Chapter Eighty-Seven - Trouble with Fudge
Professor McGonagall returned soon after Dumbledore had finished questioning Barty Crouch Jr. She announced that Karkaroff had been found in the hold of the ship, hidden within an enchanted trunk, just as Crouch had reported.
"He's very weak, but he'll survive," McGonagall stated, "He should be taken to the hospital wing immediately."
Dumbledore nodded his head in agreement, though his gaze was still fixed on Crouch. There was a look of deep disgust on his face, which surprised Harry. The headmaster was usually of a benign disposition, with a kind face and calm voice. The headmaster he saw now seemed colder, more detached. While Harry looked on, Dumbledore raised his wand and conjured more ropes, only now it was Crouch who was bound by them.
"Minerva, can I ask you to stand guard while I take Harry to my office?" asked Dumbledore in a hard voice that perfectly matched his stony expression.
Professor McGonagall's wand was already drawn and directed defensively toward Crouch, ready to fulfill the headmaster's request. Crouch didn't seem to mind. He smiled up at his captors, as if assured that his bondage was only temporary. Harry was reminded of what Voldemort said about freeing his followers in Azkaban. Perhaps Crouch knew of his master's plan, and was therefore more willing to return to the prison his parents had once helped him escape.
"Severus," said Dumbledore, "Please tell Madame Pomfrey to come to the ship. Have her bring Karkaroff to the hospital wing. Then go down to the grounds and find Cornelius. He will want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing with Harry if he needs me."
Snape nodded in silence and hurried out of the ship's cabin. Then Dumbledore turned to Harry, his usual gentle expression restored. He guided Harry out the open doorway, his hand resting with minimal pressure on Harry's shoulder.
They did not speak for several minutes, but when they had crossed the lake and touched down on shore, Dumbledore addressed Harry in a soft tone.
"I know this has already been a trying night for you…" he began.
Harry stopped him with a resolute nod. He already knew that Sirius, Remus, and Mrs. Zabini were waiting for him in Dumbledore's office. As much as he didn't want to talk about what had happened, they would all need to hear his story. He preferred to do it now, while everyone was together, and Dumbledore's guiding presence could fill in the parts Harry himself couldn't fully explain. His mind began to piece certain images together, as if they were photographs he was methodically slipping into an album. Wormtail, cradling his stump of an arm. The silver hand he was later given, crushing a twig to dust. Voldemort, rising from the steaming cauldron. His snakelike face twisted in anger when Harry's wand connected with his own. The faces of the crowd lifting him up. Moody, taking him toward the castle. Moody, trying to protect him. Moody… Dead…
"Professor," Harry said in a hollow voice, "Where is Professor Moody?"
Dumbledore paused before he answered. His voice, which had been flat and emotionless throughout his interrogation with Crouch, betrayed a note of grief for the first time.
"We found him on the grounds when we came searching for you… I have asked Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick to… to handle things until I can assist."
"Did he have family?" Harry asked, not sure that he wanted to know the answer.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Like many seasoned aurors, Alastor Moody was a bit of a loner. But I was always proud to call him a friend."
"Me too…" Harry mumbled, "I liked him, too."
His voice had become too thick for speech, and he remained silent as they passed through the front entrance of the school. A slight breeze carried a snatch of cheering and song from the Quidditch pitch. The rest of the school was still celebrating, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that occurred that very night. Harry wondered if Fudge had presented any awards to the other champions, or if Snape already found him and passed along Dumbledore's message.
"Professor," he began again, realizing that there was something he needed to tell Dumbledore about Snape, "When I was transported tonight…"
Dumbledore turned toward him in surprise, "Harry, I thought that under the circumstances you would not want to…"
"Snape was there," Harry interrupted.
The rest could not wait. He began from the moment he grabbed the cup and was transported to the graveyard. He told Dumbledore about the disgusting, infant-like form Voldemort had assumed before Wormtail placed him in the cauldron. Skipping the details, Harry told Dumbledore that once Voldemort had been revived, he called his Death Eaters to him. He named as many as he could remember. Malfoy. Macnair. Crabbe. Goyle. Nott… And Snape.
He paused, and Dumbledore finally understood the reason for Harry's discomfort.
