CHAPTER 22
PANSY thought she was beginning to understand why she had balked at the idea of joining her parents by taking a career with their magical government. She had not anticipated her request to speak to someone in their Records Division would take her upwards of fifteen minutes and counting, which was making her late to see Verity.
George was sure to be pissed as hell by the time she got back, so she only hoped this little plan of hers was going to pan out, for lack of a better word. She was becoming convinced that the witch behind the front desk was personally out to get her, as she refused to make eye contact.
The bitch with the rolled dark curly hair and too much red lipstick that made her look garish was refusing to give her Professor Horace Slughorn's address without identification. The witch, thirty-three years in age, one year older than Norah, looked across the screen that separated her in her workstation from Pansy, who was irritably tapping her long fingernails on the surface of the platform.
"If you could just…give me the man's address, I'll be on my way, and I swear, you will never have to look at me ever again," she huffed indignantly, for what felt like the third time. "Please," she pleaded. "I'm eighteen years old, lady, what, you seriously think I'm going to march up to my former teacher's door and slit Horace Slughorn's throat in his sleep?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes, and made to turn away, though the witch behind the desk spoke, her curiosity overtaking her desire to go by the book.
"Horace Slughorn?" The witch furrowed her almost non-existent eyebrows at her, a result of overplucking them. "Are you certain that's the person that you're searching for, Miss?"
Swallowing down hard, Pansy nodded. There was no one else in line behind her, and she was grateful for that much, at least, for the witch's perplexed gaze was hard enough to deal with as it was. She almost wished she had let George come with her. He had a persuasive way with words like she didn't.
The other witch eyed her for a tense moment. "May I ask what you need his address for, Miss? You are not his immediate family…"
"No, no," Pansy said, her stomach lurching as bile rose in her throat. "I just…need to speak with him about a matter, about…one of his former students, mum, that's all. Nothing more and nothing less than that. It's an urgent matter, lady. One of his students…might be in danger, but I think the professor can help. He—he's always liked him in school."
The administrative assistant to the Records Division was looking at Pansy like she had lost her bloody mind, and perhaps she had, but she did not immediately outright refuse, and she had some hope. She took a moment to think out her words carefully, knowing this witch would be risking her job if she did this for her.
She didn't want to pressure her into it, but she wanted to say it in such a way that this woman would be more inclined to make her own decision to help her today. She looked down at the counter for a few minutes as she collected her thoughts.
"I need to talk to him, to see him for a moment. I don't intend to take up too much of the man's time. It's a matter regarding a family member of mine, Ollie, I—" she started to say, though she was interrupted in mid-flow by the receptionist whose posture straightened a bit.
"Auror Brennan?" the witch breathed, suddenly sounding more intrigued than annoyed. Her green eyes had taken on a twinkling sheen and there was a hint of a flustered smile playing on her lips.
Pansy stared for a moment, blinking rapidly at the other witch until the realization hit her.
This witch, like so many others, like she still secretly had, once upon a time, when she was younger, crushed on Norah's husband.
Perhaps she could use that to her advantage, though she knew Ollie would hate it. But considering she was going out on a limb here for him and Norah, she knew he owed her. Maybe after she helped to save his arse from getting fired, then he would finally tell her how he had become such a monster, what had happened to him to cause an Obscurus to become interested in the likes of him.
It was the least he could do, she thought, and barely succeeded in hiding her triumphant smile. She leaned forward on the counter and flashed the witch her most charming white smile and nodded eagerly.
"Yup," she said, studying how red in the face the receptionist was growing.
Oh, I've got her now. Ollie, mate I'm sorry about this, but it's for your good, you're gonna have to trust me on this one, she thought triumphantly. She swallowed down hard and ensured her expression looked troubled, hoping to convey the urgency of the request and just how much this would mean to the wizard once Ollie found out this Helena Conifer had helped him out of a bind.
"He's in a fair amount of trouble, Miss…uh..." She paused for a moment to glance at her name. "Helen. If you help him out, then he'd owe you…lunch…Ollie would be indebted to you," she blurted out, doing some very quick thinking on just what sort of favor her cousin's husband could owe this cute receptionist without her asking too much of him.
She had not anticipated her little bribe would work, but five minutes later, she had the Professor's address tucked away in one of the pockets of her coat and permission to use one of the fireplaces that were connected to the Floo Network. Receptionist Helena Conifer had walked away from the encounter with the promise of a lunch date with Ollie when he returned to work, hopefully, next week. Just lunch and nothing more, as the witch knew he was happily married to Norah, but still, chose to overlook that fact.
