Dumbledore had forced himself to appear calm and mostly unaffected until the Asps left, busying himself with calming the hoard of shocked students. He had never expected the young Malfoy to act so rash! In all the meetings Dumbeldore had requested with the youth, he had made it quite clear that the Asps ought not reveal their identities… and for Draco to speak against the Order as if it were no better than Death Eaters! It took all his life-earned patience and self-restraint not to put the boy in his place.

Thank Merlin that rash young Malfoy did not say anything of his Alpha’s other identity… though that he should probably attribute to his prudent talk with his now-retired Potions Master… which in and of itself proved quite disturbing. Had the young Malfoy forsaken all the powers of this war, only to create a new one? Led by a Death Eater-turned-spy, no less? Merlin, this could prove to be a major hindrance.

Dumbledore had expected the Asps to join him in lieu of learning their Alpha’s true identity or, at least, ask to be allowed to remain at Hogwarts for a good while longer. Oh, to have their power at his command! What a devastating blow that would have been to Voldemort- not to mention the Ministry. Still, no use crying over spilled Butterbeer… best make do with what he had.

His gaze wondered to the wooden display box at the corner of his mantel, bewitched so that none but he could see its true contents. There, suspended on a clawed brass hook dangled a thin gold chain, with what would look to others like a large, oddly-cut ruby at its center; its sharp tips covered in gold, by which the chain was connected.

How remarkable, that a thing so small and seemingly-harmless could shift the tide of war in Dumbledore’s favor. He regretted having to resort to such means, of course, but he’d be damned if he lost because he refused to use all the available tools. And this… this may prove the old man’s greatest tool of all. Perhaps, with this, the Aspidis would answer to him, after all. That all depended on the extent the crystal could ignite powers gone and suppressed, of course, but oh, what a wonderful thing it would be.

The Death Eaters stood waiting in his mind’s eye, hoods and makes worn by one and all. They shot curses hurriedly, the multi-colored jets spinning a killer web of speeding lights. But, oh but no, their curses did not hit any target. The Asps, however… they charged at the black minions and Dumbledore could almost see the fear in the masked eyes. And then the two groups clashed properly, the Headmaster’s view shifting skyward, where the few heads of hair were distinctly apparent amidst the sea of hooded gray. The deaths of Death Eaters looked like ripples on water, falling all around the Asps at a magnificent pace.

The scene shifted once again, before the aging Headmaster. The Asps had destroyed the sea of black and gray, and now only one red-eyed opponent stood on the field of battle. And the Asps had him surrounded. Then, one of their number – their leader- steps forth, Dumbledore could see the anger and, yes, fear in the monster’s blood-red eyes as his own step in for the kill.

And then, with one touch from the boy before him, Voldemort falls and is no more. Lying on the ground, never to rise again.

The Headmaster’s skin tingles with the promise of a nearing end to this messy war… one that keeps him and his Order safely out of the battles. He has to stop himself from caressing the crystal and close the presently-open case, pulled from the lingering images of his fantasy by a pronounced knock on the door. Remus, of course, punctual as ever.

“Headmaster?” the man’s voice greeted as he entered Dumbledore’s office, “you asked to see me?”

“Yes, yes,” he smiled at his guest in turn, “do come in my boy. Lemondrop?”

“Thank you, Headmaster, I’m fine.”

“Pity,” he did partake of his candies, settling the dish down after taking two more for the trek back. He looked his guest over, wishing the visible fatigue could be magicked away. This was to be his successor… a man who would not disappoint him. Now, he just had to help the man deal with his present problems and slightly mould him where the man’s present personality proved unsuitable for the future role. He would have his perfect successor… even after the Phoenix Child disaster.

But then, who could have anticipated such a strong-willed wildcard as Severus? Dumbledore knew Lily would never dishonor James in such a manner, which was precisely the reason he had her take the potion, glad it did not only work if used by the male (for who’s ingestion it was created). He had known James may have acted unfaithful, true, but he had not thought his rogue urges would be acted upon so soon. Nor, in all his precautions, had Dumbledore ever thought James might go as far s whoring his own wife in order to attain the one he sought in school.

Still, the infidelity did result in a twice-powered child… oh, if only Dumbledore had known! Such occurrences made or broke plans, and he prided himself on being able to use any such unexpected twist. Still, even a man as skilled as he could do little with unknown complications. He had played his cards as best he could, really… especially with seemingly everyone but Remus working against the tired old man.

Which brought him back to said individual, who was at present staring at him intently.

“Forgive an old man his wanderings, Remus, my mind had run off with me for a moment.”

