"So, you hired Severus Snape? What position?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at me.
Dumbledore and I were taking tea in the castle solarium, one of the few castle rooms only open to faculty and staff. It was a month into the broom-sorting project. Summer was at its height, and I still had yet to decide whether or not to return to the ministry full time.
I'd been contacted by the Department of Mysteries for an unspeakable position that seems to be part investigative, and part observer. The department of Magical Law Enforcement had offered me a generous severance package, as well as continued part-time employment. But both departments wanted me to look into the rumor that Dumbledore had, again- to them, done the unfathomable and hired a known "supposedly" former death-eater.
"Yes, I believe he will make an excellent potions master, and possibly a good head of Slytherin house, when Professor Haping retires."
"Potions. Huh. Good choice." I had expected him for the defense against the dark arts position, but I suppose Dumbledore has his reasons.
"You approve, then?" He sounded pleased.
"Severus Snape worked to bring about Voldemort's downfall, and his information was invaluable. I know few enough realize it, but those few weren't working my end of the caseload. Fr- My team leader often called him in as an 'expert' to verify this or that." I avoided saying Franks name. Even after 4 months, it was still painful. Dumbledore didn't miss the switch.
"How is Neville doing these days?"
"His Grandmother had to cast a rather strong memory charm on him. Now, he's blocked himself but good. With children that young, it can happen. And what happened, what he must have witnessed, that night had to have scared him something awful to remain that silent. Time may tell, but it could be that by the time he gets here rather then being at the top of his classes as his potential once showed, he may end up being unable to complete his education without a lot of encouragement and tutoring. You know, in a small way, as his Godmother, I'm relieved. People won't be looking to him to fill that dammed prophecy when it eventually gets out."
Dumbledore shook his head sadly.
"Well, we'll all see in about eight years, won't we?"
I could only respond with silence. Late summer 1984"Professor?" I found him in the sun-filled castle solarium. A room that seemed much larger on the inside then possible. Several of the windows were of colored leaded glass, causing color to play across the room depending on the day. Part conservatory, it was filled with hanging plants, small waterfalls, and birds that helped keep the insects down. Oddly enough, there were no paintings in this room probably due to the humidity. It was a room that all the professors took pride in maintaining the upkeep. It was a favorite place for many of them to spend a quiet afternoon reading, playing chess, talking quietly about articles in various magazines, or even working on various hobbies.
Dumbledore looked up from his reading. "May I help you?"
"Actually, this time, I may be able to help you." The professor and I have spent a lot of time talking together this summer, being alone on the grounds so much. We discovered we have a surprising amount in common. I paused before continuing. I had written to Moody before pursuing this, and found reassurance that he believed this was the best course of action as well as clearance to do so. Dumbledore looked intrigued at my choice of words.
"Go on." I took this as a good sign.
"I've been working with you a lot over these last few years, and I couldn't help noticing you've been reserved and withdrawn since everything with the Potters and Pettigrew." He looked over the rim of his glasses at me, his face unreadable. I continued my carefully prepared speech.
"I know that Petunia Evens-Dursley was his only remaining living blood relative, and the best way to protect him was to use the older magic. But I don't think that's what is bothering you." Dumbledore had looked away from me while I was speaking with a thought-filled expression.
Moody advised me to take the direct approach with this. That Dumbledore is more used to listening then talking when it comes to things that are personal. Moody indicated that I'd have to find the words that he had the courage not to speak, to help him share the emotions he rarely showed.
I understand it has to be this way. With so many people relying on him, any show of 'weakness' could cause chaos. But we also couldn't afford to lose him to melancholia. It could panic the magical population, and even more then that- he was our friend. After the way he's helped me, I wanted to make the attempt to reach out to him in the only way I knew how, despite the difference in our ages. I hand Dumbledore a three-ring notebook and accordion file that I was carrying.
"These are exact duplicates of originals that don't even technically exist." I sit down across from him. Opening Sirius' file so he could see the contents.