Pansy made a beeline for the closest fireplace nearest to her and was about to step one foot over the grate when a familiar honeyed, simpering voice reached her eardrums and made her blood boil.
"Miss Parkinson, what a pleasant surprise, and my, how dressed up you are today. That dress looks good on you, dear thing. You look just like your mother, looking like this," came the unmistakable voice of Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge. "What brings you to the Ministry today, my dear?"
Pansy grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut as she steeled her nerves, willing her temper to cool, for herself to remain calm, as she slowly turned around to face the short stout old hag who likely held her cousin's husband's position in her hands.
She tried to smile at Dolores Umbridge, but the old witch's dark eyes were blank and lifeless as she waited for Pansy to answer.
"I needed someone's address, mum," she answered in a small voice.
She had wanted to lie to Umbridge, but even to her, it didn't feel right, especially knowing what she had put them all through when they were students, and more to the point, it was as if just being in the witch's presence was causing her to speak the plain truth.
She flinched, her left hand going to cover her right arm, grateful her coat sleeve concealed it. She could still feel the scars and if she squinted hard enough, she could make out the faint outline of the scars from that accursed quill, I Must Not Tell Lies.
She was sure everyone in her year had had them. She shivered as she shoved her hands in the pockets of her grey coat, trying to hide how badly they shook from her. Pansy waited impatiently for Dolores Umbridge to speak. Umbridge dared to quirk a thick dark brow her way, though the look caused the hairs on the back of Pansy's neck to stand up on end.
"Oh? Whose, dear, if I might ask? And for what purpose?" she asked, not judgmentally, but merely curious.
But before Pansy could say a word, Pansy watched, horrified, as Dolores Umbridge's dark eyes narrowed in scrutiny, their color almost shifting to black, and she took on the familiar expression that Ollie sometimes tended to get whenever the Legilimens would dip into someone's mind to hear their thoughts.
Pansy blew out a breath and again, the truth was ripped from her lips and seemingly not of her own volition.
It almost felt as though she were under the influence of the Imperius Curse, but one look at the Madame Undersecretary's wand tucked away in a pocket of her horrendous hot pink dress, confirmed that the witch had done nothing of the sort.
But still, the older woman's next words sent a chill up and down her spine.
"You are visiting Horace Slughorn, Miss Parkinson," Dolores Umbridge stated bluntly, her words posed to Pansy as more of a statement of fact rather than an inquiry.
The witch took a moment to take a half step forward towards her, squaring her shoulders, her dark brown eyes boring deeply into Pansy.
"I will have you know, Miss Parkinson," Umbridge began in an even voice, "that I do not take kindly to citizens looking for trouble in my government," she threatened, her stubby fingers curling over the handle of her wand.
The act had Pansy swallowing, hard. A muscle in Pansy's jaw twitched. She willed the worst of her flaring temper to cool a little bit before answering the Ministry employee.
"I'm not looking for any trouble, mum. I never have and never will. I only want to help my cousin's husband to keep his job. He needs it, mum, he's got a baby on the way. What happened down there," she paused to jerk her thumb towards the floor beneath her shoes, flinching as she could only imagine the damage the Obscurus attached to Ollie had caused when he'd gotten the news Norah was taken, "wasn't Ollie's fault, mum. He… can't control himself. The monster attached to his soul, that nasty parasite, it takes over and he has no control over what happens."
Her expression softened as she lowered her voice, thinking of her family, how she hoped that Norah was alright now she was up.
"You should not speak about him like that," Dolores said.
Pansy gaped. "Like what?" she asked, keeping her hands shoved into the pockets of her coat, resisting the horrible itch that was tingling in the fingers of her wand hand to brandish it.
"Like he's…." Umbridge paused for a moment, and Pansy took it upon herself to finish the older witch's sentence for her.
"Human?" she questioned dryly, and Umbridge laughed, a honeyed, simpering little chuckle that made Pansy's blood sour.
"Precisely."
Pansy gritted her teeth and dug her long fingernails into the skin of her palms. It hurt, but a part of her welcomed the pain.
"He is a human being, Madame Undersecretary, and if people like you keep treating my mate like a psychopath, then you'll never know just how kind-hearted and the good of a person he is. Do you know why he lost control the other night, mum? Because his pregnant wife was kidnapped. Could you honestly blame him for reacting the way that he did, mum?" she said sadly.
