Pricking Achille's Heel
Rudyard Ashby, secretary of Prime Minister Cornelius Fudge, barely bothered to raise his head when he heard the sound of chimes announcing someone's arrival. He already knew that the man who had arrived was Headmaster Dumbledore, of Hogwarts, the greatest wizard in the world and the one man his boss refused to see. Nevertheless, the old man still showed up every morning.
"Hello, Rudyard," said Dumbledore, amicably, though with a tinge of impatience. Rudyard himself was rather surprised that a man of Dumbledore's importance could be ignored for so long.
"Morning sir. The Minister's scheduled an impromptu meeting with the Ambassador of Latvia. Chances are, sir, he won't be free until tonight."
Rudyard knew why Dumbledore wanted to talk to the Minister so badly. Everyone in the Ministry knew, in a vague sort of way. Although no one was exactly sure, the employees whispered of Voldemort and Azkaban, and recently, the raid on Ollivanders. Still, most were convinced that it was all part of a giant hoax contrived by the Death Eaters, who were still as loyal and fanatical as ever. But if that were the case, Dumbledore wouldn't be bothering the Ministry.
You'd better stop thinking about it before you get fired like poor Mr. Weasley.
He went back to his deskwork as Albus Dumbledore settled down in the lobby, prepared to wait another day in hopes of accosting Cornelius Fudge during his dinner break.
* * *
Remus was on his way to the owlery when he ran into Sirius. Although he was tired from his transformation and his eyes were rather bleary, he did notice that Sirius had more facial hair than usual. It was black and thick, almost like fur. With a backward glance, he saw a large bushy tail emerging from his friend's rear end.
Raising his eyebrows, he ran after Sirius.
"I'm stuck between two forms," Sirius complained to Minerva, as he held his tail, unsure of what to do with it. "Half of me is a dog, and the rest of me only got partially transfigured."
A grin formed upon her lips. "What are you supposed to be? A raccoon?"
Sirius frowned. "What about you? I don't see you testing out your brilliant idea."
"I haven't decided yet," she said matter-of-factly. And then, "Oh, you wanted to be a squirrel."
Remus had caught up to them, chortling, "A squirrel?"
"Cork it, Moony," Sirius huffed, whacking his friend with his rather large tail.
"A squirrel is so…" said Remus, as "cute", "adorable," and "cuddly" floated through his head. "…practical."
"Just help me unfix myself." Sirius growled. "Now."
Remus was relieved when, nearly four hours later, Sirius walked into the staff room, looking like his normal self.
"How did you undo it?"
"I had to get back to dog form first, and then everything went okay. But I got into trouble in the first place because my dog nature wanted to chase the squirrel I was becoming. That broke my concentration, and I got stuck."
"What a pain," muttered Remus, "So, when are you going to try again?"
Sirius saved himself the trouble of answering. He pointed to an owl, a fat snowy owl bearing the Ministry's logo.
"Mail's here," he said, as he raised his fist for the bird to land.
The owl dropped the envelope in Sirius' lap, and flew to the kitchens.
"Crazy bird," muttered Remus, glancing at the letter from the Ministry. "It's from Dumbledore."
"Open it."
As usual, Dumbledore's daily letter mentioned the happenings and highlights of his day. (He found a Sickle on the floor, transfigured paperclips into newts for Fudge's secretary, Ashby, and saw gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling in the reception area outside Fudge's office) Though the tone of the letter was cheerful, Remus could feel the Headmaster's patience wearing thin.
At the end of the letter, he asked about Severus' condition, whether Sirius and Minerva had made any progress as double Animagii, and whether Sprout's tomato plants had any ripe fruit yet.
Sirius found some parchment, and he and Moony wrote a response.
* * *
Although she had been relieved that Severus Snape had finally regained consciousness, at the moment, Poppy Pomfrey wished he hadn't. In fact, she hoped he would faint or at least stop trying to get out of bed.
