Disclaimers and everything else in Part One.
Don't faint
Fugue State Part 12
*****
Percy Weasley still gazed in wonder each time he stepped into his office. He had no less than three assistants, four secretaries and two private floos. One floo connected him directly with the office of his father, the Minister of Magic, the other, Albus Dumbledore. Next to those two men, Percy imagined himself to be the third most important man in the Wizarding world. He might not have the mystique of Albus Dumbledore or; the sex appeal and the entire Man-That-Killed-The-Very-Dead-Dark-Lord that Harry had, but he, Percy Weasley, had something else, and face it, out of all things he could have done, Harry had opted out of everything to play Quidditch. A game.
Percy snorted softly to himself, his father might be the Minister of Magic, but Arthur was a tad too obsessed with the Muggle toys he collected. Muggles were fine and all that, but honestly, there should be limits. There was much to do in this period of re-organization and too much focus on outside influences was sure to cause problems.
Everything that came across his desk had its proper place. Every bit of information he had ever received was properly categorized and sorted. This would be his mark upon the world. He would be the vanguard in bringing order to replace the chaos that existed in the aftermath of four decades of guerrilla and then outright, war.
He frowned as he came across a message marked 'eyes only.' Not that this was unusual, not at all, he received these on a daily basis, being who he was and all; but this one required his immediate attention. He stepped over to the fireplace and called one of only two men whose messages required an instant reply.
"Albus Dumbledore!"
No response. He tried again, this time adding a touch more of powder, "Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry." He waited for a decent time, frowned and closed the connection. The Headmaster, it seemed was out. Percy would never criticize the Headmaster for not being readily available, but honestly, Percy was a busy individual. The Headmaster had sent him a message; certainly the Headmaster couldn't expect Percy to stand to attention by the floo until the Headmaster deigned to answer. Percy settled for flooing in a message to the Headmaster, notifying him of his availability and schedule for the day. For all of his irritation, Percy was well aware it would do him no good to antagonize the man. That chore settled, Percy set about the rest of his day, most importantly, the reports of Hermione's visit to Snape.
One hour later, Percy shook his head in amusement, Snape, it seemed, hadn't learnt a thing during his rehabilitation. The circumstances of Snape's confinement to Azkaban, while never having been made public, much to Percy's irritation, still afforded him a luxury most did not have, the chance to understand his crimes. Snape could try and at least, seek forgiveness from those he had wronged. The prisoner had other ideas, Percy mused. He drafted a letter to the keepers, instructing them to intensify their efforts in regards to Snape's treatment, the man obviously needed to get a clue.
******
Several hundred kilometers away, Albus Dumbledore stood in his office patting Fawkes. His beloved phoenix was days away from immolation and rebirth and hence, was, a little cranky. Albus offered Fawkes a sweet but the phoenix shied away from it and retreated to a far corner of the office to hide until his plumage returned to its former magnificence. Dumbledore settled down at his desk to read the note from Percy. He found himself smiling with some amusement. The boy's ego needed coddling. It served Dumbledore's purpose to keep Percy happy, yet the boy should never assume too much. He was Albus Dumbledore, and as such, he was charged with the safety of all those under his wing, not just impatient Ministry workers. Percy did, however, have his uses, and therefore should be allowed to have some measure of respect, if only for his own self-importance. The more Percy felt in control, the less attention he would pay to what the Headmaster actually wanted from him, and this next request had to be handled quite delicately. Those thoughts in mind, Albus flooed Percy, noting the availability Percy had messaged to him.
"Mister Weasley, are you available?" Albus inquired.
There was the inevitable shuffling of papers, but very quickly, Percy's head appeared in the fireplace.
"Yes, Headmaster, thank you for replying."
"Actually, it is I who should be thanking you, I realize you are probably very busy and I thank you for being so prompt in replying to me. I apologize for not being available when you called previously," replied Albus.
