Disclaimers: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling and to her assorted publishers, not to me. Antonia Dumarest is mine, as are the assorted Snape and Dumarest relatives, and may be used with permission; e-mail me.
Spoilers: All five HP novels.
PRELUDE TO WAR: SUMMER
Part Two: IT'S MY HOUSE NOW…
Monday morning and afternoon, 15 July 1996
I: Takings, Leavings and Disposals
After breakfast, however, Harry did not immediately join the others for the aerial combat seminar, but approached Professor Dumbledore.
"Sir? I think we need to set a time for me to do what I have to do about the house, and if we can get everyone else here, this afternoon should work," Harry said.
The Headmaster's eyes were shadowed with concern. "Are you certain that you are ready to go over to Headquarters, Harry?" he asked. "This may not be easy."
"Yes, Sir," Harry replied quietly. "The sooner we do this, the more secure the Order will be, and the sooner Mad-Eye can move in."
Remus Lupin was also concerned. His ward and Godson was still in a fragile state of mind, no matter how much he tried to hide it. "Would you rather wait until after the service?" he asked gently.
"No, Moony," Harry was quiet, but firm; still hesitant to use Lupin's first name, he was more comfortable with the old Marauder nickname. "This way, we can have the service there rather than here. It'll be safer, and at the same time we can keep out those who shouldn't be there, and key in everyone who needs to have access."
Lupin nodded. "Then let's decide who is going, and when."
"That will be Gaby and Leno for the house-elves here, Dobby and Winky to be the new Black house-elves, Alastor and Tonks to represent the rest of the family, you two and me," Dumbledore replied.
Harry had another thought. "Sir? Could we have either Professor Snape or Professor Dumarest along as well?"
"Why?" asked Dumbledore.
"Well, they're both Snapes, and that's an old Dark family; maybe one or the other can pick up on something cultural we might miss. From what Professor Dumarest was talking about, their family would have been knowledgeable about some of the stuff we found last summer."
"That may be a good idea," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "I think it had best be Severus; his background in such is much more recent, and may also be of use." He Floo-called the Potions Master, who arrived shortly. When he was told what was wanted, his eyebrows rose a little.
"I had no idea that you would want me with you for something of this nature, Mr. Potter," he said quietly. "Does it not bother you to have me in Black's home, for a rite in which you take formal and magical possession of that which he gave you?"
Harry did his best to match the other's tone. "It's simple, really. Besides the fact that you're in and out of the place anyway, as part of the Order, you're the nearest thing we have to a Dark Wizard. This is a house that still has a lot of Dark Magic in it, or did last time I was in it, and you're more likely to spot it than most of the rest of us. I mean, Mad-Eye will see what we can't see, and Professor Dumbledore can probably beat anything we find, but you'd be more likely to see…uh, cultural hints of things we need to deal with, or leave be, that maybe we missed in the first round of cleaning. Remember, I was raised Muggle; I have only the vaguest idea of what's going to be mine on the Magical side."
He took a deep breath; his hands tightened unconsciously on the armrests of the padded chair he was in. "And I'm thinking that you just might be the only one who can actually talk to Madam Black without her screaming. Sirius—" he gulped a little, "—told us that his brother was a Death Eater who got himself killed by Riddle, or on his orders. You being what you are, Madam Black may cooperate; she still goes on about her 'faithful son', who wasn't Sirius. And the other bit—" he swallowed hard again, "—it may have belonged to his family, and he may have lived there and been the Master of the house, but it wasn't his home. If we're to do…what we have to do, we have to live up to all that we promised each other, and part of that was to put aside feuds. And I think that no matter how much he detested you and you him, Sirius would want this, if it gives me something I need, and twice over to help gain the Order's objective."
Snape's eyebrows raised another fraction. "That is sound reasoning, Mr. Potter, and better than I expected from you," he approved. "Under those circumstances, I will join you."
"Harry, go ahead and join the flyers this morning; then let us meet here again after lunch," Dumbledore decided. "I will have some idea of what you and I are to say by then, so that we can practice it before we go." Harry nodded, and left to return to Gryffindor Tower for his Firebolt.
Monday afternoon, concurrent with "In the Air"
After lunch, five Wizards, one Witch (Tonks), and four house-elves stood in the Entrance Hall of the mansion. Dumbledore was the first to speak.
"I, Albus Dumbledore, acknowledge the demise of the Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black; I myself witnessed it. By the terms of his will, duly read and entered, I am the Executor, and I now proclaim his Heir. In the absence of an heir of his body, the estate falls to his Godson and declared Heir of the Black line, Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans Potter. I declare him to be the new Master of the House of Black, and let none bar him from what is now rightfully his: to do or let be, to take or leave, to keep or dispose of. By my word and wand, I swear all this to be true." He turned to Harry, and gave him a go-ahead gesture.
Harry stepped forward. His voice, a bit shaky at first, steadied down as he spoke. "I, Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans Potter, claim the titles, properties and estates of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. I am Lord Black, and let none bar me from what is now rightfully mine." A tingle went over him; he sensed that the house's wards were responding to him.
The moldering curtain opened in front of Madam Black's portrait. She woke up, and stared in horror. "You! You halfblood vermin! How dare you claim the title and estates of a line of true purity!" she screamed. "My blood-traitor son is dead, but there are other members of the family who are still pure!"
"By the terms of the will of Sirius Black, the last Head of Family, Narcissa and Bellatrix are now disinherited," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Andromeda has been restored to the family line, if you still wish a pureblooded Black."
"She is a blood traitor as well—taking up with a Mudblood and producing a freak!" the portrait snapped back. "Where is my faithful servant? Kreacher!"
The ancient house-elf appeared, and groveled before the portrait. "What does Mistress want?" he whined. "I cannot remove the blood traitor and the freak Auror—they are too strong for me!"
Before the portrait could scream back, Harry spoke up; he was nauseated at the very idea, but this task had to be done. "Kreacher, by the will of the last Head of the Black Family, I am now the Master of the House of Black," he said firmly. "As you are bound to this house, you are now my house-elf, bound to obey my commands. The first order I give you is to take Madam Black's portrait down."
