Disclaimer: I'm not sure if this is really required, but I've seen it in nearly every Fanfic I've read so I guess I'll put one in as well.. I don't own any part of the Harry Potter universe? My name is not Rowling and I'll never pretend it is.
A/N: Hello readers! Thanks for reading! My writing is a bit of a work in progress and I'm still adjusting to the intricacies of so if you catch any problems please let me know! Constructive criticism is very welcome. Thanks again!
Also I apologize that it's taken me so long to post. The day job has been killer lately.
Chapter 2
Harry Potter was a happy child. That is, he was as happy as a child could be on a dirt floor in a shoddy wooden hut surrounded by dangerous magical creatures, whilst being playfully accosted by a slobbering pup of a bloodhound.
"Down pup down! Don' want ter be drownin 'im in all that slobberin now eh?" Hagrid said,
picking the tiny dog up by the scruff of his neck with a throaty chuckle. Harry's joyous laughter cut off sharply at the removal of his new friend, cries of misery now in its place with
tiny hands outstretched and grasping the empty air in an attempt to reacquire the dog.
"Oh 'ave it your way then yeh great cry baby." Hagrid replied, grinning from ear to ear.
He set the dog back down next to his temporary ward where they immediately picked up where they had left off.
"'aven't got around ter namin 'im yet lad. Got any ideas?" Hagrid asked rhetorically. From underneath the bloodhounds voracious sniffing and licking, bright green eyes locked onto beetle black ones,
giving Hagrid the uncanny impression he'd been understood. "Was thinkin given he's a bloodhound an' all I might name 'im fang or summat. Whadya think eh? Ow's Fang sound?"
Now sitting up, between trying to fend off the enthusiastic dog's advances Harry started clapping and giggling. "Fang!" harry said, making a gesture like an orchestra conductor; arms stretching horizontally. The newly dubbed 'Fang' yelped in surprise and scurried back, whimpering and looking up to his owner for reassurance. The reason for this was made blatantly apparent when, where no teeth had been a moment ago, one giant fang protruded from the dog's mouth. "OH. C'mere Fang, goodness 'arry!
Good one that! But le's not be doin transfigurations and what not 'fore we're eleven eh?" Hagrid said, now slightly panicked. 'ow am I s'posed to undo that?' Hagrid thought as he made for his umbrella.
-oOoOoOo-
Meanwhile in the castle of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva Mcgonagall, Arthur and Molly Weasley, and one very tired looking Augusta Longbottom were meeting in the Headmasters office. "..And how are Frank and Alice, Augusta?" Minerva made small talk so as to stave off the awkwardness that followed their greetings, even though it was clear no one present was quite in the mood to exchange pleasantries. Making a face, Augusta replied "The healers are saying they may never recover." Letting that sink in, she continued, "But Frank is a strong boy and his Alice is just the same. I have the utmost faith in them." She finished, trying to hide her emotions behind a mask of stern indifference. Madam Augusta Longbottom had spent the last forty eight hours reassuming her role as head of house and it had been particularly difficult to handle on top of the grief she was dealing with for the possible, or probable if she was honest with herself, loss of her son and daughter in law.
What she did not share with the gathering was that not only were the healers predicting Frank and Alice may not recover, they were fairly confident they COULD not recover. The damage from the perpetual Crucio's had rendered their bodies raw and vulnerable to infection and it was nearly all they could do to keep them from falling ill.
The healers had told her the night before that they would try some experimental muggle invention called "Antibiotics" so that they could focus on the spell damage but even the healers themselves could not say how likely its success would be. A coin toss was the most positive comparison that had been made for their odds, and however dismal this comparison was, she clung to it like a life raft.