"Did Snape tell Voldemort that he had been spying on me?"
Harry nodded.
"And you believed him?"
"No," Harry said, surprising himself by the force of his conviction. "I mean, I did at first… The things he said… The way he said it… It sounded so convincing. But he was lying to Voldemort. He… He was there to help me…"
Harry wasn't sure how much Dumbledore knew about Snape's history, though the headmaster had always seemed to trust him. Dumbledore looked thoughtful, then he asked, "Do you think Voldemort believed him, as well?"
Harry considered his response before he replied, "I think so… But if Crouch tells Voldemort that Snape rescued me from him..."
"Yes… His actions tonight might very well reveal his true allegiance. But even so, I do not think Snape will regret his actions if it means you were spared a terrible fate."
They had reached the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore's candy-inspired password seemed ill-suited after the night Harry had, but this thought was far from his mind as they proceeded up the spiral staircase. Harry met Sirius on the other side of the office door. His godfather crossed the room in one long stride and enveloped Harry in his arms. Gone was the expression of pride he had worn earlier that day. He now looked sick with worry. Remus and Mrs. Zabini, hovering anxiously mere feet away, looked just as miserable.
"Harry!" Sirius gasped, "Are you alright? Did something happen in the maze?"
It was only then that Harry realized no one had told them of his sorry adventure. They knew nothing of his brief kidnap, of Barty Crouch's deceit… Or that Voldemort had returned.
He allowed Sirius to guide him toward a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, where he sank onto the cushion with relief. Every muscle in his body cried out for sleep, but he could not fully rest just yet. He still had his story to tell.
"You had all better sit down, as well," Dumbledore advised, "I have just been speaking with Barty Crouch Junior, and I have some news to relate to you all."
Harry, exhausted in body and mind, tuned out most of Dumbledore's preliminary explanations. He felt something pressed into his hand, and realized that Remus had handed him some chocolate. Harry had not faced any real dementors that night, but he felt as emotionally drained as if he had. He was grateful for this simple kindness, and placed the chocolate in his mouth, enjoying the sweet flavor as it melted on his tongue. It revived him a little, and he was better prepared when Dumbledore finished his recitation of what they had learned from Barty Crouch.
He knew what came next. Dumbledore was going to question him about what he saw that night. He would have to relive the whole thing over again. Mrs. Zabini, who had remained silent so far, suddenly spoke up.
"Must we do this now?" she asked, "Harry has already been through enough. Let him rest. We can get the answers we need by further questioning this Crouch…"
"No…" said Harry, his voice quiet but strong. They needed to know. With Voldemort returned, they were all in danger.
He took a deep breath and began to speak. He started with the same facts he had briefly mentioned to Dumbledore, but slower now, and more detailed. The graveyard where he had been transported rose again to his mind's eye. He saw once more the sparkling potion and the twisted body that Wormtail dumped into its depths. For the most part, his audience listened in rapt silence. But when Harry described how Wormtail cut his arm, Sirius let out an outraged cry. Remus whispered a word of calm, though the hand which he had rested on Harry's shoulder increased its grip. Mrs. Zabini shared their indignation. She demanded to see the wound.
Harry knew that it was better to comply. He promptly rolled up his torn and bloodied sleeve to show them the cut that Wormtail had inflicted.
"He said that my blood made him stronger than he was before…" Harry informed them in a hollow voice.
"Made who stronger, Harry?" Mrs. Zabini asked.
"Voldemort," Harry stated blandly, surprised that they had not already understood the purpose of the ritual, "He's back… And he can touch me now. He can harm me without harming himself."
Sirius cursed and wrapped a protective arm around Harry's shoulders. He knew that Sirius could not protect him from the events that had already transpired, but his touch was comforting, all the same.
He had reached the part when the Death Eaters arrived. He began to outline Voldemort's speech, but he hesitated before mentioning Snape. Sirius and the Potions Master had never liked each other. He didn't think he could explain Snape's true motivation in a way his godfather could understand. He still wasn't sure he fully understood himself. He glanced at Dumbledore, who gave him a very slight smile. Harry let Snape's involvement pass unsaid, skipping ahead to his duel with Voldemort.