"Please don't apologize, Headmaster, it really isn't necessary. What can I do for you? Your message didn't give details, other than to contact you."
"Ahh, yes, well, as you know, Hermione Granger paid a visit to our prisoner yesterday."
"Yes sir. You did receive the recording, as requested?"
"Of course, Percy. Once again, you've performed your duties admirably," Dumbledore paused as he considered his next words to Percy. "What I wanted to discuss with you is a request of a slightly different nature." Albus kept a straight face-not without difficulty- as Percy visibly straightened up and stuck out his chest at the Headmaster's words.
"Anything, Headmaster, what can the Ministry assist you with?"
"I wish for you to provide me with some other trial pensieves," replied Albus.
Percy frowned at the Headmaster's request, "I thought you already had copies of all the trials?"
"Yes, but my memory has proven to be a tad faulty lately. I would like to remind myself of some pertinent issues. As you know, I returned all the pensieves to you once I was done, yet some issues have arisen."
"Well, of course, Headmaster, whose do you require?"
"Well, not over an open connection, perhaps you and I could arrange a tea later in the week to discuss the details?"
"Of course, may I check my schedule for openings?"
Albus' hand hid his smile. "Of course, Mister Weasley, anytime within the next few days, if you please."
"Certainly, Headmaster," replied Percy.
"Good day, Mister Weasley," Albus said, biding Percy farewell.
"And to you as well, Headmaster," said Percy.
Albus broke the connection, returning his attention to his poor, bedraggled phoenix, now hiding in the crevices of the bookshelves. Without their plumage, phoenixes were certainly fairly pathetic creatures.
*****
Percy was frustrated, in the weeks following his last meeting with the Headmaster; he'd spent countless hours trying to decipher the conversation between Dumbledore and Snape. Not that he was obsessed by it, not at all. It just was, well, he was the person in charge of Azkaban; he had a right to know. Through his father's contacts he knew that Muggle prison operators did not have this problem. They recorded conversations; they had the right to listen into all conversations that took place in prisons. With the exception of advocate and prisoner conversations, Muggles were never in the dark. He swore to himself, Muggles never suffered the problems he had.
It wasn't as if Albus Dumbledore was Snape's advocate, certainly not, Percy grumbled while watching the pensieve. He tried to lean directly over Dumbledore-nothing. In pure frustration, he found himself leaning into Snape, hoping against hope the words leaked to the other side. At this point, Percy was willing to admit defeat. As wonderful as pensieves were, they were not equipped to reveal information they hadn't recorded it in the first place.
Percy tossed the pensieve back in its box, turning his attention to the latest reports. He'd taken to making duplicate recordings of Snape and his conversations with Hermione. If anything, these pensieves were even more annoying than the previous one. He sympathized with Hermione. Snape, rather than clearing up the matter had simply become more and more cryptic. Hermione had spent the last meeting yelling at Snape across the glass, trying to get the man to crack. That hadn't worked. Previously, she'd tried cajoling, reasoning and silence, trying to wait the man out. That session had been the most irritating one, two hours of complete silence between those two. His visits to Dumbledore were becoming strained as a result of the sessions between Snape and Hermione.
It wasn't as though he was a nobody, not at all. The very fact that he'd been summoned to Dumbledore's office-well, honestly, he was a full-fledged official at the Ministry, not some assistant of little importance. He was someone. He sighed. For all that, he was still at the beck and call of the Headmaster. The thing to do was assert his authority over his domain, Azkaban. This was his territory, his triumph, the world looked to him, thanked him, for caging all the enemies of the state. He was necessary. He was important. Perhaps it was time he stopped being an absolute sycophant to Albus Dumbledore and struck out on his own. He needed to take control of the situation with Snape instead of waiting for the man to crack.
