Chapter 61: The Headmaster
The next day was a blur of double-checking Portkeys, Apparition points, and Floo connections. Harry made plans to reconvene with Ron and Hermione in Diagon Alley that afternoon before returning with Remus and Sirius to the house in Hogsmeade. Harry's fifth-year letter was propped on the kitchen table.
"Congratulations on not being made prefect," said Sirius to Harry.
"This doesn't preclude you from being Head Boy if that's something you want," added Remus, remembering anew Harry's sullen reaction to Dumbledore's perceived lack of faith the first time that this had happened.
"Why would he want that?" asked Sirius more harshly than Remus thought was strictly necessary.
"His father did," Remus pointed out.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "James wanted to be where Lily was."
"James wanted to save the world, one firstie at a time."
"With Lily."
"Yes, with Lily."
Harry watched their debate without comment.
"In any event, Harry, I believe that Dumbledore decided not to make you a prefect because he believes that you will be under enough pressure helping us save the world. I don't know that for a fact, of course, because he hasn't shared his reasoning with me. Would you like me to ask him?"
"No," said Harry with a shake of his head.
Sirius looked even more exasperated. "Not everyone cares about shiny badges, Professor Moony. Not even people whose parents were prefects."
Remus had never bothered to consider whether Sirius' own parents had been prefects, and now was not a good time to ask.
Sirius shifted his attention to Harry and away from any discussion of prefects. "Let's plan to get to Diagon Alley about an hour before you meet Hermione and Ron. You need new robes."
"I had new robes last year," said Harry.
"You've grown since then," Sirius pointed out reasonably enough.
And Remus forgot all about prefects, too, as nice as it was to see Sirius and Harry having a completely ordinary discussion about a completely ordinary shopping trip. He gathered up his lesson plans and prepared to walk to Hogwarts.
"Have fun in Diagon Alley," he told Harry.
Harry gave Remus a look that seemed more thoughtful than the occasion warranted. "Thank you for offering to talk to Dumbledore," he said. "If I decide I want to know I'll ask him myself. But if it's Ron who's been made prefect, I don't want to act like I think he didn't deserve it."
"Very wise of you," said Remus. "It was Ron the last time, and I expect that it will be this time. I won't say anything to Dumbledore because you've asked me not to, but he may bring it up himself. He saw my memories and he knows that that decision contributed to a lack of trust between the two of you."
"Things were different then." Harry watched his godfather out of the corner of his eye, as if the mere thought of ragged curtains and stone archways might make Sirius disappear. (Remus knew the feeling.)
"Yes," Remus agreed, not certain whether he was trying to reassure himself or Harry. "Things were very different then."
There was discussion of neither prefects nor lesson plans when Remus arrived at Dumbledore's office. Instead, Dumbledore wordlessly deposited a small golden cup with two finely-wrought handles on the desk in front of Remus. A few jewels glistened on the handles, but it was the badger engraved on the side that let Remus know, with a mix of delight and terror, that this cup was the creation of Helga Hufflepuff.
"Hepzibah Smith was a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff," said Dumbledore without preamble, as if he had ascertained that Remus knew that he was looking at a yet another priceless artifact defiled by Lord Voldemort. "Or perhaps she merely claimed to be a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff. The genealogical records from the tenth century are sadly lacking. What we know for certain as that she was wealthy enough to be an avid collector of magical antiquities. Her two most prized possessions were Helga Hufflepuff's cup and Salazar Slytherin's locket."
"Do you know what became of the locket?" Remus asked.
"Not yet," said Dumbledore. "Do be patient and appreciate how very impressive it is that I have recovered Helga Hufflepuff's cup so soon after you confirmed to me that there was a need."
"Yes, Headmaster," said Remus with a smile.
"When Hepzibah Smith had reached a significant age, she befriended a handsome young wizard named Tom Riddle. She was flattered by his attentions and showed him her greatest treasures. Two days later, she died from a little-known poison. Her house-elf claimed that she confused the poison with sugar, but, as you know, memories are very tricky things and can be altered by a skilled wizard."
Remus nodded.
"The cup disappeared, and as you were able to speculate that something of interest was hidden in the Lestrange vault at Gringotts…" Dumbledore rolled the cup from one hand to the other. "The cup seems to have reappeared."
"Do I want to know how you removed the cup from Gringotts?" Remus asked.