Without waiting for Umbridge to reply, she continued, stepping forward, still fighting against the desperate itch to draw her wand and jinx this short bitch where she stood for all the hurt and suffering she had caused.
"Of course, I am well aware, Miss Parkinson. I believe that the entire Ministry heard," she sighed, with a scoff and a rolling of her eyes to the ceiling. "Mr. Brennan's voice carries, rather loudly, I might add, when he so wishes it, and shortly before he lost control, he'd mentioned Rodolphus Lestrange's name along with a slew of profanity I dare not repeat." Dolores raised a hand and rubbed at her jawline, though she lowered her hand after a moment, frowning at Pansy. "Not entirely surprising he would choose to go after the man, considering their previous history with one another, and his father. I assume he has told you the nature of that horrid entity attached to him?" she questioned, her simpering faux grin widening to almost Cheshire- Cat like proportions as she watched Pansy's eyes widen. Madame Umbridge continued, not letting the younger witch get a word in edgewise, lacing her fingers together. "I take it then, by the stunned expression on your face and considering the way that you just gasped, that Mr. Brennan has not divulged to you the truth." She clucked her tongue at Pansy in mock disappointment. "What a pity. You are his family, are you not? And such news he does not even bother to divulge to you shows his lack of trust in you. His wife knows. A few others here in the Ministry know. But he has chosen to keep the truth from you. Why might that be?" she questioned. Umbridge's expression turned grave, a dark shadow passing over the witch's ugly and pudgy features. "Tell me."
A horrible silence settled between the pair of witches, not quite uncomfortable, and yet, it was not a silence of peace, either, and Pansy was beginning to feel more than a little claustrophobic around her.
"He…we…it's his business to share, I've not pried him for the details, Madame Undersecretary," Pansy angrily retorted, her cheeks flushing as she felt a horrible hot shame speckle through her face. A flicker of something unidentifiable darted across Umbridge's eyes as she strategically began to finger her wand, walking slowly towards the Floo Network's fireplace that Pansy had been intending to head for in the first place.
Umbridge spoke, almost sounding angry with Pansy. She certainly was looking annoyed at Pansy's intrusion.
"And yet you are curious as to the nature of his unfortunate prediction. You protect him, or else you would not be here. Perhaps…you've come to the Ministry today seeking the truth, dear. It is true, that I cannot prevent you from paying dear Horace a visit to his home, though I would be remorseful if I did not warn you, the truth will not be pleasant for you to listen to," the Senior Undersecretary pointed out, her words harsh.
"You play with fire, girl, if you think you hold an inkling of hope in convincing Minister Shacklebolt to allow Auror Brennan to keep his position. We are aware of what he's done, how he not only nearly succeeded in destroying the Atrium when that—that thing lost control, but he specifically went against Minister Shacklebolt's command to remain where he was. He chose to take it upon himself to murder Rodolphus Lestrange, who can now no longer give testimony at a competency trial. He saw fit to take justice into his own hands. Forgive me, my dear, but the wizard has become a vigilante, and that, in these newfound times of peace, we cannot allow it. At a minimum, Auror Brennan's position will be terminated, though in all actuality, for what he has done, we would be well within our rights to exercise caution against that...creature. He would spend the rest of his life in a secured ward in St. Mungo's, only able to visit his family on visitation days. The man is dangerous and can no longer be allowed to function or remain in society. The Ministry has no use for an Auror who disobeys a direct order, to say nothing of the fact the man is a wretched monster," Umbridge called, as Pansy had begun to step over the grate.
Pansy's jaw clenched as she turned to the older woman angrily, her cheeks red.
"Madame Undersecretary, forgive me, but I don't give a shit whether you dislike my reason for coming here today. If there's any chance I can help my cousin and her husband, then I have to try. But I do give a shit when you disrespect my family so blatantly. I have every right to try, and if you stand in the way of that and try to stop me, then it's you who are impeding justice, and you're the one who should be dealt with, not Ollie. Besides, I don't know if you were aware of it, but Minister Shacklebolt sent Mr. Lupin to us last night. If there's a chance that thing can be taken out of him and he would survive, then we have to try. That's why I'm going to see Professor Slughorn, to protect him from being fired, mum."
She turned her back on the silent, simmering Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic angrily and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder that was perched on a hook by the fireplace, calling out Professor Slughorn's home address given to her by the receptionist of the Records Department angrily. All of them here in this place thought Ollie was beyond saving.
She'd show them, every last one of them, and in time, the Ministry of Magic would be groveling on their knees, begging for her forgiveness that they had not given up on their best Auror they still had left on their ruddy task force.
