Emeralds and Ashes Ch. 32

The darkness had settled over the manor like a shroud. Most of the Death Eaters had departed, carrying their lord's orders with them, their faces masks of strained compliance, their once-proud shoulders now hunched with the weight of their new reality. Even Voldemort had made his way out. Only Aldric and Sarina remained, both standing in silence as they watched their underlings file out to await further instructions. Not everyone looked happy, and the pair did not miss those faces.

When the heavy doors finally closed, leaving them alone in the cavernous room, Aldric let out a harsh laugh that echoed against the stone walls.

"Did you see Malfoy’s face?" he said, turning to Sarina with cruel amusement dancing in his eyes. "The great pureblood lord, reduced to nothing more than an errand boy alongside the rest of us."

Sarina's lips curled into a cold smile as she absently rubbed her forearm where the Dark Mark now burned, still fresh and raw. "Centuries of breeding and privilege, and all it took was one meeting to strip it away. Almost makes you wonder if they were ever truly powerful to begin with."

She moved toward the large map table that Voldemort had left behind, her steps measured and deliberate. The locations their lord had marked still glowed faintly, pulsing like heartbeats across magical Britain.

"Strange bedfellows we make," Aldric remarked, following her to the table. "You, champion of werewolf rights, and me, who's spent years hunting them down for the very purebloods who can't even look us in the eye anymore."

Sarina's gaze snapped to his face, her eyes sharp and calculating. "Don't pretend this is about principles, Aldric. It never was. Not for you, and if I'm being honest, not entirely for me either."

"Oh?" Aldric raised an eyebrow, his expression mocking. "And here I thought you were the true believer between us. The crusader for werewolf justice, fighting for equality and rights."

"Is that what you thought?" Sarina laughed, the sound brittle in the large, empty room. "Then you're more naive than I gave you credit for. Yes, I believe werewolves deserve better than what this society has given them. But belief doesn't win wars, does it? Power does."

She traced a finger along one of the glowing points on the map, contemplating.

"And what about you?" she asked, not looking up. "How quickly you abandoned your hunt for my kind. Was exterminating werewolves ever a conviction, or just another job for the highest bidder?"

Aldric's jaw tightened, but his voice remained casual. "Does it matter? We're both here now, aren't we? Both wearing his mark, both playing his game."

"It matters," Sarina said, finally looking up at him. "Because I want to know exactly what kind of ally I'm being forced to work with. How quickly will you abandon this cause when something better comes along?"

"As quickly as you would," Aldric shot back without hesitation. "Don't stand there pretending your hands are clean, Sarina. I've seen what your people did to those Ministry officials. That wasn't justice—that was revenge. You enjoyed it as much as any Death Eater would."

A tense silence stretched between them. Neither looked away, neither willing to concede first.

Finally, Sarina spoke, her voice lower now. "You're right. I did enjoy it. After watching my people hunted like animals, after losing my brother to Ministry 'containment procedures'—yes, I enjoyed making them feel what it's like to be prey for once."

"At least you're honest about it," Aldric said with a nod of grudging respect. "Most people would hide behind some noble cause. Justice. Equality. Pretty words that mean nothing when you're powerless."

"And what's your excuse?" Sarina challenged. "What drove you to hunt my kind so ruthlessly, only to stand beside us now?"

Aldric walked around the table, his fingers skimming its surface. "My family was poor, with no connections. No one in the magical world gave a damn about us. But I had skills—tracking, hunting. The purebloods paid well for werewolf heads, and suddenly I had value." He smiled mirthlessly. "It was about hatred at first, but soon, it became an opportunity. It became about survival."

"And now?" Sarina pressed.

"Now?" Aldric laughed quietly. "Now I see a better way to survive. The purebloods are falling. Their time is ending. I'm not going down with that ship."

Sarina nodded slowly, studying him. "So it's about survival for you. For me, it's about power." Her eyes glinted in the dim light. "Power to protect my people, yes. But also power for its own sake. Because I've lived without it for too long, watching others decide our fate."

