The Adventures of the Junior Phoenixes, Part 3: The Pendant of Death

Prologue: The Iron Bull and the Old Pup

Prologue

     All along the stone bridge and the pathways to the ancient castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was debris, rubble, flotsam, and jetsam. Signs of battle lay all about. Huge gouges were in the stone walls. The Astronomy Tower, as well as Gryffindor Tower, wore signs of devastating damage done to them. The rubble blocked off the walkways towards the school. Many people were about, moving rock, stone, and mortar so that the school could get up and running again. Only a month earlier, a great battle was fought at the school. The Dark Lord Voldemort was finally defeated and his followers, the Death Eaters, and all those who supported his mad ambitions and his corrupt regime were beaten there on the campus of the oldest school of sorcery in the Western World. Many had died during the battle, both good and evil, but at last, the Dark Lord was slain, and the school, the Ministry of Magic, and the whole British Wizard World, could finally get back to living in relative peace.
     Two men arrived at the ruins of the castle gates. They stepped over the rubble and the tangled heap of what was once a wrought-iron fence. They were very different in appearance.
     “I still don’t see why they didn’t ask us for our help,” a dark, tall, and mean-looking man said, his long, black robes and silvery-black hair long and in a ponytail. His features and face looked as if it had been carved out of stone. He was pallid, fierce, even when he walked. As he passed by workers and volunteers cleaning up and moving objects around, he scared them. Some mistook him for a Death Eater returning. He always cut a dark figure wherever he went.
     “Really?” his companion remarked. “What would that have accomplished?” He was different than the dark man. He had tanned, leather-like skin. He had long, jet-black hair and many wrinkles on his face, signs of experience and marks of wisdom. He wore brown robes and a coral and turquoise squashblossom about his neck. He was shorter than his compatriot, and wore a simple smile. He seemed curious at all the happenings and bustling about Hogwarts. If it weren’t for him, his dark compatriot would have been stopped and interrogated as to why he was there.
     “We could have given them a greater fighting chance,” the dark man said, his deep voice almost angry. “We could have offered them the expertise of a master of the Dark Arts and the skills of an Elemental Sorcerer. We could have staved off some of this bedlam. We could have saved lives.”
     “That is possible,” the other man replied, “But then Salem would have been vulnerable.”
     “What do you mean?” the dark man asked.
     “I mean, say, perhaps You-Know-Who were to have been triumphant here. Say that he had won here at Hogwarts. If that had happened, then we would need to be in Salem to make a second front against him. If we had come here, it would have left our school open to his evil ways. What then would you do if we arrived here to a losing battle and squandered our skills to leave Salem open to attack?”
     The dark man grunted. “You think like a fool, Old Pup.”
     “Although,” Master Wolf went on, “That would have been a battle of the ages. The Dark Lord versus the Iron Bull. Two dark wizards dueling to the death. I wonder what the Daily Prophet would have said about that.”
     Master Bullavin was not amused. “Still, we could have done much good.”
     “It is not our place to tell our hosts how to fight their battles better. It is ours, however, to act as good guests. That should go double for you, Bull. The new Headmistress might not be the pushover you think she is.”
     “How would you know?” Master Bullavin asked.
     “I’ve met Professor McGonagall a few times over the years,” Master Wolf explained. “She’s very skilled in Transfiguration. She’s an Animagus, and she’s held her own against You-Know-Who and lived to tell about it. She’s also a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and was a dear friend to Albus when he was alive.”
     “That, too, is another reason why we should have been here,” Master Bullavin said harshly. “You know that I respect few men and hold fewer equal to my skill. Albus Dumbledore was a greater man than I am, than I ever will, a master sorcerer. I learned much from him over the years. I still say we should have been here.”
     “And I say you are beginning to sound redundant,” Master Wolf said, poking at Master Bullavin.
     A thin and old man, partially hunched over with sprigs of hair and an ugly face, was sweeping up debris in front of the tattered walls and doors of the Great Hall. He was muttering complaints to himself as he swept. A large cat, black and old, ran around him, curiously looking about.
     “Excuse us, sir,” Master Wolf asked politely, “But we’re looking for the Headmaster’s Chamber.”
     “What for?” the wretched old man snapped.
     “We have business with her,” Master Bullavin snapped back. “Our business is none of your concern. Now where is it?”
     The man was taken aback by Bullavin’s strong voice and demeanor. “It’s down the hall, to your right.” He pointed to another door barely held together. He went back to his sweeping and dusting, the cat looking queerly at Master Bullavin.
     “That could have been nicer,” Master Wolf commented.
     “I will not have some Squib getting snarky with me.”
     “How did you know he was a squib?” Master Wolf asked.
     They walked through the hall and up a marble staircase that led towards the entrance to the Headmaster’s Chamber.
     “Who would manually sweep besides a Muggle? A Squib, is who.”