"No! Kreacher lives to serve the true Mistress of the House—the great enemy of the Dark Lord cannot possibly be the Master of the House!" The cringing and cowering house-elf was horrified at the very thought.
"By the will of your last Master, I am," Harry replied coldly. "There is also this: that you willfully betrayed your Master to his death, even if it was at the hands of another Black. What is the penalty for a house-elf who betrays the Master of the House to his death?"
"He was an abomination—a blood traitor—not fit to live!" screeched Kreacher. "Kreacher went to Master Malfoy and Mistress Narcissa—true purebloods all—and faithful to their Lord! They arranged his trap, not Kreacher!"
"So—that makes both sons of the House of Black victims of the Dark Lord," Snape cut in smoothly, in his silk-with-an-edge tone.
Madam Black was incensed. "My faithful son—my good son Regulus—"
"Was killed on the orders of the Dark Lord, because he could no longer stand to serve Him," Snape interrupted. "I was present when he was first sentenced, and the Dark Lord declared him unfit to be a Death Eater. Then he was tortured and executed by junior-grade Death Eaters to give them practice in using curses, especially the Unforgivables, as well as to be an object lesson on trying to escape His service. He did not last very long, at that; he died before anyone needed to use the Killing Curse."
The edge in his voice now dripped ice. "So, Madam Black: which was worse? The blood-traitor elder son who fought the Dark Lord all his life and was killed in battle by Bellatrix, or the coward younger son who tried to escape his Mark and his Lord's sworn service and was killed by his fellow Death Eaters, neither of whom did his duty to marry and produce heirs of the blood? Which one better served the House of Black? More to the point: how does serving a halfblood—which is what the Dark Lord is—advance the Pureblood cause?"
Both the portrait and the house-elf stared at Snape. He continued, in a slightly more moderate tone. "The rightful Master of the House and Head of Family has declared his wishes, duly entered in his will. He provided an heir, even if it was not an heir of the blood. Like it or not, Mr. Potter is now the Master of the House."
"Kreacher does not serve half-breeds and blood traitors!" screamed the house-elf, in a surprisingly loud voice for one so old and small.
Before Snape, Harry, or the portrait could answer, the two Hogwarts house-elves stepped forward. Both appeared to be at least as old as Kreacher, but were much tidier, and wearing neat and clean tea towels with the Hogwarts crest. "We is Gaby and Leno, senior house-elves in service to the Master of Hogwarts School," the female elf began, in a high but firm voice. "Kreacher is a bad house-elf; he is not obeying his rightful Master. Kreacher will obey his Master, or he will suffer the punishment decreed for bad house-elves in service to this House."
"Worse than that: he betrayed his last Master to his death, at the hands of a servant of the Dark Lord," Harry put in. "This is in part why Sirius Black is gone, and I have inherited. Again I ask: what is the proper penalty for betraying his rightful Master to his…his death?" He had managed to control most of the shaking in his voice, but not all of it.
Gaby and Leno leaned together and whispered; then Leno spoke for the first time. "The House of Black always let its house-elves behead themselves when they did wrong. This is what Kreacher should do. That Mistress Bellatrix was the one who killed him does not count: Master Sirius was the Master. He was betrayed to his death, and Kreacher helped."
"Kreacher will serve Mistress Bellatrix and Mistress Narcissa! Mistress Lavinia is my true Mistress; she was faithful! Kreacher will not serve this boy!"
Kreacher's tirade was cut off as Gaby waved her hand; he was frozen on the spot. "Kreacher will serve and obey Master Harry Potter as he is bound, or Kreacher will be punished," she said firmly. "Master Harry Potter is the Master of Kreacher's House now, not Mistress Narcissa or Mistress Bellatrix. Mistress Lavinia is dead these ten years; Kreacher must not obey her portrait over a living Master. Kreacher has been ordered by his Master to remove Mistress Lavinia's portrait; he will obey, or be punished." She released him.
There was a silence, as Kreacher obviously struggled with the conflict engendered by his bondage. On the one hand, the Magical Contract of the Will now forced him to accept and obey Harry as his new Master; on the other hand, decades of habit and training made Harry completely unacceptable as a Master of the House to which he was bound.
Finally, something broke within him. He threw himself face down on the floor in front of Harry.
"Young Master must show mercy to poor old Kreacher," he whimpered. "Kreacher has lived only to be faithful to the House of Black, all good purebloods and allies of the Dark Lord. Young Master is an enemy of the Dark Lord and a blood traitor, and a halfblood besides. Kreacher has only done what he is bound to do, what he has done all his life. Young Master cannot understand that. Let Kreacher go to Mistress Narcissa or Mistress Bellatrix, good pureblood Blacks both."
"Oh yes, I can," Harry replied, not quite as coldly. "You're bound for life, and now you're bound to a Master you despise. No, I will not let you go to either of them; they are a danger to me, and the next time I meet Mistress Bellatrix I hope will be the last one. For the same reasons, I cannot set you free. I do have the means of treating you with mercy, however; your last Master has graciously and kindly given you a choice of actions in his Will, and you will select one of them within this hour."
Harry glared at the cringing figure, who did not answer. "One is to obey me and serve me as the proper Master of the House, which is far more than you did for the last one; as I said, you can start with removing Mistress Lavinia's portrait. Two, you can be permanently exiled to one room of the summer cottage in Wales, with a food supply and the entire collection of the Black portraits, which you will personally remove and pack, so that you may continue to serve those you feel loyal to, without being a danger to your new Master, and to those of his friends he chooses to have in his house. Three—" he took a deep breath before continuing, "—you may choose a proper weapon, and behead yourself as your parents did. I realize that your life is a misery; you have the right to end it if you choose. But you must make your choice here and now, and carry it out. I do not have the time or patience to let things drag out any further."
"Master was not kind! Master was very cruel to make Kreacher have to choose!" The ancient house-elf cringed even further; if he could have, he would have sunk into the moldering carpet.
"I am now your Master, Kreacher. Do you wish me to choose for you?" Harry's voice was still steady.
