Chapter Twenty-three
Harry wasn't sure how he got back to Hogwarts, only that he was relieved when Sirius and Remus insisted he go straight to bed. He knew that he would have to explain the night's events to them come morning, but now all he could think of was Albus Dumbledore, and what little hope the wizard world had left if Voldemort had survived the blast. Pulling the curtains closed around his four-poster bed, Harry collapsed onto his pillow, willing for it all to have been a dream.
Downstairs, however, it was all painfully lucid. Molly and Arthur Weasley had volunteered to speak to their children and Hermione, but Sirius and Remus had the daunting task of informing Minerva McGonagall, if she had not heard already. Upon finding her with a tear stained face in Dumbledore's office, it was obvious that she knew. "Please, Remus, please say it's a mistake," she whispered, begged even. It was a metaphor for the shape of the world, the fact that her tightly pulled bun was coming undone. That a woman of her character had been reduced to a pleading little girl.
"I wish it was," he answered, though he honestly didn't know what had happened. Couldn't conceive of how it had happened.
"How did you hear?" Sirius asked, trying hard not to look at all of Dumbledore's things and think of how often he had been called into this office during his youth, only to stare at those damn twinkling blue eyes that always knew. Always.
"Cornelius Fudge sent an owl a few minutes ago," she answered, the bitterness creeping in through her voice. If he had only listened, none of this would have happened. No one would have died and we wouldn't be in his office without him. "Asked me to be the new Headmistress, even mentioned you two."
"Us?" Sirius asked, clearly surprised. Then he remembered that he had stood side by side with a group of Ministry officials. As he thought about it now, he found it hard to believe that no one had said anything. "What did he say?"
"Only that a professor of ours, a werewolf and a known murderer were seen at the scene of a Death Eater attack and that he'd appreciate an explanation. Always did need things spelled out for him, the bloody idiot."
"What did you say?" Lupin asked, slightly amused, as appalling as it felt and seemed to be anything other than completely devastated at such a time, by the fury in Minerva's eyes.
"I told him what Albus would have told him. That Sirius is innocent and that you are a wonderful wizard despite whatever prejudices he may have and that I wasn't about to explain anything to him until he took the actions that Dumbledore recommended at the end of the Triwizard Tournament and if he had a problem with that he could…well, that's not important. What happened in Hogsmeade?"
"We lost half of Arthur's Americans, but everyone else survived," Sirius answered, the shuffling of his feet not going unnoticed.
"What happened?" McGonagall repeated, this time looking to Lupin.
"Harry killed a man," he answered. "We're not sure how, or what the repercussions will be. We're not even sure what happened earlier tonight."
McGonagall seemed to consider something and just nodded. "There will be a lot to be said in the morning. I think I'll stay here for a while. Goodnight."
Sirius and Remus left her sitting at Albus's desk, running her fingers over the eagle quill, the Sorting Hat, everything that still sat waiting for him to return. "Do you think Harry will be safe tonight?" Sirius asked, interrupting the silence that had been threatening to drive him mad as they made their ways to the staff quarters. "We don't know what happened to the Blood Stone."
"We don't know anything at all," Remus reminded him, feeling even wearier when he caught a glimpse of the moon through the tower window. "We don't even know if Draco Malfoy survived."
As it turned out, in the dungeons of Hogwarts Snape was discovering the answer to that very question. Walking into his office, he was shocked to see Draco hog-tied and squirming on top of Snape's desk. "What do you think you're doing here, Malfoy?" Snape barked as he undid the ropes. His blood boiled simply looking at the boy. While the others had responded with subdued acceptance when the news of Dumbledore's death came, Severus Snape had exploded, breaking a door and several bones in his hand in the process, which was why he was in his office looking for some extra Skelegro he had in stock. The fact that he was now staring at a Death Eater and the spawn of the most putrid, snobbish, self-loving Death Eater of them all was making Snape want to break something else, notably Draco's head. But the boy mustn't have noticed the murderous glare and tone.
"How dare you?" he sputtered rubbing at his wrist where the robes had burned.
"What are you talking about?" Snape snapped, balling up his fists to keep himself from striking the boy.
"I may not have seen you but I know that voice. You stunned me and tied me up here like an animal-" Snape now understood, as Draco continued his rant. Harry must have had some fun before heading off to Voldemort, though he couldn't imagine why he would have excluded Draco from the Death Eater meeting. Maybe if he hadn't, this piece of filth would be dead too. "-and when my father hears-"
"Your father?" Snape sneered, interrupting whatever paltry threat was about to come out of Malfoy's mouth. "Your father has been caught, Draco. Your father will be spending a very long time in Azkaban. But maybe you'll be able to join him soon. Don't bother with rubbing," he added as he noticed Draco's hand moving instinctively to his left forearm. "That Dark Mark doesn't come off. Ever." Snape left Draco with a full body bind and, forgetting the pain in his hand, left his dark offices, wondering if Hagrid would mind a drink of Ogden's Old Firewhisky.
