know I won�t be home for supper?�

�Of ... of course,� she
stuttered, watching as he flung himself into the fire, trying to understand
what it was that she�d just witnessed.

-- -- --
-- --

**Footnote -- Ron�s
definition of a colander is a sort of family joke that wormed its way into the
dialogue. For whatever reason, I
couldn�t retain the word �colander� for a suspiciously long part of my childhood,
up to and including large chunks of my adolescence. Refrain from the inevitable puns, please. I knew the definition of the word, but I
would regularly forget to apply the word to the actual object. And so, many times in the kitchen, when I
was trying to ask for it, I would just yell at whoever was offering to fetch
it, �You know! That bowl that spaghetti
stays in when water goes out!� This
level of abject stupidity coming from an otherwise reasonably intelligent
being, of course, delighted my family, and I have yet to live it down, many
years after the fact.

-- -- --
-- --
- 16
- 17
- 18
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Dark Gods In The Blood