Still not looking up, Kreacher began muttering to himself. "Young Master does not know how to be a proper Master. A house-elf is not given choices; he is given orders. A house-elf does not get wishes; he obeys. Young Master is not a proper Master, and yet he is Kreacher's Master. Kreacher wants a real Master to obey, a proper, worthy, pureblood Master or Mistress of the House of Black; this one is now Kreacher's Master, and he is not any of those things. Kreacher must obey, but Kreacher cannot obey."
Out of sight of the groveling house-elf, Harry looked around to the others. Lupin and Tonks both shook their heads sadly; Dumbledore looked on calmly, but appeared willing to support Harry in whichever choice he made. Snape and Moody both glared at the wretched elf; it was clear what they would prefer to see done. All four of the other house-elves, including Dobby and Winky who had not yet spoken, stared at Kreacher with disgust.
Harry thought over the matter. As much as he had vowed to have no more needless deaths, he realized that this one might be needful. Kreacher had already been serving more than one Black, and Harry would be too new a Master to overcome decades of conditioning; nor was the elf likely to obey Lupin or Moody. If the house was to continue to serve as Order Headquarters, Kreacher had to go, and not to freedom or to the other Blacks. The lives of the other members of the Order were at stake, and Harry refused to risk them any more than they already were; this went triply for the Auxiliary Order and his other friends.
I pledged this house to the Order's use, thought Harry. Keeping Kreacher will endanger them all. I have no way to ensure his behavior if I let him go to the summer cottage. I will let him have his mercy, and figure out something to tell Hermione later. And this won't even make me feel better for Sirius even though it's justice. If this is what it means to be a Lord, and a leader, to have to deliberately choose to take one life to save others, I don't want it.
Making his decision, he spoke. "Very well, Kreacher; if being a proper Master means to give orders for you to obey, then that is what I shall do." His voice rose to a snap. "Stand up and look at me."
The house-elf got to his feet with difficulty, and looked firmly at Harry's knees, not wishing to raise his eyes further. Harry took a deep breath, and forced himself to speak firmly, formally and decisively.
"Kreacher, you have given decades of faithful service to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. It has become obvious that further service and work will be far too much for you, at your age, and judging by the disgraceful conditions of both yourself and this house, that has already been the case for a long time. Further, you betrayed your last Master. Being forced to continue to live with me as your Master would be far too cruel to you, and far too dangerous for me. Therefore, I, Lord Black, now offer you mercy as well as justice. Take an appropriate weapon and behead yourself, here and now, in front of these witnesses and me." Harry ignored the slight gasp from Tonks. I'm not going to do it; let him do it to himself, if that's what is required, and if that's what he wants.
Kreacher froze. He then stared up at Harry. "Young Master is letting Kreacher behead himself properly?" he asked, in an amazed voice.
"Young Master is," confirmed Dumbledore. His expression was grave, but calm; there was no trace of rebuke for Harry's choice. "I am charged, as the Executor of the Will of your last Master, to enforce whatever decision your new Master makes as to your fate." He conjured up a sharp, gleaming short sword with an elf-sized hilt, and handed it to Kreacher, who took it dazedly. "Carry out his order."
"Carry out Master's order, Kreacher," Gaby echoed. "Be a proper house-elf instead of a disgrace."
Kreacher looked from one to another, then stood a little taller and gave the sword a flourish. His head came off and fell to the floor, shortly joined by the body. Blood came from both, and soaked into the rug. The sword fell to the floor as well, and disappeared.
No one spoke for a few moments; then Harry let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Someone clean this up, please," he forced himself to say. "And don't stuff and mount him, either; I want his body and all the other heads disposed of in a proper manner, according to whatever is right for house-elves."
However, the portrait was not yet finished. "You destroyed my faithful servant!" screeched Madam Black.
"No, Madam Black," Harry snapped back. He had had enough of her temper. "I let my unfaithful servant have the final mercy he wanted; he destroyed himself, by his own choice. I have no use for him and he is—was—a danger to me. He is not yours any more, nor is this house; I am taking on house-elves who will do my bidding."
He turned to Dobby and Winky. "You two agreed to be hired by me for this house. My first command is to clean up the mess Kreacher left. My second command is to take down Madam Black's portrait."
"No! I am Mistress here! I will never let you be Master—" Her words were cut off, by both Moody and Snape aiming their wands at the portrait.
"Incendio!" they shouted in unison. Two bursts of flame came from their wands, igniting the portrait; it was fully engulfed in a moment, as were the rotting curtains. Dumbledore also quickly aimed his wand and cast a shield spell, creating a boundary around the painting that neither the flames nor the image could cross. There was one scream, and then silence but for the crackling flames.
In less than half a minute, there was nothing left but the charred remains of the frame and the blackened curtain rails. The ancient wallpaper behind the portrait was blackened and charred, but the wall itself seemed not to have been damaged. Moody and Snape looked at each other, nodded, and returned their wands to their sheaths. Dumbledore said a quiet spell, and gave a hand-gesture; with that, the smoke was dissipated.
"Seems we actually agreed about something, Snape," commented Moody.
"Indeed, it would seem so," Snape returned, with a slight smirk. He turned to Harry, who was staring at the wall, astonished. "I realize that the portrait was probably worth quite a few Galleons, but your guardian appears to be of the opinion that it was too dangerous for you to have here. Correct, Moody?"
"Correct," the ex-Auror agreed, with a crooked grin.
"And as Harry's other guardian, I agree too, Severus," Lupin chimed in. "If I had known that that was all we needed to do, we could have done it months ago and saved us all a lot of aggravation."
Moody stumped down the long hallway where the other Black portraits were registering their shock. "The same'll happen to you lot if you cause any trouble whatever. There's a new Lord Black now, and he's not minded to take any of your troublemaking. He's got solid backing, too, and new house-elves who will take care of things properly so this place looks like a house instead of a rubbish tip. Clear?"
The portraits whispered for a few moments, until one said, "What will happen to us?"
"If you cause no trouble, nothing," Moody replied. "At the worst you'll go into storage. Lord Black only wants helpful and friendly residents of his house. If you cause any trouble for Lord Black or any of his guests and friends, including Miss Tonks who is also half a Black by birth and next in line for the title, you'll get what she got. I'll be living here, as Lord Black's guardian, as will Lupin as his other guardian and the caretaker of the house; we'll be reporting to him regularly."