Perhaps, Percy thought, the best way to get Snape to talk would be to remind him exactly why he was in Azkaban. The man was accustomed to regular baths, meetings with a young woman, and what could easily be termed, special, treatment. Quite simply, matters needed to be conducted with a firmer hand. Snape ought to be reminded that he was in Azkaban for serious crimes; crimes against the state and its people. Just because Hermione questioned him, did not entitle the man to forget the notion of punishment. Snape wasn't in Azkaban for vacation. It was time to remind the prisoner.
*****
Oblivious to the machinations outside his walls, Severus Snape was again mixing potions, badly. The longer he remained within these walls, the more he lost. Surprisingly, it was the simpler potions. The ones he'd learnt as a student, the first potion he'd made, were gone. The Wolfsbane potion became his mantra, the link to his sanity. The complexities kept him sane, all the while filling him with dread. If he lost everything but the potion he'd made for the idiot werewolf, where would he be? Confined within this cell, his only comfort the potion made for a creature. At least, he thought with a smirk, with him in here, Lupin would have to be caged on a monthly basis. The werewolf deserved as much. But, lost in his mind, Snape forgot, the basic rules of Azkaban. He'd forgotten to hide. He'd exposed himself to the dangers that existed in his cell, the fire of the Dementors.
Children are taught about fire in several ways. Some are protected by their parents who teach that fire can hurt, they stop their children from reaching into the flickering flames. Another is letting the child have a taste of what fire can do. Letting a child hold a fingertip near the flame so the child can feel the heat and learn to be afraid of the fire. Some parents choose to ignore these safe methods. For them, the obvious solution is to lead their children into the fire. Teach the child to love the flames; but all the love notwithstanding, to forget that fire burns, even for an instant, is a lapse in judgment that will forever scar a person.
In that instant, the moment Snape forgot, when he was brewing one of most complex potions ever created, he felt joy, and that was all it took: the Dementors swooped in.
So he screamed, begged for the release that death would afford him. He raised his head, searching beneath the Dementor's hood for the kiss that would free him; again his life was removed from his control. His tormentor moved away at the moment their lips would have met, retreating to the far corner of the cell to allow another to take his place. Two more held Snape to the ground as the Dementors caressed his body and invaded his mind. Snape forgot, forgot the fact that fire burns and knowledge hurts, and he couldn't stop screaming.
*****
Hermione waited in the interview room. Snape was late. The cryptic bastard hadn't shown his ugly, shaved head. Come on, Hermione thought, it wasn't as though he could help it. She should be thankful the hair was gone. Who knew what ugly gestures would be infesting him if the hair were present. She gave a shudder, remembering how decrepit Sirius had looked upon his escape from Azkaban; Snape's condition would be ten times worse. But it was half past the hour and Snape still hadn't been produced.
She stood up and banged against the glass, slamming her palm, then he fist against it, until a guard came in.
"Where is Snape?" she demanded.
"My apologies, Miss Granger, I just received notice that Snape will not be joining you today,"
"What?"
"It seems the prisoner has been acting up, so he's been confined to his cell for a period. Again, please accept our apologies."
"I've been waiting half an hour, you couldn't of informed me sooner? The trip out here is anything but pleasant or convenient, it would be helpful to know, in advance, if Snape isn't available," Hermione ground out.
"Again, we're very sorry Miss Granger, but perhaps you should check with Governor Weasley before making any further visits, as the Gov would be best informed when the prisoner is available."
"Yes, I suppose I'll have to. Since you've inconvenienced me enough for one day, perhaps you'll be so kind as to return my wand and escort me out, immediately. I can't wait all afternoon," snapped Hermione.
"Yes of course," said the guard, opening the door for Hermione, "Again, all you'll need to do is check with the Gov. I'm sure you'll get a satisfying response in a timely manner."
Hermione stormed out, her mind less on Snape than on her Charms project which was due the following week. Master Juglenot needed placating; she'd been neglecting her work recently.
*****
Thanks go to Pigwidgeon for the superb beta on this chapter and Shadowycat for her encouragement and moral support.
