Note: Erm, nothing much to say for once. Enjoy today's second offering!
Chapter Eleven
Same Time, Same Place
Same time, same place.
The familiar spidery handwriting that the four simple words were written in seemed to convey the urgency of the message without needing to understand the letters themselves. Minerva stared at the note that she had plucked from the windswept owl as it battled its way into the head's office against the gale force winds that seemed to have suddenly sprung up from nowhere. It was as if the weather itself knew the mood that had fallen over the Order in the wake of Arthur's capture, and had altered accordingly in sympathy with them. She read the words over and over again, trying to work out whether she should be feeling hope or foreboding at the promise of more information to come. On the one hand, perhaps Severus knew Arthur's whereabouts and was going to tell her how to launch a rescue operation. After all, he had told her last time, in a roundabout way, that it was time to move Harry whilst the Death Eaters were otherwise occupied.
On the other hand, he might be bringing news of precisely what had happened to Arthur, and Minerva did not want to think of the one very obvious possibility that was hanging over them.
He can't be dead, Minerva. He can't be dead; he was taken for a reason and if you know Arthur, which you do, then you'll know that he won't have given in after only a few hours.
Minerva felt her courage return with her internal pep-talk and straightened her spine from where she had been slumped in her chair as she read the note and let the events of the day catch up with her. There had been nothing for two weeks; in the fortnight since she had taken Harry to the Burrow everything had been eerily silent. Minerva cursed her laxity; of course Voldemort must have been planning something, how could he not have been? She had simply been too relieved by the lack of activity and the opportunity for respite that she had not paid attention to what this period of unusual stillness might mean for the Order. She had to remain one step ahead of their foes, and it was no easy task.
Minerva sighed, trying to shake the horrible feeling of responsibility that was creeping up her spine with an unnatural chill. It was so easy to think that she was alone in the world and in charge of everything, but the guilt that went with such an outlook was crippling at times like this, when something went wrong. She had to force herself to remember that the Order was composed of responsible adults who knew what they were doing, what they were letting themselves in for and the dangers that they might face as they fought for the resistance. But still… She was in charge, and she should have looked out for the safety and wellbeing of her fellows instead of letting them get kidnapped in the Ministry atrium of all places. Arthur had nearly been home, just a few more moments and he would have disapparated to the safety of the Burrow, but the Death Eaters had been too quick for him. The Ministry had betrayed its own, as infected with the rot of dark magic as it was.
"Minerva, there was nothing you could have done to prevent it," said Albus gently.
"There's always something, Albus," Minerva snapped in return. "Nothing is as completely inevitable as Sybil Trelawney likes to make out."
The words sounded ridiculous as soon as they had come out of her mouth, for Minerva knew that some things were indeed unavoidable. She had seen them with her own eyes. Thankfully, Albus tactfully chose not to remind her of this and instead turned his efforts to trying to pacify her inward-directed anger and shame.
"We will get Arthur back, Minerva. I swear. He has a remarkable capacity for survival. Look at the way he recovered from being attacked by Nagini the Christmas before last."
Minerva could only hope that the former headmaster was right. She glanced up at the clock; five minutes to nine.
"I had better go and find out what Severus has to say on the matter," she said, effectively ending the conversation that had barely begun between woman and portrait. Once again, there was so much that was being left unsaid in favour of the more pressing concerns of the living, but as irritating as the riddle of Albus's Will was, Minerva was far more preoccupied with finding and rescuing Arthur Weasley. Knitting patterns could wait indefinitely; people could not. At least she had finally worked out the significance of the sword of her own accord, and she took a moment out of her anger with herself over Arthur to be angry with herself over her obtuseness in not realising sooner that the sword was needed as a weapon against horcruxes. She shook herself to try and lift her mind out of its depressing downward spiral, but it was not quite as an effective gesture as she had been hoping it would be.
Minerva nodded a courteous goodbye to Albus and hurried out of the castle, disapparating as soon as she had crossed the boundary of the grounds. Rematerialising in the heart of the capital, Minerva wondered if Severus had had prior knowledge of the kidnap, and if he had, why he had not warned her. His words from the last time they had met echoed through her mind, and it was with great reluctance that she accepted that sometimes he could not tell her everything for fear of his own safety. As invaluable as a spy was to the Order, he was only invaluable for as long as he was undetected. As soon as the scant cover was swept away – Minerva had never asked just how he would have explained away their peaceful meeting the last time – then the whole insubordinate operation came to a screeching standstill.