His voice hardened. "And don't even think about sneaking out and telling anyone else about what goes on here," he warned. "Harry Potter is Lord Black, like it or not, and you're bound to this household, not any other." The edge in his voice left for a moment, replaced by an overlay of cunning. "Now, if you're minded to let us know useful things about other places…" He left the rest unspoken.
"And Winky will be a good house-elf and clean up the remains," Winky added. She and Dobby had made Kreacher's corpse disappear; Dobby began removing the blood from the carpet while Winky began to remove the charred remains of the curtain rails and the picture frame.
Harry made his way over to the nearest chair, and sat down heavily. His head spun; he couldn't decide whether he wanted to throw up, or lie down on the nearest bed and pull the covers over his head for an hour or so. Seeing a living, intelligent being commit suicide in front of him effectively on his command, even though Kreacher had wanted to, was enough to make him question his own ethics and strength. If it's this hard for me to order a death, even the willing one of a foul little traitor like that, to preserve the Order, what do I have to become to kill Tom? he wondered. Did I do the easy thing, or the right thing? Or both, or neither?
A gentle hand on his shoulder interrupted his musings. "All right there, Harry?" It was Tonks, and her eyes were full of concern.
Harry considered, and decided on the truth. An Auror probably saw far worse than that. "No, Tonks, I'm not. I just ordered a living being to off himself, because I couldn't think of anything else to do with him that would be safe for the Order. Problem is, I wanted to hurt him for helping betray Sirius. Other problem is, he had no choice, once I gave him the order; he was a slave, just like the Death Eaters are slaves, and just as bound to obey."
He looked up at the Auror. "Did I do right, and give him mercy, or did I do wrong, and help commit a murder? If I'm right, why am I sickened by it? And if I'm wrong, why didn't you stop me?"
Without waiting for an answer, he hung his head and sighed. "And worse yet, I'll have to figure out a way to tell Hermione about it, without telling her I gave the order, or I'll never hear the end of it."
Tonks shrugged. "Harry, remember he was quite old as house-elves go, and was about three parts crazy. No sane elf would have neglected this place for so long. Just tell her he offed himself because he was senile and too conflicted between having you as a Master and his own training to only serve pureblood Blacks. That part's true; I was watching him, and for that you are not legally liable. Really, he's better off not suffering. As to the rest of it: kid, this is wartime; this will not be the last of the hard life-or-death choices made, and not just by you. That you worry about the ethics of it shows me that you're still a good guy."
"Master Harry Potter Sir, you is forgetting something, or maybe you is not knowing, being raised by Muggles who have no house-elves," another voice cut in, at about the region of his knee. When he looked, he saw that it was the Hogwarts house-elf Gaby. "Kreacher was a bad house-elf, bad clear through. Look at this house. If Mistress Lavinia has been dead more than ten years, and no one lived here until Master Sirius came home last year, then it should be perfectly clean and neat. Kreacher should have been keeping this house properly until someone could claim it and live in it, not neglecting his work. If there is not a Master in the House to make a mess, then one house-elf is enough for the work. Master Harry said true words when you told Kreacher he was past his work; he should have been allowed to behead himself years ago, but there was no one to tell him to do it, and Master Sirius wouldn't, as he should have. No house-elf is better than a bad one."
When Harry did not reply, Gaby continued. "Headmaster Dumbledore Sir has told Gaby and Leno that Master Sirius could not give Kreacher clothes because he knew too much and would tell Master's secrets, but he told some anyway. Mistress Narcissa should not have been able to give him orders to tell secrets; while she is a Black, Kreacher was bound to this house, and to its rightful Master Sirius, not to Mistress Narcissa or Mistress Bellatrix. Kreacher neglected his work, and this house is still a mess, even with all the Wizards helping to clean; it will take time for Dobby and Winky to make it right. Kreacher listened only to a portrait, and ignored the needs of the family he was supposed to serve, Master Sirius and his guests. Kreacher told secrets, and Master Sirius was killed. Kreacher was a bad house-elf, and we is all agreeing—Leno, Dobby, Winky, and Gaby—that Master Harry Potter did the right and noble thing. Master let Kreacher behead himself and at least die quickly with honor and not disgrace house-elves any more."
"That doesn't make me feel any better, for having to order it," Harry replied dully. "I neither like nor approve of slavery, and the things that slaves have to do; magical slaves of any kind are still slaves. Ordering a slave that I owned to kill himself because he was too dangerous to let live or to set free makes me sick. The very idea of owning one makes me feel like a monster."
"Then you does not understand house-elves, any more than your friend Miss Hermione does," Gaby said firmly. "We is born and bred to serve; that is what we are made for. Whether we is bound like Kreacher, or free hires like Dobby, it is our place to work and serve, and the place of Wizard and Witch Masters to give orders. Master must do what is best for Master, and in this case, what is best for Master was also mercy for Kreacher. He would not serve, he could not leave, and his new Young Master was not a fit one in his eyes. You were better to Kreacher than he deserved; you did not make him punish himself before you let him behead himself."
"If I had, I would have been a worse monster," Harry replied. "I did what I had to do: more was not needed. Letting him kill himself was bad enough; making him punish himself first would have been unwarranted torture. I won't do that."
"And that is why Master Harry Potter Sir will be listed as a great and noble Wizard, not a bad Wizard," Leno said softly. Harry had not heard him come up. "Master Harry Potter is kind and generous, and will not hurt anyone who does not need it, even if they deserve it."
A lot he knows, thought Harry, remembering his failed Cruciatus in the Ministry. Aloud, he said, "Thank you, Gaby and Leno, for helping today. I will tell Headmaster Dumbledore that you were both good house-elves and very helpful. Please report to him; unless you want to help Dobby and Winky get started on the cleaning, you can go back to Hogwarts with him." Both elves beamed, and vanished.
Harry looked around. The bloodstain was gone as if it had never been there, as were the charred remains of the portrait; neither Dobby nor Winky were in sight.
"Now what, oh great and noble Lord of the House?" asked Tonks, with a little giggle that spoiled her slightly sardonic tone.