Frank and Alice Longbottom could survive by Augusta's force of will alone, if such a thing had healing properties. The voice of Dumbledore dragged her out of her reverie,
"Well we share your confidence my dear." Albus said encouragingly, trying hard to force a twinkle into his eyes. "And what of Neville?" The headmaster continued. Suppressing another sigh,
Augusta reiterated the status of her grandson yet again. "He's been very quiet but he is well Albus. Now may I ask as to why I have been summoned here this morning?" letting some of her ire at being woken so soon after her return from the hospital leak into her tone saw the Headmaster squirm ever so slightly and forced him to get to his point. Feeling as if Madam Longbottom's stare might actually have a temperature, and a high one at that, Dumbledore delved right into the meat of it,
"Ah well, I daresay you have not been made aware of the arrangements James and Lily Potter had made for little Harry's fostering in the event of their untimely demise?" was his quick reply.
"I have heard of no such arrangements.." Augusta responded, lifting an eyebrow,
feeling as though her workload was about to grow exponentially.
Losing himself again in the little details, Albus painted the picture for Augusta,
"As you may recall, Alice and Lily were spectacular friends in Hogwarts and got on much the same afterward. I believe this led Frank and James to develop quite the friendship as well. As such, the Potters named Alice as young Harry's god mother." Augusta was silent as she tried to reign in her negative emotions. Despite the frigid and callous nature she constantly tried to exude, she was not, in fact, heartless. She knew what her son and daughter in law would want her to do in this scenario, she even agreed with them. But how could she possibly manage raising two boys on top of everything else?
By either her extended silence or the reticence that must have leaked through her mask of composure; Molly Weasley spoke up in her stead. "If you're not able however, Arthur and I would be happy to take him Augusta. It really would be the least we could do."
Arthur Weasley, who had previously been looking on in suppressed pity, suddenly cocked his head, wide-eyed at his wife. Yes, it was the least ANYONE could do but really?! There were already six Weasley children running amok with a seventh practically knocking on the door!
Arthur's look of abject terror was not missed by the present company and prompted Albus to speak up yet again, "I assure you Molly that while your offer is greatly appreciated it is not necessary. If Augusta is unable.." The headmaster did not get a chance to finish as he was cut off by Madam Longbottom,
"I can take him Albus. Is he here? I can collect him now and be on my way." Somewhat surprised, Dumbledore responded in a soft kindly tone, so as to convey his acceptance of any answer and reached his hand out to rest gently on her forearm,
"Are you sure Augusta? Surely it will not be easy to care for two young boys at such a time as this." Silently reaffirming her conclusion, Augusta nodded decisively, "I am. As Mrs. Weasley has so aptly put, it is the least I could do." Molly, now looking guilty at the implied slight responded sheepishly but genuinely "Oh Augusta I did not mean to imply.." Again Augusta cut in so as to negate her previous reproachful statement, "It is quite alright Molly, I am sure you did not. I am as capable as ever of raising two children at once Albus. You may not have known but Frank was rarely alone during his summers and I managed those just fine."
Now feeling somewhat sheepish himself, Albus quickly attempted to clarify he too did not mean to cast aspersions,
"Of course Augusta. No one here is insinuating you are incapable. We are merely concerned that, with all the goings on at present, that this may not be the best time. Perhaps we could find some temporary arrangements for Harry until the 'dust has settled' if you will?" sparing a glance at the Weasley patriarch as he spoke, the headmaster noted that Arthur looked much more accommodating at the mention of 'temporary' fostering. Augusta however had heard enough,
"That won't be necessary Albus. Take me to the boy. I have many things I must do today."
Glancing first at the Weasleys with a nod of dismissal, the Headmaster then turned his gaze toward his Deputy Headmistress, with a suggestive turn of his chin, he managed to convey the question 'would you mind doing the honors?' to which Mcgonagall nodded and gestured for Madam Longbottom to follow. "Very well Augusta. Minerva will escort you to Harry. Thank you Arthur, Molly. I will see you at the next meeting." Preparing to leave, Molly Weasley gave it one more go at mending fences, "Of course Albus and Augusta please, if you need anything at all don't hesitate to call on us." she said sincerely.
Nodding her acknowledgement as she stood, Augusta Longbottom simply replied with a "Good day." And left down the stairs with Minerva.