     “Very keen eye, my old Russian friend.”
     “It helps to understand one’s enemy just by looking at him and observing his mannerisms.”
     “I highly doubt that Argus Filch is an enemy,” Master Wolf chuckled.
     “You know that man?” Master Bullavin asked as they made their way towards the big stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster’s Chambers.
     “Filch has been the caretaker of Hogwarts for over a decade now,” Master Wolf told him. “Good gracious, Borodin. Didn’t you teach here for a year?”
     “I don’t remember much of the staff, save Cuthbert Binns, Horace Slughorn, and Dumbledore.”
     “Well, now you know,” the Old Pup quipped.
     They approached a big stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster’s Chamber. “Password?” it spoke.
     “Aren’t you supposed to say a word to get by this statue?” Bullavin asked.
     “Oh, of course!” Master Wolf laughed. He then cleared his throat, “Candied Yams!”
     The stone gargoyle slid aside, and a spiral staircase appeared. They began their ascent up the stairs and knocked on the door to the office.
     “Come in,” a wizened old voice beckoned them.
     The room was circular, and the walls were lined with books and book and books. Along the walls were portraits of old men and women, most of them sleeping and resting. The room was lit dimly by candlelight and a few rays of sunshine poking through a stained-glass window. A large desk sat between another set of stairs. Behind the desk, bespectacled and using a quill to write on a stack of piled parchment, was a woman. Her little glasses sat at the end of a small nose. She wore a large, pointed hat that sat atop her graying hair. She didn’t look up until Master Wolf and Master Bullavin were right up to the desk.
     “Thank you both for coming so far to meet with me,” she said, without looking up. “I imagine that the journey was long, but hopefully not too long.”
     “A lot shorter than you think, Headmistress,” Master Wolf said, bowing in greeting.
     She looked up and smiled. “You know we are colleagues, Wolf. We don’t have to stand on ceremony here.” She stood up and walked around the desk to greet the two men. She hugged Master Wolf and chuckled a little. “It is good to see you again!”
     “It has been many years, Minerva,” Master Wolf replied. “Congratulations on taking on the position here. I’m glad that the Governors agreed to instate you as Headmistress. I didn’t know if, after all that’s happened, you were sure to get it.”
     “I didn’t know, either, Wolf. But apparently, after all that has happened, I seemed the wiser choice. Well, certainly the more obvious one.”
     “You two have met before?” Master Bullavin asked. “How is it you know everyone everywhere we go?”
     “I will have you know, Borodin,” Master Wolf teased, “That I am an important man.”
     “And it has been a long time, Professor Bullavin,” McGonagall said to the Iron Bull, extending her right hand.
     Bullavin took her hand and bowed in greeting to her. “Professor McGonagall, a pleasure to see you again.”
     “I’m sure,” McGonagall said, a hint of sarcasm in her words. “How are things at Salem? Would you both like a cup of tea?”
     “Yes, please,” Master Wolf answered.
     “No, thank you,” Master Bullavin said.
     McGonagall picked her wand up from the table and swished it. Her wand’s tip lit for a split second, her charm levitated a small table with a tea set on it and a pair of chairs from across the room and moved them towards her guests. The chairs gingerly landed behind the two men, while the table settled between them. The tea set moved as if on its own accord, pouring hot tea into a cup on a saucer and moved through the air towards Master Wolf. He picked the saucer and cup out of the air and reached over and grabbed a cracker from the table.
     “Thank you, Minerva,” he said with a smile. He took a sip from the tea and then spoke again. “Things are busy, as usual. A lot of the students, and our staff, were abuzz with the ongoing news about Hogwarts and the Potter boy and all the events that happened. So, we assume all of that is over now?”
     “Yes,” McGonagall said. “It is all finally over.”
     “You sure about that?” Bullavin asked. “What about all the Death Eaters that escaped or never arrived?”
     “The Aurors will have their hands full, I’m sure,” she said, a sign of perturbation on her face. “As you can see, we have a lot of rebuilding and cleaning to do before the students return for the fall term, but we will be ready. Hogwarts has endured her darkest hour, and still stands.”
     “Barely,” Bullavin muttered under his breath. “Why were we not called? Why not ask the other schools and other Ministries for help?”
     “The whole Ministry was under the thrall of Voldemort. The Minister, Pius Thicknesse was under the Imperius Curse. They were monitoring all the owls that flew into the school, and they controlled the Floo Network. Not to mention that they had their evil hands on all matters of communication. And Severus Snape was Headmaster of the school up until the very beginning of the battle here. Who would have called you? Who would have been able to request such help? We were in a very dire situation here. The other professors and I did our best to help protect the students as best as we can. We looked inward to shield them first. So we really had no means to look for aid outside of England, Borodin. There was little we could do.”
     Bullavin sniggered.