Harry sighed and stood up; he ignored both the title and the giggle. "Let's go find the Headmaster, and then go see how Buckbeak is doing. I need to get him out of the house; he's been cooped up too long, and this really isn't a fit place for him to live in; Dumbledore might be able to move him out." He and Tonks headed out of the entrance hall to look for the others.
II: Departure
They found Dumbledore in the first-floor drawing room. As it had the last time Harry was there, it still had a writing desk and a few bits of moldering furniture. Dumbledore was casually Transfiguring the peeling wallpaper into something fit to be seen; he seemed to be doing various tests of colors, as every strip was a different color and pattern. He turned as Harry and Tonks entered.
"What do you wish done next, Harry?" he asked gently. No hint of criticism was heard at all.
Harry was direct and to the point. "I want to try to find a way to move Buckbeak out. Is there anywhere else he can go, like maybe the Forbidden Forest? This is no life for him, crammed into a townhouse bedroom; he can't get any exercise. I have a broomstick, so I don't need a riding beast."
Dumbledore was equally direct. "I think that would be an excellent idea." He turned toward the Auror. "Miss Tonks, if I make a Portkey directly there, and save both of you the strain of a long flight, will you escort Buckbeak to Hagrid? He can find a suitable location for him."
"Sure," Tonks said, "if you do it that way; I like him. We get on all right."
That was how it was done: the three of them went to Mrs. Black's bedroom and bowed to the hippogriff; then Dumbledore explained what he intended to do, Tonks mounted and held on, and Dumbledore made a Portkey from Buckbeak's collar, which Tonks grasped firmly. In a few moments there was nothing left but a pile of straw, feathers, droppings and rat bones, all of which Dumbledore removed with well-aimed Evanesco spells; he then finished the job with a few Scourgify spells. In moments, the room was cleaner than it had been in years.
"Now," Dumbledore said, "all that is left is to sort through the rest of the things, and that need not be done today. Let us see where the others are; I must now go into the study to get those letters of which Sirius spoke in the will." He and Harry split up, he to the study and Harry to the library.
III: Complications From the Past
Harry found Snape in the library, taking something long and slender from a dusty, glass-fronted bookcase. Snape turned at the sound of Harry's entrance.
"This has to be an heirloom of my family; it has our crest on it," he said, holding out a fancy dagger with a blade about a foot long, in a silver sheath inlaid with an ornate enamel crest. The pommel ended in a dark red jewel that looked enough like a ruby to Harry as no matter.
Harry shrugged. "I'm told that most of the old families are intermarried with each other somewhere along the line; this probably belonged to a Snape who married a Black. They might even still be on the tapestry. Go ahead and keep it, if it's from your family; I have more than enough stuff, and it won't mean as much to me."
"Thank you," Snape replied softly. He continued examining the dagger, as Harry walked around the room, noting things to be cleaned off and things to dispose of.
As he noted the state of a reading lamp (very dirty, but not broken, so usable), he became aware that the Potions Master seemed to be quietly talking to himself. This was unusual enough that Harry watched the man out of a corner of his eye, and listened to the soft words.
"Salazar's wand—this appears to be 'Heart's-Ease'! That has been lost for so long…I wonder if it still retains its properties…" Snape turned the sheathed blade over in his hands, eyeing it closely. After a moment, he drew forth the blade, which appeared to be heavily engraved with an intricate pattern. "Yes—this is 'Heart's Ease'! The pattern on the blade is of that flower!"
He became so engrossed in the blade, in fact, that he totally ignored Harry, and the sheath was let fall from his hand. That set off an alarm in Harry's mind; this was not like Snape, to ignore his surroundings, and to so carelessly drop an heirloom he was studying. Under cover of examining a shelf of books in one of the wall bookcases, he slowly moved closer to the man to hear what he was saying and to get a closer view. As he listened, his misgivings grew.
"Yes—I can sense it; it can still give its gift. What is the price, though? Ah—" he gave a sharp intake of air. "Yes, it focuses it all in one place, to be eased all at once…" His breathing grew a little faster. "Yes, this is the answer: I can see it now—it takes it all away…" His dark eyes began to unfocus a little, to be almost glazed.
Harry's alarm senses were now on full alert. There was something seriously wrong here; it was unheard of for Snape to so talk to himself. That dagger was ensorcelling him, and to do so to such an experienced Dark Wizard as Snape was it must be quite powerful. He decided to interrupt this before it went too far, and take his chances with the man's uncertain temper afterwards. He moved closer, so that Snape could see him.
"Professor?" he said, loudly enough to be heard clearly. "Are you all right?"
At first Snape ignored him. But when Harry repeated his question, he then said, "Never better, and soon better yet," with a sad little smile, not looking at Harry at all.
Harry panicked as he realized that the man had turned the blade around to point at himself. Forgetting to draw his wand in his haste to prevent a tragedy, Harry threw out his hand and cried "No! Expelliarmus!" A bright scarlet light flashed from his hand, striking Snape full in the chest. The dagger went one way; Snape went the other, and ended up stumbling backwards over a footstool and landing heavily on his back on the floor. He lay still and did not move, but was still breathing fast.
"Dobby! Moony! Library!" Harry called.
Dobby appeared instantly. "What does Master—"
Harry cut him off. "Get Dumbledore—NOW!" Dobby went. Harry ran to Snape, and knelt beside him. "Sir? Can you hear me?" There was no answer. Only the man's harsh breathing showed that he still lived.
Dumbledore was there instantly; he had Apparated. "What has happened?"
"He's been bewitched—it's that dagger on the floor, don't touch it—I thought…I thought…" Harry started shaking with the reaction. This was too much after all that had already happened that day; he could not bear the thought of what might have happened, had he not been there.
Dumbledore knelt beside Snape, felt for a pulse, and then pulled out his wand to point at the man for a quick scan. "Harry, he's all right, just stunned a bit…why, child, what is wrong?" He put a steadying arm around Harry, who was still trembling.
Harry could no longer stand it; he threw both arms around the old man, and buried his face in his shoulder. "He…it tried to kill him…I Disarmed him, but I knocked him across the room, and he won't wake up…" He held on and would not let go.
Lupin was next into the room, followed by Moody. They both halted at the sight of Dumbledore with his wand out, holding a nearly hysterical Harry in the other arm, and Snape sprawled out on the floor.