"And that's why we're here," Aldric concluded. "Not because we believe in his cause, but because he offers what we both want."

"Does that make us hypocrites?" Sarina asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer—and didn't particularly care.

"It makes us practical," Aldric replied. "The world isn't black and white, Sarina. It never was. Those who pretend otherwise are either fools or liars."

He moved closer to her, his voice dropping. "The purebloods pretended they were superior because of their blood. Your people claimed moral high ground because of their suffering. In the end, it's all just stories people tell themselves to justify what they want."

"And what do you want, Aldric?" Sarina asked, not backing away from his approach.

"The same thing you do," he said without hesitation. "Never to be at anyone's mercy again. Never to be powerless. Never to beg."

A moment passed between them, an unspoken understanding crystalizing in the air.

"Did you feel it?" Sarina asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper as she gestured to her marked arm. "When he branded us. That rush. That... connection."

Aldric's expression darkened. "Yes. It was... intoxicating. And terrifying."

"We've sold ourselves to him," she stated flatly. "Let's not pretend otherwise. Whatever ideals we had, whatever causes we fought for—they're secondary now. He owns us."

"A fair price," Aldric shrugged. "For what we gain in return."

Sarina's laugh was bitter. "Is it? Look at Malfoy and the others. They thought they were partners in his vision. Now they're scrambling just to survive. That could be us tomorrow."

"Then we make ourselves invaluable," Aldric said simply. "We succeed where they failed."

"And if we can't?"

"Then we die," he said bluntly. "But we would have died anyway, wouldn't we? Your rebellion was losing ground. My patrons were losing interest. We were both running out of time."

Sarina turned away from him, moving toward the tall windows that overlooked the darkened grounds. "You know what's truly ironic? After all their sneering and superiority, the purebloods are right where we've always been—serving at someone else's pleasure, hoping not to be discarded."

"Fitting, isn't it?" Aldric joined her at the window. "To see them taste what we've lived with our entire lives."

"It shouldn't feel this good," Sarina admitted, "watching them squirm. But it does."

"Of course it does," Aldric said. "They've stepped on us for centuries. Why shouldn't we enjoy their fall?"

Sarina turned to face him directly. "Can we trust each other, Aldric? Not as friends—I don't think that's possible with our history. But as allies in this new... arrangement?"

Aldric considered her question carefully. "Trust is a luxury neither of us can afford. But we can be useful to each other. Our goals align for now. That's better than trust."

"Honesty, then," Sarina countered. "If nothing else, let's be honest about where we stand."

"Fair enough," Aldric nodded. "I'll start. I don't care about blood purity or werewolf rights or any of it. I care about survival and power. That's it."

"And I," Sarina responded, "will use whatever means necessary to secure a future for my people. If that means serving him, so be it. If that means working with you, I'll do that too."

"Even though I've killed your kind?"

"Even though I've killed yours," she countered evenly.

They regarded each other with new understanding. Not friendship, not trust, but something equally valuable—clarity.

"We should prepare," Aldric said finally, gesturing to the map. "Our first mission for our new master awaits."

Sarina nodded, but paused before turning away. "One last thing, Aldric. When this is all over—if we survive—what then?"

"Then?" Aldric's face was expressionless. "Then we see who's learned the better lessons from our lord. Because make no mistake, Sarina—we’d need everything if we want to survive."

"At least we understand each other," she said with a cold smile.

"Perfectly," he agreed.

Outside, thunder rolled across the night sky, a fitting backdrop to their honest yet unlikely conversation.

"There's something else we haven't addressed," Sarina said suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence. "The purebloods aren't the only ones who'll hate us for this alliance."

Aldric's brow furrowed. "You mean your followers. The werewolves."

"And yours," she countered. "The hunters, the families who paid you to kill my kind. They'll see this as betrayal."

"Let them," Aldric shrugged, but there was a new tension in his shoulders. "They were always just clients."

"Were they?" Sarina stepped closer, her eyes searching his face. "No emotional attachments at all? No one who trusted you to protect them from the monsters in the dark?"

