Chapter 10: In Review

"Now then," Dumbledore began, walking away from the now locked hospital wing with a sigh. It had taken quite a while to separate himself from the antsy Minister and his flock of Aurors, but now that he had he could finally get the full story. "Do explain what happened, Severus."

There was no response.

He glanced back to find that his companion had stopped in his tracks, a peculiar look on his face. "Severus?"

The man in question refocused, and Dumbledore was surprised to realize the expression had been one of deep… curiosity. Fascination. "I do not believe I can do it justice with words alone."

"Indeed? Then it must have been quite something."

"Professor, trust me when I say this," Snape said, a sharp smirk in his eyes if not on his lips. "That is an understatement."

"Then I shall look forward to viewing it myself."

They resumed their trip toward the headmaster's office, pace leisurely but with a certain edge that made it clear they were not simply wandering about the castle. It was a quiet walk, though heavy with questions and answers left unsaid. Even the gargoyle guardian seemed to pick up on the atmosphere, shifting from one stone claw to the other almost anxiously as they approached and eagerly leaping aside once Dumbledore gave his password. The spiral staircase carried them swiftly up.

Fawkes trilled a soft greeting from his perch and the various magical baubles made small ambient noises as usual, but Snape, for one, was too focused to indulge even slight distractions. Without paying any mind to the occasional small puffs of smoke or the soft snores of sleeping portraits, the gloomy professor went straight to the small cabinet off to the side of the office. Inside was a carved stone pedestal, and on it, resting in its perfectly shaped indent, was a shallow metal bowl.

The Pensieve—for that's what the bowl was, of course—held a small amount of a shifting silvery liquid, though sometimes it had an almost smoke-like quality. Faint images, old memories left from previous uses, drifted into view before quickly vanishing into indistinct shapes. Snape drew his wand, setting it at his temple in a well-practiced gesture, and when he pulled it away a long thread of swirling mist trailed after it. He set it into the basin. The memory swirled into focus, the lakeside scene colored shades of gray and built from smoke floating suspended in the liquid.

For a long minute Snape simply stared at the small blurry figure standing on the shore.

Dumbledore watched his professor's unusual behavior, considering, then turned his own attention to the Pensieve. "I assume this individual had something to do with tonight's events?"

"Another understatement, to be sure," Snape sneered, though his eyes remained pinned to the shifting image. "He happens to be the source."

The headmaster's eyes twinkled with curiosity, his mind catching the tint of confusion that colored his professor's tone. "Then shall we have a look, Severus?"

He said nothing more, giving silent permission with a gesture toward the silver bowl. Dumbledore nodded and, after a brief pause to collect himself, he dove into the swirling memory. Snape followed shortly after.

=X=X=X=

The figure was short and wore muggle clothes; it was hard to see much else in the darkness.

Not particularly imposing.

Then there was an ominous chime, flickering blue-gold light, and a deep sense of power.

A short phrase. Threatening, but uttered with an absolute calm.

White, a rush of noise.

Magic.

And, when the light faded, the figure was nowhere to be seen.

=X=X=X=

Dumbledore leaned back, staring at the silvery liquid in the Pensieve and not sure what to say.

"Well then," Snape said, voice slightly smug. "Perhaps now you see what I meant."

The headmaster nodded slowly, walking over to his chair and settling himself on it. Propping his elbows on the desk before him and pressing his hands together in thought, he closed his eyes. "Indeed."

For several minutes neither of them moved—Snape still by the Pensieve, staring into it, and Dumbledore at his desk—and the silence was thick with things not yet said. One of the assorted baubles quietly puffed a glittering plume of pink smoke. Another gave a soft chime. The one on his desk, silver when it shouldn't be, remained motionless. Dumbledore picked it up.

"Two mysteries in one night," he remarked, turning the small sphere over in his hands. "How curious."

"Professor?" Snape asked, one sharp eyebrow raised in question.

The old wizard sighed heavily. "I am afraid to say that something has happened to the Prophesy."

"Explain." It was not a request.

"This," Dumbledore held up the trinket, "was charmed to monitor its condition. As of a few hours ago, that charm was severed. In fact, it's almost as if…"

He hesitated.

"As if what?"

For a long moment he didn't respond, simply staring into the middle distance. "It's as if… the charm no longer has a target."

Snape froze. His mind blitzed through options, reasons, justifications, scenarios, anything that could explain it in a different way. Thinking that the Prophesy is gone is nothing but preposterous! After all of the damage it caused, what it had taken, that everything it had sent spinning into motion was now—! That Lily had… that her son…

He sat down, unsteady. "The spell is still there?"

Dumbledore solemnly nodded, setting down the small sphere on the desk between them. "So you see, we have a vanished prophesy and, to be frank, a worryingly powerful individual of unknown origin."

