"Albus," said McGonagall gently. When the old wizard did not respond, she reverted to her classroom voice. "Albus!" Dumbledore stopped and looked at her. "Nothing but the Dark Lord at my door this morning could have sparked the desire in me to make the journey here, let alone get up from my bed, and I can assure you that Arabella and the others will be even less enthused." Her voice and expression softened. "Sit down. They will be rather late, and understandably."
Dumbledore came away from the door and sank into the couch across from McGonagall with a sigh. "You're right," he said after a moment, gazing at the edge of the wooden table that separated them.
"Of course I'm right."
"But all of it." Rare agitation crept into his voice. "All of it for nothing,, Minerva. And I had them--"
"You didn't know; none of us could have known," she admonished him. "In fact, I'm still not sure I believe it myself."
"Hm, yes," murmured the Headmaster, "it is rather unbelievable." He glanced up suddenly. "Where is Severus?"
"Sit!" shrilled McGonagall as Dumbledore began to rise. The effect on the old man was no different than the one suffered by her first-years. "You know perfectly well that he is in the castle." She pursed her lips disapprovingly, even though she knew that the Potions Master lived in the school throughout the summer for his own safety, or at least that was the main reason. "And he will be even later than Black and the rest. Simply because he is contrary."
Dumbledore shook back the sleeves of his robes and rested his hands on his knees. "You're right again." He gave his colleague a rueful smile that quickly disappeared. "He should be coming out of the worst of the withdrawal by now. It was more intense than Poppy had expected."
"Poor man," said McGonagall evenly.
"I should have checked in on him. It's not like Severus to go...wandering about the castle. Certainly not in that state."
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, then promptly shut it, so sharply that it looked strange without an accompanying snap! In the silence that followed she took the opportunity to remove her tall, spectacularly crooked hat, keeping her expression carefully neutral. She needn't have bothered, as the Headmaster gave voice to what was on her mind a moment later.
"He was covered in her robes," he said suddenly, still staring down at the floor. "She must have carried him in and--"
Three knocks sounded at the door. Dumbledore was already across the room and opening it before the last one had faded from the air. As the Headmaster stepped back a tall, handsome young man with long red hair was revealed to McGonagall's view. "Good morning, William," said Dumbledore brightly, motioning for the Auror to come in. William nodded to both of them as he crossed the threshold, looking thin and haggard. But compared to the two that followed after him, he looked downright robust. "Sirius. Remus."
Remus Lupin nodded stiffly as he came in behind Sirius Black, the effort that it took to meet Dumbledore's and McGonagall's eyes apparent in his face. Black kept his hand near his friend's elbow, protective whether consciously or not. They took their seats in silence.
"Where is Arabella?" asked McGonagall.
"At home," replied Sirius hoarsely, rubbing at his eyes as if trying to banish the deep bags beneath them. His voice was flat but slightly edged, as though daring either to say a word about it. "Mundungus is fetching Ron and the others. Orion--"
"Never mind," broke in Dumbledore gently. "Let them rest. I'm amazed and grateful that any of you decided to come at all. Did you manage to get any sleep?"
"We found an inn in Dublin," muttered William.
McGonagall suddenly waved her wand. Steaming cups of tea and a plate heaped high with all kinds of sandwiches appeared on the table in the center of their circle, eliciting a gasp from Lupin. "Eat," she snapped, "I can see your ribs through your robes. Eat! And not a word, Black," she warned with a glare, very serious, as Sirius began to protest, "Not one word. If you open your mouth again there will be food in it, one way or the other!"
There was a collective hesitation, and then all three Aurors, even Lupin, fairly attacked the refreshments before them with no thought to manners or restraint. McGonagall leaned back and stared at Dumbledore with a gleam in her eyes, which was returned with raised eyebrows.
