MwaM; Ch 20: The One with Mood Swings

Author's Note: Hello there, this is chapter 20 of Merc with a Mouth. I really hope you will like it.

Important Disclaimer: All the characters in the story have been aged up, and therefore every character is an adult. This is an alternate universe story, which means none of the characters are minors or underaged.

Also, congratulations to our Guildmasters: Camo, I am Lord Dems, StormFox, RyanMK666, PenguGoesVroom, Hydrus Black and Darth Josh! 😇🥰

Now, without any further ado....Let's begin!

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Merc with a Mouth

-Dev Sagittarius Black

~Chapter 20: The One with Mood Swings~

.

Magic pulsed off him like heat from a forge; even the torches strained against their sconces. Voldemort did not breathe.

He seethed.

No word in any tongue would have managed to explain the plethora of emotions that were rolling off of him at that moment. His wrathful gaze glared daggers at the bowed head of the balding fat Animagus who had been sent by him as a spy to Hogwarts and had just returned with the utterly hateful news of what transpired the night before. 

He summoned one of the many beautiful Chinese terracotta vases that had been used to decorate the alcoves around the huge throne room and flung it at the shivering coward of a man.

‘SMASH!’

Despite his portly belly and withering bones, Wormtail nimbly dodged the incoming projectile and squeaked as it smashed on the stone wall behind him.

“And what of Lucius?” He asked the man. “Why isn’t he here with you? Did you hear anything about his death too?”

“N-No, Master.” The rat squeaked. “I-I only heard snippets about Greyback and his pack. None of them spoke about Lucius at all.”

“What about the professors? Did they say something?” 

“No, master.” He shook his head in denial. “I-I even checked the hospital wing and its private wards, but except for one, all of them were empty, an-and Lucius wasn’t the one inside it.”

The Dark Lord didn’t say anything at all. He just leaned back in his chair, his fingers clenching into a fist; the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the irregular twitching of his ruby orbs in his eye sockets were the only signs that the man was angry. 

Wormtail was shivering like an old leaf in a wild thunderstorm, hoping to survive but knowing full well that the winds wanted nothing more than to tear it to shreds. He forced himself not to look at the snake—failed—and caught the lazy gleam in her eyes and the little twitch of her tongue. She saw him. Sweet Merlin, she was only waiting for her master’s command.

The man hated the maledictus. He knew that the snake had once been a gorgeous woman, but her bloodline had been cursed with a life of slithering. It could’ve been a pitiful tale if the cursed reptile had been forced to live in the wild and foraged on nothing more than wild hares, rats and occasionally birds or their eggs. 

Unfortunately, for Wormtail, that wasn’t the case. The woman had been cursed, but the snake had been blessed. She lived a happy life, as happy as any pet could get, and he definitely knew a lot about happy pet lives. 

The reason for her contentment—and his hatred—was that it was him who had been forced into serving the snake, and even though he never really came in front of the snake in his animagus form, he knew that the snake acknowledged him more as a rat than a human. He could still see the way her eyes lazily traced him before her tongue flickered out as if, to her, he was nothing more than a particularly scrumptious meal, one that she would love to devour someday.

And that…gave him chills.

“Womtail….” The Dark Lord hissed, “In this little trip of yours, is there anything that would ensure your continued existence, or should I tell Nagini that her dinner is ready?” 

Wormtail’s eyes flickered back towards the humongous maledictus who had already started to uncoil herself from her resting position, and he began to speak in a hurried tone.

“Ma-master…I—the man! That was Hagrid. He was the man in the private ward! He was wrapped in bandages and didn’t look well! I don’t think he’ll survive.”

“So Dumbledore losing a useless oaf who can’t even do magic and lives in a rundown cottage should compensate for our loss of Greyback and five of the fiercest werewolves?” He intoned, his cold voice coming out in whispers and yet loud enough to make the rat shiver. “You really do have a misjudged sense of barter system, don’t you, Pettigrew?”

“I-I…” He took a small step back as Nagini started to flicker her tongue towards him. “I don’t…don’t think so, master. Certainly…not!”

