Hogwarts: Era of Darkness

“How many people have we lost?” Dumbledore asked, his voice sour but still maintaining his always calm attitude. He was scanning the room with his blue eyes, looking over his half-moon glasses while sitting at the head of an oval table, surrounded by all the high-ranking members of the Order.

“A dozen, not counting all the prisoners we had.” Moody answered coldly, tapping the bottom of his flask on the table before taking a big swing from it.

“Did Snape betray us?” McGonagall asked what everyone was thinking about. They were unaware that something like this was being planned by the Death Eaters and that anything as significant and dangerous as this was being planned should have been told to them in advance.

“I don’t believe so.” Dumbledore answered her after a moment of silence, thinking through everything that played out in the past twenty-four hours. Even if their ambush was a success, rescuing people from the grasp of Tom Riddle, it was a hollow victory now. “I think this was directly from Tom and was decided on a whim. Also…”

“…”

“…”

“Dumbledore?” Kingsley Shacklebolt asked after a long minute, seeing him fall into silence, his lips moving behind his white beard but no voice leaving his throat.

“Sorry, I was thinking, and I am sure the Anguine kids have something to do with this. Start tracking the information back from where we got the tip for the prison. Capture the informants and probe their minds. I do suspect that we would find something interesting within them if we look deep enough.”

“Are you sure, Albus?” McGonagall asked, making the old wizard nod his head resolutely while she was feeling a bit nervous because it was her who confirmed the source at first.

“I agree.” Moody spoke up, his magical eye swirling in his socket like a compass in a magnetic storm. “There were three cells there that, although being empty, showed signs of being occupied right until the moment we arrived. Someone smuggled prisoners out right under our noses.”

“Could it be Severus?” Flitwick questioned, but Dumbledore once again shook his head.

“Not after what happened to our prisons. The way the Death Eaters acted shows that keeping prisoners is no longer in the playbook. What happened this time is terrible, and the fact that we were out on a mission and unable to help ours will also blemish our position. Even if we start making excuses, that will only make things worse… We have to take a loss and do our best to turn it around into an advantage. What anybody will remember is that we abandoned the prisoners. The number of people who give up without fighting will fall drastically…”

“But this also means that their own moral will take a nosedive.” McGonagall added, looking at Dumbledore first and receiving a nod from him to continue. “The stronger he squeezes his fist, the more he will spill from it. Instead of finding excuses for our current blunder, we must use this to sow dissidence between their ranks! Turn more people to our cause and over to our side.”

“You want to accept Death Eaters into our ranks?” Shacklebolt asked, unsure about it, and his tone had already told them he was against the idea.

“Redemption must be an option for them.” McGonagall pushed on, and by just looking, Dumbledore could see that only half of the others present agreed with her notion.

“We don’t need to make them into properly inducted members.” Flitwick exclaimed, taking McGonagall’s side. “They can become associates who can work for us and do certain tasks delegated to them until they prove themselves. Without giving them a chance, are we even better than them?”

One after another, multiple members chimed in, trying to advocate their own side, either against accepting Death Eaters or standing on McGonagall’s side. Seeing how Dumbledore said nothing, they soon delved into openly arguing, finally breaking the old wizard’s thought process and bringing him back to reality.

“Stop.” He croaked, his throat dry and his voice tired, which quickly silenced everybody. “We are still way too heated up… let’s take a step back and rest our thoughts. We will have another meeting two days later after the dust settles and we can see clearly. For now, everyone, tell our agents to change locations, abandon old safehouses, and change places. We have moles inside our ranks, and we need to start sweeping house!”

Agreeing with his final decision, the meeting soon was adjourned, everyone leaving except one figure who sat there, silent all this time.

“Remus…?” Dumbledore asked when only they remained behind.

“They died…?” He asked, his voice melancholic and filled with pain, so deep that it made him seem like Dumbledore was talking to a specter, not a human anymore.

“Yes… They did.”

“I am the last one…” He whispered, burrowing his face in his palms, silently crying, and this time, Dumbledore had nothing to say to him. There was nothing that would help him out or ease his feelings. The old wizard did open his mouth once, but he knew that whatever he would say now would be useless. Thinking about it, knowing all the outcomes of anything he would say, he simply left Remus Lupin behind, his mind returning to thinking about Conrad and Quincy, already forgetting about the crying werewolf.