"Especially in your present condition!" she scolded, shoving some vile liquid down his gullet, leaving Snape gulping like a fish for the rest of the morning.
Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall came by to visit in the afternoon. The Charms Professor was carrying a plate of cookies and a pot of pink geraniums as get-well presents from Hagrid and Madame Maxime. Noticing the deep gashes on Snape's arms and legs, but most prominently, the wan look on his face, Minerva's eyes flickered, but her expression did not change.
Severus shifted uncomfortably, hating to appear so wretched in front of his colleagues.
"Do you mind if we have a moment with Professor Snape, Poppy?" asked Minerva.
"Just keep him subdued," said Madame Pomfrey, heating a strong Sleeping Potion. She couldn't stand it if Severus tried to escape from his cot one more time. After his encounter with the Crutio-happy Death Eaters, the man didn't even have nerve endings left in his legs.
"Severus," said Professor McGonagall, looking him right in the eye, "Could you please tell us what happened that night?"
From the way she said it, it was not a question but an order. Severus was sure that brainy Minerva was dying to analyze his information and discover Voldemort's next move. Normally he respected her, but today he wished she and Flitwick would leave him alone.
He glared resentfully at her, feeling suddenly like a naught first-year caught in the Restricted Section. And he hadn't even done anything wrong. How dare she?
"Severus," said Flitwick, concerned. "Severus?"
I don't want to talk right now. Let me alone and let me process my own thoughts in peace. I don't need you to do it for me.
There was a long silence. Neither Flitwick nor McGonagall left the Infirmary.
He hoped they wouldn't sink so low as to besiege him until he surrendered and cried out. Unfortunately, it seemed like they would resort to such tactics.
"What do you want to know?" he said, in a dull voice.
"Please," said Flitwick, looking uncomfortable himself, "Please tell us what happened."
He told them about going to London with Moody, about how they raised defenses for the Muggles and how they stopped by the Leaky Cauldron for a drink afterwards. On his way home from the tavern, the air had felt saturated with Dark magic, and he foolishly followed the trail right to the wand shop.
He saw the windows smashed and the door torn down. A pack of werewolves guarded the door, and a few Death Eaters were inside the shop, loading crate after crate of wands into a black carriage bearing Voldemort's mark. There was no sign of Mr. Ollivander.
"I thought I could single-handedly take on twelve werewolves." I was so stupid. The whiskey had made me as stupid as a Gryffindor.
"Before I knew it, the Death Eaters came out of the shop, shouting and waving their wands. One of them grabbed me around the neck. I don't know what happen after that, except that Moody appeared."
He stopped, he would say no more.
"Did they see your face," said Minerva, quietly, "The Death Eaters?"
Severus thought for a moment. "I don't know. I didn't recognize them."
"But did they recognize you?"
"No."
* * *
Mundungus Fletcher and Arthur Weasley surveyed from afar the wreck that was left of Ollivander's prized wand shop. The Ministry had portioned off that area with bright red warning tape, which was charmed to zap anyone who crossed the boundaries unauthorized. They'd left Molly with Mr. Ollivander, who was recovering at Merlin's Medical, just down the street.
"Where's Arabella?" said Fletcher, impatiently tapping his fingers on his silver-tipped cane that he liked to twirl. "She's always late, that woman."
Minutes later, tiny Arabella came jogging over, in a salami red jogging suit.
"Okay," she said, not at all out of breath from her exercise, "How do we get in?"
"Arthur," said Fletcher, "You know how to get past the Ministry's Tape, right?"
"Yes. Come on."
After giving the password (Shoe bag), Arthur tapped the Tape three times, turned it green, and jumped over it. He beckoned at Arabella and Mundungus to do the same. They waited for the Tape to turn red again before entering the shop.
"Remember," said Mundungus, "Ollivander has a Monitor somewhere in his store. Once we find that, we can see exactly what happened."
Like a Muggle security camera, the Monitor's purpose was to watch the store constantly. However, it was artfully hidden, being able to assume any shape the shopkeeper wished it to.