He described the brief battle in which Voldemort had tried to use the Killing Curse on him, but Harry used the Disarming Charm at the same time. He tried to make them understand the golden beam of light that had connected their wands, but his words failed him. His thoughts jumped to what had happened next, the shadowy forms that were pulled from Voldemort's wands… Bertha Jorkins… his parents...
He was glad that Sirius interrupted with a question for Dumbledore.
"The wands connected? How is that possible?"
Harry looked up at the headmaster, just as curious to hear his answer as Sirius. Dumbledore had an almost dreamlike look on his face. Quietly, as if speaking only to himself, he murmured the words, "Priori Incantatem."
"The Reverse Spell effect?" Remus asked quizzically.
"Exactly," said Dumbledore in a louder voice, "Harry's wand and Voldemort's wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. My phoenix, in fact."
He pointed to the scarlet and gold bird perched peacefully on a stand behind his desk. Harry stared at it and had a sudden realization. When his wand connected with Voldemort's, more than light had appeared. There had been a melodic humming, a song that Harry recognized but couldn't place in the confusion of the moment. Now he remembered. He'd heard the music before, within that very school, hundreds of feet below in the Chamber of Secrets. It was phoenix song.
"My wand's feather came from Fawkes?" Harry asked, unsure why this fact should still surprise him. He'd thought his exhaustion exempted him from further shocks tonight.
"Yes. Mr. Ollivander wrote to me after you bought the second wand, knowing I take an interest in these things. I was reminded of the fact this year, when he spoke to me after the weighing of the wands."
"But what does that mean?" Sirius pressed, "What happens when a wand meets its brother?"
"Professor Nobilis tells me that they will not work properly against each other. If, however, the owners of the wands forced them to do battle, a rare effect may take place. One of the wands can force the other to reveal spells it has recently performed… in reverse. Once your wands connected, Harry, I expect you began to see shadows of the magic Voldemort had performed using his wand?"
"Yes," Harry said, "First it was a hand, like the one he made for Wormtail. Then there was this old man…"
"A Muggle," Dumbledore said with a knowing nod to the others, "I had suspected Voldemort's involvement in another disappearance. This is confirmation of the fact. What else, Harry? I assume you saw Bertha Jorkins?"
Harry nodded again, but he did not trust himself to speak. There was a hard lump in Harry's throat. He could not force himself to continue.
Dumbledore understood him without words. A look of pity crossed his face.
"You saw your parents, didn't you Harry?"
Sirius inhaled sharply and pulled away from Harry. He stood, crossing the room and turning his back toward them as he hid his face in his hands. Remus patted Harry gently on his shoulder before following Sirius. Mrs. Zabini silently took his place, wrapping both of her arms around Harry, as if her mothering touch could heal the heartbreak he had felt after seeing his parents, then losing them again…
With Mrs. Zabini embracing him, Harry somehow found the strength to go on.
"Voldemort was afraid of them… His victims. My parents… They told me what to do. They said I had to break the connection and run. That they would hold him off as long as they could… I did what they said. I ran. I found the portkey, and it brought me here… That's when Professor Moody led me away, and Karkaroff… I mean Crouch… He attacked us. You know the rest, Professor."
Dumbledore rose from his seat and took Harry's injured arm in hand. Harry watched as he passed his wand over he wound, murmuring a spell that sealed the cut instantly.
"I will say this, Harry," Dumbledore said, "You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden… And found yourself equal to it. And you have told us all we have a right to know tonight. I do not want you returning to your dormitory. You'll stay in the hospital wing. I'll instruct Madame Pomfrey to give you a Sleeping Potion for a dreamless sleep. Sirius, Remus… You are welcome to stay with him."
Harry glanced around to where Sirius now stood. His godfather had his face buried in Remus's shoulder as he shook with silent sobs. Remus was doing his best to comfort him while looking at Harry with compassion. After Dumbledore spoke, Sirius took a moment to compose himself before turning and nodding. Not trusting himself to speech, however, he transformed into Padfoot. In his canine form, he marched dutifully to Harry's side and rested his large, furry head in Harry's lap.
"I'm staying, as well," Mrs. Zabini declared, rising slowly to her feet, "But first, I need to see my son."