Aldric's jaw tightened. "There was a family—the Clarkes. Three children. The youngest girl was bitten during a full moon. I couldn't save her, but I tracked down the werewolf responsible."

"And killed him," Sarina finished for him.

"Yes." Aldric met her gaze without flinching. "And that family looked at me like I was their savior. They named their next child after me."

Sarina was silent for a moment. "How will you face them now? Standing alongside the very creatures they fear?"

"I won't," Aldric said simply. "That life is over. And yours? What about the werewolves who followed you, believing you were fighting for their freedom, not serving a new master?"

Sarina's expression hardened. "Many will follow me still. They trust me."

"Trust," Aldric scoffed. "A dangerous thing to give someone like us."

"Like us?" Sarina raised an eyebrow.

"People who understand that sometimes you have to sacrifice principles for results," he clarified. "The werewolves who follow you blindly—they believe in the cause. We believe in survival."

"Some will understand," Sarina insisted. "The ones who've suffered most know that pretty ideals don't keep you warm or fed. They'll follow power, just as we do."

"And the rest?"

A shadow passed over Sarina's face. "The rest will either fall in line or..." She didn't finish the thought.

"Or become obstacles," Aldric completed for her. "Strange, isn't it? How quickly we adopt his thinking."

"Is it his thinking, or was it always ours?" Sarina asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe that's why we're here. Not because we changed, but because he saw what was already in us."

Aldric considered this, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps. Or perhaps we're just what happens when people are pushed too far. When society leaves no legitimate path to power."

"Does it matter?" Sarina asked. "The result is the same."

"I suppose not," Aldric conceded. "But I wonder—if things had been different, if the world had been kinder to people like us—would we still be standing here?"

"Pointless speculation," Sarina dismissed, but something in her eyes suggested the question had struck a nerve. "We deal with the world as it is, not as it could have been."

"True enough," Aldric agreed. "Though I admit, I'm curious about one thing."

"What's that?"

"If he succeeds—if we help him reshape the world—what do you think it will look like for your kind? Do you truly believe werewolves will fare better under his rule?"

Sarina's laugh was bitter. "No. But they won't fare worse than they do now. And in the chaos of change, there are always opportunities for those positioned to seize them."

“The longer game it is,” Aldric noted. “That’s what you’re playing for, eh?”

"Aren't you?" Sarina challenged.

Aldric smiled thinly. "Of course. I didn't survive this long by being shortsighted."

"And that's why we need to be careful around each other," Sarina said, her voice hardening. "Because we're both thinking three steps ahead, both looking for advantages."

"Both willing to step over anyone in our way," Aldric added.

"Including each other," Sarina said pointedly.

"Especially each other," Aldric agreed with a grim smile. "But for now, our interests align."

"For now," Sarina echoed, her eyes never leaving his face.

 A moment of silence stretched between them.

"There's one more thing I'm curious about," Aldric said finally. "The Mark. When it burned into your skin—did you feel something change inside you? Something beyond the pain and the rush?"

Sarina's hand unconsciously moved to her forearm, her fingers tracing the outline of the mark through her sleeve. "Yes," she admitted reluctantly. "It was like... like a door opening in my mind. A connection I didn't ask for but can't seem to close."

"I felt it too," Aldric said quietly. "His presence. His... expectations."

"Does it frighten you?" Sarina asked, studying his face.

"Yes," Aldric said simply. "You?"

"Yes," Sarina echoed. "But it also feels... inevitable. As if all roads would have led here eventually."

"Fate?" Aldric raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Consequence," Sarina corrected. "Every choice we made narrowed our path until only this one remained."

The candles in the room flickered as a chill wind swept through, but neither Aldric nor Sarina shivered. They had both endured far colder realities than this.

"Our past enmity," Aldric said slowly, "it has to be buried deeper than we've managed tonight. If he senses division, weakness—"

"He'll exploit it," Sarina finished. "Use it to discard us. He cannot have division in his ranks."

"More than he already does," Aldric agreed grimly. "So we present a united front. Support each other. Whatever our private thoughts."