-oOoOoOo-
"'Arry tha's not.. NO! No more dragons! GAH tha's a BAD MATTRESS! NO fire!" Hagrid's voice carried the more than 30 meters between his hut and the approaching Madam Longbottom and Minerva Mcgonagall. Minerva, having had the misfortune to have babysat for a good portion of the last two days, knew what was likely taking place in the hapless groundskeepers' home and gave Augusta a worried glance, the latter waved her off with a dismissive hand gesture.
The door opened of its own accord at their knocking, given that it had been open in the first place due to the door handle being missing. Poking their heads in apprehensively, the formidable visitors were greeted by quite the sight. Hagrid held a stark naked and sky blue (clouds and all) Harry Potter hanging by one foot in his left hand, a puppy with one massive fang, dangling from the other, and was stamping out what appeared to be the tattered smoking remains of a bed that had been half transfigured into a dragon.
The half giant's tea set had grown legs but not eyes and was trying desperately, though blindly, to escape the hut by sheer force, clashing repeatedly against the back wall as a team.
What appeared to be a winged diaper was flapping about near the ceiling but then evidently grew tired and flew down to perch on Hagrid's head. The groundskeepers prized possessions, little whittled figurines (mostly magical animals by design) were not so little anymore, having expanded to nearly life size proportions and had begun eating the various herbs that Hagrid had lying about, as well as the table and all the other furnishings. The furniture had also gained some semblance of mobility and was desperately trying to evade the cannibalistic figurines. As they made their way inside, an anxious looking night stand lunged out the still open door with a hungry looking mahogany kneazle the size of a large dog chasing after it. The women just barely recovered from this spectacle in time to be halted yet again at the sight of the two doorknobs. The doorknobs in question had taken to the air quite literally like a jellyfish to water and appeared to be, to all watching eyes, attempting to procreate.
Giving that one up as a miss, the now deeply worried Deputy Headmistress and further beleaguered Madam Longbottom turned their attentions back on poor Hagrid, who had successfully ended the bed's/dragon's reign of terror but was now hopping from foot to foot in an effort to escape the projectiles being hurled at him by Harry. The naked sky-baby was conjuring tiny stars that he was flinging about haphazardly. These stars seemed to be more than merely visual however because where they inevitably and invariably landed somewhere on Hagrid's massive frame, they left angry red welts that implied they were rather hot. With desperation in his eyes, Hagrid turned to the two stern and imposing women in his living room, hope now welling up in his chest. "Take it yeh said yes Mrs. Longbottom?"
-oOoOoOo-
It was a very tired Albus Dumbledore who finally settled down again in the Headmasters office at Hogwarts after one of the longer Mondays he could remember participating in.
On the desk in front of him, tea lay ready though untouched, weighty tomes that would give muggle tely phonie catalogues a run for their money were stacked on nearly every available centimeter.
Random innocuous potions ingredients covered the rest of the available space and his bowl of muggle sweets had been moved to his bedside table to provide that little bit more room. The Headmaster felt rather cramped at present, due to the oppressive presence of books mostly,
though also to the potions apparatus hovering to his left. Ever since Horace Slughorn had fled the castle Dumbledore found himself assuming his former potions masters duties and responsibilities. The headmaster, now potions master as well, was wise enough to admit he needed to replace the former Slytherin Head much, much sooner rather than later. Alas however, this was a problem for another day, as Albus' monetary incentives for the book stores around wizarding Britain had paid off in spades, or so it seemed at first. Reading through the veritable cornucopia of rare books he'd acquired left Dumbledore feeling rather glum. It had quickly been deduced that, while heavily fortifying his personal library, in the endeavor to safely destroy Horcrux's it was nearly a wasted venture. It was only 'nearly' a wasted venture however, because the book directly before him seemed to be indicating that in the late thirteenth century,
a dark wizard by the name of Orcus Chaor had been caught out with a Horcrux in his possession by the goblins. The book did not mention how the situation was dealt with,
though it did mention that the goblins had abhorred this awful creation and eluded to the fact that the goblins had rectified the debacle in a manner befitting that era. Of course this had sparked one of the most gritty, despicable goblin/wizard wars ever seen and had eventually led to the allocation of all of Britain's goblins to underground mines and the further eventual wars that could be accredited for the founding of Gringotts. At first glance, Albus figured the goblins must have destroyed the Horcrux just as all others had been dealt with in the past. The reasoning for Dumbledore not dismissing this out of hand however, was due to the fact that this event was cited as happening some three or four hundred years prior to the publicized discovery of the fiendfyre or basilisk venom methods of destruction.
