I prolly coulda edited this. I'm drunk.

so these next few chapters may seemed drawn out, but its because there is a lot going on in relation to the case and a lot of information thats going to be happening. so pay attention.


They hadn't said a word to each other, leaving the office side-by-side and in absolute silence. Everyone quickly moved out of their way and didn't dare make eye contact with them. Even Ron kept his distance and promptly made the excuse that it was his lunchtime.

Once outside the familiar wrought-iron gate, they stood motionless, staring at the castle. The wind whipped around them, a few strands of her escaping the plait she had draped on her shoulder.

"Look at it," scoffing and shaking her head, "have you ever felt safe here? Honestly."

"I'd pick Hogwarts over the Dursley's any day," Harry said solemnly, his eyes on the castle but his mind far away, "Grimmauld place as well."

"That wasn't the question. After everything that we've been through. Fluffy, the Basilisk, a bloody time turner, that foul pink woman…"

"Safe was never a factor. When I first came to Hogwarts, after my first night in the castle," Harry shook his head, "I got a taste of a life that I could only ever imagine. There was no way I would ever- could ever give that up."

"You fought to get here," she offered.

"It's always been my home. I literally killed myself to get back here," he finally looked at her and gave her a sad smirk.

She realized she touched on a sensitive topic, one she meant to speak to him about prior to them nearly losing their jobs. "Is that why…"

He ignored her statement; he was done with the topic. He looked on towards the graveyard, "Think he'll mind if we didn't bring flowers? It was short notice."

"Please stop hiding behind dark humor," she put a hand on his arm, "I'm worried about you, Harry."

"Perhaps we could pop into Hogsmeade and get him a quick bottle?"

"Harry."


The Headmistresses office looked the same as it did the day before. They were early, several hours before the services would start. The prophet was notified in enough time to make the same day cut, and a significant turn out was expected for the late Potion Professor.

Hagrid could be seen from the high tower, making the necessary preparations for the funeral. Minerva stood at the fireplace, her back to them and something small and metal in her hands. Her eyes were red, she had been crying now that she had time to stop and process everything. She had been first on the scene to deal with everything once the elves alerted her.

"The Minister has caught you up?" she tipped her head back and took a swig from a small flask.

It wasn't the first time they'd seen her drink, but they knew things were bad if she was doing it openly. With the thickness of her Scottish accent slipping through, they knew she had been at it for a while.

"Yes, Professor," Harry answered.

Hermione jumped in, "I just want to say, we didn't mean to- "

She put a hand up, "Save it, Miss Granger. I hold neither of you accountable."

Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, "Thank Merlin someone does."

Minerva put the flask away, somewhere in the many hidden pockets of her black robes, "Horace would have killed himself one way or another. The only thing either of you is at fault for is timing."

"Has Professor Slughorn shown signs of wanting to hurt himself before?" Hermione didn't bring out the quill and notebook this time.

"The man was a barely functional alcoholic," she pointed out, "why do you think he did it?"

Harry took her place near the fire, leaning against the wall near the mantle, "If you asked me a week ago, I would have said it was because he was afraid. Spineless even."

Minerva pursed her lips, "And now, Mr. Potter?"

Harry answered for her, "With everything we've all been through, it would be a shock he didn't do so sooner."

"Harry!" Hermione snapped, "Apologies, Professor, he's under a lot of stress."

She waved a hand, "He's right."

"I've never heard you say those words before in my life, are you certain you aren't ill?" Harry asked, "Hermione, check her temperature while I get Madam Pomfrey."

"Shut up, Harry."

Minerva ignored them both, "If you haven't noticed, Horace was a drinker. He used it to cope with his demons."

Hermione took the seat opposite her, "Demons?"

"Perhaps it is I who should be asking you," she mused as tipped her flask in the teacup just handed to her, "what did he speak of last night? Was he acting off?"

"More so than usual," Harry started, "he avoided the question of Snape's possible location and how to get into his rooms."

"I'm surprised he refused to speak of him, Severus was his favorite."

Harry put a hand up, "No, he spoke of nothing else but him. He just refused to acknowledge those questions. Hell, he didn't even know who we were talking about until we acknowledged Snape's House."

"Ah, yes. The Sacred House Prince," Minerva took another sip of her spiked tea.

Hermione picked up where he left off, "He said he knew about Professor Snape's abuse at home, but all he could do was help set him up for success later in life."

"I've been through 3 wars, two of them with Horace," She finally took a seat at her spot near the fire, "Do you know why he refused to fight in either?"

"So, he didn't fight because he felt guilty that Snape had a bad childhood?" Harry asked skeptically.

Minerva remained quiet while they worked it out, taking the time to take another sip of her precious flask. Hermione's mind was moving faster than her mouth could catch up. Her lips were moving, but no sound came out and her eyes focused on a spot across the room.

"We're thinking too small…"

"What?"