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When Harry woke in the morning, he could barely bring himself to get out of bed, knowing all that had to be done. Knowing that maybe Dumbledore had given his life to protect the whole world, but maybe just to protect him. And another person dying in his place made Harry wish that the choice had been his. Then maybe Dumbledore would be alive, and that Death Eater would be alive and his mom would be alive. But of course, a nagging voice in the back of his head that sounded strangely like a combination of Sirius, Hermione and Dumbledore came through screaming that if he didn't go down for breakfast and face his friends that he'd really be in for it. So Harry quickly got dressed and went down to the Great Hall, hoping against hope that those black banners weren't up just yet.
And they weren't. But the enchanted ceiling didn't look so vivid, so real. Or maybe the sky wasn't allowed to be blue after something like that had happened.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, running up and gathering her friend in a very tight hug that, oddly enough, didn't bother Ron one bit. "Oh, Harry, how are you?" Ginny asked, or rather squeaked, as if the slightest fright would break him completely.
"I'm okay. Honestly," he added as he saw the Ron's eyebrow shoot straight up. "Have you heard?"
"Yes," was all Fred could say, looking more mature and unhappy than Harry had ever seen one of the Weasley twins.
"Sit down and eat," Hermione said.
"Must be nice to be you again," Ron added, clearly not knowing what to say but having a good idea that telling his best friend to eat wasn't it.
"Yes, it is. But I have to go talk to them," Harry answered, jerking his thumb towards the staff table, where everyone seemed to be engrossed with their own breakfast plates, except for Hagrid, who was openly blubbering. "I'll see you later."
"You can wait until after breakfast for this, Harry," Remus greeted as the young man sat down next to Sirius at the staff table.
"I'd rather get it over and done with," he replied, casting a glance back at the Gryffindor table, wondering if he'd ever see his friends laughing again.
"That's understandable," Remus murmured, pushing away his own breakfast that had barely been touched. Harry proceeded to recount the events of last night, all the way through the attack at the 3 Broomsticks, wondering why he could no longer say, "I killed that man," only "I looked up and he was dead." Surely one night hadn't stripped him of accountability?
"I've spoken with the Ministry and they'll need to see you for some examinations, Harry," McGonagall began without really knowing where to begin. "You aren't responsible for what happened. For any of it," she continued, looking Harry square in the eye. Doesn't mean as much with those eyes, though. It's not the same, he thought.
"I am responsible though," Harry mumbled back. "It shouldn't be any different for me than for other murderers. Just because it's me, it shouldn't matter."
"You should be glad that there is a difference, Potter," Snape spoke up. "You wouldn't like where you'd be if you really were a murderer, which you're not. Even if you had control over your actions last night, it would have been justified. It would have been right." It wasn't lost on Harry that Mrs. Weasley, who had stayed at the castle along with her husband, gave Snape a sharp look after that statement.
"Some things can never be justified," Harry answered, thinking back to when he had told Remus Lupin that Sirius deserved a Dementor's kiss for what he had supposedly done. Now he'd give anything to take that statement back, just like he'd give anything to take last night back. Somehow, like he nearly always did, Remus felt he knew what Harry was thinking. "Harry, we all lose control sometimes. I know I do at least once a month. Sometimes the power within each of us surpasses the limits of control, and then it's up to fate. Maybe you'll never lose the hate you have for the act of killing someone. I hope you never do. But you have to believe us when we say it wasn't your fault. We'd say the same thing if it had been the bloody Queen of England instead of a filthy Death Eater. It wasn't your fault. And you don't deserve Azkaban for it. You don't deserve a Dementor's kiss for it. You don't even deserve praise for it. Because it wasn't you. I can't tell you what it was, but it wasn't you. I think everyone at this table knows that." Everyone else fervently nodded, including the eavesdroppers over at the Gryffindor table. Trying hard not to cry and knowing better than to voice his doubt at some of what Lupin had said, Harry opted for an obvious change of subject.
"Professor, did you find Malfoy?" Harry asked. He had forgotten that he had left the little ferret tied up in the Potion master's office.
"Yes, and what a lovely coming home present it was, Potter," Snape sneered, his need to be sarcastic overwhelming in the face of sentimentality, loss, and fear. "All wrapped up in a little bow too."
"Where's he now?"
"Hopefully rotting away with his father in a Ministry cell somewhere," McGonagall answered lightly, while spreading some pumpkin butter on her biscuit.
As everyone else continued their breakfasts and discussed everything trivial they could think of, from the look on Draco's face when he was carted off by the real Mad Eye Moody, of all people, to the experience of talking to Severus Snape as Fat Aunt Marge, Harry asked Sirius if they could speak in private. Excusing himself from the table and shooting a brief smile at the curious stares of his friends, Harry followed his godfather back to his room near the other staff's quarters.