Surely, they could have used either of the two and the disposal of the artifact merely did not rate a mentioning, but, what if they had indeed utilized some alternate method altogether?
It would be just like wizards to steal the goblins method and claim it as their own, but Albus had a gut feeling about this and if he'd learned anything in his one hundred and seven years of life,
it was that gut feelings would most often steer you right.
It was with this gut feeling at the helm, that Dumbledore wrote a letter to the director of Gringotts himself requesting a private word at a date and time of his choosing.
Feeling at least somewhat accomplished now he had a new lead, Dumbledore cleared his new library off with a wave of his wand and started in on his tea. He was only half-heartedly pondering
who might be capable of replacing Slughorn when the solution to this problem, unbeknownst to Albus at present, took the form of a letter being dropped in his lap by a rather put-upon looking owl.
Dumbledore recognized the stamp on the back of the letter and a varied array of emotions cycled through his mind at sighting it. Albus had actually been dreading the possibility of having to come
face to face with this particular wizard again. He knew Severus Snape was a soul desperate to be reclaimed by the light and he had attempted to help the poor boy recover from his past indiscretions.
As far as redemption was concerned, Severus had taken the first small steps, though he had many more before him if he was to clear his conscious. It was not however,
Severus's dalliances with the dark that had put off their reconvening, but the fact that Albus Dumbledore had outright failed him.
Albus had made a promise to Severus that he would do everything in his power to save Lily Potter
and while he indeed upheld that promise to the letter, it was not enough in the end.
Dumbledore was modest enough to admit that failure though, and was not a former Gryffindor head boy for nothing. It would take courage to look this young man in the face and apologize,
but it was without doubt the right thing to do. Opening the letter, Albus resigned himself to this appointment and left off to bed.
-oOoOoOo-
This particular Friday evening found Augusta Longbottom falling out of her newly developed routine.
Ever since the attack on her son and daughter in law, Augusta would wake screaming,
accept her morning tea from Orla the Longbottom house elf, (often liberally laced with calming draught) and head to Gringotts for a meeting with her financial consultant. Following lunch; which had quickly become the most varied event on her schedule, Madam Longbottom would run one errand or another and head off back to the Manor to watch over the boys. After ensuring Harry hadn't set the house on fire or transfigured the sitter into a dinosaur again, she would head off for St. Mungos and read to her Frank before coming back to put the boys to bed. Augusta was reticent to spend any time in the hospital ever since her late husband Eustice fell ill. Eustice had spent just over nine months in critical condition before becoming comatose and finally passing on. That had been the hardest year of Augusta's life and it left deep scars on her psyche, or so she thought. Apparently those wounds had not scarred over but just scabbed over as they were bleeding freely in this new hell she found herself living.
Madam Longbottom was not considered a formidable witch for nothing however.
Though she would rather be anywhere on earth other than back at this hospital,
helplessly sitting by the bedside of the most important man in her life, Augusta Longbottom would walk miles over broken glass for her son and she would rather be damned than not be there for him every step of the way.
It was not however for her son and daughter in law that she found herself again in the waiting room of St. Mungo's on a Friday night. Fostering young Harry had been far more difficult than she had anticipated; given that the boy was so prone to accidental magic she was convinced it was quite the opposite. The scene she'd discovered when walking in on Hagrid at Hogwarts had been mild in comparison to some of the things Augusta had come home to the past couple weeks.
What she found when she returned from her luncheon with friends earlier that day had finally hardened her resolve in the matter.