Minerva finally spoke, now that she knew at least one of them understood the bigger picture, "That's just it, Mr. Potter. Severus was just a child. You were just a child. All of you were at one point our students, Tom Riddle included. Horace had to watch while Voldemort recruited the rest of them one by one."

"And he couldn't show disbarred treatment or lack of loyalty towards his House. He'd get everyone killed." Hermione now understood what he was talking about last night, "He couldn't fight in a war against the students he swore to protect. Remember Harry? He said it was his duty to protect all of us, then he kept apologizing."

"That's about when I think he was pretty sloshed; he couldn't remember my mum's name." Harry smirked, "Kept calling her Porter, said she had black eyes or something."

Minerva spat her tea out, trying to cover up a drunken cackle, "I nearly forgot about that."

Hermione waved her wand, vanishing the mess, "Forgot about what, Professor?"

"Have you seen pictures of your parent's wedding day?" Minerva asked, unable to keep the corner of her mouth from turning.

"Uh, no. Do you have any pictures? You were there, weren't you, Professor?" Harry asked hopefully.

Shaking her head, "No, I was unable to attend. I had to attend another wedding on the same day," she was clearly tipsy, leaning in towards Hemione as if sharing juicy gossip, "but I heard it was on the front page!"

They clearly weren't getting whatever the joke was. Hermione changed it back to the topic at hand, "Professor, why did the order call him Judas?"

She sobered quickly, "Once it was made known he was the one who gave Voldemort the information regarding Horcruxes, some members had mixed feelings for him. While one half of the Order wanted someone to point the finger at, the other half was skeptical he was showing up late, if not at all."

"Sounds like no one wanted him in the order, why let him in after all that time?" His arms were crossed, and his ankle hooked over the other as he leaned against the mantle.

"Albus, why else?" she rolled her eyes, pointing her thumb to the sleeping portrait across the office.

"Harry, remember the way he kept looking at Snape's mask? He couldn't stop looking at it, it was captivating to him. He also thanked us in his letter, for bringing him peace."

He was catching on to what she was saying, "So, when he saw the mask… he knew that Snape was still alive."

"Right, I think, and correct me if I'm wrong Professor," she gave a side glance to the older woman, "he was able to put his 'demons' to rest, so to speak. Which is why the Headmistress isn't upset with us. He was going to do it eventually; he was just waiting for the sign and we gave it to him."

"At least he was able to go peacefully, and on his terms," Minerva mused, "We have enough ghosts roaming around the castle."

"Peacefully?" Harry scowled, "I know what that mask can do. You've seen what that mask can do. I can only imagine how you found him."

Hermione scowled at him, "Way to bring a mood down, Harry."

He shook his head and announced their exit, "We've got to look through Slughorn's quarters and try to get into Snape's. See you at the funeral, Professor."


Slughorn's rooms provided nothing of value. They split up to cover more ground since they were on a time restriction. The only thing they found were personal items that he collected over the years.

Hermione came out of Slughorn's study and called out to Harry, "Hey, you found anything?"

"Enough liquor to supply all of Diagon for a lifetime," he stated as he came out of the room he could only consider as the wine cellar, "what about you?"

She held up a stack of papers, "A bunch of my old essays that I turned in and he never graded."

"Guess you'll never get that closure, sorry." He did little to hide the smile. When she opened her mouth, he cut her off, "I know, I'll shut up."

"Figure it's time we had a look at Snape's unbreachable door?" she asked as she tossed the parchment in her bag.

He looked around the room one last time, "Alright, but remind me to check his floo records when we get back to the office."

They made their way down the darker parts of the dungeon. Once they reached the large stone archway, they looked up to the massive painting hung above them. There were dark clouds in the sky, with what looked like a winged figure falling. Another figure with a flaming sword followed on the attack.

"Pretty morbid, innit?" Harry said as he craned his neck and took a step back. He took out his wand and ran over a few diagnostic spells, pocketing it when he came up with nothing, "Do you want to take a crack at the password then?"

Hermione took out her notepad and flipped through the pages. Clearing her throat, she began trying to guess the password, "Son of the morning…. I didn't think it would be that easy, but I had to try."

They took turns guessing the password with no such luck.

"I'm at a loss, what do we do now?" Harry turned to her, "We have to have something to show Kingsley and we are completely empty-handed."

Hermione flipped through the pages as she spoke, "The only thing I can think of is going to see Scabior again. Maybe we can ask him more direct questions now that we have some clarity on the situation."

His brows disappeared into his hairline, "Clarity of the situation? We're nowhere bloody close and the funeral is in a few hours!"

"You know what- never mind," she sighed and rubbed her temples, "neither of us has gotten proper sleep or food in the last forty-eight hours. Let's just take a step back, go interrogate Scabior again and get back in time for the funeral."

"Why don't I go and you stay here?" He didn't like Hermione going to Azkaban. He didn't want to go either, but if he could keep her away from a building full of Britain's worst, then he would.

Shaking her head, "Let's just get this over with."