"Good," said Dumbledore, when he saw the other two men. "I need your help. Remus, please put Severus on that couch, and try if you can to revive him. Harry says he Disarmed him, but that should not have stunned him like this. Be sure that he did not hit his head in the fall. Alastor, please look for a dagger on the floor, but do not touch it with your bare hands. Harry says it is bewitched, and that it has enspelled Severus."
Moody frowned. "Did he attack Harry?" he demanded.
"No," Dumbledore replied. "Harry says that the dagger tried to kill Severus." He held Harry tightly. "Shh, child; I will not leave you. Please calm down; help is here, and no harm has been done."
"No harm? He's hurt, and I did it," sniffled Harry. His tears were now soaking the Headmaster's robes.
"Harry, please tell us exactly what did happen, and then we will see what needs to be done," Dumbledore suggested gently.
Across the room from the couch, Moody levitated the dagger with his wand. "This it?" he asked.
Harry looked up, and nodded. "The sheath's over there on the floor by that open bookcase," he said, in a small voice. "I think…I think it's safe if it's in the sheath, but not out of it." His trembling had stopped, but he was now mortally ashamed for breaking down. Dumbledore sensed that.
"Harry, I suspect this was too much, after the events of today, when you are still not fully healed from before," he offered gently. "None of us will blame you for losing control in private, with only family here. Now, what happened, please? And do you need a Calming Potion first?" He loosened his grip so that Harry could sit up.
Harry pulled off his glasses, swiped at his eyes with his robe sleeve, took a few deep breaths, and steadied himself. All right, he's not dead, he reminded himself. They need to know, and I need to know what could pull in someone as strong as he is! He began telling everything from when he had entered the room. Dumbledore, Moody (who had returned the dagger to its sheath) and Lupin all listened closely. When he got to the part about Snape dropping the sheath to examine the blade further, and talking to himself, and how he had felt increasingly uneasy, Lupin interrupted.
"Harry, your instincts were right on the mark. If he were studying some artifact, he would have sat at the desk with a light and studied it there. He would have never just dropped it on the floor, the more so if it were an heirloom of his Family. Severus is far too meticulous for that."
"And it is totally unlike Severus to talk to himself, or to ignore his surroundings, else he would not have lived so long as a spy," Dumbledore confirmed. "Do go on, Harry."
"He called it 'Heart's Ease', as if that were its name, and that it had been lost for a long time," Harry continued. At that, Dumbledore stiffened; his face paled a little.
"Are you sure, Harry?" he asked tensely.
Harry nodded; he was calming down. He didn't see the tense concern flash across Dumbledore's face. "He said that's the pattern on the blade, some kind of flower," he continued. "And then, his eyes kind of…glazed over, almost like he was under Imperius, and he turned the blade around, and…I couldn't let him do that! Not after today, and not when the Order needs him. I couldn't just…!" His voice started to rise again.
"You did right, Harry," Dumbledore soothed. "Then what happened? What exactly did you do to him?"
"I—I guess I panicked; I threw a Disarming Charm at him. It hit him, and he went one way and the dagger another. He tripped over that footstool, went down, and didn't move any more."
"Where was he when you hit him, and where were you?" Moody asked.
"Where the sheath is, over by that glass-fronted bookcase." Harry pointed at the open case. "I was over by that side table near that tall bookcase."
Moody went over to the bookcase, took out his wand, and used a Charm Harry hadn't seen before to measure the distances. "Quite a Disarming Charm you nailed him with, if you knocked him ten feet one way, and bounced the dagger off the other wall," he commented. "He might've gone farther if he hadn't fallen over that footstool. When did you draw your wand?"
"Uh—" Harry racked his brain, and then grew cold. "I—I don't think I ever did..." He rummaged in his robes, and felt the handle of his wand, where it had been all along. "Oh, Merlin—I hit him hard without a wand…" He let go of his wand, and buried his face in his hands.
Lupin and Dumbledore exchanged glances. The Headmaster pulled Harry back into the embrace for a moment, giving him as much comfort as he could, then let go and held him at arm's length. "Harry, listen to me, please," he said quietly, but firmly; he allowed a bit of his power to show. Unwillingly, Harry raised his head.
"Harry, my dear boy, you have saved a man's life today," Dumbledore continued soberly. "I will have to talk to Professor Dumarest about this, but you were absolutely correct: this dagger is cursed, and moreover if his family crest is on it, he was right when he said it was a Snape artifact; in fact, it is tied to his family. Every dagger with that curse I ever heard of was the property of one of the old Dark families. I have not heard of one appearing in almost a century, and I last saw one longer ago than that; this has to be at least two or three hundred years old, and has probably lain there in the cabinet for decades, unnoticed. I doubt Sirius even knew of it. The 'Heart's Ease' curse is much older than that; it was rare in my young days and is almost unheard of in this day and age. I doubt there is anyone alive now who could properly perform it, except perhaps Tom, and this is not his style. This was a topic covered lightly when I was at Hogwarts, in a unit of my Seventh-Year NEWT Defense class covering cursed artifacts and Dark Curses. You did the right thing, using a Disarming Charm, to separate him from the blade."
"And the other is why we took you out of Privet Drive," Lupin said quietly. "I told you that you had great power, barely in control. You used wandless magic to execute a powerful charm, because you were already upset and you could not bear the thought of a second suicide in front of you. You emotions fueled the charm; you didn't need your wand. This is what Severus thought you might do to your relatives, and we agreed with him."
Harry stared at the floor. "Then why isn't he waking up?"
"I suspect a residue from the curse, plus the strength of your Charm at fairly close range, plus the fact that he was totally unshielded," Dumbledore replied. "He will wake shortly. In the meantime…" He let go of Harry, rose and went over to the side table where Moody had laid the dagger; it was now safely in its sheath. "Let us see…" he mused. He took his wand and ran it lightly over the dagger from pommel to tip; he then nudged it partway out of the sheath with his wand, and touched the etched blade lightly with the wand tip, whispering a soft spell as he did. He then very cautiously touched the surface of the hilt with the tip of one long finger, and then did the same with the gemstone on the pommel. After a few moments, however, he seemed to stop, and freeze, with just the tip of his finger still touching the gem. His lined face, already pale, slowly drained of color even more. After a moment, he nudged it back into the sheath, and stood straighter.