Had the plate not been magicked so that its contents never seemed to shrink, more than two thirds of the sandwiches would have been gone by the time they slowed their eating. "Thank you," said Sirius, wiping the crumbs away from his mouth with the back of his hand. He already sounded considerably better.
Dumbledore chuckled. "And you were chiding me for being tense, Minerva."
"Tense? You're never tense, Albus," laughed William, but beneath his good-natured sarcasm was an edge, an insistent question. Unlike Black, who demanded all answers bluntly, the youngest member of the Order of the Phoenix did not need to say something it make it heard. He was more subtle in some ways than even Lupin.
"You flatter me," returned Dumbledore. "But I regret to inform you that there is still much to be tense about."
Remus and Black exchanged a glance. "Such as?" prompted the werewolf softly, resting his arms on his knees and clasping his hands, gazing intently at the old wizard.
"Yes," agreed William. "Voldemort is no longer an immediate threat; I can't think of anything more relaxing."
The Headmaster took a calm sip of his tea. "Ah, jasmine." He set the cup down. "Please, be patient. There is not much to tell, but there is much to discuss.
"You see...well, let's have the good news first. Voldemort--do try not to flinch, Minvera--has not yet performed the Initiation, or the Summoning, what have you. Quite simply, has has not because he cannot."
There was a pause. The room was suddenly charged. "What's the catch?" It was not clear exactly who spoke, as the question was in the faces of all three members of the Order.
McGonagall's mouth pressed into a hard line. "He cannot, yet."
Sirius sat back into the couch very slowly.
"I was mistaken," continued the Headmaster, looking at each of them steadily in turn. "There is a component of the spell that Voldemort does not know. It appears that Morgana Le Fey made this rite more complex than even masters of the occult suspected."
Dumbledore reached into his robes and came back out with a scroll of parchments in his hand. He pushed the plate of sandwiches aside and spread it flat on the table. Line after line of black ink stared up from the face of the faintly yellowed paper, flowing in a peculiar language of twisting, sinuous characters.
"That's not Arabic," remarked William, leaning over the table. "Or Hindi."
"Manchurian, maybe?" suggested Lupin, cocking his head.
Sirius looked up. "What is this?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
"I believe you already know, Sirius."
William stiffened and glanced at Lupin, who had kept his distance from the parchment in spite of his interest. The younger man caught on suddenly and jerked back from the table.
"Don't be alarmed," McGonagall assured them, "It's only a copy."
"Don't be alarmed!" cried Black, shaken, "That's the Summoning! Where in bloody hell do you get a copy of the Summoning?"
"There's no need to swear," said Dumbledore mildly. "This is safe to handle, although perhaps not entirely safe to read if one is not cautious. Fortunately, you cannot."
"But some know how to write it, apparently," said William.
Dumbledore's blue eyes flicked to William briefly. Hidden behind her teacup, McGonagall smiled approvingly at the young wizard. "Yes, and to read it, but not speak it properly. No one can. It's an archaic tongue called Nyormansi; believed to have originated in either England or Ireland; exactly where is a debated topic, especially since scholars can't find any roots it has in Gaelic, nor Old English, nor even Latin."
"So it's a dead language," said Lupin.
"Deader than Latin," replied McGonagall.
"Yes. And while not dangerous in and of itself..." Dumbledore picked up the scroll and shuffled it to the fourth or fifth sheaf, "it is the language Le Fey originally used to create the Summoning in. Another curiosity, as one would wonder how she found Nyormansi, or became fluent enough to use it as the instrument of her most terrible feat."
"She was Le Fey," muttered Lupin with a kind of fearful but dry admiration. He glanced at Sirius, who was strangely silent.
"But to the point: here is where Voldemort's problem lies." The Headmaster spread the parchment flat again. On this page, the twisting writing abruptly stopped at the halfway mark for about ten lines long before resuming. Dumbledore laid one long, crooked finger in the middle of this blank space. "This missing passage is an incantation. A vital incantation. Granted, everything in this ritual is vital, but this is the true key. Voldemort does not have it."