"Agreed," Sarina nodded. "In public, we are loyal servants with a shared vision."

"And in private?" Aldric asked.

Sarina's smile was cold. "In private, we are what we've always been—survivors who know better than to fully trust anyone."

"A workable arrangement," Aldric said, extending his hand.

Sarina looked at it for a moment before taking it in a firm grip. "Until it isn't."

Their hands fell away, and both turned back to the map on the table. The glowing points seemed to pulse more urgently now, as if sensing their resolve.

"We should prepare," Aldric said finally. "The others will be expecting our orders."

"Yes," Sarina agreed. "The time for talk is over."

With the Dark Mark burning on their arms and their lord's orders clear, they had work to do. The time for action—for proving their worth—had begun. And though neither said it aloud, both knew that this strange alliance forged in ambition and necessity would be tested soon enough. The question wasn't whether they would face challenges, but which of them would emerge stronger when they did.

As they moved toward the door, Sarina paused, looking back at the room where they had been marked, where their fates had been sealed. "Whatever happens," she said quietly, "at least we chose this path. The purebloods followed blindly, believing in their superiority. We walked in with our eyes open."

"Cold comfort," Aldric remarked, "if we end up just as dead."

"Perhaps," Sarina conceded. "But I'd rather die having chosen my fate than having it chosen for me."

Aldric nodded slowly. "On that, at least, we can agree."

-Break-

The early morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the empty classroom on the third floor. Harry had called for this impromptu meeting, sending messages to both James and Sirius early on. When he'd arrived with Narcissa and Bellatrix in tow, the two Gryffindors had already been waiting.

James sat on top of one of the desks, his legs dangling while his fingers drummed an irregular pattern on the wooden surface. His eyes still held the same hard edge they'd carried since the previous night's encounter. Beside him, Sirius leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression unusually somber. Both looked up when they saw them enter, neither surprised at the presence of the two Slytherin girls.

“Bella, Cissy,” Sirius nodded in greeting, getting nods in return as they got closer.

"So," Harry began, coming to a stop in front of them. "I'm guessing you all know why we're here."

"You told them about what happened last night," James said flatly. It wasn't a question.

Harry nodded, exchanging a quick glance with Narcissa and Bellatrix. "I told them everything."

"Everything?" Sirius raised an eyebrow. "How much is everything exactly?"

"About the confrontation in the corridor. About that curse Snape tried to use on you," Harry replied, his voice hardening at the mention of the Slytherin. "Sectumsempra, eh? We all know what that spell does now. He wasn't just trying to hurt you—he was trying to kill you."

James's jaw tightened. "Yeah, I figured that much when I saw what it did to the wall."

Bellatrix let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Typical. Should have known that coward would resort to something like this. The question now is what we're going to do about it," she interjected, her dark eyes gleaming with an intensity that made even Sirius shift uncomfortably.

"Do?" James echoed. "What exactly are you suggesting, Bellatrix?"

Harry stepped forward. "We need to make sure Snape doesn't get the chance to try something like this again. Not with you, not with anyone."

"We're not killing him, if that's what you're suggesting," Sirius said firmly, pushing off from the wall. "That's not who we are. We had this discussion yesterday."

"No matter how justified it might feel," James added quietly. "We're not stooping to his level."

Harry ran his hand through his hair, sighing. "I'm not saying we kill him. But he needs to go away for good."

"What are you suggesting then?" James asked.

"Azkaban," Harry said simply.

The word hung in the air like a shroud of darkness. James and Sirius exchanged startled looks.

"Azkaban?" James repeated. "That's... that's not just detention in the dungeons, Harry. That's..."

"Exactly what he deserves," Harry finished. "He tried to murder you in cold blood, James. With a spell of his own creation, no less. That's not just breaking school rules—that's a crime. A serious one."

"He's right," Bellatrix said, arms folded across her chest. "A student, using that kind of magic, attempting to take a life? If it were anyone else, he'd already be rotting in a cell."