WHATEVER part of Horace Slughorn's home the Floo Network had brought her to, she was unfamiliar with, as her surroundings were pitch black. She lingered in the man's fireplace for a moment, chewing on her lips, praying to Merlin that what she was doing for him was worth the risk. She felt her cheeks turn hot and her stomach give a little flutter when she thought of what Ollie and Norah would say, Merlin, even George, to learn she'd sassed the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic.
The witch held the power in her more than capable hands to make all of their lives miserable. Norah and Ollie could lose their jobs, and so could she and George at the shop for that matter. She did not doubt in her mind that Umbridge would enact some dragon shit law or regulation in place that she was sure Weasley's Wizard Wheezes would be 'in violation of' if a building inspector were to come, and then both of them would be out of work, and it would be entirely her fault.
But she tried to tell herself as she turned her head to the side to cough once, having accidentally inhaled a bit of soot and ash, that with her cousin about to become a mum, Ollie needed to keep his job, as he was the breadwinner of their little family.
Combined with his father's wealth left to Ollie upon the Death Eater's death in Azkaban a few years back, the Brennans were set for the rest of their lives if they managed their wealth and assets well enough, but Ollie worked to supplement their income and help maintain it, he said, for the future. For their child.
She stepped over the grate and came to stand in the middle of what she presumed was Horace Slughorn's living room, to find herself alone.
The room was dark, lit only by a small lamp resting on a corner table nestled comfortably in a far corner of the room alongside a peeling leather armchair. It looked as though that was his reading chair, judging by the open book that was resting on the table.
Other than that, the room was sparse, empty, and impersonal, save for the shelf of books near the fireplace, which contained a few photographs. It seemed her former Potions professor was a wizard of simple tastes and preferred to own very little. She took advantage of the temporary silence to study the man's surroundings, walking over to a couple of the photographs on the mantle of the fireplace that had caught her eye.
Her fingers pressed over one of them, the framed photograph in the middle front and center among all the others, dust coating her fingertips as she picked up the framed photograph and examined it, her breaths catching in her throat as her eyes settled on a familiar face.
Ollie's face, alongside someone his age who looked like him. A brother? She thought wildly, chewing on the wall of her mouth.
She held the photograph closer to her, letting out a slow and shaky breath. It was soothing, calming, and relaxing. She glanced down at the photograph to see a much younger Ollie Brennan, not thirty-four and about to become a father, but here, he looked around seventeen.
The young wizard next to him had the same features, but instead of blue eyes, the other boy's eyes were a piercing catlike green. The two had the same angular and handsome features. She thought for sure the two of them just had to be related. How couldn't they?
She froze when she felt something sharp and pointy press into her back, recognizing it as the tip of a wand.
"What are you doing here? Who are you? Drop your wand or sheath it. Identify yourself immediately!" came Professor Slughorn's clipped and angered tone, though Pansy thought she could detect a faint warbling note of fear in his tone now.
Not surprising, she thought bitterly to herself as she glanced down at her black dress, black tights, shoes, and dark grey coat. The old man probably thought she was a sympathizer of the Dark Lord's, having come to invade his home and kill him for some reason or other.
Pansy slowly turned around, setting down the photograph, and held her hands up in front of her in a defensive stance, to show she meant her former Potions Professor no harm, ripping herself away from the mantle and lifting her gaze to meet the wizard's confused expression.
The edges of Horace Slughorn's truly glorious and thick mustache twitched without his bidding, as his thick bushy white eyebrows receded onto his forehead in surprise and alarm as he gaped.
Pansy pressed her back against the fireplace and swallowed hard, glancing to her left and right, searching for a way out and any signs that he would have put up protective enchantments around his home that would prevent her from Disapparating quickly.
She almost prayed that George would show up, but she knew he would not. She'd told him where she was going and what her intentions were, but she had said she would be just fine and to wait for her at St. Mungo's. George was far away and unable to save her.
"M-Miss Parkinson?" he stammered, lowering his wand and backing away from where she stood several paces, the confusion fraught all over his lined face. "Merlin's Beard, my dear lady, you nearly gave this old man a heart attack. I would have killed you, just now!" he cried, distraught. "What in god's name are you doing here, my dear child?" he demanded.
Thankfully, the wizard did seem angry with her for her unexpected arrival into his home through his fireplace, but neither was Professor Slughorn particularly pleased with her, either. Pansy's expression shifted only slightly. She straightened her back and folded her hands tighter over themselves, almost as if she were embarrassed, and in truth, she was.