"How do you know?" said Black into the silence. His voice was a bow strung high with tension, stretched within a centimeter of its breaking point.
"I did not, Sirius," replied Dumbledore softly, "until reading through it last night. The script here before the missing section declares that the following is an incantation."
"So you've never read it before."
"No."
Lupin's face became neutral, which betrayed all that he was thinking instantly. He glanced at McGonagall for a moment before both of them averted their gazes.
"Has anyone?"
"No, Sirius." Dumbledore's voice was matching Black's drop for drop in volume.
"Then this copy must have been made from the original."
"Yes, Sirius."
"Who opened the book?" hissed the the leader of the Order, shooting his feet. His sunken face was animated by an emotion so intense that it was impossible to name. "No one can open that book, it's forbidden to open that book, it's impossible to...without..." He choked. "Without..."
"Indeed," came a silky voice at the door. All eyes but Sirius's turned to Severus Snape, who stood in his black robes on the threshold, unnoticed until now. "Which begs the question, who could gather such information? Who would even expose themselves to the consequences?"
The Potion master's eyes were fixed upon Black in bitter, burning hatred, seeking to lock their gazes. But for once Sirius did not return his stare, instead looking at Dumbledore in thinly veiled panic. The Auror had gone pale.
"An overseas contact," replied McGonagall sharply, as she was the only one in the room who could do so without raising Snape's suspicions (or too much of them, anyway).
"One who naturally wishes to remain unnamed." Dumbledore picked up on what the Headmistress had given him, using his usual amiable tone. "But please, come in, Severus. You're a bit late."
"Yes," agreed Snape, stepping into the room and once again looking at Black. "My apologies, Headmaster."
Sirius paid no heed to his enemy as he sat back down, pushing his long hair out of his face and struggling to master himself. Something in Snape's expression flickered, as though somehow being ignored perturbed him. He studied all present as he glided to a seat beside William, who neither stiffened nor smiled. His gaze flicked away from the younger man dismissively, but landed on Lupin. The former professor had shrunk into himself upon seeing Snape and was no staring at the flood, desperately trying not to be noticed. He sipped repeatedly at his tea, refusing to look up, his body language making it obvious that there was nothing he wanted more than to run from the room. Snape's mouth curled.
"Good morning, Lupin," he drawled softly, cruel relish weighing down every word, "And how is our hungry lycanthrope today?"
Remus Lupin gasped as though struck a mortal blow, all blood immediately draining from his face. His teacup fell from his hands and shattered across the table, spilling hot liquid into William's lap.
Almost everyone in Dumbledore's chambers could have, at that moment, gladly murdered Severus Snape. But Black was too fast for them all.
"YOU BASTARD!" he screamed, lunging through the circle of chairs and couches to tackle the taller wizard to the ground. There was a struggle that sent the plate of sandwiches flying and upset many more teacups before Sirius managed to roll atop of Snape and pin his arms immobile beneath his knees.
Remus and William sprang to their feet as Black began dealing blow after merciless blow to Snape's face. "Sirius!" shouted Lupin, "Sirius, stop it!" Cries of pain began leaking through the professor's clenched teeth. William leapt forward, but it was unclear as to whether or not he was trying to stop Sirius or help him.
An explosion of thunder suddenly clapped through the air and shook the chamber: "STOP!"
And everything froze, even Black's crazed anger. There was a silence born of shock. Then McGonagall was hastening to help William pull the other Auror off of Snape.
Lupin came up from behind, horrified. "What are you doing?" he demanded, staring at Sirius as William held his arms pinned to his back, holding him easily against his struggles. Unlike before, Sirius Black was now completely focused on Snape, straining towards him with a snarl distorting his features.
Snape staggered to his feet, ignoring McGonagall's outstretched hand, blood streaming from his nose and a gash across his cheek. A smirk of pleased triumph ghosted at the corners of his lips.