"Do you?" repeated Dumbledore. "I would have concerns about any professor of mine who was not curious enough to wonder how I removed a valuable artifact from a vault not my own. As it happens, I shall not tell you the specifics, but I shall remind you that goblins have a view of ownership that does not align perfectly with wizards' views of ownership. They believe that the creator of an object is forever the rightful owner. All goblin-made objects are, in goblin eyes, rightfully theirs. They abhor wizards' habit of passing goblin-made silver from one generation to the next. They consider it little better than theft."
Remus, who had never been in danger of being rich enough to own anything made from goblin silver, had been completely unaware of goblin beliefs on the matter.
"Was there some sort of a trade?"
"Goblins do take the security of the vaults most seriously," said Dumbledore tightly, and Remus knew without asking that he had heard all he was going to hear.
He didn't care, anyway, whether Dumbledore had bribed or reasoned or traded or called in a favor or used the Imperius curse.
He cared that another Horcrux had been found, and that Harry hadn't had to risk his life and the stability of the wizard-goblin alliance by breaking into Gringotts and stealing a dragon.
"The cup is beautiful," Remus said instead of sharing his more relevant thoughts. "Powerful, too, I would imagine. I'm afraid I haven't made myself familiar with its lore." He should have, he realized now. He should have done more research; if he had, perhaps they would have found all of the Horcruxes by now and Harry would be free of the burdens he had never deserved.
"It was said to have many powers," said Dumbledore, always a willing teacher to a willing student. "Water drunk from the cup would become a powerful elixir. If one was starving, the cup could make any food plentiful, nourishing, and delicious. The cup's only purpose was to promote health and healing. It seems particularly heinous to use such an object as Lord Voldemort did."
Remus nodded in agreement. It was, indeed, heinous.
"Would you like to be the one to destroy it?" Dumbledore pointed to the sword in the wall. "We allowed Severus the pleasure with Ravenclaw's diadem, and I felt it best to destroy the ring before Sirius decided that he trusted me so little that he took it away again."
Dumbledore looked somewhat amused by the memory of Sirius placing the ring on the desk and then snatching it away as soon as the deed was done. Remus, though, almost wanted to apologize for Sirius' casual dislike of Dumbledore. He ignored the urge. Sirius was an adult who was allowed to have his own opinions— as long as those opinions didn't put any of the people they loved in danger.
Remus also almost wanted to refuse to destroy the Horcrux. Hufflepuff's cup, no doubt, would have served anyone in need; Gryffindor's sword chose who would wield it.
And Remus had always, always been the most cowardly of Gryffindors. As a student, he hadn't told his friends when their pranks had gone too far. As a teacher, he hadn't told the Headmaster how the most famous escaped prisoner in the history of Azkaban had snuck into the castle. As a father, he had very nearly left his wife and son behind. His physical bravery (no one could complain about his willingness to fight dark wizards and creatures) and whatever bravery came with trying to exist as a werewolf in a world in which werewolves weren't meant to exist paled in comparison.
But Dumbledore was waiting, and the sword was on the wall, and Remus had no real choice put to take it in hand and bring it down on top of the cup.
The cup split in two. There was same sickening wave of green-black smoke Remus remembered from the destruction of the diadem and the ring; underneath it was an odd smell of some sort of burned dessert.
Remus returned the sword to the wall and tried to look as nonchalant about it all as Snape had.
With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore locked the pieces in a box and locked the box in a cabinet.
"That's four," said Remus needlessly. "The diary, the diadem, the ring, and the cup. We need two more, one of which is almost certainly Slytherin's locket."
"My belief is that we only need Sytherin's locket," said Dumbledore quietly. A combination of joy and dread ran down Remus' spine. Joy because they had made more progress than he had realized. Dread because they were closer to the moment that he should never, never have allowed Harry to relive: the moment when Harry himself submitted to Voldemort's Avada Kedavra to remove the Horcrux attached to his own soul.
"You don't believe he wanted to split his soul into seven parts?" Remus asked.
"I would like more confirmation that that was his plan, yes. But what I strongly suspect is that he intended to make his final Horcrux on the night he murdered the Potters, and that the fragment of Voldemort's soul attached to Harry is the seventh piece, not the eighth, accidental as the process of creating it may have been."
"Do you have a plan to get the confirmation you need?"
"The beginnings of one. Let us not discuss it now. We have a staff meeting to attend."
Remus nodded and clutched his lesson plans like a lifeline.
"Don't look so grim, Remus," said Dumbledore kindly. "Today you destroyed an unspeakably dangerous object and your actions have allowed for the possibility that Harry Potter will live a long and happy life. It's more than I ever expected."
