Sorry for the silence, ya'll. Life interrupted. But the story goes on! Also, if you are anti-Dumbledore bashing, this may be your spot to hop off. I hadn't intended to make this story into that sort of fic, but hey. Things happen. Don't forget to review, and happy reading :)
"You've been quiet today," Theo noted. He didn't sound worried, just curious.
It was their third class. Potions required a lot of Hermione's attention because no matter how many notes she took to prepare, it wasn't the same as brewing the potion, which she couldn't do on her own to practice before class. She diced a sprig of rosemary and studiously avoided looking at her professor.
"I'm thinking," she told her partner.
Theo nodded his head. "Must be important then," he said, turning the fire down a bit. The potion simmered indigo, just as the textbook said it should. "You haven't answered any questions in class at all. That's unusual."
She considered whether or not to tell him what Professor Snape had told her. On one hand, Theo was a good person to make into an actual friend she could confide in. On the other hand, she had very little desire to reveal the way her professor had thoroughly humiliated her with a few harsh sentences. In the end, she decided not to tell him. She was just too embarrassed to share. She didn't want anyone to know just how much she had built herself up, only to be torn down so completely by the professor everyone knew she admired the most. Being upset wasn't something she was used to; she didn't know how to handle that emotional response. Anger, vengeance, irritation—those were feelings she recognized. But Professor Snape had hurt her, and she had no idea how to deal with it. Never had she thought her admiration for her professor could be twisted into a weakness against him.
She shrugged. "I still knew the answers."
"I don't doubt that," Theo chuckled.
They worked in silence to complete the potion. Just as they finished, a Gryffindor caused a small explosion.
"Mr. Finnegan, clean up your station immediately and then escort yourself to the infirmary. I expected something like this from Mr. Longbottom, but I see I have been remiss not to include you in my tally of terrible students," Professor Snape intoned darkly. When he strode past Hermione and Theo to Seamus Finnegan's disaster, Hermione leaned away from him.
Theo didn't miss Hermione's avoidance. "Not getting along with Snape these days?"
"Everything's fine," she snapped, unable to control herself. She had been on a wire edge since the week before, when she had gone to the Ministry with her professor. The sudden questions did little to calm her.
Theo looked at her with wide eyes. "Okay," he said carefully. "Well, if you decide you're not fine, you can talk to me about it."
"Quiet!" Professor Snape demanded.
Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper. "Why do you care?" She hated herself for asking, but the whirlwind of hurt inside her had not been lessening over the past week, only increasing. The question sounded broken. Weak. There was nothing she hated more than to be weak.
Theo frowned. "Why not? You're right mean, sometimes, but I think of you as a friend."
His words almost caused her to fall over in surprise.
He saw her involuntary twitch and explained. "It's not just because my Head of House tells me to be your friend. You do a lot to help us, even that wanker Zabini. Just because you don't think you have friends doesn't make it true, Hermione."
She inhaled deeply, clutching the table with her fingers. Had she just been fooling herself into thinking she had been holding herself aloof? She had made friends without intending too, even if she couldn't admit it to herself. Merlin, once Theo opened the floodgates, she realized there were a number of people in her house she considered friends, not just allies or carefully cultivated followers. Theo, Blaise, Greg and Vincent, Thorfinn, Roland…. Even Draco to an extent, although she suspected the only thing saving her from nightmares was her nightly visits with Badb. If she has been having nightmares over the attack he had orchestrated, she would definitely not feel even marginally friendly. Draco would never be able to earn her forgiveness, but he had wiggled his way into better graces. She still refused to forgive Pansy and the girls, but she had made friends with the boys without even intending to.
"Sometimes I think Greg fancies you," Theo continued, oblivious to the way Hermione's world had turned upside down. "I pity him."
She sat still and thought very quickly as Theo bottled their successful potion and cleaned their station. She had two options so far as she saw it. One, she could reject the offered friendship and go back to stage one. Two, she could force herself to admit her own faults and follow her professor's advice.
For the first time in her life, Hermione looked at herself critically and realized she was severely lacking.
"I see some of you have managed to produce results that do not make me pine for corporal punishment. Class dismissed. Miss Black, stay behind."
Hermione was very aware that in her current emotional state, the last thing she needed was another reprimand. She could hardly string together complex thoughts.