To Arabella's dismay, the Forensics branch of the Ministry had already nosed around, muddling the Dark tracks and traces.
"I can't believe they get paid to screw things up," she commented, as she riffled through the debris.
"After Mr. Wattleburrow opted for early retirement five years ago," said Arthur, "the Department has been falling apart."
"Why don't they get Aurors to investigate?"
"Most Aurors are unemployed," said Mr. Weasley, grimly, "because Fudge is convinced that they are unnecessary during peace time and a burden to the taxpayers."
"There will be a high demand for them soon enough."
Mr. Fletcher neatly sidestepped the mess on the floor, which was sprinkled with bits of glass and rubbish. He jumped over a broken flowerpot. "I hope that wasn't the Monitor."
"You don't think that You-Know-Who's people or the Ministry have gotten to it, first, do you?"
"They'd better not," growled Arabella.
"Hey, Mundungus," hollered Arthur, "have you found something?"
The tall man slowly rose from his crouch. He was holding something in his palm, about the size of a Sickle.
"It's a pin backing," said Arthur. "I wonder where the setting's gotten?"
Mundungus shrugged and slipped it into his pocket.
"They took Ollivander's best wands," Arabella noted, glancing at the empty shelves. She clambered up the ladder and surveyed the shop from above. There was a mirror angled in the corner, tactfully hidden away. "I wonder…"
"Accio mirror," she summoned, and the glass flew to her hands.
"Why do you want that?"
"It's got a great view of the store."
"You think it's the Monitor?"
"Why not?" said Arabella grinning, because she knew that she had found it. "Alright, let's go."
* * *
"Post's here!" shouted Sirius as he abandoned his Animagus practices with Minerva to greet a pair of owls. (Droopy whiskers were still dangling from his face.)
The pudgy Ministry owl dropped its letter into Minerva's outstretched hands and raced for the kitchens, while the other bird, a fierce eagle owl, flew in a whirlwind past Sirius.
They followed it up the stairs, through the corridors, and to the Infirmary, where the owl dropped the letter into Snape's lap.
His eyes widened when he saw the seal, and his Crutio weakened hands struggled to open it. Finally, he handed the envelope to Professor McGonagall and asked her to read it for him.
"The coiled asp. That's the Malfoy family seal." Sirius remarked, as he peered over Minerva's shoulder.
"Go away, Black," rasped Snape.
Sirius frowned, but left, leaving Severus feeling rather surprised.
Dear Professor Snape, the letter began, in a pointed, dagger-like script, I would be honored if you came to visit me. It is imperative that we meet to discuss the direction of Draco's education and future. He is truly lost in the dark when it comes to his studies, and with the OWLs coming up I'm worried about his academic performance. I've enclosed a train ticket that will take you directly to Malfoy Manor. Looking forward to your arrival. Sincerely, Lucius
Malfoy.
"You're in no condition to go on such a trip," said Madame Pomfrey severely, as she handed him a goblet of medicine.
"I know, I know. But he expects me to go." said Severus, irritably. "He should just come to Hogwarts if he wants to talk about school."
"That's all pretense," said Minerva, readjusting her square spectacles. Snape squirmed when he noticed she was looking with concern at his forearm, where that abhorrent brand was forever etched into his skin.
He hated how she could put pieces together in her head so fast. She had no right knowing such things.
"It's not burning," he said bluntly.
"Very well. Tell Mr. Malfoy you are unable to come, but he is welcomed to visit you."
"Not like this," snarled Professor Snape, gesturing at his pathetic state of health. "See these?" He pushed back his sleeves to reveal the cuts he'd received from the werewolves, "He'd recognize these. He can't know that I was involved in the attack."
"What are you going to do, then?"
"I'll refuse for now. But in the end, I have no choice but to go. You'll see."
Minerva remained silent, so Severus figured she hadn't found any good solutions.
He was pleased to see her stumped for once. He would deal with this problem in his own manner.
* * *