After somehow triggering the wards; causing them to forcibly eject the sitter from the grounds,
Harry had broken himself and Neville out of the house by driving the marble dining room table through the back wall. Once free, Neville had begun to tangle with one of the more dangerous plants in the garden while Harry found an extremely venomous snake, enlarged it to ten times its normal size,
and began riding it around the property like a war elephant. Clearly Harry's magic was dangerously out of control hence why all three of them were here.
After a short stint in the waiting room,
a balding gentleman with a slight hunch and bags under his eyes ushered the threesome into a private room and introduced himself. "Hello Madam Longbottom, my name is healer Arden.
How can I help you today?" Ever the proponent of the 'brass tacks' approach, Augusta first set Harry on the patients bed and gave him one of her old bracelets to teethe on, sat down with Neville in her lap and elaborated, "Harry Potter here needs an adolescent magical binding.
I believe he is both a danger to himself and others." Arden nodded to himself as the puzzle pieces clicked into place to solve the mystery of why he'd been summoned to pediatrics.
Healer Arden was one of the most senior personnel in the hospital, having been there since the end of Grindelwalds reign of terror. Over the years he had cycled through nearly every branch of healing there was to be offered until finally settling on Artefact Accidents since it was the most difficult and he adored a challenge. The reason he had been asked to do a simple magic binding, he was certain, was not only due to his unparalleled accolades and credentials, but because Healer Arden was every inch a professional.
He had treated Quidditch stars, musicians, politicians, even Dumbledore himself and in all cases he did not so much as bat an eye. Arden knew that celebrities, and also their families, hated to be accosted by their medical provider like a common paparazzi, and he agreed.
To act in such a manner would not only be unprofessional but terribly rude and unbecoming of a person holding his position. This was why, without even so much as glancing for the scar he knew must be hidden under that tuft of black hair, Healer Arden bid a "Yes Ma'am" and began the process of preliminary scans for the binding. Nodding here and there at the readings he found,
Arden tried to ease the tedium a bit,
"So aside from the incredible amount of magic coming off this little tyke, what makes you think he's so dangerous?" Arden asked. Augusta was bouncing Neville on her knee, looking on in vague disinterest (or so she would like others to think) when she replied,
"Harry has a natural affinity for trouble. Inherited the knack for it from his father no doubt,
my Frank has told me some stories over the years that defy belief."
A smirk tugged at the corners of healer Arden's mouth while he listened, having also had the good fortune to have treated James Potter and Sirius Black once after a prank gone wrong, or right depending on your perspective.
It was a long night that involved muggle aurors, strippers, a candy store and an overturned coach.
It also happened to be one of the funniest stories he'd ever heard and when Arthur Weasley came in to confiscate the dangerously charmed, phallic purple rubber item that had started it all,
they laughed themselves hoarse before letting the boys off with a warning and a slap on the wrist.
"Ah, well let's hope there's a healthy balance of Lily in there as well hm?" Arden said,
letting his smirk grow into a full grin. Seemingly displeased at the healer's good mood, Augusta muttered "not bloody likely" Under her breath. Deciding he'd be better off giving humor a miss with this one, Arden started to change the subject when one of his scans gave him a strange reading.
Brows furrowing, the healer deviated from the usual workup scans in the hopes of finding an explanation. All he found were more questions which, thanks to his lengthy background with the artefacts wing, he was capable of finding answers to. All the tension and excitement of having another challenge presented to him did not mix well with his anxiety over what he was beginning to discover was going on inside this poor boy, and the change in his demeanor had finally cracked Augusta's faux indifference.
Unknowingly allowing her concern to leak into her voice Augusta asked "Is there something wrong Healer Arden?" Without turning toward Harry's guardian; which he knew was terribly rude somewhere in the back of his mind, Arden answered her in a distracted tone "Actually I believe there is.
I can't be certain without the proper equipment but it seems like Harry here has two magical cores.."