Theo clapped her shoulder as he moved past to leave. He pretended not to notice her flinch. "See you in Herbology later, yeah?"
"Of course," she murmured.
"Like Hermione would skip a class," Blaise joked as he pushed Theo ahead. "Good luck with Snape, Hermione."
The boys—her friends? —left the classroom. Only herself and Professor Snape remained.
Her professor impatiently stood behind the long table at the front of the room. "Stop hiding in your seat, Miss Black. It is not becoming of you."
Slowly, she gathered her things and carefully cleaned her station, tucking in her stool until it lined up perfectly beneath her work table. She began to straighten Theo's stool to match hers when Professor Snape interrupted.
"Halt your interminable stalling immediately, Miss Black, before I lose my finite patience," he commanded darkly, unamused by her atypical cowed behavior. "I am not going to ridicule you again, if that is what has you so hesitant to look me in the eye. Mr. Longbottom has exhausted my resources for insults at the moment."
Comforted slightly by that admission, Hermione approached the front of the room. She still kept her eyes down, prompting an exasperated exhalation. "Look me in the eye and listen carefully."
She lifted her gaze to Professor Snape's. His eyes were deep black, hooded eyelids giving the impression that he was incredibly bored. "Yes, sir," obeyed Hermione.
He stared at her for a moment, silently thinking. "You resemble your uncle greatly," said her professor finally, to her surprise.
"You mean Regulus Black?" Hermione asked hesitantly. She hadn't expected the conversation to turn in such an unexpected direction, but curiosity held her in its thrall. The only pictures she had seen of her family were the tiny portraits in the magical genealogy book Narcissa had acquired for her. The images were too small to note any similarities between her and the Blacks.
"So far as I am aware, you only have one uncle," Professor Snape answered. "Regulus Black was a very gifted student two years behind me in Slytherin. You could have been his twin, except his eyes were grey."
"Were you two close?" she questioned, sensing something in his succinct description.
Professor Snape nodded once, solemn. "As close as anyone in Slytherin could be, I suppose."
The insight to Professor Snape was unexpected, but not unwelcome. "What happened to him? I haven't been able to find much on him in my research," admitted Hermione. She had been spending an hour or two a week researching what she could on the Black family, driven by a desire to know the people she descended from. There was lots of available information on her family's history, but anything more recent was too sparse to satisfy her itch.
His mouth twisted, but not into its customary sneer. Hermione had never seen such an expression on her professor's face. "He died during the war, as did most people who had something significant to provide the world."
Hermione wanted to know more about why he looked so… sad, but he redirected their conversation, putting a decisive end to anything personal she could have asked next.
"I have noticed that you have been… uncharacteristically quiet during class," Professor Snape intoned slowly.
"I'm better now," she offered, without explaining why she had been quiet or what had changed since class ended ten minutes before. He knew she had been upset over his humiliating account of herself. There was no need to unearth the unpleasant, twisting feelings that had been festering inside her for the past week.
Professor Snape stared down the length of his hooked nose. "I see," he murmured. "And have you thought on our words?"
She should have known he wouldn't let her escape without confronting her complicated web of realizations. After all, he had been the one to force her to learn the joys of self-criticism. He probably knew she had been kept awake at night by what he had said. Other students believe Professor Snape was a sadist; he had certainly confirmed her suspicions.
"Yes, sir," replied Hermione, "I have."
"And?" he drawled, leading her to elaborate with raised brows.
Barely retaining a scowl, she explained further. "I believe you were right, sir."
"Are right," he corrected. He looked darkly amused by her quick glare.
"I have had a very… introspective week," she continued unwillingly. "I'm not good at admitting when I've been wrong, and you told me I had been wrong essentially my entire life."
Professor Snape nodded. "You are as gifted as your uncle was, Miss Black. Do not waste your talents. I would not trust your year to herd Hippogriffs, but I would trust you to at least recognize the creature."
What a backhanded compliment, thought Hermione to herself. Still, pleasure warmed her cheeks at earning even such weak praise from her most obstinate teacher.
"Unless you wish to remain and begin your bartered task of scrubbing cauldrons, I would suggest you leave and go waste valuable time spent doing something undoubtedly useless," he threatened, ending their discussion.
"Yes, sir," she said, "and thank you, sir."
He only nodded silently to accept her thanks, and she left his classroom without another word.