She had not intended to cause her former teacher such undue stress like this.
Well, of course, Slughorn would ask her that, what else was she thinking he would say? She knew he held perhaps the key to ensuring Ollie was allowed to stay on as an Auror for the Ministry, with the man's various connections littered with his old favorites, but no other answer would come to her.
She didn't even know how to begin to phrase her request for help. She thought for a moment.
The only thing she was sure of was that she was tired of the way the wizarding world talked of Ollie as if he were nothing but a demon. She flicked her gaze back to the short, overweight wizard in front of her, remembering she owed the man an answer.
"I…I came to speak to you about a former student, sir. He's family, and I think…he's in trouble." Her hopeful smile flitted across her face, though to her, it felt strained. "Forgive me, Professor Slughorn, sir, I didn't know where else to go. I thought…he speaks of you highly often, sir, I thought maybe, you could use your connections…" She let her voice trail off, biting her lip as she waited, beginning to fidget with one of the rings on her right hand.
Horace was looking a little shocked, but admittedly less so than he had expected to be. A hesitant smile crossed his wrinkled features. His mustache twitched again. The light emanating from the small lamp flickered once or twice as the two stood in silence for a moment before his smile widened.
"But of course, Miss Parkinson, anything for a former student of mine," he spoke. He nodded to her in recognition and strode past her to sit in the leather armchair by the lamp, waving his wand and conjuring a second chair, motioning for her to occupy the chair across from him and the small coffee table that was sandwiched in between the two chairs. "Please, sit, sit, and have a bite of crystallized pineapple while you're at it. It's something of an indulgence of mine, I'm afraid, and there is far too much here for this old man to eat by myself," he commented, shooting her a warm smile that Pansy returned.
Pansy could only comply and reached for one of the sweets in the open box on the table in front of her. The treat was sweet, the sugar crystals lingering on her tongue and drawing her thirst for water, though she forced herself to ignore it and was eager to get right to the heart of the matter.
She was eager to put this matter behind her and be able to go back to Ollie and Norah with the news the wizard's job wouldn't be in jeopardy, and eager to meet George at St. Mungo's to see Verity, as promised.
"Thank you, Professor, for agreeing to see me, sir, I'll try not to take up too much of your time this morning," Pansy said softly, nervously resting her hands in her lap and looking across at him.
"Nonsense, my dear, the pleasure is all mine," he mumbled through a mouthful of crystallized pineapple, taking a second to wipe at his lips with the back of his hand before leaning back in his chair, folding his hands across his protruding belly, surveying her kindly. "Now, why don't you tell me about this family member of yours? I take it's someone I'm familiar with or you'd have not sought me out."
Pansy was silent as she nodded, unsure what to say now that the time had come to ask her former Potions Professor for this embarrassing favor. Her mouth was set into a hard straight line as she held eye contact with her previous Head of House alongside Professor Snape, whom they had shared in responsibilities for managing all of Slytherin House once Horace Slughorn was brought on to teach Potions.
She felt a surge of defiant anger course through her as she remembered Dolores Umbridge's words to her, about how Ollie wasn't human, and the world would never see him as anything but a monster unless the entity attached to his soul could be extracted.
"I'm here about Ollie Brennan, sir. You taught him once?" she questioned, watching curiously as all of the blood promptly drained from the aging old wizard's face and his mustache began bristling. She was not exactly sure what sort of reaction the revelation of why she had sought him out this morning would bring, but for Professor Slughorn to suddenly stammer and trip over his words as he fought for breath and a hand shot to his heart was not exactly it, nor for him to choke on the bit of crystallized pineapple that he looked to have inhaled the moment Ollie's name was brought up in conversation.
She immediately felt herself grow alarmed. She hoped he wasn't about to keel over right here in his chair and die of a heart attack.
"She sent you, my child, is that right?" Professor Slughorn replied in a curt voice, his voice surprisingly bright yet sharp. "To see why I keep refusing her letters. She dares not visit me in person herself, but instead, she sends you in her place?" Slughorn all but scoffed at Pansy.
"What? Refusing her letters? Who's written to you, sir?" Pansy exclaimed, intrigued, and startled by this new piece of news. "I don't understand, sir."
Pansy froze, leaning forward in her chair, looking across the way at her former teacher, paralyzed by fear, thinking that perhaps it had been a foolish endeavor on her part to come here as she watched a dark look plaster its way across his face.
The look he shot her now, oddly enough, reminded her of Ron the few nights she had spent at the Burrow in the Weasley's company whenever Harry or Ginny caught him trying to lie about his questions during Gobstones.