He trailed off so that he could conduct another complicated scan that he hadn't mastered the wordless form of yet. Augusta froze as that news washed over her, recovering moments later after blinking away the surprise she said "That would.. explain quite a lot actually. Is that dangerous?" Arden shook his head, following up with a barely articulate explanation "Not.. necessarily… Though this scar… and of course the binding.." Healer Arden began in response but ended speaking mostly to himself.
Frustrated with the mostly one sided conversation and now nervous to boot,
Augusta lost her patience, "Pardon me Healer, but would you care to explain?"
Snapping his attention back from his patient, Arden spun on his heal and bowed his head in supplication "I apologize Madam I've been terribly rude. My initial inquiries indicated that Harry has.. A lot of power at his disposal but when I scanned his core it was slightly offset and misshapen. When I narrowed the 'gaze' of the spell so to speak.. Well it appears like there is a fully developed adult core absorbing a significantly smaller more malleable core, or more specifically an adolescent one."
Arden paused to ensure that Madam Longbottom was following along.
When her face twitched angrily in anticipation he quickly resumed his explanation,
"Again I would have to confirm these findings with a proper scanner but it is my belief that, should this be the case, we will be unable to perform the binding. Would you mind terribly if I explained using a simile?" Augusta's nostrils flared as her patience deflated to new lows, "So long as you spit. It. Out. Healer Arden, I can assure you I will not mind." Grimacing from the venom in her words and quailing a bit at her expression, Arden elaborated quickly,
"Yes, of course. Imagine Harry's magical core is a bubble, and as he grows older and more adept with his abilities, so too does this bubble expand and mature. When we are very young, these bubbles are sometimes unstable and, while they may not pop,
they can let off other smaller bubbles in the form of accidental magic.
An adolescent magical binding is essentially applying a loose wrap of sorts around the bubble to prevent it from seeping out the accidental magic bubbles, whilst still allowing for natural growth.
Once the core grows to a specified size these bindings fall of naturally and it does not affect the child in any way, other than keeping them safe. The problem with Harry is that if he does indeed possess a full grown magical core, binding it will cause lasting, possibly lifelong pain and impose severe limits on his magical capabilities later in life, and that's best case scenario. If there were complications when he comes of age, we would then have to manually remove the wrappings which could result in scar tissue or collapse the core altogether. In essence, giving Harry a magical binding could turn him into a Squibb, or kill him.. Rather violently. The last two are statistically more likely."
Augusta struggled to find her voice. After starting then stopping twice, the healer came over and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, making eye contact and speaking softly,
"Madam Longbottom, you do not need to make this decision right now. We still need to confirm my findings and there are alternatives we can offer. Perhaps I could take these two off your hands for a moment so you can grab a spot of tea?" When she started to argue against it Arden doubled down, "Augusta, really, it's alright.
We'll wait here and you take all the time that you need. Besides, I'd much prefer to spend my afternoon in this wonderful company rather than doing actual work." He said with a wink, offering his hand to help her rise. Taken aback by the gesture of kindness Augusta responded softly, "Thank you Healer Arden.
I will do just that. Would you like a cuppa?" Arden nodded his agreement and added a "Yes Ma'am" and ushered her out the door. "Now, how about we get you two some toys eh?"
-oOoOoOo-
Elsewhere in St. Mungo's, Albus Dumbledore sat comfortably in an excessively plush armchair of his own conjuring while across from him sat Healer Lucas Smythwick; head healer of the spell damage ward. Feeling just as distinctly unnerved by his former Transfiguration teachers quiet gaze as always,
Smythwick fidgeted with the hem of his Healers robes and kicked off the conversation, "A pleasure to see you again old friend. Come to check up on the Longbottom's.. er.. again?" He enquired.
Shifting back from his patented 'piercing, though aloof' gaze to an expression of merrily pleased acknowledgement, Dumbledore nodded his head by way of reply. He did terribly enjoy how easy it was to unsettle his former pupil.