     “Believe what you must, and grumble all you want about how things occurred here. But we saved more lives than we expected, and the Dark Lord was utterly defeated, along with the bulk of his forces.”
     “You have done a most admirable job in saving the children, Minerva,” Master Wolf commented, cutting off Bullavin. “Surely worthy of the annals of A History Of Magic.”
     “It would be, if they hadn’t killed Bathilda Bagshot,” McGonagall mentioned.
     “Now what are we doing here besides catching up on current events?” Bullavin asked. “I’m sure we could have done that by owl. Why did you summon us?”
     “Why are you so insistent on being so blunt?” Master Wolf asked to Bullavin jokingly.
     “He’s always been that way,” McGonagall smirked. “But yes, we have a matter of high importance to discuss. This coming term, in the fall, you will have a student that is a transfer from Hogwarts. He will be starting his Third Year. He’s a very curious boy. He’s also been a little scarred by some of the things that have happened here.”
     “What do you mean?” Master Wolf asked.
     “Well, for starters, he was very close to Professor Snape. Then his very close friend, Colin Creevey, was killed in the battle. Then his foster parents sent him away that very night. He’s in America now, and he needs to go to Salem, and you both need to watch over him.”
     “Why?” Bullavin asked. “What is so special about him?”
     “He’s one of the last descendants of the bloodline of Morgan le Fay.”
     Master Wolf’s eyes widened. Bullavin sat back in his chair, a look of worry on his face.
     “You’re worried about Lazarus Easter, aren’t you?” Bullavin asked.
     “Who is that?” Master Wolf asked.
     “Yes,” Minerva replied. “The boy’s father went missing many years ago, to hide from Easter. He knew he was being hunted by Easter, then no one heard from him again. But he never knew that the wife he left behind was with child. She gave him up, knowing that he would be hunted all his life. She was attacked herself. But the child was already given to the Muggle foster care system. She figured that he would be lost in their system.”
     “Then how do we know that the boy is a descendant of Morgan le Fay? Who figured this out?” Bullavin asked.
     “Severus Snape,” McGonagall said.
     “I thought Snape was working for the Dark Lord?” Master Wolf asked.
     “Snape never truly served the Dark Lord,” Bullavin remarked.
     Both McGonagall and Master Wolf looked at Bullavin with surprise in their eyes.
     “How did you know this?” McGonagall asked with wide eyes.
     “Remember, I taught him his Seventh Year. I knew him over the years. He was not evil. I knew he would never truly serve the Dark Lord. When I heard that Snape was accused of killing Dumbledore in cold blood, I knew it was not true. Snape had never killed anyone, and was not capable of it. I know evil. I know the face of evil, and Snape was not evil.”
     “You’re here for five minutes and you deduced that?” Minerva asked.
     “You know evil, huh?” Master Wolf asked jokingly. “Who is this Lazarus Easter?”
     “He’s the Bearer of the Pendant of Light,” Master Bullavin said. He stood up and looked around the room. “He considers himself a genius. He’s truly a madman. His family has been the Bearers of the Pendant of Light for generations. They have ambitions of bringing about some mad idea of a golden age of magic. They worship Morgan le Fay, they always have. They were there when she was banished to the realm beyond. They helped put her there, much to their chagrin.”
     “I must admit, I know little about pendants and the Easters,” McGonagall commented, “But you are right about Professor Snape. He was not evil. In fact, he was working in league with Albus the whole time. I never knew. None of us did. He was brave, Severus was. Potter showed me the memory Snape gave him. After that, everything made sense. But more about the le Fay boy I learned from Albus and Severus themselves.”
     “How?” Bullavin asked.
     “Isn’t it obvious?” Master Wolf smirked, and looked around.
     Master Bullavin looked around, then nodded. “Of course.” He walked over near the stained-glass window. To the left of it and to the right of it were two portraits. One was of an aged man with a long, flowing, silver-white beard that ran down nearly to his feet. He wore a pointy hat and stood tall and regal. He had a pair of tiny spectacles sitting on his nose and he smiled. The other portrait was of a pale-skinned man, greasy black hair and black eyes, a pointy nose, and black robes. He looked dark and ominous, and wore no smile, nor any wrinkles that would signify he ever wore a smile. His thin face looked down at Master Bullavin with almost discontent as the Iron Bull approached the window.
     “It has been a long time, Borodin,” Dumbledore’s portrait spoke to Bullavin.
     “It has, Albus,” he replied.
     “Listen to Minerva, Bullavin,” Snape spoke, “The boy must be protected. I never got a chance to tell him about his true lineage, but all the more because he needed to be kept from it.”
     “But the time may come, soon, perhaps,” Dumbledore spoke, “That he will learn his lineage, and he will be in danger. As long as Easter lives, the boy will be in danger.”
     “How do we protect him?” Bullavin asked.