It might have been more than Dumbledore had ever expected, but to Remus it was a reminder that Harry had, in fact, survived this once, and that Remus had been the one to ask him to do it all over again. Sirius' initial fury and Dora's confused distaste were less punishment than Remus deserved.
And Teddy…
He couldn't think of Teddy now. He had to be prepared to chat with Professor Flitwick about the coordination of the Defense and Charms curriculum for the NEWT-level students.
The staff room was already full when Dumbledore walked in with Remus at his side. Remus usually chose one of the hard, straight-back chairs close to the center of the room. Today, though, those chairs were occupied and his only option was a low, cozy armchair in the far corner beside Severus Snape.
Severus didn't ordinarily choose the corner during staff meetings; most often, Minerva sat at Dumbledore's right and Severus at his left. Perhaps Severus had been working in the corner for hours (from the looks of the rolls of parchment at his feet, it was possible) and hadn't bothered to get up and take his place when the others had begun to arrive.
Remus smiled and whispered his hellos to his colleagues as he sat down. Severus pretended that Remus didn't exist. Remus didn't mind very much.
"I have two very important announcements which should make you all very happy," Dumbledore began. "The first is that this year there will be no dementors on school grounds, which I'm sure we will find a vast improvement over our experience two years ago. The second is that this year there will be no international tournament, and therefore no former Death Eaters in the form of headmasters roaming the castle."
There was a general murmur of approval, and a distinct sense that everyone was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"We will not, however, be entirely free of the Ministry of Magic's interest this year."
Eyes began to meet in silent, nervous speculation. Hogwarts was never entirely free of the Ministry's interest; it was, after all, a school. More often than not, though, the Ministry and the public alike trusted Dumbledore to run Hogwarts as he saw fit. Everyone had understood about the extenuating circumstances caused by a prison break and an international event. No one seemed to know of any extenuating circumstances this year.
"The Minister of Magic has delegated a Senior Understudy to evaluate Hogwarts this year. She will be present at the Opening Feast. She intends to interview students and observe your classes throughout the term."
There were a few whisperings. Some of the professors appeared to be annoyed or offended. None seemed to share Remus' absolute horror.
"Scared that she'll report your complete lack of qualifications for your post to the Minister?" asked Severus under his breath.
"Feel free to share your concerns with her, Severus," murmured Remus as mildly as he could. "But I daresay you'll manage to like her even less than you like me."
"That," said Severus, "is not possible."
"Severus and Remus? Would you care to share your observations with the rest of us?" asked Dumbledore.
In the midst of his disappointment and fear (Severus wasn't wrong— Remus was afraid), Remus felt a burst of happy nostalgia. A humorous reprimand for speaking out of turn reminded him of his schoolboy years, and he had loved his schoolboy years.
For a moment, he missed James terribly.
"Severus and I were wondering if this investigation was prompted by the Karkaroff matter," said Remus smoothly, although he had no idea whether Severus was wondering anything of the kind.
"Indirectly, I imagine that it was," said Dumbledore courteously.
"Isn't Dolores Umbridge rather busy drafting legislation to protect human beings from werwolves?" asked Severus. He kept all scorn and suggestion that he was referring to the werewolf sitting a wandlength from his knee out of his voice. Remus was almost impressed.
"Yes," said Dumbledore, and the general feeling of disapproval was gratifying to Remus. "She believes that she can craft legislation and evaluate Hogwarts at the same time. We will, of course, cooperate in any way possible. Are there further questions?"
There were none, and the discussion turned to the seventh years (an unusually talented class), the fifth years (an unusually disobedient class), the Quidditch Cup (everyone had missed it desperately during the previous year), and the upcoming Sorting (if you insist on placing wagers, do be subtle about it).
Remus was glad when it was over. He begged off of discussing the NEWT students with Professor Flitwick, who sympathetically agreed. "It will be fine," he said.
Remus wished that he could believe that.
Remus arrived back at the cottage ten minutes before Harry and Sirius. They presented him with a chocolate-mint flavored concoction, courtesy of Florean Fortescue, and the next hour passed pleasantly enough as Harry rearranged new school supplies in his trunk: quills and ink and parchment along with books and, of course, the latest innovations in broom care products. Harry eyed these last with pure delight.
"Harry," said Remus. His voice was raspier than he'd wanted it to be. It was raspier than it ought to have been after the ice cream.
Harry turned to look at him.