“Well, that’s the problem then. You think.” Voldemort narrowed his eyes. “You were never told to think, Peter. Never! Your work was to relay useful information, and it seems you have outlived that as well. Therefore….” He turned towards his snake. 

“Ha-Harry Carter!” Pettigrew squeaked loudly, catching the Dark Lord's attention. 

“What?” 

“Ha–Harry Carter, my Lord.” The fat man replied, tremendously relieved that his master wasn’t sending the snake anytime soon. “He-He’s the boy who-who killed Greyback. He is the one who killed all of them, they say!” 

Blood-red pupils narrowed once more as the man leaned back on his throne, “How?” 

“Thr–Through Dark Magic, master, or summoning creatures. No-No one knows for sure, but he has, a-and I even heard a few Hufflepuff girls talk about his pets—a dog named Zach and a thestral.”

“Did you see him?”

“He was…not in Hogwarts, master.” Peter looked back at the man’s face and saw the fire return to them. “He was out of school, and I-I couldn’t wait any longer.”

All that the former marauder got was a second before Voldemort's bone-white wand was pointed in his face and….

“CRUCIO!” 

This time he couldn’t dodge it. Pettigrew immediately crumpled to the floor, bawling his eyes out as he felt hot knives pierce through all of his nerves. It felt like an eternity but was really just a minute before the Dark Lord cancelled his spell and placed the wand back on the small mahogany table beside his throne.

“Leave now.” He glared at the fat animagus who was more animal than human. “Go to the castle after a few days when Dumbledore stops playing host to the DMLE and gather as much information as you can about this Carter boy.”

“Ye-yes, master.” Peter bobbed his head, trying his level best to control his flayed nerves as he hobbled out of the throne room.

The Dark Lord watched the waddling man close the door behind him before he leaned back in his bejewelled throne and glanced at the frescoed ceilings of the former ballroom. His eyes traced the sword of Arthur Pendragon—The Excalibur—and Merlin's staff as it rained terror on Morgana’s army. 

False tales, fake heroes and asinine sheep-minded humans who happily allowed themselves to be shepherded by the biased historians into believing that it was Morgana who was dark and therefore wrong and Merlin who was light and, of course, the right side.

Light and Dark—foolish labels for troglodytes. Power was the truth, and history its liar.

Untrue to the last word. Nothing more than a cheap documentation of events written from the perspective of the one who won. It was similar to the African proverb that said until the lion learns to write, every story will glorify the hunter. 

And so they did. 

Thoughts of the wild reignited his mind about Greyback and others—Aldric, Marlove, Romulus, and the Grimjaw twins—they were the best of the pack, with Aldric also being the second in-command. Not only was he strong and loyal, but his age also made him sharp and a man of considerable wisdom who understood when to attack and when not to.

And a single boy had managed to kill them all? Unbelievable. Six of the fiercest wolves against a schoolgoing green boy was like them poking an insect for their merriment before crushing it when they were bored.

What had happened last night? Just twenty hours ago he had been sitting in this very seat and was waiting for Lucius to come through the doors and tell him all about the success of the raid and how Amelia Bones had not only retreated from her pursuit but also ensured that the Wizengamot would certainly choose Pius as the new Minister for Magic.

How wrong and wishful he had been…..only for his blonde servant to go missing following an unsuccessful raid where not only had he permanently lost the six werewolves but also the loyalty of the entire pack, which would soon learn about Greyback and Aldric’s death and then proceed to fight amongst themselves to choose a new alpha.

There was a small knock on the door which jolted him out of his musings, and, for a moment, he debated on whether he should simply kill the person who had dared to interrupt him at this time. He knew he shouldn’t, but the urge was there. 

“Ma-Master?” Wormtail’s voice squeaked as the rat opened the door once more, and the urge to kill the intruder roared inside the Dark Lord. “There is someone who wishes to meet you.” 

“Who is it?” 

“Lord Greengrass.” The rat answered, and almost immediately another idea began to form in the Dark Lord's cruel mind. An idea that would certainly enjoy the pleasurable servitude of the Ancient and Most noble House of Greengrass. 

