Pound of Flesh

Disclaimer: I don't own the Potterverse, it belongs to J.K. Rowling and her publishers. I'm not making any money from this.

*Warning: this chapter contains graphic violence and minor character death.

**Thanks a bunch to Wartcap for her excellent beta reading. Once again, the credit for the chapter title goes to her.

Chapter 19: Pound of Flesh

The cottage door slammed. Alone again, Hermione thought morosely. She could hardly count the house-elves as company, seeing as neither of them would even participate in a friendly conversation with her. The Malfoys probably indoctrinated them against Muggle-borns, like the Blacks did with Kreacher. It was at moments like this that she really missed her friends. Her relationship with Severus made her captivity bearable, but she never forgot that she was, in fact, a prisoner.

Pondering the situation with Pettigrew, she slowly turned back to her potion. So, the slippery rat has surfaced again. If Wormtail escapes a second time, Severus will be in a towering rage when he gets back, she predicted. But, she doubted that it would happen. The Death Eaters were not stupid; they would not repeat past mistakes. After what had happened the last time he was supposedly cornered, the scouts would take extra precautions against Pettigrew getting away in Animagus form. They probably already have the entire area cordoned off with an Anti-Transformation Jinx, she speculated.

Severus knows what to expect, she assured herself. He knows how devious Wormtail can be. Rationally, she felt confident that, this time, he and the others would eliminate the traitorous vermin once and for all. Still, an undefined worry settled in the back of her mind, like a formless specter lurking behind her shoulder. If something should go wrong... if something should happen to Severus.... No! She pushed that thought away vehemently and consciously focused her mind on the potion before her.

Mercifully, it was not ruined. Hmm, only three more steps to go and it will be complete. Working quickly, she finished preparing the next ingredient and added it, stirring clockwise as the text directed. The minutes slipped by as Hermione ground and chopped the last two items. They had to be added simultaneously, exactly fifteen minutes after the preceding step.

At the proper time, she dropped the final components into the brew and held her breath in anticipation. If she had followed the method correctly, the potion would take on a bright acid green color. One, two, three, four, five, she counted silently. There – it's changing color! I did it! she thought triumphantly. I successfully brewed the Spinosum Renovo Potion! It was a demanding concoction to prepare, and Hermione was proud that she had managed on her own. She extinguished the flame under her cauldron and began to clean up her work area while the potion cooled.

Feeling euphoric, she gathered the excess supplies and moved toward the storage cupboard to stow them away. As she placed the bottles on the counter and reached for the cupboard with her free hand, she noticed an open book on the end of the workbench. Best put that away too. Severus must have left it out. She reached for the book, flipping the cover closed as she lifted it. She froze as she realized what she held. It was Severus' laboratory notebook.

In his hurry to leave, he had forgotten to close and ward it. She swallowed hard. Should I risk taking a look? Glancing slyly to the side, she saw that the elf was busy cleaning out the fireplace. The creature neither knew nor cared what she held in her hands. Severus could return at any moment, but realistically, she didn't think that he would be back very soon. In any case, she would hear him enter the cottage. This will probably be the only chance I will ever get to see what he has been up to, she rationalized. It was an opportunity her curious mind was unable to pass up.

Pulling out a stool, she settled herself at the workbench and opened the notebook. Whoa, what a mess! The first pages were covered in Snape's spiky scrawl, with numerous crossings-out and side notes scribbled in the margins. Puzzling out his notations, she realized that he'd been translating and decoding a very old text. There were phrases from a language she didn't recognize, but thought might be some ancient Germanic dialect. It made little sense to Hermione until she saw the name of the famous sorceress, Morgan la Fey. Ah, this language predates Old English, she concluded.

Flipping forward, she passed over numerous pages of translations until she found a list of ingredients followed by a detailed brewing process. It was labeled 'The Impenetrable Potion.' Its effects, according to the notes, were to create an impervious shield that would protect the drinker from any and all offensive magical attacks. She drew in a sharp breath. Was this the project that Severus had been working feverishly to complete? Almost frantically, she flicked forward to the entry dated 19th September 1997. Her heart sank as she read the dry notations, chronicling her own work on the strengthening base last autumn. Paging steadily through the book, she saw it all: the day that they had perfected the base's color, the point at which Severus had refused to let her work on the potion any longer, the day he had discovered the last refinement and finally, the notation that the Impenetrable Potion was complete and ready for testing.