"I know exactly now why you have come to see me, Miss Parkinson," Horace announced in an exasperating manner as he collapsed further back against the backrest of his chair and tiredly closed his eyes, as though the man were suddenly exhausted. "I've taught many students throughout my long career, so do not pretend to think that there is even a chance that I do not remember you, or the Brennan boys, the set of them, or why his wife, Norah, has sent you to speak to me. I am sorry that you have come all this way, my dear, I truly am, but you have made a pointless journey for no reason. I'm afraid that I cannot help you. There is only one thing you need to relay back to Mrs. Brennan, and it is the same thing I have been saying throughout my silence for the last six years now. I will not accept their money, I cannot help Mr. Brennan, and I want exactly nothing from the Brennans, from now on, forever. Is that understood? Please, will you kindly give your beloved cousin my message?" he asked her, his thick mustache twitching. "He has never been a creature who is easy to love, child."
Pansy thought long and hard and spoke.
"…nor to be loved, yes, I know that of him," she uttered, finding herself in awe as she stared at the old man before him.
It was at that moment that Pansy noticed just how gaunt and drawn was the face of the former Potions Master. Horace Slughorn these days, even in times of peace, looked like a scared old man, hiding behind his blustering. Something was troubling him greatly. Slughorn appeared to have not slept an ounce.
Yes, he was exhausted. He also suddenly was looking more than annoyed at her intrusion. The man's brow was creased with deep lines. Horace Slughorn was gravely worried about something about Ollie, she was almost sure of it.
The edges of Professor Slughorn's lips curled as he let out a tense exhale in agreement.
"I understand," she whispered, saying what he needed to hear.
"Good," remarked Professor Slughorn dryly as he rose, albeit with great difficulty and a pained grunt to his feet, and began to turn away from her. "Then we have nothing more to say to one another. You know your exit," he commented in a listless tone.
"Wait! Please wait!" stammered Pansy again as she watched helplessly as the aging wizard began to totter off to the kitchen. "My cousin didn't send me here, I came of my own accord!"
His feet stopped once more as Slughorn paused to peer over his broad shoulder at his former student in a quizzical manner, his white hair glinting almost silver in the morning sunshine.
"He…" Pansy swallowed down hard as she fought to explain what had happened in a way that would begin to make sense. "There er…was an incident at the Ministry of Magic. Norah was kidnapped," she blurted out, watching as Professor Slughorn's anger turn to befuddlement and then again into a look of horror, which made Pansy, strangely enough, feel somewhat at ease.
At least he was listening to her and perhaps was willing to hear her out before so coldly trying to dismiss her again. She blew out a deep breath and then continued speaking to him.
"A Death Eater took my cousin. Norah saved our lives by staying behind and telling us to flee. We would have probably died if she wouldn't have gotten us all out of there. She almost did." She felt a shudder go down her back at just the thought. "Ollie, he…er…overreacted. He lost control, and now those he works with, the Senior Undersecretary specifically, are all clamoring to have him fired. He can't lose this job, sir, it means so much to him. It's one of few times in his life I know he feels like he makes a difference, despite what he is, sir. I don't want to see that taken away from him, he's already suffered more than enough. And…he's going to become a father, sir, I...wasn't aware of my cousin had mentioned anything to you in her...her...ah...letters to you, she's two months along. They're hoping to...take care of Ollie's problem before it's born," she stammered, tripping over her words as her voice held a slight stutter from her nervousness, though thankfully, Slughorn either ignored it or wasn't aware. His lips parted open in awe.
"Merlin's Beard," Slughorn breathed, staring at Pansy wide-eyed, as though he could not believe her news. "It is almost unthinkable to think of Oliver to be so gentle in marriage, though I am…grateful, for lovely Norah's presence in his life. Truly I am. It seems then, that she has had a positive effect on his life, after all. Were that I could help, but I'm afraid that my efforts to help the man would be wasted, my dear Pansy."
Pansy's desperation got the better of her plans, and she, a witch who was unused to begging for anything, heard herself begging her former Head of House.
"Professor Slughorn, please," she pleaded desperately, feeling tears stinging the edges of her eyes. "I know that I have no right to dream that you would help him, but…after my parents died, and even before that, Norah and her husband were the only two people who gave a damn about me enough to try to help me have a better life. Now, it's my turn to return the favor. Can't you just…send a letter to someone at the Ministry? Surely, you know someone in some department or other who could put in a good word?"