"Dobby? Please attend me," he said aloud. He went over to the couch, conjured up a chair with a careless flick of his wand, and sank down heavily on it next to the couch.
The house-elf appeared. "You called for Dobby, Headmaster Sir?" he asked.
"Please return to Hogwarts if you will, and ask Professor Dumarest in private to come here immediately; I need her help," Dumbledore said softly. Dobby left with a bow.
All in the room noticed the old man's change in demeanor. A veil of old sorrow clouded his eyes, and his aura of power had diminished to almost nothing. Age had dropped over him as well; at that moment, he truly looked as if every one of his one hundred and fifty-six years had finally caught up with him. Nothing at that moment showed him to be the greatest Light Wizard alive, just a fragile, sad, and very old man.
"Albus? What's wrong?" asked Moody. He had pulled over another chair and had settled onto it. Now both his mortal and magical eyes regarded the old Headmaster.
"I will explain when Tish gets here," Dumbledore replied quietly. "But this is part of getting old: you think you have forgotten something until you are forcefully reminded of it. I have seen either this dagger, or one very like it, over a century ago, under very painful circumstances." He fell silent once again.
Harry, already shaken by Snape's reaction to the dagger, was now frightened for Dumbledore.
He had never seen the old man so fragile, not even on the night when he had trashed the Headmaster's office. He immediately went over to him.
"Sir? It'll be all right. Please, don't you fall for this thing," he begged. He didn't know what else to do, so he dropped to one knee, threw both arms around Dumbledore and held him tightly, trying to return some of the comfort just given him. Perversely, his mind flashed back to the office scene of the previous month, where he had almost struck Dumbledore in anger.
He's really old, thought Harry, feeling the thin body in his arms and burying his face in the long silver hair flowing over the bony shoulder. He's a great and powerful Wizard, but physically he's so frail and tired. I could have really hurt him that night, and he would have let me. I could have broken bones or worse. The tears began to slip out again. An arm came around him, as Dumbledore responded to the embrace with one of his own.
Lupin went over to the two of them, and stood there, one hand on a shoulder of each in silent support; he couldn't think of anything else useful to do. This is too much, he thought. I'm glad it happened here and not in public. What in Merlin's name did that thing do to Albus? And poor Harry, too: this is far too much for him to bear on top of everything else. If seeing that thing nearly kill Severus wasn't bad enough, seeing Albus hurting…Harry still cares about him, and it's adding to his own burden. It just never stops for him!
The silence was broken by the arrival of Antonia Dumarest, who entered the room, and stopped still, taking in the tableau. "What is wrong?" she asked. "Dobby says that you need me." She looked over at the couch, and did a double take at the sight of the unconscious man, who was beginning to stir a little. "And what has happened to Severus?"
"He nearly got caught up by a cursed dagger," Moody offered, seeing that no one else was going to speak first. "Harry there saw that it was pulling him in and Disarmed him so hard he knocked him out. He's all right I think, just Stunned. But Albus is really upset about the dagger; that's when he called you."
Dumarest went over to where Lupin was still holding onto Harry and Dumbledore, and went around them to face the latter. "Albus, I'm here. What's happened?" She reached over and took the one hand she could reach.
Dumbledore straightened up a little. "Thank you, Remus," he said, as he looked up at his friend. His eyes were damp, but his voice was calm. Some of his infirmity seemed to leave him, and his strength return. Lupin took it for a dismissal, gave both a final squeeze, and retreated to the arm of the couch upon which Snape lay. Dumbledore, however, did not let go of Harry.
"Tish, Alastor is right," he began softly, turning to her. "Severus nearly fell victim to a cursed dagger. When was the last time you saw a dagger with the Snape crest on the sheath—and the 'Heart's Ease' curse on it?"
The Potions Mistress gasped. "Albus, that was so many years ago…there was one in the family collection that had been there since before I was born, but it hasn't been there in years; I know Justinian never had it, and I don't think Aurelius did either. I think Father showed it to us once, and warned us not to touch it. I thought he might have sold it, but as Aurelius got the goodies I didn't worry about it."
Dumbledore bowed his head. "Tish, that's what Mimi killed herself with. I'm almost certain it was that one; I could sense that it has given its Gift more than once. When I touched it, I had a painful recall of finding her—almost as if it were yesterday…you have no idea how much we owe Harry that he saved Severus from a like fate."
"But how did it get here?" Dumarest wondered. "And how did Mimi get a Snape dagger? If that's what took her, wouldn't it have been a Black dagger?"
"And who was Mimi?" asked Moody, confused. "And what Gift are you talking about?" Lupin looked equally bewildered.
Dumbledore took in a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly, and looked over at his friends. There was a deep sadness in the light blue eyes. "I will explain. But let us first wake Severus; he deserves to know this, and I would prefer to tell it only once."
He looked down at Harry, who was still holding him tightly. "I'm all right now, Harry," he said softly. "You can let go now; it was just an old and sad memory."
Harry looked up. "Are—are you sure?" he asked in a small voice. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, "It's just that…I couldn't help remembering that I could have really hurt you last month, and you looked much worse just now than you did then."
Dumbledore's gaze was unwavering; while his eyes were still filled with sadness they were now clear. "But you didn't," he replied, matching Harry's whisper. "And I thank you for the comfort now, which I did need. You have such a heart, to think only of my pain when you are still in shock yourself. Please let go now; Severus will need me when he wakes, and I think Remus will need you."
He let go of Harry and handed him over to Lupin; then he rose, pulled over the footstool over which Snape had fallen, and sat on it beside the couch to bring himself more nearly level with him. "Severus, my friend, it is all right; please wake up." He raised his wand, and ran it lightly through the air over the length of the man on the couch; then he aimed it at him and quietly said, "Enervate."
Snape stirred a little more, and then awakened. The first thing he saw was Dumbledore's concerned face.
"Albus? What happened?" he asked, in almost a whisper. It hurt to breathe for the ache in his chest.
"What do you remember?" Dumbledore countered.