"Professor, Albus," He looked back at me, startled at the use of his proper name. "There was nothing you could have done to change the Potters minds about their secret-keeper. And they didn't choose wrongly. Sirius never betrayed them, or you. There are others that are in Azkaban right now that fit that description, but this betrayal is the one I think is weighing on you heavily even now." He nodded mutely, eyes cloudy, as I continued.
"How could he do it? How could he not have done it? These questions have been on many minds a lot these past three years. But regardless of the obvious answer, and that it flies in the face of all reason, Sirius is innocent of the crime he's accused of." His face registered surprise, than closed into an expression of disbelief. But his eyes held the hope that he so much wanted to believe what I had just said. His posture indicated that he was still listening to me.
"Didn't one of your favorite muggle authors once write something along the lines of, 'when you chip away all the facts and deceptions, what remains- however illogical, is the truth'? What you have in front of you is the truth as told by Sirius, Lupin, and several others. But the only real non-subjective truth in his case, are the hard facts and evidence from the scene of the crime."
"I was there that day, as part of Fudge's team. Those are my notes, my photographs, my sketches, and my still too many unanswered questions. But the only conclusion I have ends two ways. Peter is the one who betrayed us all, and either committed suicide or went down the sewer after cutting off his own finger- possibly using a shrinking charm. It's in the copy of BOTH coroner reports, muggle and ministry. I quote, "The wound here was self-inflicted with a sharp object, not blasted like the rest of various physical parts seen today." Unquote."
Now it was fully in his eyes, he did want to believe. That his trust in giving Sirius a second chance had not been misplaced; that he hadn't failed himself. There was a silence broken only by him turning to the pages of photographs to the finger and the clearly severed end. When he spoke, his voice was shaky. "Why wasn't any of this brought up before?"
"Professor, he case was one of the many that were never tried. It's a big reason why many in my team no longer wish to work for the department of magical law enforcement. They have become more interested in verdict then verifiable evidence and sentencing over justice. I've seen the trails go from places where the innocent were weeded out, to a place where the so-called guilty are put on like a puppet show." I felt my face harden into a glare.
"Then there was their treatment of Remus Lupin, the day after the calamity." I remind myself to take a deep breath and calm down before I accidentally started breaking things around the room.
I know Dumbledore went to nearly all of the trials over the years. It boggles my mind sometimes about how long he has been working at Hogwarts. Most of the death-eaters, including their leader, at one point were his students. And Moody wonders why this keeps him awake at night.
After he defeated Grindeweld, there was real hope that the magical world wouldn't produce another major dark-threat this century. Yet, only 20 years later Dumbledore was again called to lead the community through the wars with Lord Voldemort and his followers. This time he fought against his students; many of whom he thought of as his own children while they are within these walls.
It's no wonder he looks perpetually tired.
"What happened to Remus?" His voice sounded strained. I was surprised he didn't already know.
"The ministry hit-men picked him up, handcuffed him to a chair, and he was interrogated for over twelve hours under the influence of a triple dose of undiluted veritaserum, only 3 days after a full moon. He nearly died 48-hours later form the overdose- and would have if Hagrid and Poppy hadn't taken him in. And with that much publicity, he's been unable to find work because of what he is, and he's been drinking himself into a stupor more often then not." A look of absolute horror crossed Dumbledore's features.
Moody was right. Dumbledore has been badly withdrawn if he is this unaware that one of his once top-operatives is in such a state. But he was also correct that Dumbledore would listen to this news coming from me. He listens, thinks, and acts with his information. But he also broods more then he lets most people know.
"Is there anything else?"
"Yes, actually." To his surprise, I pull my wand out.
"Apparaccio duplicate file cabinette." A three-drawer file cabinet and a large binder appeared in front of us.
"Here are the rest of the files I want you to have. The notebook holds the file encryption key, and there is a spell on them to update if any of their originals are updated. But these won't be destroyed if the originals are burned as some have been already." I pause. I can see he's looking a bit non-pulsed about this.