"What's wrong?" Sirius asked, immediately regretting the question that so obviously could be answered with a truthful "everything."
Luckily, Harry let it slide. "I wanted to ask you some things."
"Go right ahead," Sirius answered, offering Harry the chair to his reading desk, still finding it hard to accept that he actually had a reading desk, let alone a chair.
"Have you heard anything more from the Ministry about last night? About you, I mean."
"McGonagall said she had a brief conversation with Fudge this morning. The only thing he said was, and I quote, 'Sirius Black, innocent? Impossible'. Then Minerva reminded him he said the same thing about Voldemort's return and that shut him up right quick. And then he blustered on about you being alive and that, as Minister of Magic, he demanded the truth, etceteras, etceteras. But he agreed to keep that fact limited to Ministry walls until we hear something more about the Blood Stone. But they mainly only discussed arrangements. For Dumbledore," Sirius answered, growing quiet at the end.
"What happened, Sirius?" Harry asked, his blatant confusion dripping from his voice. How could this have happened? How could he have died? What were they going to do?
"I honestly don't know, Harry," Sirius answered, rubbing his hands over his face as if he hoped to wipe away a memory. "The investigators are still sorting through the rubble, trying to identify the cause. Trying to identify the bodies, too."
"Do they know if Voldemort escaped?"
"Not yet, but I think he must have. It'd take more magic than Dumbledore possessed to kill that monster."
"What about Wormtail?"
Here, Sirius's eyes brightened, whether out of hope, elation, anger or regret, Harry could not tell. "Arthur told his Ministry friends to keep an eye out for any metal body parts or a mangled rat," he smiled. Neither of them dared to hope too much that Peter Pettigrew would be found and Sirius's name would be cleared.
"So what are the arrangements?" Harry asked after a long silence, plenty of time to play "What If?" a million times over in both their minds.
"Come again?" Sirius asked, breaking away from the image of himself and Harry, together in a house of their own, practicing Quidditch in the yard, just like James would have wanted.
"The arrangements for Dumbledore? I suppose all of Britain will be queued up to see him off."
"Actually, it's going to be private. He was a private man, it's what he would have wanted. Everyone will have a chance to say goodbye, some ceremony that Fudge is cooking up. Giving himself a grand platform to announce that he knew about Voldemort's return all along and that his administration has been taking the proper actions. Bloody wanker. But he's not allowed to come to the private service. Hopefully someone will write that up, wipe the smile off his bloated face. It'll just be the people Dumbledore mentioned in his will. People he loved and admired."
"It's just as well," Harry answered. "I don't think I could have gone. I've never been to a funeral but I don't think I'd fancy it."
"Didn't you go to-"
"No," Harry broke in, not wanting Sirius to have to say it. "The Dursley's didn't think it was worth the trip."
Sirius swallowed back a growl. "Well, you may not fancy it (of course I'd think you were due some time in St. Mungo's if you actually did) but you are going to the funeral."
"What?!" Harry asked, torn between great surprise and honor that he was in Albus Dumbledore's will and the dread of having to go grieve publicly when he personally felt that that was the most private action in existence.
"Don't ask me," Sirius answered. "All I know is who will be in attendance, and you're one of them. Everything else will be settled afterward."
"Who else is going? Where? When?"
"The entire staff, a handful of people that worked with him during the fight against Grindewald and the first war against Voldemort, some Hogwarts alumni, me, Remus, Arthur, Molly. That's about all I can think of at the moment. And it's at Hogwarts, so Professor Binns can attend, tomorrow morning, so Remus can attend as a human being."
"No other students?"
"No."
"What about his family?"
"He has family?"
"He has a brother…Aberforth."
"I suppose he's coming as well. I can only remember the people that I know, but I assume everyone that's coming knows about my circumstances because McGonagall told me I was forbidden to come as a dog," Sirius laughed.
"But I don't understand!" Harry complained, not quite sure why this bothered him so much, only that it did. "Why would he want me there? I barely even knew him, not really."
"Harry, I've known the man for half my life and I didn't even know he had a brother."
"Still…" but Harry left it at that, succumbing to Sirius's order that he go eat something and then spend some time with his friends. As Harry made his way back to the Great Hall, he couldn't help but wonder what Dumbledore had been thinking. He was always wondering that.
A/N: If anyone doesn't know already, I don't own these characters, or even the words, or letters, because if I did, "F" would be a whole lot prettier. Seriously though, sorry if this chapter wasn't up to par with the others. I think I may have writer's block, which never really stops me from writing, unfortunately for you, because everything comes out all…ick. But never mind. Me thinks this story is going to wrap up pretty soon, within a handful of chapter's I'd guess. But maybe I'll leave things open for a sequel if anyone's interested. Of course you wouldn't know, since it's not even over yet. I'll just shut up now, forget I said anything. Thanks for all of the smashing reviews. Please keep them coming, especially you new people! Don't be shy :)