An idea that would ultimately face the same end as the werewolves before it…..with our friendly neighbourhood merc happily chopping them to death.

⁂

The regular clobbering of leather boots on stone echoed through the empty office of the DADA professor, Severus Snape, as the man paced to-and-fro in front of the small hearth that hoisted a small flame balanced on the timbers. 

The room was silent, but the owner wasn’t. He wasn’t shouting, no, but his mind? That was another thing altogether. Since last night, it had become a battleground of thoughts which were running a mile a minute as the scenes kept flashing in his brain.

Scenes that had Carter, Bones, Bell and Hagrid.

Snape paced towards the hearth. 

Memories where the nights cried with wolf howls—hungry, angry, and full of bloodlust.

Snape’s foot turned, and he paced away from the hearth. 

Flashes of the girls running on a Thestral—Terrified out of their bones as the wolves howled and then attacked.

Things had gone exactly as he and Lucius had planned for the last few days. And why wouldn’t they? The two of them had always been the best at plans and executions. They had made sure to plan everything to the last minute detail and ensured that there were no variables in their equation. A brilliant plan with no plot holes and an absolutely foolproof execution. 

‘Some absoluteness it was….’ The man thought as he shook his head, thinking about what had happened next. 

His task was only limited to calming the Whomping Willow and then returning back to his chambers, waiting for Lucius to give him the good news. Severus had done just that.

There had been one small, fatal deviation. His craving to witness Carter’s end had overpowered his senses, and he’d lingered in the dark to watch the beasts feast. How bitterly he despised himself for that weakness.

The black bat shook his greasy locks as he released a deep breath, trying to control a shudder that threatened to overwhelm his senses once more. He immediately switched his pacing towards the table laden with another glass and half a bottle of firewhiskey.

It was the same bottle that had given him the idea of sending Draco after Carter. The one incident which had led to this—The first hit of the domino. He now understood why Dumbledore had told him to stay away from the boy the first time they had gone to the Headmaster's office.

He regretted not listening to the old man’s words.

He poured two fingers' worth of the dull amber liquid in the glass. He had already finished a few glasses since last night—one even contained a calming draught—and yet the shivers were there. Dull, yes, but definitely there.

Snape sighed as the distilled liquid burnt through his throat and settled in his stomach. His mind still tried to deny what he had witnessed last night, and he really wanted someone—hopefully Lucius—to tell him that it was nothing but an illusion, a nightmare of sorts, and that Carter hadn’t really looked at him when he was hiding behind a suit of armour and the grin that had sprouted on his bloodied face wasn’t meant for him.

He really wanted to believe it. He did! But he just couldn’t because deep down Severus Snape knew that Carter had seen him hiding, and the grin was meant for him. The boy had deliberately hinted that he knew the secret, and that soon—very soon—he’d be back to talk about it. 

And that didn’t settle well with the DADA professor at all.

‘Knock-Knock’

Snape flinched at the knock; his wide eyes darted towards the office door, and beads of sweat formed on his pale forehead. 

“WH-” He stopped himself before clearing his throat. “Who is it?” 

“Professor?” A boy’s voice came from the other side, a voice that relieved him since it wasn’t Carter’s. “It’s me, sir, Draco.” Malfoy said and slowly opened the door. “May I come in, sir?”

It took them a few moments to settle as the Malfoy heir sat on the offered seat while Snape settled on his own, alongside the glass of brown liquid that was placed between them. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, the elder mage trying his best to gather his thoughts while the younger one was wrathful at the elder one for a number of reasons.

“Have you—” “I still—” 

Snape raised an eyebrow; it seemed like his godson had something on his mind as well. Something that was so important that the brat had even decided to forget his manners and was running low on patience. 

“Go ahead.” 

Draco pursed his lips, his grey eyes glaring daggers at the older man. “Why didn’t you say anything when Dumbledore took away my badge?” 

“Your badge?” Snape frowned, trying to remember what his idiot godson was babbling about. “What are you talking about?” 

