The Marauders: Year Four

Ticket to Ten Thousand Galleons

Ticket to Ten Thousand Galleons

Severus Snape watched from a distance with Regulus and Barty both by his side as Kreacher disapparated from the edge of the grass to the space beneath the Whomping Willow's branches with a click of his fingers. The elf ran his hands along the roots of the tree carefully. It was odd, Severus thought, because he couldn't see a door there, but he could see Kreacher casting the spells against the wood. His eyebrows cinched together and he wondered what exactly the door led to, and who it was that used it...

When Kreacher reapparated by their sides once more, Fenrir Greyback walked over to where the lot of them stood. "Go on to the Dark Lord now," Greyback commanded. "Tell my Lord that we will have Sirius Black before the night is ended!" He grinned wickedly.

"Yes sir," Severus said lowly.

Greyback and Druella walked swiftly away, ducking down among rock and brush and Severus turned to Regulus and Barty. He took a deep breath, his eyes swiveling from one to the other, nerve-filled... The elf held out his arms for them to take hold on... Severus's eyes met Regulus's. "Remember," he muttered lowly, "Keep your wits about you. Too much emotion and you'll be exposed."

Regulus nodded.

And with that, they all grabbed onto Kreacher's arms... and he disappeared, taking the three young wizards with him.

Fenrir Greyback lay in wait in a small cluster of trees, mere feet away from the Whomping Willow in the shadows of the castle. He peered over a rock, waiting, heart hammering in his chest. He glanced up at the castle, right at the headmaster's office, which was in a high turret room looming far above.. Luckily, a light rain was falling, a low layer of grey clouds affording them a bit of a cover from errant glances from the auror, Moody. Druella crouched beside him, sniffing a leaf she'd plucked from a tree nearby, ripping it and licking the edge where the leaf was bleeding it's moisture, a contemplative look about her face. "This is a funny plant," she muttered, "I've never seen -- could be useful in that draught I've been working on..."

"Shhh," Fenrir hissed waving his hand at her. "Here we are... Come along, little snack..."

Through the mist that fell over the grounds came Remus Lupin, stumbling down the hill. Fenrir could see the boy, struggling along with a rucksack slung about him, his trainers slipping on loose rock and mud as he crossed down the slope from the castle. He was carefully watching the ground as he moved to the edge of the grass, looking about for a rock to use to freeze the Whomping Willow's branches. His blonde hair hung, stringy from the rain, criss-crossing over his forehead, a fatigued sort of air about him.

Fenrir looked 'round behind him at Druella Black. "Do you smell that?" he whispered, "That's the smell of our ticket to ten thousand galleons..." He watched as Remus took up a rock and tossed it toward the knots in the Whomping Willow. A grin spread over Fenrir's face as Remus threw the rock and it fell far short of it's target. Remus sank to the grass, catching his breath as he scrabbled for a second rock to try again. "Poor ickle thing is weak..."

"Go get him, my love," Druella sing-songed, laying a palm across Fenrir's spine, raising herself up to her knees. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a vial of violet potion, a smile spread across her face, "I'll be ready."

Fenrir pushed himself off from the rock he was leaning against and snuck away through the trees, rounding the Whomping Willow so that he was coming up from behind the boy...

Remus's face was hot with fever and he was dizzy. He was regretting not accepting James's offer to get him safely to the Shack, and held his forehead in his hands. The mist felt really good against his hot skin as he struggled to get a deep breath into his lungs. He rocked himself forward so that he was on his hands and knees and took up another rock, tossing it toward the knot on the tree. It struck, stopping the waving of the branches, and he crawled thankfully toward it across the grass, his knees getting wet from the rain.