     “Keep the other pendants away from Easter,” Snape said. “He has always obsessed over possessing the others. He has two: The one he bears and the one that belongs to his servant, Leech de Bauch. He will be seeking the other two. But it is the bloodline of his beloved Morgan le Fay that he’s always wanted.”
     “Train him, Borodin. Show him how powerful his bloodline is, Whispering Wolf,” Dumbledore said, “He is a most remarkable boy. Very humble. Very curious. Reminds me of myself when I was young. He’s very smart, but also very polite. Train him, and above all, come alongside him. He has no family. He will only be as true as the people whom he believes in. Give him the chance to grow. He will be a great wizard someday. Show him that bloodlines do not make a person. It is our choices that set us apart.”
     Master Wolf nodded his head. Master Bullavin looked away and out the stained-glass window.
     “And what happens,” Master Bullavin began, “If Easter ever finds out about his bloodline? What happens then?”
     “Then be prepared for a time of trial and tribulation,” Dumbledore spoke. “Voldemort was mad and beyond human compassion. He sought only his dream, and would have forced it upon all he would consider under him, which was everyone. Easter is different. He will convince many that his dream is their dream, and win them over. He is not mad, but a calculated evil. He believes that his vision is better, believes that his goals are the same as any who would see the light. He loves the light, and wants to bring magic out into it, at any cost. That is what makes him truly evil. He is not mad, but he is absolutely evil, and without love. He believes that he will lead the Wizarding World into a glorious revolution of open and unfettered use of magic. He would change the shape of the world if he knew a spell that was capable of doing so, just to show that he was right. If he learns of the boy’s lineage, then he will set in motion a series of events that he has long prepared for.”
     “It would be prudent to tell you,” Snape revealed, “That there is also another child who carries the bloodline. The other child already lives in America. Her blood is more diluted, but it still contains a portion of the bloodline. She is not aware of it, either. Her true lineage has also been kept from her.”
     “If the boy ever learns of his lineage,” Dumbledore added, “And the gears of evil begin to grind and move, then we will reveal the identity of the other child, to protect her. Until then, the fewer who know, the better. Best to play this Quaffle close to the chest, if you know what I mean.”
     “This is no game, gentlemen,” Bullavin grunted. “These are lives. Children’s lives and our own. You’re asking us to hide the truth from a child, and to make it our job to take it on as our own. What makes you think that we will take on such a task?”
     “Because I know you, Borodin,” Snape spoke. “You and I are not so different. We hide the light under our cloaks.”
     Bullavin stared at Snape. He took a deep breath, then nodded in agreement. “You do know me, Severus. After all this time, you still remember. I’m sorry I was not here to help you, son.”
     “I know, Professor,” Snape nodded. A movement of his mouth, almost as if he had tried to smile, was visible on his lips. “His name is Shade. Train him. Show him what I could not.”
     “Good luck, gentlemen,” Dumbledore spoke, bowing.
     Bullavin turned to Master Wolf and Professor McGonagall.
     “Here are the boy’s transcripts,” McGonagall told them, handing Master Wolf a large envelope of parchments and papers. “You will find he is very smart. And he enjoys Quidditch. He’s a Gryffindor. I hope you can figure out which ward he will belong to.”
     Master Wolf smiled. “I’m sure the Founder’s Totem will sort that out.”
     “Pun intended, I’m sure,” McGonagall added. “It was a pleasure to speak to you both, gentlemen. I will keep you in my thoughts. Anything you need, let me know.”
     The two men bowed and walked out of the Headmaster’s office. They closed the door behind them and walked down the steps and beyond the gargoyle.
     “You really know how to charm people, don’t you?” Master Wolf said, teasing Bullavin.
     “I have no intentions of charming anyone,” the Iron Bull grunted. “This is foolish. We should not be doing this. We should not be taking their failed secrets with us.”
     “They have no choice, Bull. The foster parents are sending him, not the school.”
     “Yes, but look around you. The last time they harbored secrets, this is what happened.” Bullavin stopped and pointed at Master Wolf. “Let me tell you something, Pup. Easter is an evil that is unlike any other. Harboring this child, this Shade, will not do anything to hinder this man. I don’t want to know this. I don’t want to do this.”
     “You wanted to help, Borodin.”
     “This is not what I meant.”
     “Think about it for a minute: We have an opportunity to do something amazing, be part of something amazing in this child’s life. He doesn’t have a father. He doesn’t know his mother. He is alone out there. You, above all people, know what it is like to be all alone. You, alone, faced Rasputin. You, alone, were able to end him before he could do more damage to your home, harm innocent people. You are a lot more adequate to help this child than I am. You’re going to help me teach this child. You’re going to keep this secret, because you and I believe in the same thing.”
     “And what is that?”
     “That life is precious. Beyond everything you and I disagree on, we both agree that life is precious and there is nothing more precious than that.”