And Sirius Black stopped fighting abruptly. He was the only witch or wizard who saw, at that moment, the relief beneath that smirk, the pure and undiluted relief.
"Gentlemen," snapped Dumbledore, "Are you children or wizards? Have you forgotten your agreement?"
Black continued to stare at Snape, his attention unsecured. Instead, it was William who answered for him, releasing his arms and turning on the Headmaster. "Did you hear what he just said?" he all but snarled.
"My ears are functioning as well as they ever have," replied Dumbledore tightly.
"Sit down, William," ordered McGonagall as she took the sopping wet copy of the Summoning between two fingers and held it at arm's length, as though handling a venomous snake. A wave of her wand and it was dry; another and the mess across the table and over the floor vanished.
"Sit down," murmured Lupin, putting his hand on Sirius's shoulder. "I'm not worth it."
Black turned his head. "What did you just say?" he hissed.
"Severus. Go clean yourself up."
The Potions master turned on his heel and began stalking out.
"And Severus."
Snape pivoted on the threshold.
"I want to have a word when you're done."
Snape gave the Headmaster one sharp nod, his expression inscrutable, and left in a swirl of black robes.
****
Professor McGonagall waited until Dumbledore left to find Snape, shortly after Black had stepped outside with Lupin. To her irritation, the Headmaster left the door slightly ajar. She stepped to one side to make sure that he was truly gone, but did not take the risk of closing it all the way.
"Control yourself!" she snapped, turning to face William after she was sure that her colleague was out of earshot.
"He was provoking him." William seethed as he tried to shake out his wet robes in vain, then cursed and took out his wand to clear the tea away. "Did you hear what he said?"
"Quite well, thank you," replied the older one stiffly. "Be kind enough not to repeat it."
The young man glared at the door. "No, I won't. If I do I'll probably go out after him and kill him myself."
McGonagall watched her chosen Auror within the Order for a moment. "Brook," she said finally, reaching up to fuss with the bun her grey hair was pulled into, "Remember that I recommended you to the Headmaster for a reason." Her tone softened. "You are the water for the flame. It is your job to keep the peace, and that means enforcing the decisions that are in the best interests of everybody. No matter how it smarts," she added.
"I'm not sure I've been doing the most phenomenal job in the first place," muttered William, taking a seat again.
"You have," McGonagall assured him, sitting down across from him. "In any case, if you can't, who can? Certainly not Lupin, no matter how much Albus believes that the role of neutrality is his. In other situations, yes, but he's far too close to Black. And he's certainly not in any condition to worry about the well-being of others right now. You are essential, Brook. You cannot act rashly. Never forget that.
"And don't worry about Severus." Her eyes flashed grimly. "I will keep you in mind when I have my opportunity to speak with him."
William glowered at nothing for a while longer, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair, appeased but still quite unhappy. His eyes found and stayed on the script that embodied the Summoning of the Forever Hollow, strange and eerie in the way it seemed to stream across the parchment. "Who can write that well enough to copy it?" He raised his gaze to McGonagall. "They didn't really open one of those tomes, did they?"
"You know full well there's no other way to access the Summoning," replied the witch impatiently, but she failed to hide the touch of a shudder in her shoulders.
William made no attempt to hide his own shudder. Incredulity was on his face. "Do they have any idea what's going to happen to them? They must be insane."
Correct, thought McGonagall, but knew better than to elaborate further than that, or to even elaborate at all. In situations such as these, William Brook was at a disadvantage simply because she knew how cunning he could be. The Headmistress analyzed the other one, making it clear that she was unamused. "You will not be getting who it was out of me, Brook." She conjured up a new cup of tea for herself and the other wizard.
They fell into silence after that, waiting for the others to return. William only broke the quiet once, with a thoughtful, "Nyormansi..."
In the stillness of the room, it sounded like a snake's hiss.