The potion was for Voldemort. He would use it against Harry. And she had helped create it.

A crushing sense of guilt assailed her, bringing stinging tears to her eyes. Silently, she let them roll down her cheeks to fall onto the pages of the open journal. My God, what am I going to do?

Closing her eyes, she took a shaking breath and considered her options. If she did nothing, Harry would be defeated. But what could she do while she was a prisoner? I have to get away, she determined abruptly. Now – while Severus isn't here. But how? The elves would stop her if she tried to leave the cottage, and the restrictions on her wand prevented her from using magic to incapacitate them. Think, Granger, she exhorted herself. There were other types of magic – magic that didn't need a wand. Most magical children experienced episodes of wandless magic when they were under emotional stress. Unfortunately, those were very uncontrolled, volatile situations; she couldn't have reproduced one of her childhood outbursts of magic, no matter how hard she tried. That left... potions. Potion-making was another form of wandless magic.

Mentally, she listed all the potions that might possibly be of use. Most of them were complex, taking hours or even days to prepare. Hopefully, she perused the shelf where Severus stored the finished potions. Her eyes stopped on the Exploding Fluid. Maybe I can use that? But even if she was desperate enough to use it on the elf that was babysitting her, that still left the one downstairs to take care of. The noise of the explosion would probably bring the second elf upstairs instantly and she would have to kill him as well. Just the thought made her nauseous. Aside from her aversion to unprovoked violence, it was also risky; there was a high probability that she would get caught by the second house-elf.

Resuming her inspection of the shelves, she spotted the Dreamless Sleep Potion. That had possibilities. But, how can I get the elf to drink it? she wondered. Next to the Dreamless Sleep was Bruise Healing Paste. Transdermal absorption! That's the answer! Rapidly, she consulted her Advanced Potion-Making text; there was a section towards the back on modifying potions for various delivery routes.

Less than thirty minutes later, she held up a beaker of modified Dreamless Sleep. She poured half the liquid into a vial and capped it. That would do for the elf downstairs. She shot a furtive glance at the elf across the room. The creature was sweeping the floor (for the third time), his back to her.

Please, let this work properly, she prayed as she approached the house-elf. "Um, excuse me," she said hesitantly.

The elf spun around, only to receive a face full of Dreamless Sleep for his trouble. The creature's eyes widened in surprise for a second, then sagged closed as he folded to the floor in an untidy heap. Peering closely, Hermione noticed his face was dry. The potion had been rapidly and completely absorbed, just as expected. Her confidence bolstered by success, she headed downstairs to take care of the other one.

She found him in the kitchen. Hearing her enter, the elf turned from the stove and eyed her suspiciously. "What is Miss wanting?"

"Oh... um," Hermione answered haltingly, realizing that she had not thought up a cover story. "I... I'm not feeling well," she improvised, holding up the vial of potion. "I thought a cup of tea might help settle my stomach before I take this draught. Do you think you could make me one, please?"

The elf glared at her for a few moments before moving wordlessly to comply. Hermione walked nervously toward the table, although her real goal was to get as close to the elf as possible before attempting to douse it.

Suddenly, the diminutive creature twisted around to glare at her. "Where is my brother?"

"Your brother?" she replied blankly.

"The other house-elf," he snapped. "Why is he not watching you as Master Snape ordered?"

"He's... he's in the sitting room. Cleaning," she lied desperately, moving a bit closer to the mistrustful elf. "Listen, I'll make my own tea. You don't have to do it," she blurted, hoping that her babbling would distract the elf for a moment.

It worked. Apparently, the prospect of a witch or wizard offering to do their own housework was so novel that he was momentarily frozen in astonishment. In one fluid motion, Hermione pulled the cork out of the vial and threw the contents directly at the motionless elf. It splashed over the lower half of the creature's face and chest, soaking into the knotted pillowcase that served as his garment.

"What has Miss done? My pillowcase is soiled!" the elf cried, outraged. His eyes fastened on her in anger as he drew breath to berate her further. "I is telling Master Snape! You is in troub..." The elf's strident voice cut off mid-word as the potion abruptly took effect, sending him down to meet the floorboards.