“Not a problem, Headmaster.”

“Shall I never convince you to call me Albus?” he sighed, though secretly glad. Remus still looked to him as a mentor and superior… he would not turn from him.

“Forgive me, Albus, old habits die hard.”

Yes, and if I need to remind you, you’ll keep the balance of respectful familiarity I need. Albus assured himself, “tell me, my boy, how is Sirius coping?”

“Not well. He fears they should not have tried to shadow him, that had he not been suffering from such a drain, he could have made it out alive.”

“Being dead is always preferable to being anchored to Voldemort, I’m sure.”

“Severus told him much the same… though he, too, blames Horris’ death on himself; thinks Horris should not have saved him.”

“Does he?” Interesting. He could use that.

“Unfortunately,” Remus sighed, seeming more broken than ever, “this must be the first time they’re blaming themselves and telling the other to stop feeling guilty… instead of forcing the blame on each other.

“Perhaps this will lead them to a friendlier relation, then?”

“Severus has already named Sirius Horris’ Godfather, saying Horris never stopped considering him as such.”

“Then some good has come of this.”

“Nothing worth his death, sir.”

“Yes. Of course not,” Dumbledore assured him.

“Tell me, Remus, have they made any plans?”

“The Asps, sir? None past the funeral. They will be staying at Snape Manor, with Severus, as most were forced to leave their quite-devoted parents for fear of them trying to pull them back under Voldemort’s control. I have heard of several being outright disowned as well, leaving them with no home to return to, even if they wished.”

Several had, indeed… including young Mr. Malfoy, though Albus knew he really should stop naming the young man as such. Death Eater or not, Lucius Malfoy was still on the Board of Governors… best not agitate him over something so easily avoided.

“And Severus?”

“Trying to keep Draco from loosing himself entirely while hardly keeping it together himself,” Remus reported. “I worry that once he sees Draco accept the situation and his new position, he’ll lose himself to grief and whiskey altogether. Finding out he had a son was difficult enough on him… to lose him not a year later…” the man’s voice trailed off, sniffling.

“We must give him time, my boy,” he comforted, patting Remus on the shoulder, “all wounds heal in time.”

Heal, or fully devour.

“I hope so, Headmaster.”

“Fear not, Remus, we will be strong for him,” to save or crush, whichever will prove necessary.

“The man shows promise, at least. His acceptance of Sirius proves as much,” Dumbledore allowed,

“Only for Horris’ sake,” Remus agreed, “he invited us to the funeral tomorrow, as well.”

“At Snape Manor, I assume?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then Horris will not be buried below ground?”

“No, none of the Snapes are. The manor has its own catacombs… or so I was told.”

How unfortunate. At least Albus was forewarned of this complication. And it will force some alterations to his plans… move certain events forward while keeping other moves till a later time.

“And you, Remus,” Dumbledore continued, “how are you dealing with things?”

“Honestly? Not well,” the man confided, “I cannot begin to explain how much it has affected me… to lose both in an instant.”

“Both?”

“Horris was so different form what he acted like before. It was like loving two distinct boys, in two distinct ways.”
“Ah.”

“Not to mention how Severus changed… I thought we were finally becoming close.”

“The invitation would support such a theory, Remus, even now.”

“Yes, but he’s withdrawn into himself again. When Horris was around, the man actually cared about things… acted human and so on.”

“That will return, Remus, with time.”

“I hope so.”

“Is he truly so dire?” Albus calmed the forlorn man he’d seen grow up.

“He has yet to step foot into Horris’ room again; here or at the manor,” Remus confided, looking even more tired and worn, “Draco’s had to go through most of the things he left here and place them in Horris’ room at the manor himself. Thankfully, the boy has been conditioned to deal with death, though this one’s definitely put a strain on even his training.”

Ah, yes, Lucius was among the harshest fathers Dumbledore had encountered in quite some time; insistent that his son not taint the Malfoy name by showing weakness. The boy was probably trained to be ready to take over running the family at a moment’s notice- while he had a family to run, at any rate.

“Is it true, sir?”

“Is what true, dear boy?”
”Did Hogwarts really mourn his passing?”

Ah, that. Word does indeed travel fast, though he doubted most realized the root of the castle’s strange behavior as Remus had.

“To a certain extent, yes. He was, as you noted, one of the few to harbor all the founder lines. A good deal of gloom in the school’s populace, however, stemmed far more from the disposition of the Asps than the meddling of Hogwarts’ stones.”

“Still, it is quite an honor for ‘her’ to mourn one’s passing.”