"Severus," Albus Dumbledore greeted jovially. "Just the wizard I need to speak to."
Severus Snape remained standing when the Headmaster gestured for him to claim a seat. "Why have you summoned me, Albus?"
Dumbledore offered a candy, which Severus refused, before answering. "I find myself curious as to how the Ministry visit with Miss Black went," he said, taking a seat behind the desk. His office whirred with whimsical instruments, adding silvery background noise to their meeting. "It was a week ago, yet you have not come to chat before now."
"I have been busy," Severus lied. Spying on Hermione Black sat ill with him, so he had been avoiding the Headmaster.
"Of course you have," agreed Dumbledore. "Work does tend to congregate at the end of each term, I remember well from my own days as a professor."
"Perhaps if the first year was not so heavily populated by dunderheads, I would have more time to run your… errands," Severus drawled. "Alas, your pet Potter and his recalcitrant companion keep me occupied. Neville Longbottom is even more of an irritant, amazingly."
Dumbledore's eyes crinkled in a slight smile. "Ah, perhaps, but I know you will teach them all they need to know. Now, tell me of the Ministry."
"It was uneventful," Severus replied as he ensured his mental shields were firmly in place. Albus Dumbledore was a talented Legilimens. "Rufus was… himself. Miss Black acted admirably in pursuing her quest."
"Do you suspect she succeeded?" Dumbledore asked.
"No," Severus answered. "Rufus took great pleasure in evicting us from his office without agreeing to anything Miss Black wanted." Snape could rest easy knowing his lie would never be discovered. Rufus Scrimgeour would never admit to being convinced to go against his own will by a mere slip of a girl, no matter the power of her name.
Tapping his pale wand to a temple in thought, Dumbledore hummed noncommittally. "Rufus has always been a man of conviction," he shared. "He would never allow the release of a Death Eater from Azkaban. Do you predict he may change his mind, Severus?"
Severus had to tread carefully, since he knew Scrimgeour had agreed to Hermione's suggestions. "I am not sure," he began, "but Miss Black was convincing. Over time, he may come to agree with her."
"I do hope she is successful, but I doubt Rufus will bend his will," Dumbledore shared, appearing sad. "I will owl him again and extend my support for her cause. It is vital that we ensure the girl is not drawn into the Dark by families sympathetic to Tom's cause, like the Malfoys. Anyone able to cast Fiendfyre without a wand, especially a mere girl, must be kept within the Light. She holds untapped magical power. With the right training, she could be a great support in the next war, so long as she does not develop a taste for any other dark curses. Fiendfyre is a very, very dark but of magic, but her unfocused command of it comforts my fear that she leans more to the Dark. I believe her summoning of it was an accident, don't you think so, Severus?"
Severus remembered the way Marcus Flint had wheezed in pain and terror, melted flesh sliding from bone. He remembered the way Hermione Black had been unable to withhold a tiny, cruel smile when Dumbledore had formally announced weeks ago that Marcus had died of a sudden, onset case of Dragon Pox. Dumbledore wanted Severus to pretend Hermione wasn't already a witch of darker leanings so he could mold her into the weapon he desired. If no one else knew she had unintentionally summoned Fiendfyre, no one in the Order would protest Dumbledore's plans for her.
And oh, Severus knew the Headmaster likely had many plans starring the young, promising witch.
"In fact," Dumbledore continued, sensing his spy's hesitation, "an examination of the wands confiscated that night revealed the departed Mr. Flint's wand had also produced Fiendfyre, while Miss Black's wand's last use had been to warm her meal at dinner. We can never know the truth of who cast the dark curse, but I would still like to assure myself a young witch with such potential chooses the Light. Perhaps I have grown too sentimental in my old age," the Headmaster self-condescended, "for I cannot help but desire to save the daughter of my old friend, Sirius Black, from following the path so many of her ancestors chose."
Severus knew without a doubt Marcus Flint hadn't cast Fiendfyre, so the implication took him by surprise. The boy had been hotheaded and impulsive; if he had known a curse such as Fiendfyre, he would have bragged to his housemates or threatened other students long before Hermione's blood status prompted him to attack. But Dumbledore had never made an effort to get to know Slytherin students, so it was possible he didn't know Marcus's nature. However, Severus suspected the Headmaster was perfectly aware that Hermione had indeed been the one to summon Fiendfyre, yet he was trying to spin a narrative that left her completely innocent.