“My prefects badge! What else?!” Malfoy cried, frowning at the man. “Dumbledore took it away along with my position, and all you did was stand there when it was you who sent me after Carter.”

“I didn’t ask you to confront the boy, only take note of his schedule. None of this would have happened if you had just done exactly what had been asked of you.”

“And what was I to do with Carter’s schedule, huh? Write a book about him?” Draco didn't back down from Snape’s glare. “You cost me my position, professor, and you know it very well.”

“With the way things are going, you might lose more than just a measly position.” The wizard muttered under his breath, taking a small sip from the glass.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked, “What am I going to lose?” 

“Never mind that.” Severus shook his head. “Have you heard from your father? Or your mother even? Have either of them tried to contact you since last night?” 

“Err….No?” He frowned. “Why? What happened?” It didn’t take him long to connect the dots. “Wait! That werewolf attack last night? That was my father?” 

“It'd be better if you didn’t say anything to anyone; I would rather you stay oblivious to everything than blabber it out to some undeserving ears.” Snape leaned back in his seat. “But if Narcissa hasn’t said anything yet, then your father is obviously safe from the danger.”

“How far was he involved with this?” Pale fingers clenched on the wooden handle of the chair. “What did he do? Was he the one who—”

A simple flick, and Malfoy’s cries were halted halfway through his angry lips. “Much better.” Snape placed his wand back on the table. “Now, the werewolves were meant to be a warning for Dumbledore that Hogwarts isn’t as safe as he assumes it to be. Your father had been in-charge of the attack, though he was only supposed to ensure that none of the idiots actually went inside the castle. After that Lucius was to take the wolves away.” 

He raised a hand to stop the incoming protest. “Carter’s presence was a twist in the plan—an unwanted one—and we paid for it with the loss of Greyback and his elites.” His gaze shifted towards the window where he could see the sun setting behind the mountain. “I was worried because your father was meant to inform me about how the warning went, but I doubt that he’d have stayed long enough to witness the carnage till the end.” 

Snape suppressed an involuntary shiver. ‘I really need another calming draught.’ He thought as Harry's bloodied face killing the two tied werewolves flashed in his mind.

“So is it true then?” Draco asked after cancelling the charm on him, “That Carter killed six werewolves on his own?”

“No.” The DADA professor shook his head. “It’s more like four. Hagrid’s in the hospital wing, and I think that man took down at least two of them.”

“I don’t believe it! Carter’s a mudblood! A no-name troll from some no-name school. I refuse to believe that a guy like him could go against a single of Greyback’s much less kill four of them. It has to be Dumbledore or another professor.” 

“Believe all you want, boy, but the truth can’t be shaped by your beliefs alone!” Snape raised his voice for the first time. “You weren’t there when Carter killed them like a maniac, and those who were have already given their interviews to the aurors. I’m sure you can whine it out of your father once he gets the entire thing from the DMLE records.” 

“But can you believe it?” 

Snape took a few moments to answer that one, and most of the silence was used to remove the plethora of reasons for him indeed believing that Carter had killed the werewolves. Finally, he gave a single nod, “I do. Minerva told the staff about it last night, and for everything that she is, that woman is not a liar.”

With a resigned sigh, Draco slumped back in his chair; he had hoped that everything about last night had been untrue. He so wanted to go and spit on Carter’s face for lying through his teeth and on Bones and Bell too, but it seemed that his godfather, the staff and everyone else were indeed telling the truth.

“And I would suggest you remain out of Harry Carter’s way for the foreseeable future.”

The Malfoy heir snapped his head towards Snape. “Pardon?” He intoned, “Did I hear that correctly, sir?” He sneered, “Did the head of my house—my own godfather—who had supported everything I did just tell me to stay out of a fucking mudblood’s way? Tell me I heard it all wrong.”

“You heard it right, Draco, and I only supported you because the things you did before could’ve easily been handled, but if you go against Carter anymore, then neither you nor your father nor your family name could do anything about it.” 