"Whew!" she breathed. Now to get out of here. She pelted upstairs for her cloak and threw it around her shoulders. After a moment's consideration, she took it off and transfigured it into a Muggle-style coat. Detouring to the lab, she retrieved Severus' notebook, thinking, Harry needs that potion so that he can meet Voldemort with a fighting chance! As she tucked it inside her coat, she caught a glimpse of Severus' spiky handwriting on the cover. A pang of regret struck her heart at the thought of leaving him. He had been kind to her. She was certain that, in his own way, he cared. But then, the memory of what he had done returned in full force, hardening her resolve. No! He used me! He probably lied to me about other things, too. With a look of determination covering her anxiety and dismay, she made her way downstairs and slipped out of the cottage to freedom.

-----------------------------

Regretfully, Ron stared down at his plate. It was still half full. Looking up, he saw Harry watching him.

"All right, mate?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron replied faintly. "Just a bit nervous, you know?"

Harry nodded wordlessly.

Ron noted that Harry, too, had fallen short of his usual quota, leaving a full ham sandwich untouched on his plate. Irritably, the red-head pulled out his wand and performed a Vanishing Spell on the remaining food in front of him. "I wish Remus would turn up."

"Yeah, he's late," Harry added. "Your mum was expecting him for lunch, I think."

"She was," Ron agreed. The two friends lapsed into a brooding silence, as one minute stretched to five and then ten. Finally, a loud pop just outside The Burrow broke the hush.

"About time!" Harry exclaimed, standing to open the door for Remus. However, before he had taken two steps forward, the door opened and Bill Weasley stepped into the kitchen. Harry stopped short in surprise.

"Hey you lot, how're classes going?" Bill asked casually.

Harry and Ron exchanged frowns.

Bill looked puzzled by their reaction. "What's up?" he inquired. "Did Mad-Eye make you practice Unforgivables on each other or something?"

"Nah," Ron answered, "nothing like that. We're just waiting for Remus. We thought you were him, that's all."

"I see," Bill said, as he summoned a plate of sandwiches from the refrigerator and sat down to eat.

Resignedly, the two younger men resumed their places at the table. Fifteen minutes later, Bill had finished eating, but there was still no sign of Remus. As Bill Banished his plate into the sink, the fireplace flared green. A moment later, Remus' head appeared with a pop.

"Harry," he said hoarsely, "there's trouble at the Tonks' residence! I'm afraid that I can't go with you today."

Harry jumped to his feet. "What happened?"

"Death Eater trouble?" Bill asked simultaneously.

Remus grimaced. "Yes, Bill. A squad of them showed up there sometime during the morning. Fortunately, Dora and her parents were at work. When the Death Eaters discovered that the house was empty they went wild and wrecked the place. Andromeda Tonks found the Dark Mark hovering over the house when she arrived home at noon."

"Does the Ministry know about the attack?" Ron questioned.

"Oh yes," Remus affirmed. "Andromeda Apparated straight there as soon as she spotted the Dark Mark; she knows better than to walk into an attack site before the Aurors have checked it out. Her daughter is an Auror, after all."

Bill scowled thoughtfully. "Were they after Tonks or her parents?"

"Could be either," Remus replied. "But, it was probably her parents. Andromeda knows what the Death Eaters think of purebloods like her."

"Blood traitors," Ron stated with a sneer.

Remus bobbed his head affirmatively. "Harry, Mad-Eye and I are going over there to erect some special wards. I'm sorry, but this takes precedence over our plans for today."

"Yeah, okay," Harry agreed glumly.

As Remus' head disappeared with a soft pop, Ron flung himself carelessly into a chair. He felt deflated. All that anticipation and hyping myself up for nothing! "Bloody Hell!" he swore, just to let off steam.

Bill examined the two friends, an assessing look in his eyes. "Where were you supposed to go with Remus?" he probed.

"I'd rather not say," Harry countered warily.

"Ah," Bill retorted, sounding a bit disappointed. "I thought you might be taking another trip to Knockturn Alley, in which case I would have volunteered to go along in Remus' place."

Ron glanced at Harry, who was staring speculatively at his eldest brother. He thought he saw what was coming next, but he said nothing; it was Harry's decision whom to let in on their 'project'.

"Bill," Harry began casually, "do you recall our meeting with Ollivander?"

*****

"I'll do the talking. I've dealt with these people before; they'll recognize me," Harry informed the Weasley brothers as they approached the Macnairs' house.

"Won't they expect to see the Ministry paperwork?" Ron asked worriedly.

"Nah, they didn't even look at the papers last time." Donning an authoritative mien, Harry rapped on the front door, calling, "Open up, in the name of the Ministry of Magic!"