Unexpectedly, upon seeing her tears, Slughorn closed off the gap of space that existed as she stood in front of the fireplace, ready to leave at a moment's notice if the wizard so wished it of her and took her hand. She couldn't help but notice her hands shook as she accepted the gesture.
"It warms my heart to see how much you care for your family, my dear," Slughorn remarked sincerely in a warbling voice. "But it is the very fact that makes what I am about to say to you all the more difficult," Horace admitted, his voice trailing off with a quiver, while Pansy could only stare in dread.
Finally, taking in a deep reluctant breath, Horace spoke the words that he had been avoiding.
"But I cannot help him. It would ruin me, to help the son of Jack Brennan, when the boy was said to have killed his mother. He pushed her down a set of stairs on purpose after a heated row. The man is turning out just like his father, thanks to that…wretched thing attached to him." Professor Slughorn shuddered, taking note of Pansy's shocked expression and how she'd gone pale. "There is nothing left of the bright-eyed and promising student I once taught, my dear. He's…empty. I had hoped when I took in the set of brothers under my wing, that Oliver and Dominic would prove my preconceived notions about their family wrong. That the sons were different from the father, but it seems even the son pays for the father's sins, my child. Your cousin's husband killed his mother, my dear, and then his brother, that same night. And since then, I've never seen anybody try to outrun the devil himself as fast as Oliver has tried to."
Pansy listened silently, as the words were spoken but a horrible chilling numbness spiraled through her. She felt as though Slughorn had just Stunned her. Unblinking, she moved not an inch and heard herself speak in a flat voice.
"Is that true, sir? Did he…?" she whispered, unable to finish her thought as her voice choked on the question she wanted to form.
Professor Slughorn shrugged his shoulders.
"Merely speculation, my dear. Part of the gossip mill, as the Muggles call it. Of course, it couldn't be proven it was the boy, as, by the time the Aurors and Healers arrived on the scene, getting a call from a servant of the Brennan family back then at the time, Oliver was gone. However, the bodies were found in the living room. The mother and his twin."
Pansy blinked, a sudden realization dawning in her. "Why would you tell me this?" She spoke plainly, but the meaning behind her words carried weight.
Something that Horace Slughorn was aware of if the wizard's hesitancy to answer her question was anything for Pansy to go off of.
"Because I care for him. I do, how could I not? Oliver was one of the best and brightest students I had the pleasure to teach. He and his brother both, were a part of my Slug Club, as I call it. I had hoped he would settle for a more administrative career in the Ministry, though I wasn't surprised to learn he'd become an Auror and followed in his father's footsteps in that regard. I wish that I could help, but I cannot. Even if the Obscurus were to be extracted from his body and soul, the rest of our community would never see him as anything but a monster, and you may blame that on the deaths. My contact at the Ministry would never assent to speak on Oliver's behalf. Not while everyone within the Ministry now knows what he is, Miss Parkinson. I know lovely Norah has tried to conceal his condition as best as she could by maintaining a constant presence near him when she can, but considering the little, ah, 'incident' at the Ministry that's made the front-page headlines this morning, they will not be inclined to help the man...If anything, those who work closely alongside the man will likely feel threatened and see Oliver as a menace to society."
Pansy felt a piece of her resolve start to falter. If what he had revealed was true, in a horrible way, the man did have a point. Many witches and wizards here in London would be terrified of Ollie, even if he and Norah became more reclusive than they already were. She knew her cousin and her husband had always valued their privacy, but this would likely turn them into hermits. People would be afraid, the world cruel because of it.
She shook her head in protest, trying to send away the unhelpful thoughts.
"Even so, Professor Slughorn, sir, to keep him locked away from those who would accept him, it's wrong. Would you feel the same, sir, if this were one of your sons? Ollie can't help what he is, if he did do those things then he…the Obscurus probably made him do it," she blurted out, not even sure if her former Head of House had any children of his own, or any family the old wizard could compare Ollie's situation to.
Professor Slughorn fell silent as he looked at his former student. He could not help but feel pity for Pansy Parkinson. The young witch had suffered long and hard, at the hands of her parents' enemies, and these days, she only had her cousin left to call her own. He remembered Norah Jameson fondly when she was a student. She had been a Ravenclaw, sharp as a tack, and feisty, her mother French, a Veela, and her father a British pureblood.
Horace found it difficult to believe that a troubled wizard beyond all hope of redemption and saving would find love in the arms of beauty like Norah Jameson, who these days, he supposed, was a Brennan and the future mother of his child.