James ran a hand through his already messy hair. "Azkaban," he murmured, testing the word. "It's extreme, but..."

"But justified," Narcissa spoke up for the first time. All eyes turned to her. She stood straight, her posture perfect as always, her blonde hair neatly pinned back. "And easily achievable."

"What do you mean?" James asked.

Narcissa's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "We can use the purebloods on the Wizengamot in this case. Snape attempted to murder the sole heir of a pureblood house—one with a permanent seat on the Wizengamot." Her voice was cool and practical. "After so many heirs were killed recently in the rising conflicts, it wouldn't take much to get him sentenced. In fact, I'd wager it would take barely an hour, maybe even less."

Sirius frowned deeply. "So we're using our pureblood privilege to get rid of a half-blood? How does that make us any better than those supremacist arseholes?"

"It's politics, Sirius," Narcissa replied evenly. "I understand where you're coming from, truly I do. But it's the easiest way to get this done."

"And the right way?" Sirius countered. "The moment we start using our influence to control justice, we become no better than the people we despise."

"Not if the person in question deserves it," Bellatrix said sharply. "Snape does. You know he does."

James sighed, running his fingers through his hair again. "She's right. As much as I hate to admit it, the system is what it is. And for once, maybe we can use it for something good."

Now that surprised Harry, and he exchanged glances with Bellatrix and Narcissa. Yet, he could sense something there. Something that was holding James back.

"But?" Harry prompted, sensing James's hesitation.

James looked up, his hazel eyes troubled. "But I don't want my name anywhere near this."

Bellatrix scoffed. "Are you serious? He tried to kill you!"

"I know that," James snapped. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what?" Bellatrix challenged.

James glanced away, his expression conflicted. "I just... I don't want my name associated with that bastard in any way."

This confused them all. Even Harry, who had been expecting something along these lines, furrowed his brow.

"That doesn't make any sense," Bellatrix said. "Elaborate, Potter."

James hesitated, clearly reluctant. After a long moment, he sighed deeply. "Look, I know Lily and I don't see eye to eye anymore. Especially after everything that happened. But I don't want to hurt her even more by being the one to send her former friend to Azkaban." He looked down at his hands. "She already hates my guts. I don't want to give her more reason to."

Sirius and Harry fell silent, understanding washing over their features. Narcissa's expression softened slightly, though she maintained her practical demeanor.

Bellatrix, however, let out a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed off the classroom walls.

"Are you kidding me?" she said, her voice laced with derision. "Snape tries to slice you open, and you're more worried about what a silly girl like Evans would think of you? Merlin's beard, Potter, grow a spine!"

"Bella—" Narcissa started, but Bellatrix waved her off.

"No, he needs to hear this." She fixed James with an intense stare. "Listen to me, Potter. That girl has been holding you back for years. You've been pining after her, changing yourself, trying to be worthy in her eyes. And what has it gotten you? Nothing but scorn and dismissal."

James winced, but Bellatrix continued relentlessly.

"After years, you finally told her to fuck off, and I honestly thought you’d grown a pair. But now, this is making me reconsider,” she scoffed. “If she can't see that her precious Snivellus is nothing but a hateful, bigoted, would-be murderer who deserves to rot six feet under, let alone in Azkaban, and you feel she’d blame you for sending his pathetic arse off to freeze in that hellhole, then she's not worth your consideration. You deserve better than to compromise your safety—your life—for someone who doesn’t even have the critical thinking skills to recognize right and wrong, much less be a proper judge of character."

Her words hung in the air, brutally honest and sharp enough to cut. No one spoke, the silence profound and heavy. James was left staring at his hands as he sat hunched over on the desk, his face covered with shadows. His fingers curled into fists, his jaw clenching.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably before clearing his throat. "Look, mate, I know Bella isn't exactly... tactful, but she's not wrong."

James sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's not just about Evans. It's about everything. About who I used to be, who I am now. I don’t know where the line is anymore. If I push this, if I take this all the way, I feel like I’m going to be the person she always thought I was."