The seconds ticked by. Ron wished he felt as confident as Harry looked. Just as he began to wonder if this was all a terrible mistake, the door was opened by a tiny house-elf.

"Can I help you, sirs?" The creature squeaked.

"Yes, I'm Harry Potter from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Is Mr. Warren Macnair home?"

"The master and mistress of the house is out, Mr. Harry Potter."

"No matter," Harry continued decisively. "I'm here to continue the search I began last week. Mr. and Mrs. Macnair have already answered our questions, so they don't really need to be here. My associates and I will complete our search of the premises today." He stepped forward, forcing the diminutive creature to back up into the hall. "Don't let us interrupt your work, elf," he said brusquely, hoping the creature took that as a dismissal.

The house-elf glanced at each of the three wizards with wide, fearful eyes, seemingly at a loss about what he should do.

"Who is in charge of overseeing your duties?" Bill asked the little elf kindly.

"My d-dam," he squeaked in return.

"Go and inform her that we are conducting another search of the house. We will go about our business," he concluded.

"Yes, sir," the elf shrilled and disappeared with a crack.

"Whew!" Ron breathed in relief.

"Okay, let's split up and get to work," Harry directed.

As they had agreed earlier, Bill and Ron headed upstairs, while Harry returned to the library to check out those blips of Dark Magic he had detected on his previous visit.

Ten minutes later, Ron emerged from the master bedroom. Nothing out of the ordinary in there, he thought. He scanned the hallway; it was empty, except for an alcove holding a small statuette of a mermaid. Could there be something hidden in plain sight? Ron wondered suspiciously. After all, Macnair has turned out to be more cunning than he seems. Decisively, he swept his wand over the alcove, chanting, "Demonstro Pravus Quendam," and watching for any ripple of response to the spell.

"Who are you?" A puzzled alto voice queried.

Startled, Ron spun around, his wand extended in front of him. "Don't move!" he commanded automatically. He was face-to-face with a youngish woman. About thirty, he estimated. She had long brown hair and large, soulful, brown eyes that were regarding him with a faraway expression. Her petite frame was clad in a distinctly odd assortment of items: cowboy boots (with spurs), a pair of flowery Capri pants and a poloneck jumper. Ron scowled. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?" he demanded.

The woman cocked her head to one side slightly. "Well," she responded, "I asked first. And since I live here, I think you should tell me your name before I tell you mine."

"What's going on, Ron? Who is she?" Bill had come out of another bedroom to the left.

The woman looked over the newcomer as if she was cataloging everything about his appearance. "You're William Weasley," she asserted finally, meeting Bill's startled gaze. "You probably don't remember me. I was in Hufflepuff and several years ahead of you at school, you see."

"You're right there," Bill remarked dryly. "I don't remember you."

"No one ever does," she said serenely, apparently not bothered by it in the least. "I'm Celia, by the way. I was in my last year when you came to Hogwarts, so it's not surprising that you don't know me. But I have a thing for faces; I recall every face I've ever seen with perfect accuracy."

Ron, who was listening to this exchange with growing amazement, had a sudden memory of old Mr. Ollivander speaking. "...a lovely girl. Cherry wood and phoenix feather, ten and a half inches ... a powerful wand for such a petite little imp."

"You're Macnair's sister!" he blurted suddenly.

The woman turned her attention back to Ron. "Do you have something to do with my brother?"

"Sort of," Ron answered cautiously. "We're here to search for contraband items he might have stolen or hidden in the house."

Celia's face brightened at this. "Oh, are you Ministry people? The other Auror fellow wasn't very nice to me last week. He never even thanked me for showing him Walden's favorite stash spot."

"His... stash spot?"

The woman nodded enthusiastically.

"Did he have any other 'stash spots' in the house?" Ron enquired hopefully.

"Oh, yes. He has several. But I know where they all are. I even know where all of Phoebe's hidey-holes are," she declared smugly.

"Bill, get Harry!" Ron directed urgently. Casting his mind back to the day they had spoken to Ollivander, he remembered that the wand maker had mentioned Macnair having two sisters. "So, Phoebe is your sister?" he inquired tentatively.

"Yes, they're both older than me. But," here she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "I don't like them. They're both really mean to me. They always call me names like Scatty Celia, Hufflepuff Whore and even...blood traitor." The last came out in a barely audible whisper. "They turned my mum and dad against me too. My parents took my wand and now I'm not allowed out of the house."

