A Push in the Right Direction – Chapter 7 – emersli1!

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10 Minutes

Two weeks later, and Quinn was more than ready for his casts to come off.

Not only was the immobility irksome, but the damn things also itched like the devil.  Or the skin under then itched like the devil.  As they wheeled him into the procedure room, he looked curiously at everything.  Quinn had never been casted as a child, because that might have drawn too much attention.  And as a young man, well, the wizarding world handled broken bones differently.

“Are you ready, Mr. Quinn?”  The young technician looked at him expectantly.

“You have no idea how ready I am.”  Quinn replied with feeling.

The young man laughed.  “Oh, I hear that a lot.  I’d imagine the itching is driving you mad by now, right?”  Moving his device closer to the gurney, he set up to remove the cast from Quinn’s right arm first.

The sound of the saw was vaguely horrifying, but Quinn didn’t flinch.  As the tech unstrapped the arm and removed the sling a dull ache began in his collarbone.  It barely phased him as he watched curiously while the saw steadily cut through the plaster cast.

Gently the technician removed the pieces of plaster and then used a warm, wet cloth to wipe down the skin.  Quinn groaned in relief and the tech laughed merrily.  “That good, huh?  Well, wait until I get the other one off.”

Suiting action to words, the tech picked the saw back up and began moving it over the cast on Quinn’s left arm.  “Now they’ll modify your knee brace when you get to rehab, this should be the end of the plaster, as long as you stay out of the roadways.”

As the cast fell apart, the tech picked the pieces off and placed them in the waste container.  Another warm, wet rag washing down his arm felt incredible and Quinn involuntarily looked at the arm he usually avoided seeing if at all possible.  The cast had actually been a favor for that, though the growing itch had eventually outstripped the benefit.

But now… Quinn stared at the uncasted arm, pale and weak with a distinct lack of muscle tone …and sporting a distinct lack of Dark Mark.

He blinked, and blinked again.  The arm was still bare and unmarked.  Wildly, Quinn looked at the other arm, as though perhaps he had forgotten which arm he had hated for the past three years.  No Dark Mark, on either arm.

Uncaring of what the tech might think, Quinn quickly dropped into meditation and raced to the spot in his Occlumency shields where the dark monster lurked.  Peering through the transparent wall … he looked into empty space.  Tentatively reaching through the wall he encountered … nothing.  Fearfully dropping that section entirely … nothing.

Hurrying to the place where he had tried to ward off the light monster, once again … nothing.

Corvus dropped deeper, into the core of his magic. 

The reds were darker, the orange deeper.  The blues and greens had taken on heavier shades.  The yellow was more golden and the violet darkened to a true purple.  But there was no corruption.  It was as though with the taint gone, his magical core had finally finished maturing in the aftermath of his accident as it worked to save his life.

Save his life…

But it didn’t.  He had died.  The truth suddenly burst on him in a glorious rush of understanding.

He had died.

And now he could live!

At the beginning of August, Albus Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts refreshed and ready for the new school year.  He was actually feeling quite positive about everything this year.

He had a full staff.  Enrollment was up as the wizarding world was no longer afraid of their children being targeted.  He had found a splendid set of new robes for the Welcoming Feast.

Oh, Albus knew that Tom Riddle wasn’t truly dead.  He’d pop up again, whether anyone else believed it or not.  But Albus would be prepared.  He had a perfectly placed spy and a wonderful martyr just waiting to be willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good.  His careful plans had come to fruition perfectly.

It would be a few years, and Albus planned to enjoy them, but he would be ready when the monster returned.

Humming to himself, he began sorting the pile of mail in his office.  Really, he supposed he should have put a forwarding ward on his mail, but Albus had felt he deserved a little break.  Spotting an envelope of heavy parchment bearing the seal of Gringotts, he sighed.  What in the world did the goblins want now?

Albus had approved the expense to upgrade some of the wards, being careful not to allow wards that would block dark objects or curses.  Didn’t want his Potions Professor to be too uncomfortable now.  Just a little bit.

Chuckling to himself at the memory of the look on Severus’s face when he’d tugged on his magic .. ah, that was one of his better pranks.  Breaking the seal and unfolding the missive from the bank, Albus suddenly stopped laughing.

We regret to inform you of the death of Severus Tobias Snape.

The Will has been executed as required, and you have been named as a beneficiary.  Please attend the bank at your convenience to collect your bequest.

Kagan Stonefist, Account Manager

What in the world had the fool done?

Albus flew to the curio case in the corner, where he kept his baubles and opened the case containing the charmed skull infused with a drop of Severus’s blood.  Nothing but crystal shards remained.  A summoning charm for any particles of blood came up empty.

Damn it all to hell, the idiot had actually killed himself.  Now what was Albus going to do for a spy?

Hmmm.  The note mentioned a bequest.  Curious, Albus opened his floo and threw in the floo powder.  “Gringotts Bank” and away he went, coming out in the small room to the side of the lobby reserved for floo traffic.

Moving quickly across the lobby to an unoccupied teller, Albus presented the note.  “I need to see Kagan Stonefist about a personal matter.”

The teller looked at the note, and tapped a crystal to the left of his workstation.  “Kagan Stonefist, to the lobby.”  He then looked at Albus and gestured for him to move out of the line and over to the side of the lobby to wait.

Albus did so with poor grace.  Really, what was the wizarding world coming to when service workers just acted like they owned the place.

“Albus Dumbledore?  I’m Stonefist.   Please follow me.”  The account manager turned down a featureless hallway and stopped before a nondescript door.  “In here please.”

