Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR, not me.
Prologue
February 16, 1982
The Ministry of Magic was unusually active at this time. Normally, most workers would have left before nine, leaving just a skeleton crew of night staff and the house elves. It was two in the morning and many workers from the Auror Department, Magical Law Enforcement, and the Wizengamot were still at work, as had been the norm for the past three and a half months.
Voldemort had been dead for the past three and a half months, vanquished by a baby. Harry Potter was now recognized as the Wizarding World's savior and most witches and wizards were going around in an euphoric state, save those who now had to tie up the loose ends of the war. In the last eleven years, very few arrests had been made. All the Aurors had to go on were vague descriptions of masked figures in black robes who were like shadows, appearing out of nowhere to wreck havoc. Now, it appeared that the loss of their master had caused the Death Eaters to panic, allowing the Ministry to make its first mass arrests in eleven years. The back up of trials was enormous and Aurors, clerks, and Wizengamot were working insane hours to get everyone processed and sent either to Azkaban or back home.h
Michael Cranford, a senior clerk at the MLE, was disgusted by the proceedings until January, when exhaustion had caught up to him and he had stopped caring that the only surefire way to get a trial was to give copious amounts of money to the right people or to have a plausible defense that not even the most corrupt could ignore.
He dipped his quill in ink and began filling out a new form, scheduling Lucius Malfoy's trial for March third. He then began creating a case file of sorts. Accused claims to have been under the Imperius Curse…forced to take the Dark Mark…has killed, tortured…
It was all routine, writing down the countless atrocities, the lines of defense, the prosecution, all neatly summed up for the Wizengamot's perusal. It was efficient. The defense gave evidence to the clerks as did the prosecution. The clerks would then write up that evidence in a tidy manner to save the Wizengamot from lengthy speeches and cross-examinations, cutting down trials to a short speech and a vote. It was efficient and no one voiced their thoughts that the system may have flaws.
Half-way through with Malfoy's file, Michael began to nod off. A five minute cat nap couldn't hurt, so he neatly put away the file and sank down onto the desk as if it were the most wonderfully soft pillow in the world.
Albus Dumbledore had just come out of the courtroom - a late trial, merely a formality, to send Crouch Jr. and the Lestranges to Azkaban. His jaw clenched as he remembered seeing Frank and Alice being brought to St. Mungo's, both had been shaking uncontrollably and Alice had been screaming. Their boy, Neville, had just sat there, silently staring off into space. The Healers told Albus that the Longbottoms' minds had been severely damaged by the curse and it was unlikely that they would ever recover.
He tried to pull his mind from the trial that had just passed, but the still raw and fresh memories came pouring back into his mind. It was rare for Albus to use Occlumency to ease the emotion of certain memories, but that night, he did so.
It was time to go arrange a trial for another Death Eater. Albus took the elevator to the fourth floor, where the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was, and strode past the junior clerks' cubicles, some which still were lit, in favor of going to the senior clerks' offices. He had tried arranging Severus Snape's trial with the junior clerks, but had no luck. One of them eventually told him that only a few could get a trial, Snape wasn't one of the lucky few, and that not even the Chief Warlock could influence that. Now could Albus please leave them to their work? Hopefully at two in the morning, the one senior clerk still at the Ministry would be too tired to refuse.
Albus knocked at the door. No answer. He tried again, this time calling, "Hello?"
The door was opened by a bleary eyed clerk who looked as though he had fallen asleep. "Can I help you?" he asked, his tone conveying disbelief that someone would want to talk at the time. He gestured Albus into the office, where Albus took a seat on a rather uncomfortable wooden chair. He pondered whether or not it would be impolite to conjure up a sofa and decided that at three a.m. it was warranted.
"Albus Dumbledore." He extended his hand, which the clerk accepted.
"Michael Cranford. Now, how can I help you?"
"I would like to arrange a trial."
The clerk looked sharply at him. "I would need to know for whom and the particulars of the case. I'm sure that you know, being Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, sir, that we simply have too many new arrests to give a trial to everyone. I do not care much for bribes, so whoever this person is, they'd better have a good case in their favor."
Albus Dumbledore remarked quietly, "It is a sad day when justice is abandoned for efficiency, is it not?"