What broke Lupin was the fact that Sirius Black was at the prison camp, there to visit –under surveillance– Peter Pettigrew and finally help his confused mind to settle. Or forced to settle, but Lupin didn’t know that. He wasn’t alone when he came, bringing the last Weasly with him, unaware that he had just sealed another bloodline’s fate along his own. Nobody survived the Death Eaters’ ambush, led by Voldemort himself. That night left Remus Lupin as the last man alive from his childhood friend group, the only soul remembering those more simple days. The years never stopped passing, and losing his friends one after another was something he never found a way to deal with, and after today… he felt empty. He wanted to blame someone, but nobody was there to blame, only the Grim Reaper, who was the greatest winner in these long decades filled with war.

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Unlike Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort had a harder time coping with his hidden prison being ambushed. All the joy and elevation he felt from their work, all of the pleasure was gone. He was sure that someone had betrayed him once again, almost losing it and killing his closest associates on a whim, before his rage was finally reined in by a sliver of rationality showing through his shattered psyche and soul.

As for Snape, it made it so much easier to mask his honest thoughts against him, and he even began influencing the Dark Lord’s mind, subtly broadcasting feelings of suspicion towards other Death Eaters. Voldemort picked up Snape’s subtle, subconscious-level suggestions, mixing them within his mind and becoming his own thoughts. In the end, the Dark Lord forced everyone to show what was their last used spell, and not everyone’s wand lit up with the killing curse. With Snape being tested first, displaying his ‘loyalty,’ it only took a few further mental nudges before Snape got to meet with Voldemort privately.

His new mission was simple: to spy and investigate all the high-ranking Death Eaters, given the freedom to execute anybody he found suspicious. No questions asked, no reports needed. Of course, he fought hard not to show his glee, feeling that he was finally close to his goal, bringing the Dark Lord down, if he must, then with himself. Whatever the cost… After decades of playing both sides… He was only an arm’s reach away from his revenge from bearing fruit, and he could taste its sweetness on the tip of his tongue.

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“Is this really true?” Hermione asked, sitting on a bench facing the ocean, another ‘True Prophet’ in her hands.

“It is.” Neville nodded, standing next to the bench, arms crossed, watching the grey sky, waiting for snowfall to arrive.

“Mhm.” Krum nodded, “Confirmed. It happened, no lie.”

“This is pure madness.” She mumbled once again before a loud pop interrupted them, and a young wizard appeared close by, a bit disoriented.

“You are not-!” He panicked, pulling his wand out, but Krum was faster, knocking it out of his hand before raising his arm.

“We not trouble!”

“We aren’t!” Neville repeated, trying to not look so dangerous, but the news they just read, the massacre, the survivors speaking out how both sides want everyone dead, the world seemed so alien to him that his face was being twisted by his conflicting emotions. By now, he was unsure who was a friend and who was an enemy in this madness.

“We are friends of Conrad! Promise!” Hermione added hurriedly, “I am sorry we lured you here, but we must contact him; it is of utmost importance!”

“Why should I believe you?” The young man asked, still wearing his old robes; the Slytherin’s symbol on its chest had already faded, looking wholly grey instead, losing all its emerald and silver luster.

“Honest.” Krum began when the boy looked at him and finally recognized his face.

“Wait, you are Victor Krum!”

“Yes.” He nodded and flinched when Hermione elbowed him. “I helped you.”

“Yes… yes, you did. I… Thank you!” He bowed, feeling much more relaxed, missing that, once again, Krum didn’t recognize him from the time he led them all out of danger on the Durmstrang ship.

“Sorry, my name is Nate!” He said, raising his head, much more relaxed after recognizing Krum, “I don’t know if I can get you in contact with them; they are obviously very selective about who they work with. I was told the notebook is compromised, but… Eh, it was stupid to trust it, huh? Can you keep that a secret from them if you do meet them? They would tell me off if they learned I still used it…”

“Sure.” Neville nodded while Hermione smiled at him thankfully.

“No problem, Nate. My name is Hermione, and these are my friends Neville and Victor.”

“Good to meet you! Listen… we are out in the open… Let’s get back to my place. What do you think? Then, I can establish contact with my contact, who can contact… Too much contact, huh?”

“A bit.” Hermione giggled, “But as long as we manage to take one step at a time, we are good.”