Walking into the room, Albus saw it was a small conference room.  “There was mention of a bequest of some sort?”  Really, he had plenty of other things to do today.  Including apparently hiring a new Potions Professor.

“One moment.”  Stonefist moved over to a cabinet on the wall.  Opening the door, he took out a small leather bag with a drawstring closure.  Bringing it over to the table, he handed it to the wizard.

Albus opened the bag eagerly and emptied the contents onto the table.

A small pile of silver sickles and a length of rope.

Albus stared at the objects in confusion.  Had he really paid Severus so little that this was all he had to leave?  Shrugging, he put the coins back into the bag, counting as he went.  “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.”

Not sure what to do with the rope, Albus tucked it into a pocket.  Taking his leave of the quiet account manager, he returned to the lobby.  It was really a lovely late summer day.  Deciding against flooing back immediately, he wandered out into Diagon Alley.  Perhaps he could find a new hat to go with his robes for the Welcoming Feast.

Back in the bank, Kagan Stonefist bared all his teeth in a terrifying expression.  Moving towards his director’s office, he thought about all the ramifications of what had just occurred.  Knocking on the door, he was bade to enter by a gruff voice.

“Well Stonefist?  Don’t waste my time… what did you need that required an immediate conference?”  The Bank Director was a busy man, and had too much to do to coddle his employees.

“Director, sir.  I wanted to report that Albus Dumbledore has been left a Judas Purse by deceased Potions Brewer Severus Snape.  He doesn’t seem to appreciate the significance.  He accepted the bag, and actually even kept the rope.”  Stonefist despised wizards on general principles, but he really detested those who ignored the foundations and lore of their own people.

“Really … How interesting.”  Director Ragnok practically purred.  “We will of course enact all the appropriate measures in this case.  Albus Dumbledore has been marked as a betrayer of oaths.  Send him the required ten day notice.  And send a copy of the notice to the Board of Governors as well.  They will have to appoint someone else to attend to the financial business of the school.”

Stonefist nodded and hurried away to complete those tasks.

Albus could have protested his innocence or refused the bag.  It was as good as admitting his crime.  

Gringotts would not do business with a betrayer of oaths.  

Park Grove actually lived up to its name.

It was a small, one story building surrounded by trees and sequestered in a private park with winding trails and a duck pond.

Or so Corvus had been told.

He hadn’t actually made it that far yet.  Right now, just walking from the bed to the bathroom was a triumph.  But soon.  Soon he would be able to go outside without being in a chair controlled by someone else.

The techs and nurses were all very friendly and willing, but Quinn longed for the day when he could just decide to take himself off for a walk and … go.  Remembering harvesting trips with Master Gaiar, walks through the cool mountain woods of Andorra, even walking to the park down the block and around the corner from his childhood home… 

Corvus Quinn was tired of sitting still.

The pain of his healing bones was a small price to pay for his freedom, so he worked stoically at his exercises and day by day his strength grew.  And as his body healed, his brain was busy.  Quinn was sure it was his death that had broken the bonds his Dark and Light Lords had forced on him.  It was quite telling that the bond with his true Master, Ambrose ap Gaiar, was still intact.  The bond he chose for himself and accepted freely was still strong, while the ones he had been tricked into had completely disappeared.

Now he just had to figure out how to liberate at least Harry before he left for home.  Corvus hadn’t forgotten Sirius, but the two-year-old came first.  Time enough to take care of the adults once the child was safe.

One thing was for certain, he would have to be very careful to make sure Harry was free of any marks, light or dark, that might allow him to be tracked or influenced.  Quinn knew a couple of spells that might reveal magic attached to another’s core.  He even thought he could do them wandlessly, a necessity since his wand was now presumably a pile of twigs in a London roadway.  Hopefully both spells would come up blank and the little boy had simply been spirited away for Albus to make use of later.

That was quite bad enough.

Of course, Quinn could use magic to create documents claiming Harry as his own to present to the muggle police.  But any magic cast in the vicinity might alert Albus or trip his net.  Whatever else you might say about Albus Dumbledore, he was a powerful wizard with a deft touch at spell work.  

Deciding that it would have to be done through the muggle world, he began thinking of ways and means.  

“Good morning, Mr. Quinn.  Time for physio.”

Quinn sighed.  Might as well begin planting some seeds now.

The nurse looked at him in a little dismay.  Corvus Quinn was, without exception, her most willing patient.

“What’s wrong?  Are you in pain?  More than usual?  Do we need to rethink your plan?”  That sigh had sounded downright morose.

Quinn looked up at her.  “No.  No more pain than usual.  I just … I miss my son.  I chose a facility here in Surrey because my sister-in-law is keeping him while I’m recovering and I’d hoped she’d bring him to visit.”

The woman melted immediately.  “Oh, that’s terrible, that is.  How old is the lad?”

“Two-years-old now.  I missed his birthday.  I thought … well.”  Another sigh.  “The quicker I get back on my feet the quicker I can go get him and take him home.”

“She didn’t even bring him by on his birthday?!  What an evil-minded woman.”  Then realizing she might have given offense she continued, “I guess she might be trying to keep him from being upset by your wounds?”

Corvus snorted.  “Oh no.  I think you were right the first time.  My late wife’s sister is not someone I would ordinarily have left my child with, but … “

“Well, we’ll all do our part in getting you back up on your feet so you can go get your boy!  The very nerve, keeping him away … with you right here and everything!”  The nurse wheeled him on down the hall to the physio room.

Before shift change every nurse on staff knew about Quinn’s little boy.  And every one of them was determined to see the man back on his feet and able to reunite with his son.