Harry had forgotten Blaise and Millie in the chaos and confusion he'd suffered that night. He had not seen them among the faces in the crowd when he returned to the maze. Fear gripped his heart, and he felt a sudden desire to sprint from the room and assure himself that his friends were alright. But his exhausted body would not allow him to run anyway. Standing from his seat, he nearly stumbled into Mrs. Zabini's arms, saying, "Blaise and Millie… They have to know… I have to tell them…"
"I will speak to them," Mrs. Zabini said in a firm yet soothing voice, "You have done enough, Harry."
Harry wasn't able to express his relief. To know that Mrs. Zabini would explain everything, would help his friends understand so Harry didn't have to live through it all again… He summed up his feelings by wrapping both arms around Mrs. Zabini, hugging her tightly, before allowing Remus and Padfoot to escort him down the stairs from Dumbledore's office.
They found Blaise and Millie, not in the common room celebrating with the other Slytherins, but standing at the door of the hospital wing with Hermione, Neville and Nell. They were arguing in heated voices with Madame Pomfrey, demanding to know where Harry was and what had happened to him. Hermione uttered a kind of panicked shriek when she saw Harry saunter toward them, flanked by the headmaster, a large black dog, and a former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
"Harry! Are you alright?"
They had all started to rush toward him, but Mrs. Zabini stepped forward, cutting them off.
"Blaise, Millie…" she said with a tone of caution. Her gaze swept over Hermione and the others as well, "Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. I will explain everything to you, but you must allow him to sleep. You can talk with him when he's ready."
Madame Pomfrey, casting a disapproving look at the black dog, refrained from comment as she led Harry to a nearby bed. Harry caught sight of the real Karkaroff, laying motionless in a bed at the far end of the room. Harry didn't ask about his condition. He knew, of course, that this was not the same man who killed Professor Moody, but he had once been a Death Eater. Harry really didn't care what happened to him.
Harry would have gladly crawled into bed in the dirty clothes he was wearing, but Madame Pomfrey insisted he change into a clean set of pajamas. Wincing all the while from the bruises that had begun to settle into his flesh, Harry finally nestled among the pillows and blankets. Sirius curled himself up at Harry's feet. Mrs. Zabini had disappeared from sight, presumably to speak to his friends, but Remus remained, drawing a chair close to Harry's bedside.
Madame Pomfrey appeared once more with a small bottle of purple potion. Harry wanted to ask her if Viktor and Fleur were alright, but he was already so sleepy. He managed to swallow only a single mouthful of the potion before falling into a dreamless sleep.
He woke to the sound of angry voices. Two people were having a very loud discussion in the hall. Harry didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but it didn't feel nearly long enough. He didn't want to open his eyes.
Voices began to whisper around him. Mrs. Zabini must have returned, for he could hear her hiss, "They're going to wake Harry! What does Cornelius think he's doing?"
That explained one of the two people in the hall. Harry cracked his eyes open slightly, but his vision was blurred. Someone had removed his glasses for him. He could tell that the room was dimly lit. It was still nighttime.
"That's Minerva he's talking to," Remus replied in the same urgent whisper, "But what are they arguing about?"
A low growl at his feet informed Harry that Sirius was still there, curled up in the guise of Padfoot near the bottom of the bed.
"Regrettable…" Mr. Fudge said, his loud voice preceding him into the room by seconds, "But all the same…"
"You should never have brought it onto the grounds!" yelled Professor McGonagall, "Dumbledore has forbidden it! When he finds out…"
"Technically, the Black Lake is not on school grounds, is it?" Fudge interrupted, a bit testy at having his authority questioned.
Harry opened his eyes fully and replaced his glasses, unnoticed by Remus and Mrs. Zabini, who were staring at the door as the dueling pair moved closer. He was surprised to see that they were not alone. Blaise and Millie were also seated around his bedside. They cast him worried looks as he propped himself onto his pillow, but said nothing.
Snape was there as well, following closely behind Professor McGonagall and Fudge while maintaining a chilly silence. Sirius growled softly again, lifting his canine head and baring his teeth at the intrusion.
"Where is Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded of Mrs. Zabini. He was usually very courteous when speaking to Blaise's mother, but now his tone was curt.
