The walk to the dungeons was long and his thoughts revolved around the attack on Potter. He was furious with Potter all over again by the time he entered his private quarters. He made for the bedroom and sitting on the bed, opened the top drawer of his bedside table and took out a photo. It was a rare photo that he had of Lily and himself as children before Hogwarts, before everything had been ruined by Potter Senior. It was a muggle one Lily's mother had snapped with a Polaroid camera and handed to him right there and then.
"I'm trying to keep him safe, Lily." Severus whispered to the photo, stroking a finger over her innocent features. "But your son doesn't make it easy. He has far too much of Potter in him and far too little of you."
What had the brat been thinking? Going off to rescue the Weasleys? Charging after his attacker into the woods? No doubt he wanted further glory and praise for his heroics.
Or he had no sense of self-worth which was more likely given his appalling upbringing with Petunia.
Well, he would keep Potter safe despite the brat's lack of self-preservation. He would do it because Potter was needed to vanquish the Dark Lord so Lily could be avenged. Potter owed his mother that much for her sacrifice; for causing her death. And as much as he hated Potter's presence within the castle, it would be easier for Severus to protect him once Potter was back at Hogwarts.
Severus sighed and put the photo away, closing the drawer on his memories and his melancholy.
o-O-o
Dennis Travers had been sixteen years old when he'd taken the Dark Mark. He'd gone along with his father and his uncles. His family had little status but they were comfortable financially thanks to good investments and his grandfather's broom charms patent that had been bought by Nimbus. His father had worked in the Department of Magical Transportation until his incarceration in Azkaban in 'eighty-one. He could still remember the night the Aurors had come for his Dad…
Rain battered down on the roof, filling the living room with a thunderous pitter-patter. The room had been lit with oil lamps casting a gloomy orange light and strange shadows against the walls. A fierce blaze had filled the fireplace, warming the room. His mother, a slim pretty woman, sat beside the Wizarding Wireless, knitting as was her wont when she was anxious. He and his father had been playing cards on a small felt table; twenty year old Dennis was winning.
"I wish you'd shut that thing off." His Dad said brusquely. "It's been nothing but bloody gossipy nonsense since Halloween."
"Igor was scheduled to appear before the Council of Magical Law today." His Mum replied sharply.
His Dad glanced over at her. "There's nothing to worry about it. Igor's sentencing will be a straightforward affair. They have more than enough evidence to convict him."
"And if he gives you up for a lighter sentence?" His mother asked pointedly.
"I would have heard something at the Ministry before I left if anything had been said." His Dad said dismissively.
"I don't trust him." His mother said. "Foreign muck; we can't trust him to remain faithful. Antonin is not much better either, fleeing abroad like he has done."
His Dad rolled his eyes and winked at Dennis. "We'll be fine, Mabel. You're getting yourself worried for…" he froze and suddenly his wand was in his hand. "The wards! They're under attack!"
His mother stood, dropping her knitting and wrapping her arms around herself. "I told you! I told you that Russian bastard wasn't to be trusted!"
"Travers!" Alastor Moody's gruff tone sounded loudly from outside. "We know you're in there! Leave your wand and come out with your hands visible!"
"What are we going to do?" His mother wailed.
His Dad's lips firmed and he swung towards Dennis. "Forgive me, son. Imperius!"
It had all gotten blurry after that. Dennis had woken up in a small ward at St Mungo's with his mother sat beside him. She had told him that his father and she had protected him; the Aurors believed that Dennis had been imperiused into taking the Mark by his father and she had been coerced by the threat of physical violence. The truth was that Karkaroff had betrayed them; he'd given up Dennis's father for the murders of the blood traitors, the McKinnons. His father would be going to Azkaban.
And so it had happened. Luckily, his uncles had stepped in and taken care of his mother and himself, ensuring that they had a home and that Dennis's place in the Ministry was safe. He'd continued in the Department of Transportation, following in his father's footsteps, honouring the man who had protected him.
But now…now Dennis would be going to Azkaban himself. He wasn't bothered so much by that; he stood by the Dark Lord and he wouldn't deny him to save his own skin. No, he was more bothered about his stupidity in allowing himself to be captured.
He stared up at the ceiling of his Ministry cell and contemplated how very wrong the mission had gone. It had been idiotic in hindsight to continue when the stadium fire had happened. He should have realised that it would draw more Aurors to the campsite. Travers had also been hampered because he'd had to imperius Rowle who'd gotten cold feet – stupid bastard – otherwise he would have gotten away.
He frowned and rubbed his nose.
Dennis hadn't exactly had a chance to read the Prophet since he'd been placed in his cell but he'd heard the Aurors talking and it looked like the small operation he and his team had put together had somehow run amok of the rogue who'd made death threats against Potter.
He scowled.
It was supposed to have been his night, his opportunity to remind everyone of the Dark Lord, to remember and fear, to prove to the Dark Lord that he was not forgotten and that there were those who upheld his ideals and welcomed his return.
The pillock who'd attacked Potter had ruined everything.
But he'd heard his guards exchanging gossip and the theory was that the rogue had been acting in concert with Pettigrew since the Rat Squad had been there. Travers considered that in the quiet of his cell. If the idiot who'd spoiled his party had been working in concert with Pettigrew, did that mean he was working under the orders of the Dark Lord himself? And if he was, had his own operation interfered with the Dark Lord's? Messed it up? Potter had stumbled into MacNair and Jugson according to the chatter.
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