“My father—”

“Tried to get him expelled, and failed. He even tried more, but look how it went. Now, I don’t care if you take it as a warning, a command or a suggestion, but I want you to stay away from Carter, and if you don’t, then I won’t be coming to save you from that boy.”

“You are afraid of a student?! You?!” Draco jumped out as his chair fell back with a thud. “You could do anything to anyone, and now you are—”

It was at that moment that a pitch-black owl swooped inside the room and landed on Snape’s desk. The owl was carrying a letter, but it wasn’t the letter that surprised the two men. It was the Malfoy family’s seal that was on the letter which raised their hackles.

“Probably from Lucius.” Snape deftly removed the letter from the owl’s leg and opened the seal only to get a tiny note from the envelope instead of a long letter. His face didn’t show it, but his onyx eyes circled through a plethora of emotions as he read the small note before settling on fear.

“What did my father say?” Draco asked, eager to hear from the elder Malfoy.

“He didn’t.” Snape shook his head as the note dropped on the tabletop. The man picked up his glass once more and went towards his potions supplies for a calming draught as Draco picked up the note.

Instantly he identified his mother’s delicate cursive, which said; 

Severus,

Lucius has not contacted since last night, and the Dark Lord is getting angry. News of the failed attack has reached him, and he wants to know more. He has summoned a few of the Lords since morning, and soon enough he will summon you and will probably ask you to bring Draco.

If there’s any news of Lucius, I implore you to inform me at once. On another note, I think I’ll have a brief reprieve on the coming weekend, and I trust that you know what to do best regarding that.

May the past nights not darken our steps once more.

“I-I have to go to the Dark Lord?” Draco asked his godfather, who just turned to look at him but didn’t say anything else.

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Elsewhere in the world….

Akershus, Norway

The loud bass thrummed through the walls like a second heartbeat, and the strobe lights painted fleeting constellations across the smoky air inside the dark room. The air was filled with passion, energy, and the smell of alcohol, perfume and sweat as bodies swayed in-tune with the music.

Laughter rose and sorrows were drowned around the room as the people mingled inside with their partners and friends—some even getting a bit frisky as empty bottles of whisky, wine and beer increased on their tables.

Rows of cubicles made of thick black glass were lined up in the far right of the club for people who had the money for it and who prioritised privacy over displaying their acts of affection to the watchful gaze. 

One of them—in the corner most—happened to host a woman who seemed untouched by it all.

Her hair—copper in the dim light but aflame whenever a beam caught it—fell in careful waves down her bare shoulders. The soft crimson of her lips matched the faint glimmer of the wine in her glass that remained untouched and was already losing its chill.

She didn’t dance. Didn’t even pretend to look occupied. Her pale blue eyes, sharp and steady, kept darting toward the entrance every few minutes—each time with a hope that dimmed a little slower than the last.

The crowd passed her by like waves around a lone rock—some drawn by curiosity, others repelled by the quiet gravity she carried.

The woman lifted her flute glass and took a single, unhurried sip as she looked at her small golden wristwatch. “Late again.” She sighed, placing the glass down again. “I'm going to strangle you this time.”

The thick door was opened, and a young guy in a Hawaiian shirt, brown sunglasses and a leather hat over his salt and pepper hair peeked inside the room before his eyes trailed down the cleavage of the woman sitting inside it. 

“Damn, you’re hot.” He whistled, “Any chance I could interest you in a glass of whisky with me?” His eyes fell on the single wine glass, and he gave a small shrug. “Or wine if that’s what you prefer.” 

“Appreciate the offer, but I'll decline.” She shook her head. “I'm waiting for my boyfriend.” 

“Lucky bastard,” The man grinned, showing off his golden tooth before he opened the door completely and walked inside with a small bottle of beer in his hand. “I’m sure he won’t mind me introducing myself to him.” 

“Oh, yes, he would. Very much so.” She nodded. “You see, he's a very grumpy man, and I don’t think he would like the idea of his girlfriend sitting with a stranger.” 

“Well, why do you think I want to introduce myself, darling?” He took a generous sip of the beer before falling unceremoniously heavily into one of the many unoccupied seats.