"These files do not even unofficially exist, so no one can tell me what to do or not to do with it. I trust in your ability to keep quiet about having this since they hold the evidence of the people who were sent to Azkaban without trial, and those who were let go without trial, as well as the final documents of the confirmed death-eaters who went singing the praises of Voldemort. It was created and updated by our team under Moody's direction. We all want you to have this, both for the information it holds, as well as for your peace of mind."
I saw a single tear slide down his face under his glasses. My heart went out to him.
"How did you know? How did you figure out..." He didn't seem to be able to finish the question he was trying to ask, but I know him well enough that he was asking for the full answer.
"Professor, you withdrew from everything, including the Order of the Phoenix. You even stopped looking for new members. You made a passing comment to Moody once about not sure whom to trust anymore, and that was very unlike you. But to me, the most telling was the haunted look in your eyes these past months as you walked across the grounds, and watch the students at meals you weren't eating, as if you were trying not to look at the empty chairs.
"Hagrid and I have been following Lupin as much as we both are able, and he expressed concern for you one night. I was chosen for Moody's team because of my ability to put facts together into a complete picture, and these signs all added up that something was bothering you very deeply, and had been since that November. Deduction said it was Sirius Black, and the others that ended up in Azkaban."
Dumbledore nodded slightly.
"You've given me a lot to think about. But I want to thank you for standing up and having your say with me. Not too many people do that anymore." He looked pensive, but his eyes did look less haunted. "Now I have to find somewhere in my inner office to put this wealth of information. Yes, you can trust my secrecy on this subject."
"I'd better get back outside to the pitch." I stood up, and got ready to leave him with his thoughts and notes.
It was fall the trees were just starting to change heralding the imminent return of the students. I was taking tea and chatting in the Castle Solarium with Professor McGonnagal when our new Professor Severus Snape walked in.
"Are the laboratories to your liking?" She asked him conversationally.
"Adequate, but I'd like to request some improvements and order some new equipment. Professor Sprout said you'd be the one to talk to." She nodded. The new professor had a quietly intense voice, black hair, and the pale skin that I've come to associate with many apothecaries and potion experts.
"Professor this is Lori Finnigan, she's joining the staff this year as an adjunct flying instructor and broom technician. She's been helping to upgrade the broom barn. Seems like this is the year for improvements around the castle. Tea?" Snape nodded. I poured, and passed the cream and sugar.
"Indeed. Forgive me instructor, but you look rather familiar to me and I can't place from where. Have we met before?"
"We crossed paths as students, Ravenclaw class '76, and you may have seen me with Frank Longbottom these past few years?" I take a drink of tea to swallow the lump in my throat.
"Ah. Yes, dueling club. I recall now." I smile and nod, grateful he didn't press the issue. "Do you still duel?" He asked me. Minerva McGonnigal choose this moment to clean her glasses and smile somewhat sardonically at both of us.
"Be careful, Severus. She's been asking everyone in the castle to spar with her."
"I'm looking to try for my next rank in Crosswinds Dueling Academy later this season, but I'm still having some difficulty with fast-casting and need practice." I offer in way of explanation. "I've seen your tournament record before you quit the circuit. It would be an honor." A surprised look crossed his face.
"See. Not everyone opposed your appointment here as potions master."
"I was beginning to understand that when Professor Sprout showed me the gardens she keeps up for rare potion ingredients, as well as introducing me to the Hogwarts suppliers over in Hogsmeade." He looked bemused. It also occurred to me that we were the youngest members of the staff. Another side effect of the nearly 12 year war with Voldemort. An entire generation lost. This is going to effect enrollment for awhile.
I listen to the conversation Snape and McGonnagal are having without really hearing it. I stare at the sun through the window, reflecting off the water and allow my mind to wander. I find myself thinking about an encounter with the potion suppliers of Hogsmeade:
"Please describe again what happened that evening?"