Ron swallowed around the lump in his throat, uncertain what to say to Celia's startling revelations. Thankfully, he was spared the necessity by the sound of two pairs of feet pounding up the steps. Harry burst into the hall, skidding to a stop a few feet from Ron and Celia.

The woman's face altered instantaneously to a delighted expression. "I know you!" she cried. "You were here last week!"

Harry blinked in surprise at this animated greeting. "Yeah. Yeah, I was," he agreed. "I... I definitely don't remember seeing you, though."

"Oh, I was hiding," the woman answered with a laugh. "I like to become invisible – that way no one can bother me, you know?"

Harry glanced questioningly at Ron. His look said plainly that he thought the woman was barking mad.

"Harry, this is Celia," Ron intervened, "Macnair's youngest sister. She knows all the places where her brother likes to hide things. Celia, this is my friend, Harry."

Celia cocked her head, giving Harry a long, assessing stare. "I suspect you want my help," Celia stated, matter-of-factly.

Harry nodded.

"I'll make a deal with you. After you take away the stuff Walden brought home and hid, could you help me with something?"

"What?" Harry asked warily.

"My sister has some things stashed too. Things that belong at Hogwarts, in my old House. I want you to return them to the Head of Hufflepuff."

Ron's jaw dropped. Hufflepuff's artifacts! The Horcrux could be with them! he thought excitedly. "That's what we're here for, Celia," he assured her. "We want to find the stuff your brother stole from your old House! Do you know where these items are?"

"Of course I know! Why would I bring it up if I didn't?"

"Take us to the place," Harry directed. "Please."

Celia nodded and set off down the stairs, leading the three men straight to the large front parlor. She pointed to an ugly chartreuse Queen Anne sofa in a corner. "It's in there," she informed them. "There's a secret panel on the bottom."

Harry immediately performed the detection spell, but got no indication of any Dark Magic in the vicinity.

Ron turned to Bill. "Could it be masked?"

"It's possible. Let me try something," he suggested. Stepping forward, he waved his wand in a complex pattern, looking for all the world as if he were tracing letters in the air. If there was an incantation to go with the movements, it was nonverbal. After a minute, a low humming noise began to emanate from the sofa. Bill dropped his arm to his side, a look of satisfaction on his face. "There are several nasty spells protecting whatever is hidden there. First, there's a complex camouflaging spell that's covering all traces of Dark Magic. Then, there are at least two dangerous curses in place – maybe more than two. I can't tell until we eliminate the masking enchantment."

"Can you get rid of it?" Harry asked.

Bill shook his head. "None of us can," he said indicating the three of them. "But, she can do it in a moment. It's tuned to recognize the magic of family members."

"I can't. I don't have a wand," Celia protested with a shrug.

Silently, Ron held out his wand, grip first, offering it to the witch.

A warm smile accompanied her softly spoken, "Thanks." Celia approached the sofa, stopping about five feet away. "Abisio Ocultamiento!" A bright flare of light obscured their vision for a moment, then died away.

Bill stepped up next to the witch. "All right. Now, let's see what I can do." He began another intricate series of wand motions accompanied by muttered incantations. After a minute, beads of sweat began to form on his brow, but he did not desist. The seconds ticked past as the curse-breaker used all his skill to attempt to breach the enchantments placed on the hiding place.

Ron watched, his apprehension growing by the moment as Bill's wand began to tremble. I can't let Bill get hurt; he doesn't even know what that cup really is, he thought. "Come on, Harry. We have to help him," he said abruptly.

The two friends moved to place a hand on Bill's shoulder, merging their power with his. The sudden surge of magical energy shot from Bill's wand, enveloping the sofa in a red glow. A loud crack split the air as the hexes were broken. The men tumbled backwards as the excess energy they had put into Bill's spell rebounded like a recoiling spring.

"Whoa!" Bill exclaimed, pushing himself off the floor. "Whatever you two did was potent stuff."

"It's called a power-meld, bro," Ron informed him. "You did the real work; all we did was provide a little extra energy."

Harry was on his feet already, heading for the sofa. "Help me with this, will you?" he called over his shoulder.

Ron hurried to join him. Together they heaved the sofa onto its back exposing the dusty bottom. "There it is!" Ron pointed to a small panel inset. Curiously, it was fastened only with a small sliding bolt. Harry reached toward it, only to have Ron knock his hand away. "No! I'll do it," he insisted.