"Waiting for you in his office, I expect," Mrs. Zabini replied in the same dispassionate voice.
But the next moment, the door to the hospital wing swung open, and Dumbledore himself came sweeping into the ward, his pace brisk for someone of his advanced age.
"Minerva, I'm surprised to find you here," he said in an almost conversational tone, "I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch…"
"There didn't seem to be any need for that, headmaster. The Minister has seen to that." Snape replied. To a casual observer, he might have appeared just as calm and Dumbledore. Harry felt he knew him better now, and the hard edge to his voice belied his calm exterior. Snape was furious.
"Mr. Fudge seemed to think his personal safety was in question!" Professor McGonagall nearly shrieked. Harry had never seen her so angry. "When I informed him that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for the murder of Alastor Moody, he insisted on summoning, of all things, a dementor! He brought it with him to the ship and… and…"
"It administered the Dementor's Kiss," Snape concluded when McGonagall faltered. Somewhere near Harry's feet, Sirius whined piteously.
"By all accounts, he is no loss!" blustered Fudge as Dumbledore turned toward him with a dark expression, "As Minister for Magic, I have every right to bring protection with me when interviewing a dangerous criminal! And if what you all say is true, then he is responsible for several deaths, the unlawful escape of Azkaban… Not to mention the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom! Or did you all forget the reason he was sent to Azkaban in the first place?"
"Regardless of his actions, he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," said Dumbledore with a hard stare at the Minister, "Nor can he be judged for his crimes and given proper punishment... This is hardly justice to the people he killed, nor to their families…"
"He was a raving lunatic!" Cornelius continued to argue, "What good would his testimony have done?"
"He was acting on the instructions of Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore stated plainly, "The murders he committed in Voldemort's name were mere by-products of a greater plan to restore Voldemort to his full strength. A plan that I am sorry to say succeeded tonight. Voldemort has indeed returned."
Fudge looked as though someone had just slapped him hard across the face. Dazed and blinking, he stared at Dumbledore.
"You claim… That You-Know-Who… Why that's… That's preposterous, Dumbledore!"
"Severus and I heard his confession ourselves," Dumbledore explained, "Under the influence of Veritaserum, Crouch revealed how he was smuggled out of Azkaban and hidden by his father until Voldemort, with the assistance of Peter Pettigrew, helped him escape and used him to capture Harry Potter. It is all true, Cornelius. Crouch helped Voldemort to return."
Fudge had seemed angry, perhaps even embarrassed, moments before. But his expression changed when he heard Dumbledore's assertion that the Dark Lord had returned. He seemed nervous, fidgety. To Harry's surprise, a slight smile twitched at the corner of his lip.
"Now, see here, Dumbledore. Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders, but to take the word of a lunatic like that…"
"When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort," Dumbledore insisted, "He witnessed Voldemort's rebirth himself. If you would follow me, I will explain it all to you. But Harry has been through enough tonight…"
The smile that had been looming at the corner of Fudge's mouth grew into an almost manic grin. Harry didn't like the look of it as his nervous eyes flashed toward him. Fudge wet his lips before asking, "And uh… You are… Prepared to take Potter's word on this, are you?"
There was a moment of silence, broken by Sirius, who stood up on Harry's bed and started to growl, his hackles raised. Mrs. Zabini and Remus also rose from their chairs. Harry was glad he was not on the receiving end of the hostile expressions on each of their faces.
"Certainly, I believe Harry," Dumbledore said, speaking for them all. "I heard Crouch's confession to the entire plot. I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Cup. The two stories make sense, and it would explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."
Crouch continued to smile, his voice even gaining a modicum of its former confidence as he said, "You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, based on the word of a lunatic murderer and a boy who… well…"
"Cornelius," Mrs. Zabini interrupted in a frosty voice, "I thought you knew better than to trust any of the trash that Rita Skeeter writes."
Fudge blushed, but it was a transient embarrassment.
"You have been hiding facts about that boy, Edana," he accused, "You expect me to believe you took him in, not knowing he was a parselmouth? And these fits he's been having in class… Headaches, are they? Or nightmares? Possibly even… Hallucinations?"
Snape suddenly strode forward, past Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. Pulling up the left sleeve of his robe, he stuck his forearm directly under Fudge's nose, who recoiled at the sight of the Dark Mark.