She pulled herself out of her thoughts in time to see a familiar dark silhouette slide out of the shadows and fall into step beside her.
"Minerva, what type of biscuits do you keep in your tartan tin?"
"Ginger Newts." Minerva sighed as she tried to think of some kind of question to establish Severus's identity. As necessary as the preamble was – they could not afford to lose yet another member of the Order within just a few hours – Minerva hated it. She supposed that it was because she was normally used to simply transforming and being done with it, but of course that was impossible in the middle of a muggle street. After Severus had correctly told her what she gave him for Christmas during his first year of teaching, they both spoke simultaneously.
"Arthur Weasley's been taken."
Their eyes met for a moment, and although Minerva knew that she would not find anything within the black depths, that did not stop her from trying.
"Did you know it was going to happen?" she asked.
"No. I knew that something was going to happen but the Dark Lord has been noticeably more secretive since Potter escaped his clutches two weeks ago. He is testing me."
There was no emotion behind the statement, not the slightest hint of fear. Minerva wondered what it must be like, whether living under constant suspicion simply inured one to fear and one learned how to control it. Maybe Severus was truly unafraid of the consequences of his exposure. Minerva shook her head; that would not be logical. Some sense of fear, or at least self-preservation, would be what made him so good at his task. If he did not care for his safety, then he would not try to be so careful to cover his tracks. She would probably never know his thoughts, but she knew that she would be constantly nervous in his position.
There were so many things that Minerva wanted to ask, and she had no idea which question she should field first. Nothing seemed to be settling itself into priority order, everything seemed just as important to know as the next thing.
"Why?" she asked finally. "Why did this happen? Arthur is not the most obvious choice for a kidnap; he has no great influence at the ministry."
She knew the answer before Severus spoke it.
"He is close to Potter," he said. "The Dark Lord wishes to know Potter's whereabouts and he believes that Arthur will tell him."
"Arthur would never betray Harry."
"You and I know that, Minerva, but not everyone does."
There was silence for a moment, broken only by the steady beat of their footsteps, one tread light and the other heavy.
"Can you tell me where he is?" Minerva asked presently. "Could we rescue him?"
"No."
Never had a single syllable contained so much meaning. Both questions answered in the negative. Severus could not tell her where Arthur was, and he could not be rescued. But the precise reason for the answer remained unknown. Did Severus not know where Arthur was being held captive or was he unable to tell her for fear of the possible repercussion? Why, exactly, could they not rescue him? Her previous fear flickered through her mind and it evidently showed on her face, for Severus spoke again.
"He is still alive, and rest assured that I will do everything in my power to keep him that way."
Minerva's heart leapt to her mouth. If that was the case, then surely, surely…
"You know where he is?" she said, trying to mask the anticipation that was trying to make itself known in her voice. Her question was met with silence. "Severus," she persisted, "do you know where he is?"
They stopped in the centre of the bridge, much like they had done the last time, and Severus looked at her.
"Your problem, Minerva," he began coolly, "is that you think too much like a Gryffindor. The first thought that crosses your mind at this juncture is that of rescuing Arthur Weasley above all else."
Minerva drew herself up indignantly.
"And why should it not be?" she hissed. "He is as valuable a member of the Order of the Phoenix as you are, Severus."
"Yes, and rescuing him would be suicide."
"You do know where he is then," Minerva snapped. All she wanted to do was find out where Arthur was being held. She would make her decisions later, when she was in a better frame of mind, better informed. As long as she knew where Arthur was, then she could plan to her heart's content.
"Yes, Minerva, I know where Arthur is being held." There was a sigh in Severus's voice. "But no, I am not going to tell you."
Minerva had never been a violent woman, but she felt the sudden urge to strike Severus for his, his… she didn't even know what it was that he had done.
"Why not?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"Because it is more than my life is worth," Severus shot back. "The Dark Lord is already at the end of his patience with me, he is already suspicious and I know for a fact that he is testing my loyalty. Your rescuing Arthur Weasley just hours after his capture will prove the final straw that breaks the camel's back, Minerva."