Smythwick, feeling as though Dumbledore must surely be torturing him on purpose but knowing he was unable to resist it, twitched again and was reminded of a detention served some fifty or so years ago
in which Albus had performed nearly the exact same routine in order to force an admission of guilt out of the then young Lucas. "Ah. Yes well, that was a spot of genius there with the muggle medications
old chap, and I do appreciate your continued assistance and guidance, but you must surely know I cannot divulge confidential information.." Smythwick started his rebuff strong, but lost conviction halfway through and the end came off more as resigned chastisement.
Rather satisfied with the results of his silent pressuring, Albus carried on in the same manner with another nod and twinkly eyed smile.
Lucas flushed a bit at the nod, closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Once he was confident his voice would not shake, Smythwick tried one last time to avoid breaking the healers code of confidentiality, "Albus I assure you they are doing well. Better than we expected in fact, but that is all I can tell you."
Dumbledore was impressed that Healer Smythwick had managed a second rebuff; heading a department must be doing wonders for the man's convictions! But alas, he was no match for the 'twinkle treatment' or so Minnie had dubbed it all those years ago.
Carefully declining his head and forcing his face to fall ever so slightly nearly did the trick, and with his fatal blow Albus let disappointment leak into his tone as he said, "Oh, well. I am sure you've got it all in hand then Lucas. I suppose I will take my leave." Though Dumbledore claimed he would go,
he did not move nor did Smythwick expect him to. Lucas heaved a great sigh in exasperation at his inability to resist even the mildest of influences from Albus even when he KNEW what he was doing!
"Oh alright you manipulative old coot. Yes, the muggle medicine worked wonders and allowed us to focus entirely on the spell damage. Truly, the fact you arrived when you did saved these poor people from a lifetime as mindless shells. We're not expecting a full recovery mind you, but we are fairly confident they will recover. You may take solace in the knowledge that your and Minerva's timely intervention was perhaps the most important factor."
Regaining his merry expression as if it had never left, Dumbledore attempted to console one of his favorite former students. As he stood, Albus patted Smythwick on the back with one hand while he dismissed his chair with his other. In a gentle tone Dumbledore tried the verbal approach,
"Not at all my dear boy. It was you and your team here who healed them after all, hmm?"
Not feeling reassured whatsoever, Lucas quirked a brow and glanced up at Dumbledore out the corner of his eye and replied, "Yes well, thank you again for your advice. I hope in future, you may satiate your thirst for knowledge on one of your books? Rather than force me to break ethics?" Lucas finished leadingly.
In an effort of propitiation, Dumbledore allowed hope for the young – or at least younger than he – Healer with his parting comment as he stalked toward the door, "Of course Lucas, you have my thanks."
-oOoOoOo-
Severus Snape was found at the bottom of several bottles at the Hogs Head Inn. When Albus entered, he took note of the disdainful expression on Aberforth's face; clearly Severus was not here making friends. Severus was about to fling his most recently emptied bottle of firewhiskey at the bin by the door but stopped short, bottle hanging limply over his shoulder, when he caught sight of Albus.
Seeing this as a brilliant moment to intervene, Abe snagged the bottle from his least favorite patron and yelled at Severus and his older brother both, "Out of here the both of you! You're cut off you filthy drunk. Albus, get him out of here!"
With a pleadingly apologetic look for his brother Abe, Albus calmly walked over to Severus and gently grabbed an arm, much to Snape's apparent displeasure. "UNHAND ME you useless bloody LIAR!"
Snape shook off Dumbledore's grip and promptly stumbled back and fell flat on his arse.
Albus nearly tried again to help him up but was angrily waved off as Severus drunkenly swaggered his way back to his feet. Once they were through the doors, Snape shuffled off to a large hill overlooking the small abandoned quarry to the east of Hogsmeade village, nearly losing his balance several times along the way. Upon reaching his apparent destination, Severus fell to his knees and threw a look of absolute loathing over his shoulder at the deeply saddened Headmaster behind him. "It's your fault! YOU! YOU SAID you would SAVE HER!"
Snape's snarling shout contorted into a howl of rage and loss and bitter resentment.