Harry looked taken aback. "Why?"

"Because, you are the Chosen One, remember?"

"Bloody hell, Ron! You're not expendable either," Harry began angrily.

"Cut it out, boys!" Bill intervened curtly. "No one is expendable. Anyway, the protective hexes are neutralized – which you two would have known if you had bothered to check before you started arguing!"

"Fine!" Ron answered curtly, reaching for the latch. He slid the bolt across and the panel swung open, revealing a wooden box. Ron pulled it out and opened the lid.

"Oooh!" Celia crooned from beside Harry. "There they are! See, I was right. Those rightfully belong to Hufflepuff House."

Indeed, nestled in the satin-lined box were a fabulous diamond necklace and a golden, two-handled cup embossed with a badger. Beautiful as the necklace was, Harry had eyes only for the cup. Gently, he lifted it out of its nest, staring at it in awe. This was the last hidden Horcrux. Nagini still had to be taken care of, but Harry wouldn't have to search for the snake. It would be right by its master's side. He was one step closer to defeating Voldemort. When Remus is able, he decided, we will destroy this one as we did the locket Horcrux.

"Harry, be careful with that thing," Bill warned in a low voice. "There's a Retaliation Hex on that cup. Any magic directed at it will rebound on the caster."

"What about this," Ron asked, holding up the necklace. "Is it cursed too?"

"Not that I can detect," Bill answered.

"You! You traitor!" A shrill screech rang out behind them. "Everberus!".

The men whipped around just as a tall, muscular woman sent a curse across the parlor, aimed straight at Celia. Reflexively, Celia raised Ron's wand (which she was fortunately still holding). "Protego!" she shouted, blocking the curse.

The woman turned her wand on Harry. "Give me the cup, or I'll kill you, boy."

"Expelliar..." Bill yelled.

In a lightning move, the woman blocked his spell and returned a Splitting Hex.

Unable to parry quickly enough, Bill threw himself sideways, knocking into Celia and sending them both to the floor in an awkward jumble.

"Incarcerus!" Harry shouted pointing his wand at the woman. Ropes flew from his wand, but fell short of their mark. He was too far away!

A feral smile distorting her features, the woman roared, "Avada Kedavra!"

In desperation, Ron lunged forward, intending to knock Harry out of the path of the curse. He impacted on his friend's back, propelling Harry forward.

As he felt his torso overbalance, Harry threw his hands out in front of him to break his fall. The hideous curse sizzled through the air toward him, striking directly on the bowl of the cup he still held. A flash of magic, like black lightening, rebounded from the cup, striking the woman directly in the chest.

For one long moment, she hung suspended, surrounded by a nimbus of sickly green and black power. Then, a blinding burst of light filled the room, obliterating sight.

When their eyes cleared, they saw a blackened form crumpled on the parlor floor.

"Phoebe!" Celia wailed. "Oh my God! Phoebe..." The brown-haired woman dropped the wand in her hand, collapsing in tears.

Ron and Harry exchanged an uncertain look, as if to say, 'What now?' Then Ron put a tentative hand on Celia's arm, obviously feeling that some attempt to comfort her was required.

Bill's murmured voice distracted Harry from the scene of grief. He turned to watch the older wizard waving his wand over the small golden cup lying on the carpet.

After a minute, he met Harry's gaze. "It's inert," he stated definitively.

"Inert?" Harry echoed.

Bill nodded solemnly. "No more Retaliation Hex and no remaining trace of the Dark Magic signature I detected earlier."

Harry felt a flood of relief at the thought that the Horcrux was destroyed, but Bill's next words brought him firmly back to reality.

"Harry, when the Killing Curse hits an inanimate object, it usually destroys it. In order for the Killing Curse to merely render this cup quiescent, it would've had to be animate in some fashion."

Harry dropped his eyes, not sure how much he should admit. Damn Bill for being so astute!

"Is there something you haven't told me?" Bill probed.

"Yeah," Harry finally conceded. Knowing he owed a large debt to Bill he resolved to tell him the truth about the danger they had all been in. "Let's find Remus. We have something to explain to you."

---------------------------------

Severus was getting impatient. They had been sitting in an alley across from a seedy Irish pub for the entire afternoon and part of the evening. The Dark Lord had instructed them to capture and execute Wormtail out of the public eye so as to avoid garnering sympathy or assistance for the traitor. This meant that they had to wait for the slippery vermin to leave the pub so they could corner him alone. This time, there will be no respite for Wormtail, Snape thought vindictively. Even if I have to kill him in front of ten Muggles!