Fugue State Part 12
*****
Percy Weasley still gazed in wonder each time he stepped into his office. He had no less than three assistants, four secretaries and two private floos. One floo connected him directly with the office of his father, the Minister of Magic, the other, Albus Dumbledore. Next to those two men, Percy imagined himself to be the third most important man in the Wizarding world. He might not have the mystique of Albus Dumbledore or; the sex appeal and the entire Man-That-Killed-The-Very-Dead-Dark-Lord that Harry had, but he, Percy Weasley, had something else, and face it, out of all things he could have done, Harry had opted out of everything to play Quidditch. A game.
Percy snorted softly to himself, his father might be the Minister of Magic, but Arthur was a tad too obsessed with the Muggle toys he collected. Muggles were fine and all that, but honestly, there should be limits. There was much to do in this period of re-organization and too much focus on outside influences was sure to cause problems.
Everything that came across his desk had its proper place. Every bit of information he had ever received was properly categorized and sorted. This would be his mark upon the world. He would be the vanguard in bringing order to replace the chaos that existed in the aftermath of four decades of guerrilla and then outright, war.
He frowned as he came across a message marked 'eyes only.' Not that this was unusual, not at all, he received these on a daily basis, being who he was and all; but this one required his immediate attention. He stepped over to the fireplace and called one of only two men whose messages required an instant reply.
"Albus Dumbledore!"
No response. He tried again, this time adding a touch more of powder, "Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry." He waited for a decent time, frowned and closed the connection. The Headmaster, it seemed was out. Percy would never criticize the Headmaster for not being readily available, but honestly, Percy was a busy individual. The Headmaster had sent him a message; certainly the Headmaster couldn't expect Percy to stand to attention by the floo until the Headmaster deigned to answer. Percy settled for flooing in a message to the Headmaster, notifying him of his availability and schedule for the day. For all of his irritation, Percy was well aware it would do him no good to antagonize the man. That chore settled, Percy set about the rest of his day, most importantly, the reports of Hermione's visit to Snape.
One hour later, Percy shook his head in amusement, Snape, it seemed, hadn't learnt a thing during his rehabilitation. The circumstances of Snape's confinement to Azkaban, while never having been made public, much to Percy's irritation, still afforded him a luxury most did not have, the chance to understand his crimes. Snape could try and at least, seek forgiveness from those he had wronged. The prisoner had other ideas, Percy mused. He drafted a letter to the keepers, instructing them to intensify their efforts in regards to Snape's treatment, the man obviously needed to get a clue.
******
Several hundred kilometers away, Albus Dumbledore stood in his office patting Fawkes. His beloved phoenix was days away from immolation and rebirth and hence, was, a little cranky. Albus offered Fawkes a sweet but the phoenix shied away from it and retreated to a far corner of the office to hide until his plumage returned to its former magnificence. Dumbledore settled down at his desk to read the note from Percy. He found himself smiling with some amusement. The boy's ego needed coddling. It served Dumbledore's purpose to keep Percy happy, yet the boy should never assume too much. He was Albus Dumbledore, and as such, he was charged with the safety of all those under his wing, not just impatient Ministry workers. Percy did, however, have his uses, and therefore should be allowed to have some measure of respect, if only for his own self-importance. The more Percy felt in control, the less attention he would pay to what the Headmaster actually wanted from him, and this next request had to be handled quite delicately. Those thoughts in mind, Albus flooed Percy, noting the availability Percy had messaged to him.
"Mister Weasley, are you available?" Albus inquired.
There was the inevitable shuffling of papers, but very quickly, Percy's head appeared in the fireplace.
"Yes, Headmaster, thank you for replying."
"Actually, it is I who should be thanking you, I realize you are probably very busy and I thank you for being so prompt in replying to me. I apologize for not being available when you called previously," replied Albus.
