Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

Sirius wasn't sure at what point he had lost his temper, but it was definitely gone. "As an Auror, I've a hell of a lot more place here than you. Why don't you can just go on home to the Potions dungeon and get back to unfairly punishing little boys because you get such a kick out of it, that seems to be what you're good at."

"I do not get a kick out of it. I am a teacher. I do my job."

"How fortunate for you that your job is also your hobby."

Snape sneered viciously. "I'd just like to tell you that those twelve years you spent in Azkaban were the best years of my life. Every morning I woke up with a smile on my face and a song in my heart just knowing you were in there."

"What song would that be? "I May Be A Weasel-Faced Tosser But I've Got An Enormous Broom Shoved Up My-"

"Fuck you, Black."

"Look, Snape. I beat you up at school and I'd be more than happy to do it again. If you even think about trying to prevent me from going in to that cell, if you tell those guards to keep me out, I will rip out your windpipe and garrotte you to death with it. And I don't care if they send me back to Azkaban, because it would be worth it. Got that?"

Snape looked at him, and Sirius was disconcerted to see the beginnings of a cold smile on his face. "Fine," he said. "I hope you like what you're going to see."

Upon Apparating himself into the library at Malfoy Manor, a rather unexpected sight met Lupin's eyes.

"Good God," he swore, involuntarily.

With a startled exclamation and a rather loud thump, Harry and Hermione fell off Lucius' desk and disappeared from view, much to Lupin's relief.

A moment later, Harry popped up from behind the desk, straightening his shirt and rather pink in the face. He felt around the desk for his glasses, put them on, and looked guiltily at Lupin.

"Er, hello, Professor," he said. "We weren't expecting-"

"Yes, well that was rather obvious," said Lupin.

Hermione popped up next to Harry, buttoning her cardigan, her cheeks scarlet. "Professor, hello, how are you?"

"Fine, except that I nearly splinched myself," said Lupin gravely, trying to not grin at their guilty expressions. "Thanks to you."

"We were just kissing," said Harry, looking slightly defensive.

Lupin relented. "Yes, and I'm very happy to see that you're back on good terms. Although that desk is none too sturdy. Do try not to hurt yourselves. In the meantime, I need to speak with Narcissa, so if you'll excuse me-"

"Professor, wait," interrupted Hermione, nervously pushing her hair back behind her ears. "Can you stay for a minute?"

"Right!" said Harry, then blinked and looked confused. "I mean, no.

Don't stay! Wait, I don't mean that either, I mean…"

"Do stop gibbering, Harry," said Lupin, not unkindly, and turned to Hermione, who, still very pink about the ears, was rummaging through the books stacked on the desk. "It's all right, Hermione, I don't want to intrude."

"Oh, it's all right," said Hermione, coming around the desk. Lupin saw she was holding the centaurs' book in her hands. She walked up to Harry and handed it to him. "Look at that, Harry."

Harry looked at it. "It's a book."

"Yes," said Hermione, with a tinge of impatience in her voice.

"So?"

"So, what language is it in?"

"You didn't tell me you wanted me to make with the reading." Harry opened the book, flipped through it at random, and shrugged. "It's in English."

Lupin jumped. "It's what?"

Harry gave him an odd look. "It's in English."

Lupin didn't know whether to splutter or shout. He nearly raced over to Harry, came around behind him, and stared over his shoulder at the pages, seeing the same incomprehensible squiggles and curlicues that he remembered. He jabbed a finger at the page.

"Read me that bit, Harry," he said.

Harry gave him a look that clearly said, "Right, you're off your onion, aren't you, but I'm going to indulge you anyway because you seem basically harmless otherwise." Lupin endured it, keeping his finger firmly on the page while Harry read:

Saturday, the Fourteenth of October. Drank too much last night.

Woke up with dreadful headache only to find blasted Godric stomping about yelling again. God he just never stops yelling. Its great for terrifying the peasantry but not at all pleasant if you're just trying to enjoy your breakfast. Then at the meeting today he took issue with my request that we keep the school closed to all non-pureblooded students. Wouldn't listen to a single one of my arguments. Every time I make a decision on my own, Godric throws a wobbly. Detestable git. And he sat too close to Rowena at dinner again. If he keeps this up-

Harry broke off and looked up at Lupin. "What on earth is this?

What's it going on about?"

Lupin indicated with a jerk of his chin that Harry should keep reading. Harry flipped a few pages forward and read: Told Godric this morning in confidence that I was thinking of selling my soul to gain power over the entire wizarding world. He said, "I don't think that's such a good idea, Sly." I told him I thought it was a very good plan, flawless in fact, whereupon he lost his temper and called me a sad short bastard. I really don't understand what Rowena sees in him.

I'm very much looking forward to killing him.

Harry broke off again, and stared at Lupin with round eyes. "Is this Salazar Slytherin's diary?"

"Well," said Lupin, "as a professional historian and academic, I'd have to say that I need to run tests to determine that, perhaps a Verificarum spell, but, well…." He trailed off, then smiled at Harry and Hermione, sure that the relief in his eyes was plain. "It certainly looks like it."

"Well he certainly sounds a sad sort of laughable prat, doesn't he?"

said Harry, staring at the book in disbelief.

Lupin shrugged. "It's very hard to tell what motivates people to do the things they do," he said diplomatically.

"When you look at this book," asked Harry, stabbing a finger at the page, "it doesn't look like English to you?"

"It isn't English, Harry," said Hermione, looking ever so slightly prim. "It's Parseltongue."

Lupin smiled at her. " It didn't even occur to me it might be a written language. It probably isn't, in fact, but the book could easily have been enchanted so that only a Parselmouth could read it. Very good Hermione, very good indeed."

Hermione beamed as if she'd just been given full marks in an exam, while Harry, struck by a sudden thought, frowned violently.

"Does this mean I'm going to have to read the whole book to you out loud?" he exclaimed, staring at Lupin in dismay. "Bollocks to that!"

If someone had told me this morning, thought Sirius grimly to himself, that at midnight I'd be standing in a lunatic asylum with Severus Snape, trying to piece together mangled bits of Lucius Malfoy, I'd have hit them over the head and called them a daft bugger.

Shows what I know.

The Ministry guards had been surprisingly willing — in fact, more than willing — to let Sirius and Snape into the cell to view what remained of Lucius Malfoy. Partly it had been Sirius' recognizability and reputation as a top-flight Auror; partly it had been Snape's Ministry status, and partly it had been the fact that nobody else wanted to go in there.

It was easy to see why. On walking into the room, Sirius, who had seen quite a few nasty things during his tenure as an Auror, nearly felt his legs give out. There was no body — or at least, nothing remained of Lucius Malfoy that could accurately be termed a body.

Blood drenched the furniture, splattered the walls, made viscous pools on the floor. The thin circle Lucius had drawn on the floor using blood gnawed from his wrist was nearly obscured by long streaks of blood and flesh, and there were also other — things — lying scattered around the room, mixed in with the blood and the white bits of bone: things Sirius didn't want to look at closely. Things that looked a lot like mangled limbs and organs.