"Does Minerva suspect the late Mr. Flint may have been the student to cast the curse?" Severus asked. The other professor had also been on the scene that night. Dumbledore's response would tell Severus if Minerva had also been gently coerced into believing the twisted tale. If the Headmaster chose to conceal the truth from even the core members of the Order, then he would be able to do what he wanted about Hermione without complaint.
"She was at my side when we discovered it," Dumbledore informed, confirming Severus's suspicions.
If Minerva had been in on the subterfuge from the beginning, Severus realized, then that meant Dumbledore's plot to control the young witch had been taking shape for months. Severus felt ill at the thought. He should have been glad to know a burgeoning Dark witch was under Dumbledore's watchful eye. He had seen the carnage dealt by her uncontrolled summoning of Fiendfyre, and he knew that she was making a concerted effort to research curses to teach herself. Such a witch was easily capable of being another Tom Riddle, and Tom hadn't had the wealth or political power during his schooling to do anything of note but build his following.
Severus knew Dumbledore deeply regretted Tom's fall into the Dark. A powerful wizard like him would have been an incredible asset. Hermione had the potential to either be the next great Dark witch, or Dumbledore's greatest weapon. If given the option between the two, Severus knew without a doubt what the girl would choose. And that meant it was already too late to cultivate her for the Light. While the girl didn't believe in the ideology behind Tom's rise to power as Lord Voldemort, she shared the same thirst for knowledge and casual, willing cruelty, added to her growing distrust of the Headmaster.
The potions professor did not share his thoughts with the Order's leader. Although he had no desire to see a Dark witch rise to power after Lord Voldemort, and he knew Dumbledore was the best way to avoid that, he didn't truly think Hermione Black was interested in ruling over magical Britain. She enjoyed having power over others, and she had the wealth and bloodline to become a political powerhouse, but Severus believed her interests were academic. She couldn't learn everything she desired if she had to waste time playing tyrant. Hermione was a witch who only did things she wanted to do; ruling would not suit her.
If Severus told Dumbledore his private beliefs, the Headmaster would not agree. He would act understanding and pleasant, but the potions master knew that if he believed Severus would not follow his orders to the letter, he would then use a different tool to enact whatever plot he had decided upon to gain control of the young witch. Severus wanted to be the only one Dumbledore set to the task of cultivating Hermione, that way he could protect her from Dumbledore's recruitment.
A long time ago, Severus had known another young witch brimming with boundless spirit and talent. She had been solidly Light-minded magically, but possessed a similar vengeful flare and spark of temper that often resulted in impulsively cast spells. He had made his own mistakes with that witch, and so he hadn't been able to protect her when the Order proved inadequate. Never would he forgive the Order for their failure. He would not willingly entrust another young woman to their care. His arms still held the phantom weight of a dead witch.
"Very well," Severus finally said.
Dumbledore smiled, aware the potions professor had agreed to the story he had invented. "Of course, the truth always prevails."
"Of course," Severus echoed.
"I have much to do, so you may leave if you wish, Severus," the Headmaster dismissed.
The potions master inclined his head and swept from the room.
Once alone, Albus Dumbledore looked to an empty corner of his office. "It is safe to come out, now," he said.
The corner shimmered oddly, a section of air becoming visibly displaced as a man appeared.
"Do you now understand my concerns, Rufus?" Dumbledore asked gravely.
The leonine Head of Magical Law Enforcement folded his arms over his chest. "Well, I don't disagree with you. There is some scheme afoot. I told the blasted girl I would think on her idea, which the Death Eater heard quite clearly. For some dark reason of his own, he lied."
Dumbledore nodded and thoughtfully steepled his fingers. "Severus is usually one of my most trustworthy advisors, although I have always made a practice of withholding some information so as to make his life… easier. However, he garnered my suspicion when he avoided coming to give a customary report."
Rufus Scrimgeour furrowed his brows. "You claim he's trustworthy? I have yet to meet a Slytherin I would ever trust."
"The House of Slytherin does attract darkness," Dumbledore admitted, "but I have known many fine witches and wizards to enter that house and avoid temptations. Horace and Andromeda are two that you know."