"If Potter is hallucinating, then I must be as well," Snape said harshly, "You can see it for yourself. Every Death Eater had the mark burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a way to distinguish one another, and his means of summoning us to him. It has been growing clearer all year. I felt the mark burn tonight… And I answered. I was there with Potter. I saw the Dark Lord return!"
Fudge stepped back from Snape, a look of wild horror on his face. He shook his head, unwilling to heed even this testimony. He turned away, as if repelled by the sight of the ugly mark on Snape's arm. He stared at Dumbledore as he said, "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, but I have heard enough. Perhaps I've given you free reign at this school for too long. Hiring former Death Eaters. Keeping the likes of Hagrid on the grounds. Even letting him teach classes without reference to the ministry! Not to mention hiring werewolves…"
The moment Fudge alluded to Remus, Sirius leapt from the bed, barking and growling at Fudge. Remus moved to restrain him from doing any real damage, but Fudge was clearly shaken by the outburst, and this was the final straw. He was nearly out the door when he paused, turned around, and crossed quickly to Harry's bed. Taking a large bag of gold from the pocket of his pinstriped robes, he dropped it unceremoniously into Harry's lap.
"Your winnings." he said flatly, "One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation, but under the circumstances…"
"Just go, Cornelius," Mrs. Zabini said venomously. Harry imagined that after tonight, Mr. Fudge would no longer be invited to her annual Christmas party.
The Minister placed his bowler hat onto his head, tipped it at Mrs. Zabini, and stalked away, slamming the door behind him. The moment he was gone, Dumbledore turned to the group around Harry's bed.
"There is work to be done," he said, "And as Fudge has just demonstrated, we cannot count on the Ministry to be our allies. Sirius, Remus… Am I correct in thinking I can count on the two of you?"
Sirius shifted into his human form to pledge himself to whatever task Dumbledore required. Remus said nothing for the moment, but showed his agreement with a solemn nod.
"You can count on me as well, Albus," said Mrs. Zabini, " I have many friends within the Ministry who may be more reasonable than Fudge. I'll write to them at once."
"Thank you, Edana," Dumbledore said, "But Fudge will not take well to any suspicion of insurrection among his ministers. Particularly if he suspects my involvement. I would advise you to use caution."
Mrs. Zabini directed an arch look at Dumbledore and replied, "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for Harry."
She turned away from the headmaster and rested a hand gently over Harry's. "I should waste no time in contacting my friends at the Ministry. Better they hear from me before Fudge. You'll be alright until I return?"
Harry said that he would, and Mrs. Zabini bent down to kiss his cheek before she swept out of the room.
"Minerva," Dumbledore said next, "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. And if she will consent to come, Madame Maxime."
"Understood," Professor McGonagall said simply before she too left the room in the blink of an eye.
"And now," said Dumbledore, "Two of our number will have to set aside old differences."
Harry wasn't sure what Dumbledore meant, until he realized that Sirius and Snape had been staring at daggers at each other for an untold length of time.
"Sirius," Dumbledore began, "Severus placed himself at great personal risk to rescue Harry tonight. He is the one who discovered Crouch and sent for help. Whatever he was before, he serves our side now."
Sirius appeared to be grinding his teeth. He glanced at Harry, as if seeking confirmation. Harry merely nodded in response.
To Snape, Dumbledore said, "We cannot be divided. We are all on the same side of this war. And make no mistake, we are at war… I am not asking you to forget, or even to forgive… But will you not shake hands and agree to work together?"
It seemed Dumbledore had asked for a miracle. Both men remained rooted in place, as if they had been turned to stone. Neither was willing to make the first move toward reconciliation. Harry wondered, not for the first time, what caused them to hate each other so much.
Remus finally spoke up, saying, "If anyone has cause to be angry about the past, it's me. And if you recall, Padfoot, I forgave you."
Sirius winced at the reminder, but it did the trick. He did not look happy, but he extended his hand toward Snape. The Potions Master, however, looked as if he would rather die than accept the handshake that had been offered.
Harry didn't know how far his influence reached, but he sat up straighter against his pillows and stared at Snape.