The sight before him was heart breaking for Albus to watch. This boy, who he had failed so many times before, was hurting, had been hurting, in ways Albus could barely fathom. For his entire life, Severus Snape had known great pains and had suffered again and again; at his father's hand, his childhood nemesis' hands, even his school friends' hands, and again, one last time, by Albus' hand.
"You are right. I could not save her, and I will bear the weight of that tragedy until the day that I die.
But do you think yourself so innocent Severus? Did you not play your role too?"
Albus tried desperately to keep from hurting Snape further, but it irked him greatly to think that he believed it was Albus and Albus alone who was responsible for the Potters' demise.
With the greatest sneer Dumbledore had ever seen, Snape retorted,
"Yes Dumbledore. I played my role. I did EVERYTHING in my power to save her! Can you say the same!"
Flinching back from the heat and accusation in Snape's words, Albus decided the hurting man before him needed a firm hand, rather than a scapegoat. With his voice quavering with passion and the air around them stirring from his unbidden magic Albus made his reply,
"I spared no effort to save them ALL Severus! Are you still so childish, so selfish, that you only ever tried to save Lily!?"
He barely restrained from shouting the words. Severus though, in a towering drunken fit of rage and depression held no such compunctions and fired back loudly, "I. DON'T. CARE!" With spittle flying from his mouth, and his hair an even more unruly mop than usual thanks to the spilt alcohol and splashed mud, Snape looked very nearly deranged. Albus inwardly cringed; he was so appalled by what had become of this meeting. A shouting match? No, Severus deserved redemption. He deserved to be saved, even though he was in no fit state to show it. Albus decided then and there he would save this boy.
For Lily, or really for himself, but he could pretend, at least for a little bit, that this was to honor Lily.
"I can see that now Severus. What will you do now? Drown yourself in liquor? Wallow in self-pity?
Perhaps you will.." Albus was cut off mid-sentence by Snape conducting a fair impersonation of a bull seeing red.
Albus swiftly dodged to the side as Snape tripped and fell face first, sliding a bit with the momentum.
When he came back up he was covered in mud, tears and grass, his expression furious but rapidly, the anger fell away leaving a blank mask. After a moment, he let his desolation take center stage in his expression and tone, and whispered to his former Headmaster, "I don't know what to do Dumbledore. I've failed her. Again." As he pondered on how best to help the miserable, besotted man at his feet, Albus drew an uncomfortable parallel to their situations. Thinking quickly, Dumbledore hastily assembled the base framework of a plan and in his desperation to help, he launched it at Severus,
"What was most precious to Lily, Severus?" he asked. Snape looked up, his expression vague as if his thoughts were thousands of miles away from the here and now, and gave an uncomprehending look to Albus, who in return decided to explain the question, "Lily has moved on Severus, she has departed this world before her time and she is survived only by that which she held most precious. Her son."
"If there was ever a way for you to honor her memory.." Again Albus was cut off by Severus as he began to ramble, "It's not the same Albus. It's not the same. She's gone. It's my fault. She's gone.."
Snape repeated over and over again, trapped in some metronomic cycle of despair, tears falling freely from his tired red eyes.
Steeling his resolve, Albus put some heat behind his next words to break Snape from his reverie,
"Make her sacrifice worth something Severus! She would not have wanted you to waste yourself away like this! Help her son grow, and thrive, and live Severus, he has no one now. Redeem your past indiscretions. Earn Lily's forgiveness." Dumbledore pleaded. Snape was beyond words as he wept into the ground silently for several minutes. Then suddenly he stood and stared off into the distance.
After attempting to dry his eyes on his sleeve and failing since his sleeve was more wet than his face, he turned to Albus and nodded then said, "A wizard's oath then?" At Albus' nod of encouragement, Snape drew his wand and swore on his life and magic to protect and defend Harry James Potter.
After Dumbledore led Severus off to Madam Rosmerta's doorstep to beg a room for the night,
Albus left off to the castle, his mind wandering as he walked. As his thoughts settled again on how devastatingly far reaching the deaths of the Potter's had been, he was overwhelmed by anger,
anguish and confusion. Soon, he would go to Sirius Black and demand to know why.