Oliver had found love, happiness, and a future. Only to likely have to sacrifice it all if the Ministry were to act against him, simply for the crime of taking matters into his hand to save the witch whom Miss Parkinson claimed he loved, more than anything. With that realization, Horace's anger and irritation left him. He thought he could now understand the depths of Pansy's love and commitment to her family, and Oliver's for lovely Norah.
"You would truly risk your entire future to keep him safe?" Horace questioned, thinking he did not need the answer but wanted to be sure. He wanted to hear Miss Parkinson say it herself.
"I would, sir. I would give up everything I have if it means letting my cousin and best mate have one minute of peace, they've already suffered more than enough. We all have, sir," she promised, her expression telling Horace that by doing so, she'd consider herself fortunate in her voluntary sacrifice.
Pansy continued as she could see regret melting the fire in Professor Slughorn's eyes.
"You and Norah and I are probably the only people still left alive in Ollie's life who's bothered to look past the surface." The bitterness in the young witch's voice chilled Horace.
Horace's gaze clouded over, his expression growing distant as he thought of the pain the Brennan family had endured these last several years was winding its way around his feeble quivering heart in a vice.
"I have refused your cousin's letters time and time again. At this rate, it would take a miracle to get anyone in the Ministry to listen to me, to accept my word in good faith that your cousin's husband is a good man, my child, but it is not impossible. There is perhaps one person who I believe might could help you," he remarked in a voice trembling with emotion, hanging his head in shame. Professor Slughorn clenched his fists and drew in another deep breath.
For a moment, the wizard seemed to be at war with himself, but finally, he let out the breath he had been holding in a long, heavy sigh, and paraded his back towards Pansy, shuffling towards a writing desk. He bent over so far to scribble something down onto a scrap piece of what looked like notebook paper, his nose almost touching the parchment, and turned around to face Pansy. The former Potions Master moved towards her with the slow pace of an eighty-year-old man, of which she knew he was not even that age yet. He handed this to her with a look of hot shame speckling along his pudgy cheeks.
Pansy took it with shaking fingers and glanced down at the bit of paper now in her palm, revealing a single name, one she didn't know.
"Please give Norah my best, Miss Parkinson, and give this to her when you return home," he warbled, wringing his hands together. "This person will vouch for your cousin's husband's character should the authorities attempt to charge him. Ensure that she receives it immediately, dear. I will send a letter to him to tell him to expect Mrs. Brennan's call should she decide to send a Patronus or a letter to his office."
Pansy nodded, feeling tears welling in her eyes.
"Thank you, sir, you won't regret this. Our family won't forget how you've helped us," she managed to gasp out in a choked hoarse voice as she turned away, triumph singing in her veins as she pocketed the little slip of paper. She had one foot over the metal grate of Horace Slughorn's fireplace, prepared to head back to the Burrow to change and go with George to St. Mungo's to check on Verity before she was discharged when she heard Professor Slughorn calling out to her once more. She had to turn back around slightly to attend to Horace's words. "Sir?" she stammered, looking at her former teacher with furrowed brows. Professor Slughorn was eyeing her with an odd expression she wasn't quite sure what to make of and did not know how to react.
He smiled kindly, though Pansy could recognize the glint forming in her former Head of House's eyes. He wanted something from her, and she feared that Professor Slughorn's help today wouldn't come without a price, and there was a part of her that feared to hear what he had in mind.
But he had helped her family, and so she silently vowed, no matter what the favor was when the time came, she would owe him, and she would see whatever he wanted through without complaint. True to form, the aging wizard made his request.
"I trust that…in exchange, you will give me something in return for this kindness?" he asked.
Pansy swallowed hard, trying to wonder what on earth she could do for her former Potions Professor that would repay a favor this monumental. But regardless of her doubt, she felt herself nod.
"Whatever you ask, sir, I'll get it for you." She cringed to watch Horace Slughorn's smile widen, and he almost clapped in excitement. She jumped a bit from the sudden unexpected sound and nearly inhaled a bit of ash from the fireplace, though Horace didn't notice.
"I like it, dear, I like it," he chirped jovially. "See that you keep it."
Pansy nodded and turned away, grabbing a pinch of Floo Powder from the pouch on the hook that rested next to Horace's fireplace.
She called out the address of the Burrow, the hot green flames swirling around her as fast as the Floo Network could take her home, her family's precious prize clutched tightly in her hands, close to her heart, and a little triumphant smile of victory plastered all over her face.
She couldn't wait to tell George.