The Enemy of my Enemy

The Requests

Author's Note: This chapter is, primarily, lifted from the Deathly Hallows book.

The drawing room was full of silent people, sitting at a long and ornate table. The room's usual furniture had been pushed carelessly up against the walls; illumination came from a roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror.

Snape lingered on the threshold for a moment. His eyes growing accustomed to the lack of light, before being drawn upward to the strangest feature of the scene: an unconscious human figure hanging upside down over the table, revolving slowly as if suspended by an invisible rope.

None of the people seated beneath the body seemed to notice it, except for a pale young man sitting almost directly below it. He seemed unable to prevent himself from glancing upward every minute or so.

"Snape," said a high, clear voice from the head of the table. "You are very nearly late."

The speaker was seated directly in front of the fireplace, so that it was difficult, at first, for the new arrival to make out more than his silhouette. As Snape drew nearer, however, a face shone through the gloom, hairless, snakelike, with slits for nostrils and gleaming red eyes whose pupils were vertical.

"Severus, here," said Voldemort, indicating to the seat at his immediate right.

Snape was aware of the eyes watching him as he glided around the table and took his allotted seat beside Voldemort. Across from him, her back straight, hair falling over her shoulders, hood pulled over her head, almost hiding her face in shadows sat Avery.

Voldemort turned, his gaze flittering over Snape's face. "I sense good news," he said. It was more a statement than a question.

"The best, my Lord," said Snape, nodding in turn.

"Does it regard Harry Potter or my daughter?"

"Harry Potter."

Voldemort continued to stare at Snape, he could feel his penetrating gaze pressing against the shield inside Snape's mind. Searching for deceit or lies.

"Very well," said Voldemort. "Tell us this news."

"The Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall."

The atmosphere tensed rapidly.

Voldemort's ferocious gaze fastened upon Snape like a predator watching its prey. "Saturday... at nightfall," he repeated. His lipless mouth curved into something like a smile. "Good. Incredibly good. And this information comes -"

"- from the source we discussed," said Snape, nodding.

"My Lord." Yaxley leaned forward to look down the table. He was sitting a mere three seats away but seemed determined to be seen by Voldemort. "My Lord, I have heard differently."

Voldemort glanced at him but did not speak.

"Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that Potter will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before the boy turns seventeen," said Yaxley.

Snape smiled. "My source told me that there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. No doubt a Confundus Charm has been placed upon Dawlish. It would not be the first time; he is known to be susceptible."

"I assure you, My Lord," Yaxley pushed. "Dawlish seemed quite certain."

"If he has been Confounded, naturally he is certain," said Snape. "As the new Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, Yaxley, I am surprised that you do not know your own new rules. When you replaced Mortimer Flint were you not informed that the Auror office would no longer play a part in escorting either Mr Potter or Faye."