"Go on then," he said with a little impatience, "Whatever he did to you before, it can't be worse than Voldemort coming back."
Snape's gaze flicked from Sirius to Harry. He held Harry's green eyes with his own as he replied, "You don't know what you're asking…"
"No, and I don't care," Harry said, his exhaustion overruling what little tact he possessed, "You owe me."
He was bitter over Snape concealing his former allegiance to the Death Eaters, and was still unsure if he really trusted him. He hoped that feeling was conveyed in his few simple words. They seemed to have the desired effect, for with a sour expression, Snape turned and grasped Sirius by the hand.
The contact lasted half a second, then the men both pulled away. It was enough to satisfy Dumbledore, however, who immediately assigned jobs to them both.
"Sirius, Remus. I'm counting on you both to assemble the old crowd. Sirius, have them lie low at Grimmauld Place for now. I will contact you there."
Harry had no idea who "the old crowd" was, but with Mrs. Zabini already gone, he didn't want them to leave him now.
"Can I go with them?" he asked, hating how pathetic the question sounded.
A strange look overspread Dumbledore's aged face. He seemed to be considering something, and finally said, "I think it would be best, under the present circumstances, for you to return to the Dursleys. At least for the summer…"
It was not the answer Harry had been expecting. He had not seen his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, or cousin Dudley since the summer of his second year, when Mrs. Zabini had rescued him. He couldn't understand why Dumbledore thought he should go back now. Thankfully, Remus interjected.
"Edana made us promise to care for Harry when we took him in," he said, "She'd never forgive us now if we let Harry go back to his Muggle relations."
"Grimmauld Place is already protected," Sirius assured Dumbledore, "Harry will be nearly as secure there as at Hogwarts. We'll triple security if we have to."
Their passionate defense satisfied Dumbledore, who agreed that Remus could venture out to gather their old friends while Sirius remained with Harry. He then turned to Snape.
"You know what you must do," he said simply.
Snape agreed. Harry understood, too.
"You're going back to him," he said, "Back to Voldemort."
"Severus has an essential role to play," Dumbledore answered, "By pretending to be a loyal Death Eater, he can tell us what the other side is planning."
"But won't Voldemort be suspicious when Crouch doesn't return?" Harry asked, "What if he decides to kill you instead?"
Sirius growled softly, "That would suit me just fine."
Snape glared at him while Dumbledore once again called for diplomacy. To Harry, he said, "I'm surprised you care what happens to me, Potter. But I will be fine. Thanks to Fudge, there is at least one witness who cannot denounce me to the Dark Lord. My position as a loyal Death Eater is secure."
"Let's not waste any more time, then," said Remus. He nodded to Snape, and together they swept out of the room, off on their separate errands. Sirius watched them go with a crease between his eyebrows, then he settled into the chair that Remus had vacated by Harry's bedside. His hand reached for one of Harry's, and in doing so, disturbed the sack of Galleons left by Fudge.
"Your winnings!" he said, as if just remembering.
"I don't want them," said Harry instantly.
Blaise, who had been watching all that transpired with wondering silence, exclaimed at this, but Harry was adamant. He hadn't really won the tournament. Without Crouch's interference, he wouldn't have been a champion in the first place. It was blood money, compensation for bringing Lord Voldemort back. Harry wanted nothing to do with it.
Sirius could see the resolute look on Harry's face. Gently, he removed the bag and placed it in his own pocket, saying, "I'll keep this safe for now. We'll decide what to do with it later."
Dumbledore had already gone. He had shimmered silently out of the room while Harry and Sirius discussed the gold. Now Madame Pomfrey returned, holding the rest of the sleeping potion in her hand. Blaise joined Sirius in urging Harry to drink it. He hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep. Harry didn't need to be told twice. He wanted nothing more than to sink back into oblivion.
As he sat up again to take the draught, there was a loud slamming noise. Everyone jumped, and turned toward the window. Millie was standing there, looking very pleased with herself.
"Sorry," she said, "There was this really fat, nasty looking beetle on the windowsill. But don't worry. I crushed it."
She smiled. Harry thought it was odd, but he had already swallowed a mouthful of the potion. The effect was almost instant. He fell back onto his pillows, and thought no more.