“That it is, my boy… that it is. Very few, even ones with the blood of the founders in their veins, can inspire the castle in such a way with their passing. The school had quite a solid bond with young Horris, and he with her.”

Both lapsed into silence after that, though Dumbledore knew it would be short lived. As expected, Remus soon asked if the Headmaster had called him for anything other than what they had already discussed. Therein, unfortunately, lay the problem.

Dumbledore had wanted to call Remus here to discuss his future… how he would one day take over the leadership of the Order. Yes, he had mentioned it before, but Dumbledore felt his age. He needed to start training Remus to fill his shoes… and the sooner he started, the better.

He had figured the first step to accomplish this would be to reveal his plans to the man, asking for his input and thus teaching him to spot flaws while laying down plans. Leading either the Order or the school involved a great deal of manipulative scheming if one did not wish their role to foster their premature demise… and it would do Dumbledore no good for Remus to buckle under the pressure.

“Headmaster?”

“Forgive me, what did you ask?” not that he had forgotten, of course, but he could now see quite plainly that the man was not yet ready to be made part of his plans… not informed of them, at least. NO, Remus might very well run off and tell Sirius… or, Merlin forbid, Severus or even young Draco (who would, in turn, waste no time telling Severus). That would prove disastrous.

“I-” he paused, “are you alright, Headmaster?”

“Just tired, Remus, my lad.”

“Would you rather I came back later? Tomorrow, perhaps, or once you’ve had a few days to settle things?”

“I am fine, Remus, really,” he promised, not wanting the man to worry enough to become a nuisance to his plotting.

“Was there something specific you wished to speak with me about, Headmaster?” Remus asked him once more, this time sounding hesitant.

“Yes, yes there was,” Dumbledore agreed, figuring there were still ways to use the man, even if he could not be trusted with Albus’ plans quite yet. “I was hoping you might keep me informed on how everyone is coping. As I understand, most feel quite hesitant towards me, at present.”

“They’ll come around, Albus, I’m sure.”

“Thank you, my boy, I’m sure they shall,” he agreed, knowing Remus would not fail to report on the aforementioned subject. “Oh my, Remus, is that really the time?” he continued, as if he truly had not known how long it had been, “Forgive me for keeping you… I had no idea this would run so late.”

“No harm done, Headmaster.”

“Off you go, then, and perhaps you would be available sometime next week for tea?”

“Certainly, Albus, tea would be wonderful.”

Dumbledore smiled one last time as his office door closed with a click, snapping his fingers for the elves to bring him some food. And candy, of course. With the last of the tea Remus and he had been sipping throughout the meeting, the older man absorbed all that he had learned, trying to augment his plans to work with these new variables and restrictions in place. It would not be easy, certainly, but this scheme was by far one of his most complex. Still, this was where he was in his element. Here, free from outside distractions with a heedful of new material to bend to his master plan.

He would have to overcome the body’s visibility, first and foremost, which would probably end with him having to accept the element of surprise null and void;

unless he carried out the first part of his plan without relocating the body?

That would prove tricky indeed. Severus’ grief might keep him away from the body, which could be useful, as it had kept him from the rooms the boy resided in. However, it could just as easily do the opposite… especially if he wished to find ‘closure’.

Yes, he would certainly have to start putting things into motion as soon as possible, though if Severus did linger by the boy extensively during the first step, things might prove disastrous. No other option but to hope for the best, he feared, lest the Asps who just left return seeking blood…his blood. For stealing their Alpha. They would probably retaliate no matter when he took the body, but if he waited, he would at least have a weapon capable of defending him from their onslaught… and the school, of course.

Now he would just have to find a way to incite the process without actually going to Snape Manor, lest they realize his plan too soon. Had he told his plan to Remus, he could have easily asked that he do the deed… as he hadn’t, however, that particular option could no-longer be used. No. This would have to be by far his most underhanded piece of infiltration. He had to beat Severus Snape at his own game, after all.

The crystal shimmered in its box, giving the old man the oddest instinct to assure the blood-red object. Soon, soon your time will come. His old friend’s words coming back to him like a seductive whisper. He certainly had become a keeper of souls… as unimaginable as it had seemed at the time. And soon… soon he would become even more, crossing lines he never thought he would. And he would cross them, gladly, for the war to be over. For the war, he would become a puppeteer.

And soon, soon he would have to explain all this to Remus, lest he run out of time before training him in what the man would need to know. Yes, the time for all those things and more would come. Soon… soon, but not yet. Now was the time for planning… for making sure no miscalculations were made. And, for everyone else, now was the time to grieve. The summer was theirs to try and cope. The fall would be a time for war.