Minerva did not reply, for she had just seen something in the deep, seemingly soulless wells of Severus's eyes. For the briefest flicker of a moment, so tiny and near-imperceptible that the untrained eye would have missed it, a minute spark of fear appeared there.
"Minerva, I have already said that I will do all I can for Arthur, but I cannot tell you where he is." He paused. "We will find a way. We will get him back, Minerva, I swear."
The words, echoing those that Albus had spoken to her in the office just a few moments before, were too much for Minerva. She shook her head, not knowing what to say, not know what to do. She knew that all she could do was to trust Severus, but at what cost? How long would they leave Arthur in the lurch? He trusted them, the Order, to look out for him; they could not let him fall into the hands of the enemy and then as good as forget about him.
She vaguely heard Severus say his apologies and goodbyes. She vaguely felt his presence leave as she slowly sank into her anger and helplessness. Finally, she remembered where she was and regained enough control over her thoughts to disapparate away towards safe cover.
As soon as she arrived back at the Hogwarts boundaries, she transformed.
Minerva ran up the path from the gates, taking advantage of the agility of her animal form, concentrating solely on the movement and nothing else, keeping her mind as far away from the anguish that she was feeling as possible. She had never before seen the slightly more simple thought patterns of the tabby as a way of escaping from the pain and responsibility of her human life, but now she knew that if she did not perform some damage limitation now, then she would fall under the weight of the emotion that was crushing her; collapse in the middle of the grounds and not get up again. She had gone for so long without breaking, but now it had proved too much. To have come so close, only to be met with a brick wall…
She ran through the entrance hall, thinking only of putting one paw in front of the other until she reached her destination. She paused to get her breath back outside the door that she was seeking, and she knew that it was time. The moment of escape had been short, but it had been enough to get her back to the castle in one piece. It was time to face the torrent of anger and frustration, and moreover it was time to share some of the oppressive emotions. How many times had she told her students, stressed to the point of breaking down, that a problem shared was a problem halved?
Minerva, no-one expects you to win this war by yourself, she told herself crossly, and then she retransformed. Tears pricked her eyelids and the cloak of misery that she was feeling seemed to settle tangibly on her shoulders. She knocked on the door with frantic urgency, bending double against the ache in her side – she had not realised quite how far she had run.
"Minerva, whatever is the matter?"
Poppy Pomfrey's alarmed voice echoed through the empty halls of the school as she grabbed the headmistress's shoulders to prevent her falling into the hospital wing.
"Oh Poppy," Minerva gasped, feeling the hot tears of fear, exasperation and weeks' worth of pent up emotions pouring down her cheeks and knowing that she could do nothing to prevent their falling. "Poppy, if I don't talk to someone I'll go mad, and you were the first person I thought to turn to."
"There there," soothed Poppy, and although her tone was firm and friendly, Minerva could not help but notice the undercurrent of fear in her voice. "Come in, have a cup of tea and tell me what's going on."
She steered the headmistress into her office and into a chair, and Minerva took a deep breath to compose herself. She had had not bargained on her losing control of her emotions quite so suddenly or spectacularly, but she knew that Poppy would understand. She was one of her oldest friends, and Minerva was fairly sure that she had seen far worse displays from the students. She thought back to what Albus had said in his first note: How much of this information you choose to share, and with whom, is left entirely to your own discretion. Just as Albus trusted her, Minerva would trust Poppy Pomfrey with her life, and someone who had earned such trust deserved to know the whole of the truth that they were being trusted with.
As Poppy pressed a cup of tea into her shaking hands, Minerva began to tell her everything that had happened since she first received Albus's letter…
Note2: Minerva finally has an ally in her quest!
(Now that I have reached the end of today's update, I would like to take a moment to enthuse about the film, namely in this one quote (probably not an exact word for word match, but the gist is there).
"Dobby did not mean to kill. Dobby only meant to maim, or seriously injure, not kill."
Normally I have no time for Dobby but that line is something else. In fact, I was in stitches for the majority of that scene. Brandy anyone? *Kimmeth observes her readers looking perplexed.* Ah, yes, erm, enthusing over. I hope you enjoyed the new chapters, and I swear I will calm down soon!)