"How much can the bugger drink?" Avery mumbled in disgust.

"I'd like to know where he got the money to sit in there all day getting pissed," Lestrange replied, sounding distinctly disgruntled as he peered around the bins next to him. "Hold on... someone's coming out!" Two figures had emerged from the front door of The Hippogriff's Haunt. Lestrange stiffened and leaned forward for a better view. The man on the right was tall, with a huge, protruding belly and broad shoulders; the one on the left was short and dumpy. Both men had their hoods drawn up, effectively concealing their features. "Is that him, the shorter one?"

From the deeper shadows beside Lestrange, Severus' spoke in a soft waspish tone. "That's him, on the left. Notice how he keeps his hands concealed in his robes. Let's let him get a few streets away from here before we close in. I'll keep a Tracking Charm on him, in case he Disapparates."

The others nodded and slipped from the shadows, ghosting along the opposite side of the street as they followed their quarry.

Snape cast the charm nonverbally and glided soundlessly across the road, trailing directly behind Wormtail and his companion. He flitted from one shadow to the next, nearly invisible.

They had progressed a short way when the large fellow suddenly stopped. "Petey, didja hear summat?" he slurred. "Over there." He waved a hand vaguely toward the opposite side of the street.

Snape froze and held his breath. Shit! he swore to himself. If that bubbling fool Avery has alerted the rat, I'll use the Cruciatus Curse on him myself! He watched as Wormtail thrust his head forward, as if to sniff out whatever, or whomever, was about.

"Nah, I doan' see nothing," Pettigrew replied in a thick voice after a few seconds of scanning the vicinity. He started forward again. "Come on, mate. Them girls won't wait forever, y'know."

At a crossroad, the two men turned left into an unlit alley. Snape stopped at the corner of a building, just short of the entrance. A powerful smell of rotting rubbish as well as a warning prickle of caution assailed him. Something was wrong; this was too convenient. He heard Hermione's voice echo in his thoughts: "...he deliberately leads others to discount him, then takes advantage of their low estimation of his abilities." Yes, he does. He heard the soft scrape of a boot as Lestrange and Avery joined him in the shadows.

"What are you waiting for, Severus?" Lestrange asked in a whisper.

"I think he knows he's being followed. This smells like a trap to me."

Lestrange shook his head. "No way. He's just pissed and looking for a lay. I'm going in. You two back me up," he directed. Lestrange slipped noiselessly around the corner, disappearing into the darkness as if it were a vast invisibility cloak.

Snape turned his head to look Avery in the eye. "I still think it's a setup."

"What do you propose, Snape?" he whispered in return.

"We Disillusion each other and take positions on either side of the alley. Be prepared to catch the rat if he takes down Lestrange."

Avery nodded once, sharply. "Agreed." He rapped Snape on the head with his wand, using a nonverbal incantation.

As Snape felt the familiar cold trickle down his back, he reciprocated. Like a chameleon, Avery seemed to fade from view as he took on the color and texture of his surroundings. Snape slipped across the opening, to the right side of the dark alley. Glancing back, he detected the barest distortion of the wall as Avery rounded the corner on the left side.

Moving as quietly as possible, they progressed about thirty feet. There was no sign of Lestrange, Wormtail or his large friend. Abruptly, a red jet of light accompanied by a sizzling noise lit up the alley for a few seconds. In the momentary light, Snape saw the squat form of Wormtail grasp his shoulder, hissing in pain.

"Stupefy!" rang out as a white jet arced back toward the source of the first curse.

Snape didn't recognize the voice. It must be Wormtail's friend, he deduced. Fool! Does he think Lestrange will give him a stationary mark? And indeed, a second later it was apparent he had missed his target when the big man let out a wordless screech, supplemented by a loud crash of bins.

A flare of white light lit up the alley, revealing Pettigrew's friend on the ground, his legs bound together with numerous ropes. As the flare subsided, Snape saw Pettigrew dive behind a bin. Lestrange blasted it out of the way with a spectacular Reductor Curse, but unfortunately Wormtail was ready for him. "Stupefy!" he shouted. The spell hit Lestrange squarely in the chest, and he toppled forward in an unconscious heap. Wormtail stood and moved to help his companion. "Evanesco!" he commanded, waving his wand over the ropes binding the man's legs.