“I wouldn’t like to be seen with a stranger either, sir, so I want you to leave me alone, or else I’ll be forced to call for security.” She frowned. “I don’t think you would like the results.”

“Bah! I ain’t afraid of those idiots in all black thinking of themselves as James Bond; I’ve seen chimps with more brains and politicians with a better sense of humour than those idiots.” He leaned back in his seat. “Now, as for you thinking of me as a stranger? That’d hurt me a lot more.” 

For a few moments the woman didn’t say anything; her narrowed gaze tried to look at the man through the flashes of lights and tried to recognise his face. Her mind was good….so good that she was the perfect planner who never forgot anything and was even bestowed with the nickname ‘Oracle’ because of how she could predict everything with uncanny precision.

“I don’t remember meeting you in my life,” she said with a finality in her voice, “And I don’t want to change that fact. Therefore, without any further ‘introductions’, I want you to leave the cubicle within the next two minutes, or you’ll be kicked out of the club.”

“You can’t do that, love.” He smiled at her. 

“Oh, yes, I can.” She replied, her tone clearly telling him that she would. “You see….my boyfriend and I….” She smiled, but her eyes were like cold chips of ice. “Sometimes we are crazy enough to do something that doesn’t sound doable.”

“Ah, well, I guess that’s a good trait to have.” He nodded before he tilted his head. “Maybe it's one of the many things that I like about you, Vanessa.” 

The moment that the name left his lips, the redhead woman’s entire demeanour changed. She leaned forward to look at him once more—really look at him—and noticed that beneath the Hawaiian shirt there were a plethora of scars and that the smile on his face was a bit too recognisable. 

“Ze-Zero?” She stuttered out, “Is that you?” 

“It’s a shame you think that I can only be quiet a few times, sweetheart.” Atlas replied as he removed his sunglasses, which released his baby blue eyes, and her breath hitched. “I thought you knew that I am always crazy to do anything that isn’t doable.”

After that, all that the gorgeous woman could do was slam into the man she loved, hugging him tightly as he started laughing while his strong arms wrapped around her petite waist.

.

Morning came, and soon enough Vanessa left the hotel room that had been booked by Zero under the false name Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore…Like, who could even imagine that there would actually be a guy with that as a name? That name was so fake, and yet the hotel staff hadn't questioned them even once as they went to their suite and proceeded to fuck each other's brains out throughout the night.

That had been their routine for the past decade after she had learnt that Atlas was indeed alive. They met twice a year with disguises and fake names, made love, and then went on with their lives—Him as a freelance mercenary who takes care of his adopted son, Harry, and her as the mastermind agent, Oracle or A5, who worked as a planner for the A team of The Gallows. 

It wasn’t what she wanted, but it was way better than what she had, and she would rather take these half-yearly meetings than live with the news that a plan made by her own mind was the reason her love was killed.

“Taxi!” Vanessa called out to the passing vehicle that stopped beside her. She opened the gate and sat in the backseat. “Gardermoen airport, please.” She told the driver as the cab started moving.

The woman took a last look at the hotel where Zero was waiting for her to leave so that he could leave an hour after her and then be on his way back to his home. “Have a safe trip, love.” 

“Oh, I’m sure he will.” The driver replied, and for the second time in twenty-four hours, Vanessa was alarmed at the familiarity of a man's voice.

“Wh-What did you just say?” She asked the driver, her hand slowly creeping towards the handgun that was inside her purse. 

“No need to go for the gun, Five.” The man replied and adjusted the rearview mirror so that the woman behind could see the mismatched pair of golden and blue eyes that were glaring at her. “I didn’t know our dear Master was alive.”

“Si-Six!” 

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Ending Note: There we go! Liked it? Loved it? Needs some changes? Please, do tell.

I am waiting for all your comments. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Once more! Important Disclaimer: All the characters in the story have been aged up, and therefore every character is an adult. This is an alternate universe story, which means none of the characters are minors or underaged.

Thank you for reading and your comments,

With regards,
Dev Black