Cranford replied, "Of course it is. But that doesn't really help me, and if you do not mind, I'd rather make this discussion quick so that I can go home. Who needs a trial?"
It seemed as if this clerk wasn't going to be too sympathetic. "Severus Snape."
Cranford was flipping through a well worn folder in search of something. He grabbed a sheet of paper and read off of it. "Severus Snape, 21, arrested November 13, 1981, has the Dark Mark." The last bit of information was read with an air of finality, as if it closed matters.
"Severus Snape was a Death Eater, yes, but there were extenuating circumstances."
"Such as? I do not mean to be rude sir, but even a member of the Wizengamot needs to produce some sort of evidence or reasoning."
Albus briefly closed his eyes. He wasn't going to be able to get a trial for Severus without explaining the spying to Cranford. Of course, if Voldemort really was dead, then there was no harm in telling anyone. However, Albus Dumbledore knew, perhaps just as well as the erstwhile Tom Riddle, that the limits of magic could be pushed, maybe even enough to preserve a soul. No, it was far better to be cautious.
"What I have to tell you then is information that must be kept quiet. I can inform the rest of the Wizengamot on my own, so you will not write this down. I need your magically binding word that you will not discuss what I have told you with another person or being."
Albus smiled to himself. A gleam of curiosity shone in Cranford's eyes. He repeated, "Do I have your word, Mr. Cranford?"
The words came out of Cranford's mouth almost reluctantly as he took out his wand. "I, Michael Cranford, do swear upon my magic not to inform any being about what is told to me tonight by one Albus Dumbledore."
Albus' eyes twinkled. "Lemon drop Mr. Cranford?"
He sighed when Cranford shook his head. Poor fellow didn't know what he was missing.
"Severus Snape was a Death Eater, yes. However, before the end of the war, he came to me and offered his services, which I accepted. And so, Severus became a spy, passing along a good deal of solid information to our side – at great personal risk to himself."
Albus paused; that really was all there was to the story. He didn't want to lie to Cranford and certainly not to the rest of the Wizengamot.
Cranford looked disappointed. "So he was a spy? As a senior clerk, Mr. Crouch has given me access to the records. This would definitely have been written down. Is that why he is in Azkaban, there was some bureaucratic mix up?"
Should he tell Cranford about the Order? The fellow had already taken a vow…and probably would follow up on Albus' claims.
He cleared his throat. "Mr. Cranford, I'm afraid that you do not quite understand. The Ministry of Magic is not the only organization that worked against Voldemort."
Predictably, Cranford flinched at the name.
"I head an organization called the Order of the Phoenix. Severus Snape's spying is not on the Ministry record."
"So how do I know that you are telling the truth?"
"I can – and I'm sure that Severus would be willing to – testify under Veristaserum."
"At the trial of course. I suppose then, that one can be arranged."
"Thank you for your understanding, Mr. Cranford. I need my Potions master back, and I do hope that there is room for a trial in early March. Perhaps the third?"
Cranford nodded, already making a note to himself. Just as Albus was about to get up, Cranford asked, "Sir, what else did the Order of the Phoenix do?"
Albus decided that he had given Cranford enough information. The Order was a secret organization for a reason.
"I think that this is enough for tonight. After all, I wouldn't want to keep you up."
"Good night Mr. Cranford, it was a pleasure." He let himself out of the office before the persistent lad could say anything else.
Malfoy, Michael decided could get his trial bumped back a bit. The Imperious defense was a good move, an Unforgivable that couldn't be disproved, even if any fool on the street knew that Malfoy was lying. Snape…there was something strange there. The Order of the Phoenix, Michael decided, warranted some quiet investigation once he had the time to do so.
The adrenaline had worn off and Michael filled out Severus Snape's forms. As he was doing so, he wondered what this Death Eater had done to win Dumbledore's support. The exhaustion was coming back in full force and Alastor Moody's voice echoed in his mind, relentlessly reminding Michael, "There are some spots which never come off. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater", as Michael collapsed on his desk for that second time that night.
In the next two months, Michael Cranford would try and fail to find anything other than vague information on the Order. He would also be frustrated by the lack of information concerning Severus Snape. Michael Cranford would also, eventually give up on his search. The events of February 16th, 1982 would be forgotten until a later date.
Thank you for reading!