"Please don't apologize, Headmaster, it really isn't necessary. What can I do for you? Your message didn't give details, other than to contact you."
"Ahh, yes, well, as you know, Hermione Granger paid a visit to our prisoner yesterday."
"Yes sir. You did receive the recording, as requested?"
"Of course, Percy. Once again, you've performed your duties admirably," Dumbledore paused as he considered his next words to Percy. "What I wanted to discuss with you is a request of a slightly different nature." Albus kept a straight face-not without difficulty- as Percy visibly straightened up and stuck out his chest at the Headmaster's words.
"Anything, Headmaster, what can the Ministry assist you with?"
"I wish for you to provide me with some other trial pensieves," replied Albus.
Percy frowned at the Headmaster's request, "I thought you already had copies of all the trials?"
"Yes, but my memory has proven to be a tad faulty lately. I would like to remind myself of some pertinent issues. As you know, I returned all the pensieves to you once I was done, yet some issues have arisen."
"Well, of course, Headmaster, whose do you require?"
"Well, not over an open connection, perhaps you and I could arrange a tea later in the week to discuss the details?"
"Of course, may I check my schedule for openings?"
Albus' hand hid his smile. "Of course, Mister Weasley, anytime within the next few days, if you please."
"Certainly, Headmaster," replied Percy.
"Good day, Mister Weasley," Albus said, biding Percy farewell.
"And to you as well, Headmaster," said Percy.
Albus broke the connection, returning his attention to his poor, bedraggled phoenix, now hiding in the crevices of the bookshelves. Without their plumage, phoenixes were certainly fairly pathetic creatures.
*****
Percy was frustrated, in the weeks following his last meeting with the Headmaster; he'd spent countless hours trying to decipher the conversation between Dumbledore and Snape. Not that he was obsessed by it, not at all. It just was, well, he was the person in charge of Azkaban; he had a right to know. Through his father's contacts he knew that Muggle prison operators did not have this problem. They recorded conversations; they had the right to listen into all conversations that took place in prisons. With the exception of advocate and prisoner conversations, Muggles were never in the dark. He swore to himself, Muggles never suffered the problems he had.
It wasn't as if Albus Dumbledore was Snape's advocate, certainly not, Percy grumbled while watching the pensieve. He tried to lean directly over Dumbledore-nothing. In pure frustration, he found himself leaning into Snape, hoping against hope the words leaked to the other side. At this point, Percy was willing to admit defeat. As wonderful as pensieves were, they were not equipped to reveal information they hadn't recorded it in the first place.
Percy tossed the pensieve back in its box, turning his attention to the latest reports. He'd taken to making duplicate recordings of Snape and his conversations with Hermione. If anything, these pensieves were even more annoying than the previous one. He sympathized with Hermione. Snape, rather than clearing up the matter had simply become more and more cryptic. Hermione had spent the last meeting yelling at Snape across the glass, trying to get the man to crack. That hadn't worked. Previously, she'd tried cajoling, reasoning and silence, trying to wait the man out. That session had been the most irritating one, two hours of complete silence between those two. His visits to Dumbledore were becoming strained as a result of the sessions between Snape and Hermione.
It wasn't as though he was a nobody, not at all. The very fact that he'd been summoned to Dumbledore's office-well, honestly, he was a full-fledged official at the Ministry, not some assistant of little importance. He was someone. He sighed. For all that, he was still at the beck and call of the Headmaster. The thing to do was assert his authority over his domain, Azkaban. This was his territory, his triumph, the world looked to him, thanked him, for caging all the enemies of the state. He was necessary. He was important. Perhaps it was time he stopped being an absolute sycophant to Albus Dumbledore and struck out on his own. He needed to take control of the situation with Snape instead of waiting for the man to crack.
