Authors note: I am haunted by this story. Deep into my nightmares. No, really, even if noone seems to care (except for those lovely few but precious reviewers) I do go on. No matter how much you try to nail down my coffin I keep popping up. So lets make some characters suffer a bit once more!
Clonk, clonk, clonk – up and down. There is not enough space in this damned room for doing much more than pacing up and down. I gave the young ones quite some Auror Training this morning, as I do every second day. Even I have to admit that they are not that dim as I would have expected. Even that Longbottom boy can manage with some help of this rather clever "heads-in-the-clouds" girlfriend Lovegood.
The Weasley boy seems too demotivated. No strength in the eye of loss. Once I called him "George" and he freaked out. Later Arthur begged be to try to be more compassionate.
Now if I have ever seen two promising students it will be the young Miss Weasley and Draco. He insists that all of us call him that, refusing to go by "Malfoy" any longer. Understandable, even for a ferret! They try and fight much more than the others. Except of course for Miss Granger who transfers all of her theoretical knowledge into the practical area.
Clonk, clonk, clonk – Arthur again tries to get the strange Trelawney woman to eat. He will never learn. How can he not notice that she has given up a long time ago. But no, he will not let her have her peace and rest there. Again I demand her to "Eat!" more to relieve Arthur of his unuseful tries than to actually force her to keep on living for longer.
She obeys again, as people are used to do when I order something. Arthur gives me a grateful look and falls onto the chair. His tired brown eyes wave over to his children. Every 5 seconds he keeps looking for them. When Ginny first dissappeared with Draco he almost had a panic attack.
Now they always tell him where they go, with whom and for how long. They are good children, never seem to mind the lack of privacy in their lives and know how not to upset their father.
Clonk, clonk, clonk – In the far end corner Snape keeps frowning at noone in particular. The scowl would have seemed attached to his pale face, had it not been for Miss Granger who walks up to him and sits down to his left. She silently says something to him and I blame my old age for not understanding her words. Now the Ex-Death Eater actually watches her with interest as she explains something.
Clonk, clonk, clonk – damned curiosity. Snape, who was in the process of answering, stops immediately as I come closer. So much for prying. "Need something?" he scowls. "No. I just wanted to greet the young lady." Miss Granger still has the decency to blush when an old sod as I am pays her a compliment. "Now that you have done that, would you mind bothering Arthur again instead, who seems to know your worth much more than we do or at least is better at hiding his annoyance." He has become even ruder towards me in the last 10 years. No fear I might blow his cover any longer. I turn around and head towards the opposite end of the room. My very practical magical eye spins backwards and watches Hermione as she rests her hand on Snapes still existing arm. Very interesting.
I do wonder about Miss Grangers judgement of men or human beings or character or looks in general. Not that there is a lot of choice or that I expect her to actually develop a liking for Arthur, Mundungus or myself. But she does seem to care about Snape as a person.
Even I have to admit that he has been quite useful as a spy. Although the moment I deemed him trustworthy or started respecting him was when his hand was ripped off. I know how it feels to loose body parts and anyone who does and continues being strong and fighting deserves my acceptance. Getting used to Snape as a war companion really was a low-blow.
Two doors burst open almost simoltainiously. Into the main door tumbles a very battered and torn Mundungus. Now he does look rather ragged, sleepy, drunk and all in all, mostly like a homeless (which he is, as we all are more or less) at all times. But there is more to it this time. His robes are ripped partly off (and who else but a Death Eater would want to strip Mundungus?). Blood is seeping from his skull and he is limping.
His unusually wide openend eyes keep focusing on Minerva. He is trembling. I have known him for about 40 years and he has never, not even with about as many drinks intus, been trembling.
"Im sorry." He mumbles. And all our fears are confirmed. If Mundungus actually says that sort of sentiment it must be really bad. We all regard Minerva. She is the one who has to ask the question. She forces herself to stay calm as she asks "Where is Remus?"
Mundungus seems only to have waited for that question. Not wanting to break the news himself. But now, being forced into answering, replying with "They caught him."