I listened intently to the question the wizard from magical law enforcement was asking the shop owner. I was going over the place for any sign of what the death-eaters may be up to next. I would need a list of the ingredients and herbs stolen. I was called out to Hogsmeade to help investigate a disturbance.
The lady, a former Hogwarts potions professor, spoke sounding agitated.
"I was minding the shop while my husband went to ship out an order from the owl-post. A group of 'em walked in here slapped a list down and demanded potion ingredients. While some of what they wanted was rare, none of it was illegal so I gave it to 'im. Didna' pay us a wee penny, so I gave him the cheep sides that night."
"Cheep sides?" The inquisitor asked.
Her husband, the other apothecary spoke up. "We keep three qualities of ingredients. The herbs must meet our exacting standards to be sold. So they are divided, sometimes things go wrong with the process from gathering, or drying, or in storage. These are sold at a much-reduced rate then the herbs that are prepared to perfection. We pride ourselves and our trainees and apprentices in gathering the herbs in the correct method for the herb, at the correct time of the month and star calendar for maximum potency. The cheep sides are herbs that failed the process; gathered at the wrong time, stored incorrectly, wrong cut, cut with the wrong blade. Generally they gets used for cooking and teas."
The look on his face dared the inquisitor to challenge him. This shop is a primary supplier for at least three other apothecaries that I have researched so far. It's no wonder that the death-eaters would choose here for their potions needs. They are also suppliers of the herbs used at Hogwarts and have never stinted on quality in over 30 years. It's also clear to me that these are business people, and while I may wish otherwise, I can't fault them for choosing to live then refuse service.
"Now your neighbors indicate that there have been other... visits?"
"Yes, that's correct inspector."
"And you continue to give them supplies?"
"As long as they pay for them, yes. It's the same deal we have with Dumbledore's crew. But we supply to all schools at wholesale."
"That settles it then, you're under arrest for aiding and abetting the enemies of the ministry."
"On what grounds?" I spoke up harshly. "These people are running a business. It is not the Ministries to say who they can, or cannot serve." There were laws on the table to start allowing just that, but they haven't gone through. There are freedoms the wizarding community is still not willing to give up.
There are times, I really hope that Crouch doesn't become our next minister.
Week before School Starts, 1984"Lory?"
"Yes, professor?"
"Usually there is more ceremony, but I hope you will accept this." Hanging from his hands was a Silver Phoenix pendent.
He wanted to make me a Phoenix squire? He wanted to make me a squire in his league of defenders? I was utterly stunned and totally without words.
"Me? You want me in the order? Sir, I really can't accept this, not now... not after..." I think back on why I'm here sorting brooms, and the flash of an unforgivable green spell that took a child's future and man's life, an act of improper justice.
"Professor, I really don't deserve this."
A look of haunted understanding crosses his face.
"Then keep it with you, and wear it hidden, until you believe that you do. And then we'll hold the formal ceremony."
Unable to make any other response, I saluted him with my wand and bowed respectfully. Taking his nod as a dismissal, I returned to the Quidditch field.
I climbed into the stands where I had my notes and broom waiting for the next phase of sorting. I held the pendent in my hands, watching the sunlight play over its carved figure. It felt cool in my hands. I heard Hagrid approaching on the bleachers. He saw the pendent, and asked if he could see it closer.
"He squired you. 'Bout time." I was taken aback by his words.
"Your fair, objective, and have been following our Knight's code without even knowing what it is. I know why you're here, and why you're not ready to go back out there just yet. I can guess that you think you don't deserve this. Coddswollop. If you can't accept it on that merit, then try this; accept it on your ability to do more in the future." Without waiting for any sign from me, he placed the pendent over my head. And nodded his satisfaction. "Now, we need you down in the barn to go over those display cases you and Madame Hooch wanted. Come on."
He was smiling broadly at me.
Tucking the pendent under my robes, I followed him back to the barn.
He was correct.
I knew I would be doing more work in the future, for Dumbledore- and porbably for the ministry as well.