As he helped his friend up, the two Death Eaters held a wordless conversation. Snape made a rolling motion with his hands, creating a small vortex of distortion. Avery answered with an up-and-down slash of his wand. It was a standard ambush technique: Trip Jinx and then hex when they go down.

Wormtail regarded Lestrange's huddled form on the ground. "I should kill him, while I have the chance," he muttered.

"Kill 'im? Are you barmy?" the big man asked.

"He's a Death Eater, Jimmy! Sent to kill me, no doubt." Wormtail raised his wand.

Time for a distraction, Snape thought. He flicked his wand at a dustbin several feet behind him, levitating it briefly. Abruptly, he jerked his wand upward, releasing the bin. It crashed to the ground, startling Wormtail, Jimmy and, to Snape's amusement, Avery.

"There's more of them!" Wormtail squeaked, crouching slightly and advancing cautiously to investigate the source of the noise. His 'friend' stayed where he was, appearing quite reluctant to encounter additional assailants.

Snape waited until Wormtail drew even with his position, then silently cast the Trip Jinx. The squat man went down with a high-pitched squeal of surprise, landing heavily on his hip.

"Viscus Expulsum!" two voices shouted in unison.

The double-curse hit the downed man with a flash of light and a sickening thunk. Wormtail screamed in agony as the contents of his abdomen were forcibly ejected from his body through a ragged, gaping fissure.

Snape and Avery moved forward as one, watching as awareness faded from the traitor's eyes. Wormtail expelled a final breath, eyes staring sightlessly into the darkness.

A brief glance at the man cowering a dozen feet away assured Snape that there would be no trouble from that source. He's probably wet himself! he thought contemptuously as he stepped up to Avery, carefully avoiding the bloodied gore scattered on the ground. He tapped Avery on the head with his wand, and in turn received a quick rap to reverse the Disillusionment Charm. He regarded his companion. "Excellent, Avery. I didn't know you had it in you," he sneered. With a last vindictive look at Wormtail's corpse, he Disapparated, leaving Avery to rouse Lestrange.

******************************************************************************

Author's Notes:

1. The title of this chapter is derived from Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, wherein the moneylender, Shylock, ruthlessly requires Antonio to pay him back with a pound of flesh. (Sorry if the gore in this chapter makes this title a little gruesome, but the reference to retribution was just too good to pass up.)

2. The time line for King Arthur (and hence Morgan la Fey) ranges from 490 AD to 550 AD (depending on the source). This predates the usage of the distinct Old English dialect (established after 600 AD) that developed from the variety of Germanic dialects brought to Britain by the Angles, Saxons, Frisians, Jutes and others (all of which became intermingled with Latin words as well). Therefore, I extrapolated that the original manuscript of the Impenetrable Potion by Morgan la Fey would have been written in one of the Germanic dialects common at the time.

3. Spinosum Renovo Potion: a medicinal potion that I dreamed up (no basis in canon) to treat spinal injuries. Spinosum is my own derivation (from spine, obviously); Renovo = repair, in Latin, via an online translator.

4. Celia and Phoebe Macnair. I chose these first names purely for my own amusement. I stated in the previous chapter's notes that Rosalind Macnair's name came from a James Michener character. In turn, Michener's Rosalind was named after the female lead in Shakespeare's As You Like It. It seemed fitting for my Rosalind to have daughters named after the other female characters in Shakespeare's wonderful comedy. (Can't you just hear ditzy Celia Macnair: "Sweet coz, let's away!")

5. Abisio (latin) = to get rid of; ocultamiento (spanish) = concealment. Not canon; made it up.

6. Retaliation Hex: I extrapolated the existence of this curse from canon, using the example of how Dumbledore's wand hand was injured by a Dark curse when he destroyed the ring Horcrux in HBP.

7. Everberus: from the Latin word everbero = to strike violently. Not canon; another invention of mine.

8. I freely admit that the method I used to destroy the cup Horcrux is not a novel idea anymore. I have read it in at least two post-HBP fanfics. LOTM's In Annulo is the only one I can recall by name though. If you have previously used this plot device, let me know and I will gladly acknowledge your story here as well.

9. I couldn't resist the irony of offing Pettigrew with the curse he aimed at Snape earlier in the story (chapter five). Just a twisted little piece of poetic justice.