Perhaps, Percy thought, the best way to get Snape to talk would be to remind him exactly why he was in Azkaban. The man was accustomed to regular baths, meetings with a young woman, and what could easily be termed, special, treatment. Quite simply, matters needed to be conducted with a firmer hand. Snape ought to be reminded that he was in Azkaban for serious crimes; crimes against the state and its people. Just because Hermione questioned him, did not entitle the man to forget the notion of punishment. Snape wasn't in Azkaban for vacation. It was time to remind the prisoner.
*****
Oblivious to the machinations outside his walls, Severus Snape was again mixing potions, badly. The longer he remained within these walls, the more he lost. Surprisingly, it was the simpler potions. The ones he'd learnt as a student, the first potion he'd made, were gone. The Wolfsbane potion became his mantra, the link to his sanity. The complexities kept him sane, all the while filling him with dread. If he lost everything but the potion he'd made for the idiot werewolf, where would he be? Confined within this cell, his only comfort the potion made for a creature. At least, he thought with a smirk, with him in here, Lupin would have to be caged on a monthly basis. The werewolf deserved as much. But, lost in his mind, Snape forgot, the basic rules of Azkaban. He'd forgotten to hide. He'd exposed himself to the dangers that existed in his cell, the fire of the Dementors.
Children are taught about fire in several ways. Some are protected by their parents who teach that fire can hurt, they stop their children from reaching into the flickering flames. Another is letting the child have a taste of what fire can do. Letting a child hold a fingertip near the flame so the child can feel the heat and learn to be afraid of the fire. Some parents choose to ignore these safe methods. For them, the obvious solution is to lead their children into the fire. Teach the child to love the flames; but all the love notwithstanding, to forget that fire burns, even for an instant, is a lapse in judgment that will forever scar a person.
In that instant, the moment Snape forgot, when he was brewing one of most complex potions ever created, he felt joy, and that was all it took: the Dementors swooped in.
So he screamed, begged for the release that death would afford him. He raised his head, searching beneath the Dementor's hood for the kiss that would free him; again his life was removed from his control. His tormentor moved away at the moment their lips would have met, retreating to the far corner of the cell to allow another to take his place. Two more held Snape to the ground as the Dementors caressed his body and invaded his mind. Snape forgot, forgot the fact that fire burns and knowledge hurts, and he couldn't stop screaming.
*****
Hermione waited in the interview room. Snape was late. The cryptic bastard hadn't shown his ugly, shaved head. Come on, Hermione thought, it wasn't as though he could help it. She should be thankful the hair was gone. Who knew what ugly gestures would be infesting him if the hair were present. She gave a shudder, remembering how decrepit Sirius had looked upon his escape from Azkaban; Snape's condition would be ten times worse. But it was half past the hour and Snape still hadn't been produced.
She stood up and banged against the glass, slamming her palm, then he fist against it, until a guard came in.
"Where is Snape?" she demanded.
"My apologies, Miss Granger, I just received notice that Snape will not be joining you today,"
"What?"
"It seems the prisoner has been acting up, so he's been confined to his cell for a period. Again, please accept our apologies."
"I've been waiting half an hour, you couldn't of informed me sooner? The trip out here is anything but pleasant or convenient, it would be helpful to know, in advance, if Snape isn't available," Hermione ground out.
"Again, we're very sorry Miss Granger, but perhaps you should check with Governor Weasley before making any further visits, as the Gov would be best informed when the prisoner is available."
"Yes, I suppose I'll have to. Since you've inconvenienced me enough for one day, perhaps you'll be so kind as to return my wand and escort me out, immediately. I can't wait all afternoon," snapped Hermione.
"Yes of course," said the guard, opening the door for Hermione, "Again, all you'll need to do is check with the Gov. I'm sure you'll get a satisfying response in a timely manner."
Hermione stormed out, her mind less on Snape than on her Charms project which was due the following week. Master Juglenot needed placating; she'd been neglecting her work recently.
*****
Thanks go to Pigwidgeon for the superb beta on this chapter and Shadowycat for her encouragement and moral support.