"Horace Slughorn is a coward and a social climber," Rufus disparaged. "Mrs. Tonks is admirable, however. Her daughter was a Hufflepuff, so the Black blood doesn't seem to have corrupted her."
"I do not believe it has corrupted the young Miss Black either, despite appearances, Rufus," Dumbledore gently chided.
Rufus's scowl turned thunderous. "I would have words with you over that, Albus. How is it that Fiendfyre was used in what is supposed to be a sanctuary for Britain's youth? How is it that no report was given to the Ministry over that girl being brutally attacked? Marcus Flint may have died before justice came for him, but I suspect there are still things you haven't told me. You are not the ruler of some tiny fiefdom. These children are not your subjects. Hogwarts may not answer to the Ministry, but the schoolchildren are under the protection of the government."
"There is no proof of who cast the spell," Dumbledore reminded. "Likely, the perpetrator is already dead. Miss Black is a victim, and I will not have the story of her attack sensationalized. There are people in your department who would buck your purview to sell such a story to the Prophet."
"I am well aware not everyone is as loyal as I would like," the ex-auror snapped. "The fact remains that you purposely hid a crime from the Ministry to further your own ends, no matter what altruistic spin you put on your reasons."
"It was an unfortunate necessity," admitted the Headmaster solemnly. "The girl has enough to deal with as it is. Would you have thrown her to the wolves when the issue has already been resolved by the unfortunate passing of Mr. Flint?"
"You're lucky, Albus," Rufus growled. "There is nothing I want more than to investigate this entire scandal. I know the Black girl won't cooperate, and the Flint boy is dead. The only thing saving you from a full review at my suggestion is the death of a student, Albus. Don't take me for a fool. The moment that boy entered St. Mungo's, I started keeping an eye on him. His rooms may have been private, but my sources say his death wasn't from Dragon Pox. Marcus Flint was covered in unhealed burn scars when he died under mysterious circumstances. Dragon Pox looks nothing like burns."
"If the boy cast the spell—and I believe he did—it is extremely likely he lost control. It is not unknown from the casters of Fiendfyre to succumb to their own curse."
The Head of the DMLE was not a stupid man. He knew Albus Dumbledore was relying on half-truths to evade a deeper investigation. There wasn't enough evidence to support Rufus's suspicions, which meant there was nothing he could do but accuse Albus of hiding the truth. Albus acted as if Hogwarts was solely under his control, which made him treat the Ministry as a foreign entity. He had amassed followers to praise his name in all levels of society, leaving Rufus unable to say one word against the old wizard. Rufus knew he would have to content himself with the crumbs Albus allowed him. He would bide his time until he could launch a full investigation and reveal the schemes he had no doubt the Headmaster had been planning.
"So now you know your Death Eater pet lied to you," Rufus changed the subject, allowing Dumbledore victory for the time being. "Why did you bring me here to witness it?"
"Ah," Dumbledore smiled pleasantly, "so now we get to the crux of the issue."
"I'm not here for your dramatics," Rufus snarled, patience growing thin. "You pulled favors to even get me here once more. I don't bloody care if you're Supreme Warlock or whatever titles you bandy about. I have real work awaiting me at my office while you waste my time, sitting in your tower and controlling the lives of children. Get on with it, Albus."
"Such outbursts are not needed, Rufus. I will tell you why you are here. It is for your cause."
"Spit it out. I am nearly done with listening to you," Scrimgeour snarled, irritation obvious.
Dumbledore stood slowly, aged bones limiting his speed. "First, I must show you something," he told the ex-auror. The Headmaster led Rufus to a cabinet behind the great oak desk. After whispering several spells and moving his wand in an intricate pattern, the cabinet unlocked, revealing a faintly glowing stone basin.
"A pensieve," Rufus noted suspiciously. He wasn't sure if he liked the direction of the conversation.
"Correct," Albus praised, as if Rufus was his student, not a decorated war hero and equal. "This pensieve may be my most prized possession. It holds many memories in its safekeeping."
"What do you intend to show me, Albus?"
The Headmaster lifted the basin onto his desk's surface, clearing cluttered papers with a wandless swipe of his opposite hand. "I will confirm your suspicions," he answered. The old wizard held out a hand for Rufus to take. With some hesitation, the ex-auror accepted.
Rubble made the street impossible to navigate, so the two Aurors relied on apparating from each clear space they could find. They followed the shrill screams and baying laughter until they finally came upon the scene.
