Disclaimer-I don't own Harry Potter

Justice's Fee

There were very few times when Harry did not have a response to something, but it happened. Now was one of those times.

His eyes flashed back and forth from Petunia to Snape. There was his aunt, standing there with cold fury in her eyes, and Snape, who again was expressionless, though his face was slowly gaining more red in color.

"I-I'm sorry, but I need to go hurl now," he finally said.

"God, what has he done to anger You? Is there some sin we know naught of?" Fred muttered.

"Shut up, Weasley," Snape said. "And trust me, Potter, the idea that she is your relative sickens me as well."

"Really. I thought it was my dirty blood that sickened you," Petunia snapped.

Harry suddenly felt newfound respect for his aunt as she stood there, yelling at Snape like that.

"While I'm sure this is very important to you both, we have something else to discuss before you can return to your…falling out," Dumbledore said placidly. Hestia Jones, Emmeline Vance, and Mundungus Fletcher were entering the building.

"Yes, sir," Petunia muttered, and Snape nodded.

As Kingsley Shacklebolt joined the circle, Dumbledore spoke. Harry, who was outside the circle, strained to hear.

"As you know, 12 Grimmauld Place was attacked earlier this evening. You also know that we removed the Fidelius Charm, because I trusted all of you. Only we, Harry, and the Weasley children knew the location of our headquarters. My sole question is, how did the Death Eaters find out?"

"But that would mean—" Remus started.

"Someone betrayed our whereabouts. Someone among us…is a Death Eater spy."

Harry's eyes immediately flickered to Snape, and he saw Petunia do the same thing. He focused on her.

Her eyes remained locked on Snape's face, looking for a twitch of muscle or a gleam in his eyes that would mark him as the spy. She saw a grimace. She chewed the inside of her bottom lip and turned back to Dumbledore.

"I don't want it to have been any of us," Dumbledore said. "But apparently, my trust has been betrayed. It is the only explanation."

There was complete silence. Tonks moved in closer to Remus and seized his hand.

"I ask, most likely futilely, that the person who betrayed us come forward."

There was no movement, except the flicker of accusing and furious eyes.

"I see." He paused. "All of you are skilled Occlumensi, so to search your minds would be useless. So I adjourn this meeting. And, I'm sad to say, you will all be watched."

Nobody moved for a moment.

"And now, I must attend to socks."

A confused look swept over the Order's faces. "Socks"?!

Dumbledore nodded his head good-bye and turned, making towards the double doors that would lead him upstairs.

To where Oleta was.

A dim memory ignited in Harry's brain. When Dumbledore had found him looking into the Mirror of Erised, he had asked what Dumbledore saw. He had answered "Socks".

Maybe it was a metaphor, or a nickname for Oleta!

"Professor, wait!" Harry called. "I think I know something—about socks."

Even more confused eyes turned to him, but he ignored them and chased after the retreating headmaster.

"I must give you credit. You have a knack finding out about things you shouldn't," Dumbledore said. "So tell me, Harry, how did you come across my wife?"

"I was wandering around the gift shop and I kinda ran into her. Some lady told me your story."

"Must have been that gossipmonger nurse of hers," Dumbledore, but he didn't sound angry. "I suppose you know why she is here, as well?"

"Yes. He got her—Voldemort did."

Dumbledore was silent for a good length of stair-climbing, but he spoke again. "I met her in 1937, in our third year, at a Hogsmeade trip at the end of June. She was knitting socks for house-elves. Oleta was very much the forerunner of your friend Hermione Granger. Anyway, I called her Socks because of that. I suppose you could say we hit it off directly. We were Head Boy and Girl together in our 7th year. However, she had a boyfriend. I did not like him at all, and with good reason. He sole desire was to have his way and then leave her. He did, and he left her pregnant, too. Harry, Oleta's surname was McGonagall. You can fathom who her daughter is."

"You mean...Professor McGonagall..."

"Yes, Harry, Minerva is my stepdaughter. Well, as it went, I joined the Allies in the Second World War. We courted when I came home on furlough, and after I defeated Grindelwald in 1945, I came home and married her. In September of that year we both returned to teach at Hogwarts. I taught Transfiguration and she taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. We both taught Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort, as he is more commonly known now. Oleta always had a bad feeling about him."

Harry's head was spinning.

"She and I founded the Order together when Voldemort rose to power in the late 70's. However, in 1987, Voldemort discovered where we were hidden and attacked. Only she was home. He…tortured her, trying to get information on me. She was one of the first people ever to resist the Imperious Curse. She told him nothing. He was about to kill her when I returned and forced him off."

He fell silent. Harry tried to imagine the aftermath of that attack.

"Someone betrayed us," Dumbledore said suddenly.

"Betcha it was Wormtail," Harry said bitterly, remembering his own hatred of the name. Wormtail had been partly responsible for James, Lily, and even Sirius's deaths, his own friends. What qualms would he have about killing the headmaster's wife?

"Perhaps it was. So, Harry." He stopped abruptly. "I have noticed that you and Miss Hermione Granger have gotten several degrees closer since your first year. Please heed my advice; don't let anyone get to her. Don't let anyone hurt her. You will regret it for the rest of your life."

Dumbledore started walking again, faster. Harry stood, dumbstruck.

He imagined Hermione wandering aimlessly around St. Mungo's, repeating herself. That thought was near impossible to reach and completely impossible to bear. He forced the thought from his mind and continued after Dumbledore.

He stopped at the double doors, and peered in through the foggy glass, not wanting to get any closer. It would upset Dumbledore.

He pressed his face to the glass, trying to hear. Dumbledore and Oleta were facing each other.

"It's Albus, Oleta."

Oleta frowned. "I don't know Albus. I don't know Albus."

"You know me, Oleta."

Oleta started crying. "I don't know Albus! I DON'T KNOW ALBUS!!

"Sir, please, you're upsetting her," an aide said frantically. "Let us calm her down, and then we'll try to introduce you again. She usually has some inkling as to who you are; maybe we can get her to remember this time."

"I'll return soon," Dumbledore said, and quickly turned away. He headed towards a different set of staircases, but as he passed by the door he had come through he said, clearly:

"There are things much, much worse than death, Harry."

And then he hurried on.