"And you think these could be connected?"

The ancient wizard nodded slowly. "For good or ill, something tells me that they are."

"What does that mean?"

Dumbledore let out a long breath, tired and worried. "Severus… I honestly don't know."

=X=X=X=

Harry was, to be honest, a bit concerned at how familiar the ceiling of the Hospital Wing had become to him. He lay on one of the many beds, head pillowed on his arms as he stared thoughtfully up at the depressingly familiar stonework. Both of his friends were already asleep, so that left him to his staring.

"Sirius Black," he whispered to himself, wondering at how quickly the name had changed to him. The night had passed him by too quickly, for all that it had happened twice.

Of course, he wasn't the only one feeling swamped by everything. Ron had been bursting with questions once they came back, and while they did their best to answer as many as possible, many of those answers just raised more questions. They talked and wondered and shared their confusion for hours before eventually Hermione had to cut off the conversation—yes, Hermione was the one to stop the theories, that's how tired she was.

Now, Hermione and Ron long since asleep, he just lay there. Staring up at the familiar ceiling. Tired, yes. That's an understatement, even: he's beyond exhausted. But too much had happened… too much had torn at his heart in the past hours to let his mind rest.

A lot had changed, and honestly he appreciated the chance to finally try and sort it all out in his head.

Most of the evening could be sorted away nicely: questions and worries from the first time through having been answered and resolved during the second. He knew that it had been him standing on the other side of the lake, and his stag Patronus had pushed back the Dementors. He knew that Buckbeak had survived. He knew Sirius was safe.

But there were other things.

A strange shadow he had glimpsed on the other side of the lake before Hermione insisted they move on, for example. The frighteningly powerful blast of white that had all but blinded them after they had left. How Sirius had escaped the makeshift prison cell. Whoever had been in there with him in the first place.

And all of those things seemed to round back on the same person.

The stranger—a man, at least based on the pitch of his voice—remained a mystery. Harry knew that he had somehow magicked Sirius all the way to the top of the Astronomy Tower in an instant with nobody noticing. Thinking back to the lake and the Dementor attack, he wondered if perhaps the strange shadow he had noticed on the opposite shore could have been him as well.

Probably.

And if that odd shadow had been the stranger, had the stranger been the source of the blindingly white light as well? It's not like Harry had any other explanations for that, so might as well blame him.

It was weird how he hadn't been there earlier, at least as far as Harry could tell; there had been no sign of anybody else in the Shrieking Shack. Harry would have thought that, since catching Peter Pettigrew had been the goal, everyone involved would have been there. Plus, the Daily Prophet had never mentioned the possibility of Sirius having an accomplice.

Thus whoever it was remained thoroughly unknown. Hermione had basically summed up everything they knew when she somewhat grumpily pointed out, "He's short." Even that was only a guess, though, based on how Sirius had looked down when speaking to him. The stranger could just as easily have been sitting or crouching.

"At least he's probably on our side," Harry quietly mused. Sure, Hermione had been a bit skeptical at that claim, but really. "Why else would he help?"

Besides, Sirius clearly trusted him. Given everything the man had undoubtedly been through in the past twelve years, that had to be worth something. He rolled over and closed his eyes, shutting out the too-frequently-stared-at ceiling. His brain was still tumbling through thoughts almost faster than he acknowledged them, but slowly it began to calm down. Harry focused on his breathing, making it deep and steady, trying to set aside his anxieties.

For now, at least, he knew Sirius was safe.

"I'll stay in contact, though!" Sirius's voice had grown faint as he flew farther away. "Don't worry!"

"Don't worry," Harry repeated softly to himself, voice muffled by his pillow.

He knew Sirius was safe, and he knew that he had at least one person on his side. It would have to be enough.

Author's Note:

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Undertale.

Surprise! In what very well may be the most half-baked April Fool's Day prank, here's the chapter one day early! As such, it's not even April Fool's Day yet. You know, maybe it would have been a better prank to post it late, but I'm sure you'll appreciate this more.
So yes, here's the chapter early. Hope you enjoy, and sorry that it's shorter than usual (February was an… interesting month).

This is a bit of a flash-back to what Dumbledore, Severus, and Harry were thinking about on the night Sirius escaped. Man, our protagonists really get down to business when they get down to business: die, but not really, escape the void, time-travel on accident, get caught, escape Hogwarts, nap (obviously), infiltrate Ministry, make new old friends, escape… I mean slow down guys!

As a random note, 'Pettigrew' really wants to be corrected to 'pettifogger'. A pettifogger is, apparently, someone who runs a petty, shifty, or unethical law business. That's neat, I guess.

Thanks again for all the reviews! I read each and every one of them, and they're all great motivators. And don't worry, all you people clamoring for updates; though there's a month between updates, an update will come.

See ya on the flipside, everyone!