Body parts surrounded the shaking form of a young man. He was splattered in gore so thick his pale skin barely showed. Auror Dawlish couldn't even recognize him until the young man's head tilted forward and he began to chant to himself, the same phrase over and over.
"It's my fault," Sirius Black cackled, "I did this! They are dead because of me!"
Auror Dawlish exchanged a glance with his partner, Auror Proudfoot. They each looked at the ruined street and the remains of at least a dozen Muggles, splintered by a dark curse into no more than burnt blood and gristle.
"THEY ARE DEAD! BECAUSE OF ME!" Sirius screamed.
The Aurors heard Muggle sirens. They only had moments before more people arrived at the scene of a wizarding crime.
"We have to take him in," Auror Proudfoot said, confirming what Dawlish hadn't yet said aloud.
Auror Dawlish knew the Potters had both been killed hours earlier, leaving their son behind. Dawlish was a part of the Order, and he was deep enough in the secretive group to know they had been betrayed.
It looked like they had discovered the source of the betrayal: Sirius Orion Black.
Sirius shuddered forcefully. His body curled inwards on itself, forehead pressed to the asphalt. Grimy hands gripped his fistfuls of hair as he shook his head side to side, abrading his skin. "It's my fault," he moaned. "I killed them." His voice was broken with despair.
"That's all the confession I need," said Auror Proudfoot. Disgust twisted his normally cheerful voice into dark condemnation.
"Sirius Black," intoned Auror Dawlish, "You are under arrest for the murder of Muggles, the use of magic in front of Muggles against the Statute of Secrecy, aiding and abetting the terrorist movement, and the murder of James and Lily Potter."
Rufus and Albus were ripped from the short memory at Albus's wand wave. Rufus gripped the edge of the desk to steady himself as the old wizard returned the pensieve to its place.
"I borrowed the memory from the first Aurors to reach the scene," the Headmaster informed. "Auror Dawlish is an old friend of mine. I knew his recollection would be untainted by bias."
"What is your purpose in showing me this, Albus?" Rufus demanded. "You want Black to be freed."
"Upon further reflection, I now believe that may not be the best course of action," Albus revealed. He sighed sadly, his age apparent in every move. "At first, I allowed myself to ignore evidence and trust in the best. I wanted to believe Sirius had been falsely imprisoned by the strict methods Mr. Crouch employed."
Dumbledore gestured for Rufus to sit, smiling slightly when he did so. "It does not hearten me to admit my wrongs, Rufus. I am an old man. I wanted to believe the best of my former student, even though all evidence pointed to a different conclusion. I will not lie to you. I originally supported Miss Black in fostering his release and fair trial."
"It's why you dragged me here the first time," stated the ex-auror. "I told you I wouldn't release a Death Eater, no matter the sob story you spun to manipulate me."
"You have always been a man of conviction," Albus complimented. "I have admired it of you, even if at times I wish you were more open to advice."
"What changed your mind?" Rufus asked. He ignored the compliment; he had no interest in being absorbed into Albus Dumbledore's sticky web of influence. Once he began accepting advice, it turned into favors, which then left Rufus solidly in Albus's circle of influence, trapped by how own actions.
"The girl has the potential to become dangerous," Albus admitted. "I once hoped her father could temper her dark interests, but upon review, I now believe she would be better off under another person's guardianship."
"You just spent an hour trying to convince your pet Death Eater that the girl is no danger," Rufus argued heatedly, frustrated with the circular conversation. "Are you implying now that she is the one who cast Fiendfyre? If she is, I'll take her in, despite your concerns for her. You won't convince me otherwise. I was an Auror. I am Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It is a shame for a young girl to be taken in for dark magic, which I won't deny despite my personal feelings about her. You can't protect her from the law, no matter what you offer me. Don't try to twist me into one of your pawns, Albus."
"I would never do that, Rufus," Albus calmly disagreed. "I do not have pawns to do my bidding. I know likeminded people with moral principle interested in seeing the Light triumph over Dark."
"Pretty words mean nothing to me," Rufus threatened quietly. "What's the truth of her? What are you planning, Albus?"