"I know that Quidditch means a great deal to you."
"You're not going to tell him that his OWLs are more important, are you?" injected Sirius irritably.
"Harry already knows that." Sirius made a face. Remus ignored him. "I wanted to tell him that there will be an Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic at Hogwarts this year, and that he ought to stay away from her as much as possible lest he lose the right to fly."
"Umbridge is going to be there?" asked Sirius sharply.
"Yes."
"But she couldn't get herself appointed Defense professor. Could she?"
"No." Remus shook his head. "Not yet."
"Who is Umbridge?" Harry wanted to know. "Does she want you to get sacked?"
"More than she realizes," said Remus. "She hates werewolves. I shan't take it personally, though, as she also hates giants, centaurs, merfolk, goblins, Muggles, and half-bloods, despite being a half-blood herself. She denies that, of course. Pretends her mother wasn't a Muggle. And do not bring it up, Harry. Do not tell her that you know that she isn't a pureblood. Do it as a special favor to me if you won't do it out of self-preservation."
"Is she going to try to kill me?"
"No," said Remus. "No, killing is not to her taste. She prefers humiliation and subjugation, and she needs lesser mortals alive for that. Why kill you when she can systematically take away everything that makes your life pleasurable, even bearable? Why kill you when she can drive you further and further into helplessness and isolation? Why kill you when she can congratulate herself as your hope gives way to despair?"
"Remus doesn't like her," said Sirius helpfully.
"Do you like her?" Harry asked Sirius.
"I despise her, but I despise a lot of people. Remus pretty much reserves this level of loathing for Dolores Umbridge. Entertaining, isn't it?"
Remus didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed and settled for being neither.
"Harry, I generally don't want to give you a lot of details about what happened to you… before… because I don't want to hinder your ability to grow and find your own way. But when she was your Defense professor— she briefly managed to become Headmistress— she did far worse things than ban you from Quidditch. She stopped you communicating with Sirius. She forbade you to study Defense on your own after she declined to teach it. She— I don't suppose you've heard of a blood quill?"
"You write with your own blood?" guessed Harry.
"It's more painful than you would expect. She left you with a scar across your hand. It read I must not tell lies. If she tries to hurt you physically, we can stop her this time. Sirius will pull you out of school if it comes to that." Remus looked to Sirius for confirmation and received it with a nod.
"Was I telling lies?" asked Harry, more interested in his shadow-self than in whether Sirius would remove him from school.
"No," said Remus shortly. "You were not."
"Does Dumbledore know all of this?"
"He does."
"Then why would he let her come to the school? What's she meant to be doing?"
"My guess— and this is only a guess—is that Dumbledore thinks it will stoke Minister Fudge's paranoia if he refuses entrance to Fudge's chosen representative. You know that Fudge has always been afraid that Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic and has been biding his time before taking over?"
"Yes."
"As to what she's meant to be doing, she's meant to be evaluating the professors and the school. When she realizes that I am a werewolf, I expect that she will—"
"You don't know that she'll figure it out, Moony," said Sirius.
"If she does, I want Harry to be prepared."
"If she does, we will prepare Harry then. In the meantime, Harry will tell us if he notices anything unusual. Is that right, Harry?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "But we won't let her find out."
He sounded like his father again, and Remus bowed his head for an instant to hide a rush of emotion.
"What else did you learn at Hogwarts today?" asked Sirius.
Remus couldn't help laughing. He'd almost forgotten. "Dumbledore retrieved the Horcrux from the Lestranges' vault. I destroyed it. He thinks there's only one left to find."
Sirius jumped to his feet with delight and pounded both Remus and Harry on their backs. "And that slipped your mind? How shall we celebrate?"
Remus didn't care how they celebrated. Just being with them was celebration enough, at least for the moment.
To be continued.
Recommendation:
As Severus Snape had a cameo in this chapter, I must recommend:
The Slytherin Kama Sutra by Angie Astravic. It is story ID number 103047 on this site.
Summary: Sex education at Hogwarts: After Draco Malfoy has a near-fatal encounter with Dark Magic, Professor McGonagall decides it needs to be taught earlier. Note the R rating. Nothing explicit, but quite a lot is implied.
Or: Hey, look, the fic that taught much-younger me what a courgette is. Mind the rating.
For a less R-rated Angie Astravic story, I always loved Christmas Over Azkaban, in which Fred and George break Percy out of prison. It is part of a series written prior to the publication of Order of the Phoenix and departs from canon in keeping with that.