"That’s ridiculous," Sirius said firmly. "You were a prat when we were younger, sure, but you were never cruel. And you certainly weren’t the kind of person who would use dark magic on someone in a fit of rage. You were never him."

Narcissa crossed her arms, observing James keenly. "And yet, you hesitate, despite knowing the truth. That makes you a fool, Potter."

James exhaled through his nose but said nothing. The room remained thick with tension, the intensity of Bellatrix's words pressing down on them all. There was no sound in the classroom apart from their breathing until a new voice broke it.

"She's right, you know."

James’ eyes widened first as they all whirled around to see none other than Lily Evans standing just inside the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, and her expression unreadable. Only Harry seemed unsurprised by her appearance, his face carefully neutral as the redhead approached.

"Evans!" Sirius exclaimed. "How long have you been—"

"Long enough," Lily cut him off, her green eyes never leaving James as she came to a stop directly in front of him. James had straightened up, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly caught off guard.

"I saw everything that happened last night," Lily said quietly, causing a ripple of shock through the room.

“Wait, what?” James blinked, trying to process her words.

"I was there last night," Lily revealed, holding James’ gaze.

"You were?" James managed, his voice slightly hoarse.

Lily nodded. "I was heading back from the library. I heard voices and..." She trailed off, and then squared her shoulders. "I heard everything you said to each other, and then I saw what he tried to do to you. That curse. I saw the damage it did to the wall."

A heavy silence followed as the meaning of her words settled over them. James swallowed hard, his throat dry.

She looked around at all of them, her expression hardening. "I don't know who that person is anymore, but he's not my friend. He hasn't been for a long time, and I was too stubborn to see it." Her voice grew stronger, angrier even. "I've been blind, defending someone who didn't deserve it, someone whose path was already chosen. And last night proved just how far he's fallen."

James opened his mouth, but no words came out. He wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure he trusted his own voice in that moment.

Lily turned back to him, her emerald eyes blazing. "To use that kind of magic, to try to fatally harm someone over wounded pride? That's not someone I know. That's not someone I want to know."

James stared at her, momentarily speechless. Sirius and Narcissa exchanged a look, while Bellatrix merely smirked, as if pleased by the revelation.

"If you're going to do this—if you're going to make him pay for what he tried to do—then I'll testify," Lily stated firmly. "I was a witness. I saw everything. And I won't let him get away with attempted murder, no matter who he used to be to me."

James looked utterly shocked. "Evans, you don't have to—"

"Yes, I do," she interrupted. "This isn't about you and me, or our past disagreements. This is about right and wrong. And for once, Potter, I'm seeing things clearly."

James let out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. He searched her face for hesitation, for doubt, but found none. Just unwavering certainty. He realized then that this wasn’t just about Snape anymore. It was about all the choices they had made, the paths they had taken.

Lily turned to go, taking several steps toward the door before pausing. Looking over her shoulder at James, her expression softened just slightly.

"And for what it's worth, maybe I've been wrong about more than just Severus. Maybe there are depths to people that I've been too stubborn to see." Without waiting for a response, she continued toward the door.

At the threshold, she hesitated one final time. "Oh, and Potter? Next time you decide to defend someone's honor, make sure they actually need defending. I can fight my own battles."

With that, she was gone, the door closing quietly behind her.

The silence she left in her wake was deafening. James sat frozen, staring at the space she had occupied, his expression a complex mixture of shock, confusion, and something that might have been hope. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel the need to chase after her. Because, for once, she had come to him.

Sirius was the first to recover. "Well," he said slowly. "I didn't see that coming."

"I did," Harry murmured, almost to himself. When the others looked at him questioningly, he simply shrugged.

"So," Bellatrix drawled after a moment, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. "Azkaban it is, then?"

James took a deep breath, his eyes refocusing as he looked around at the group. "Yeah," he said, his voice steadier now. "Azkaban it is. Snape made his choice. Now he can live with the consequences."

"And Evans?" Sirius asked quietly.

James's expression grew determined. "She made her choice too. And for once, I think we might actually be on the same side."

TBC.