"It will never be known what occurred that night, despite my fervent wish otherwise. But what I do know for sure is that the girl will become a force to be reckoned with one day. A young witch with the power and potential Miss Black has is a girl to watch closely. Under the Malfoys' tutelage, I fear her soul may be irreparably stained. I had hoped her father would prove a better option, but with the memory I have shown you, it seems I was fatally wrong."
"Unless a crime was committed, none of this involves me," Rufus argued, tired of the ordeal. He had always known Sirius Black was guilty; his knowledge had been confirmed. Sirius Black would not get a fair trial so long as Rufus was in office. "A custody quibble has no place in my department."
"Even you must admit it is important to ensure the child has a good upbringing," Albus appealed. "And I had to show you first hand why Sirius is not an acceptable candidate to raise her. When I owled you, you told me yourself you had begun making inquiries to his release. That is why I had to reveal to you Severus's evasions and Auror Dawlish's memory."
"The girl made a surprisingly convincing argument for Black's trial," Rufus informed. "The memory has proved otherwise and confirmed my own beliefs. Sirius Black will never leave Azkaban. But that still does not explain why you are trying to involve me in the girl's life. I have no interest in Astarte Black."
"I am glad to hear that Sirius will never have the opportunity to twist his daughter to his breed of darkness," Albus said in relief. "The worry had plagued me. As for her upbringing: I am informing you so that, should it come to it, I know I have the support of your department. It does involve one of your own, after all."
Rufus narrowed his eyes as he realized what the old wizard was planning. "You want to give the girl to the Tonks family."
"I have always known you to be intelligent," Albus confirmed. "I believe Andromeda to be the best option in raising the girl correctly. Should you ever be concerned, I believe Auror-in-training Nymphadora Tonks would be able to answer any questions you may have concerning Miss Black."
"If you think I would ever be concerned about the girl, then you know something about her nature that I won't like," Rufus intuited.
"I know only that the Blacks are infamously prone to madness," Albus said gravely. "Andromeda has proven non-afflicted. She would be first to recognize the signs."
Rufus Scrimgeour leaned backward and considered the Hogwarts Headmaster. "I may personally support limiting that girl through whatever pawns you have at your disposal, but I will have no part in a civil dispute. That is my final word on the matter, Albus."
"I am sorry to hear that, Rufus. You could be a great help for making sure the young girl grows up happy and healthy."
The ex-auror rolled his eyes. "Yes, I have no doubt. If all you wanted today was to confirm for me that Death Eaters never change their colors, and try to manipulate me into battling for Astarte Black's guardianship on your behalf, I think I will take my leave. I can't pretend it's been a pleasure, Albus."
"If I have succeeded in keeping a murderer away from an innocent girl, then I believe it was my pleasure to speak to you," smiled the Headmaster politely.
The Head of the DMLE scowled and pointedly refused to politely disengage. He used the floo. Dumbledore watched him go, pleased that he had accomplished nearly all of his goals.
Dumbledore did not truly believe Sirius to be guilty of his accused crimes. Auror Dawlish's memory had been the perfect tool to ensure Scrimgeour went back on his agreement with Miss Black to try and free her father. While Dumbledore knew Sirius had once been a strong proponent of the Light, he did not trust the influence Azkaban could have had on the already imbalanced wizard. A man exposed to such darkness could easily slide off the correct path. And Sirius Black had already been exposed to so much darkness in his short life. There was also the added difficulty of Harry Potter; Sirius would no doubt claim guardianship of the young wizard, as was his right as Godfather. That would place Hermione and Harry in close quarters, which made Dumbledore worry over the effect the young witch would have over the boy. Harry Potter was destined for great things. A Slytherin proven to lean toward the Dark had no place in his life.
If the old wizard wanted to make inroads to securing the young witch for his own plans, he needed her to be watched over by someone he could trust absolutely to instruct onto a path of the Light. It didn't hurt that Dumbledore had always held more sway over the Andromeda and the other Tonks than over Sirius Black. Sirius had always been stubborn and independent, with a worrisome streak of violence. He would not appreciate anyone meddling in such personal affairs as his daughter's upbringing, no matter their good intentions.
And besides—Andromeda Tonks was a great witch, who had raised an admirable daughter. The Tonk's family was stable, a perfect nuclear environment for a young girl. An ex-convict was no man to raise a young girl.
It was sad that to protect the girl from Dark influences, an innocent man would remain in Azkaban. But then, Albus Dumbledore always made decisions for the greater good.