Snape had to think a minute. "I saw something with my family crest on it in the bookcase; Potter came in and I mentioned it, and he said I could have it. It was a dagger, a very fine antique Spanish-made one…"
Snape's voice faltered; he lay there in silence for a minute, and then resumed. "I remembered something Father once told me, in a discussion of lost family treasures, about an enchanted dagger called 'Heart's Ease', which had the power to relieve emotional pain. I am certain that the dagger in the case is that one; it had the etched flower patterns on the blade surface…" His voice halted for a few moments again, and then continued. "But it must have lost the charm; I feel no different…but why am I on the couch?"
"You do not remember talking aloud about the blade and its Gift?" Dumbledore asked gently.
Snape frowned; there was something teasing his mind, and an uncharacteristic fog clouded the edge of his memory. "No, and I am…unclear of mind about it," he said slowly. The fog was receding; he looked around and saw Moody and Lupin, with a very upset-looking Potter being held by Lupin. He also saw Antonia Dumarest, who had not been there before. Something had happened: but what? "Antonia, what are you doing here?"
"Albus called me," she replied. She took his wrist, checked his pulse, and scanned him with her wand. "No serious aftereffects, Albus; he might bruise a little where the spell hit him."
"What is the last thing you remember?" asked Dumbledore.
"I remember taking it out of the bookcase," Snape began softly. "I looked it over and confirmed that it was indeed our crest. I told this to Potter, and he said I could have it. I thought of how to confirm its identity; I pulled it out of the sheath, and saw the flower etchings—then apart from a bright light I remember nothing more." He drew in a breath, let it out slowly, and added, "I do not think it worked on me; I feel no different in mind. But why does my chest hurt?"
"Oh, but it was working on you," Dumbledore replied soberly. "You were interrupted before it could give you its Gift. The Disarming Charm that did that hit you in the chest."
"But why? Do I not deserve peace of mind?" Snape was puzzled, and a little annoyed, although if truth were told most of the annoyance was with himself, his forgetfulness, and allowing himself to be blindsided, as had obviously happened.
Dumbledore took his friend's hand in both of his own, and added just a touch of power to his words. The apparent infirmity and age-weariness had faded away, almost as quickly as it had arrived. "Severus, no one needs and deserves it more than you, and no one desires it for you more than I. But I don't want it to be at the cost of your life, and that is what nearly happened. You were interrupted because it appeared that you were about to take your own life."
"What?" Snape was even more befuddled; and even more so when he saw the deep pain in his mentor's eyes.
"Yes. The dagger you held is indeed named 'Heart's Ease', which is also the name of a very old curse that it bears. What this curse does is to concentrate all the sadness, all the despair, and all the negative feelings that a person has, and cause it to coalesce into a single deep pain in the heart; then it offers instant release of all that pain by use of the blade. Needless to say, taking that release is usually the last thing the victim does; not many survive a blade in the heart. And as this is an artifact of a family of Dark Potions Masters and Mistresses, then I suspect the blade may also be poisoned. Possibly the hilt is coated with some relaxant or resistance-lowering potion as well, or maybe a separate, layered charm. I have seen this happen once before; I don't want to see it happen ever again." He then let go.
Snape bit back a reflex to snap back at Dumbledore, who was being, as often, annoyingly indirect. But it was obvious that his mentor was deeply upset, and also that he wasn't the only one. Potter had obviously been crying, and Snape doubted that it had been over that wretched excuse for a house-elf.
Before he could form another question, Harry pulled away from Lupin, came over beside Dumbledore, and knelt on the floor. "Please, Professor, I think it would be easiest if you simply saw and heard what I did. Then you can judge if I did you right or wrong, and we can work out the details afterwards. You have your wand; use Legilimency and view my last memories. I saw what you can't remember doing, and I'm why you're on the couch."
Now Snape knew there was something truly wrong. It had been a deeply personal offer when Potter had given the three of them the Pensieve memory of the tragic end of the Third Task; this was even more personal, the more so as Potter was obviously upset. His desire to know what happened warred with his own memories of dealing with Potter's often-chaotic mind. As he often did when so conflicted, he looked over at Dumbledore.
"Albus? Opinion?"
"Absent a Pensieve, this is the fastest way to show you what happened," Dumbledore replied. "Harry is the only one who was in the room with you; seeing it from his point of view will tell you far more than merely hearing his account of what he saw and heard, which we three already have done. I will bring Tish up-to-date while he does so. Then after that, I will need to tell you all something." He held out his hand again. "Come, do you think you can sit up?"
Snape took the hand and let the Headmaster pull him up into a sitting position. He then looked at the kneeling boy—no, young man—Potter could no longer be truly called a boy; if indeed he ever could have been with the life he had led.
"Again, you are making me a far more generous offer than you realize," Snape said quietly.
"I suggest that you not judge that, Sir, until you see what happened," Harry replied. He looked directly into the black eyes, and consciously relaxed. "Whenever you're ready, Sir."
Seeing that further delay would be unprofitable, Snape drew his wand, aimed it at Harry, and softly said "Legilimens". This was the first time he had done so to Harry since the night of their quarrel over the Pensieve.
The spell took him into Potter's memory; from that point of view, he saw himself standing at the bookcase. Unlike the other times, when he had tried to encourage Potter to force him out, this time he was given a free pass into the scene. He saw himself staring at the blade, dropping the sheath, and talking to himself; he heard the soft mumble of his own words. He also felt the rising fear that something was wrong, and heard his totally uncharacteristic reply to the question about his well-being. He then felt the spike of pure panic, when Potter saw him aim the blade upward toward himself, in the perfect angle for…then he heard the Disarming Charm and saw the light strike his vision-self, sending him flying halfway across the room, over the footstool, and down to the floor, motionless. He heard and saw Potter's reactions, and then pulled out of the other's mind at the point when he saw Dumbledore arrive.
When he pulled free, he turned away from the disturbing green eyes and met Dumbledore's sad blue ones. He noticed for the first time the slight reddening around them, and suspected Potter had not been the only one with tears.
Dumbledore's soft voice broke the silence. "Do you understand, now, why Harry took it away from you?"
Snape gave a brief nod. "He feared that I was going to…make use of it," he replied, just as softly. Then, as the last of the mental fog finally dissipated, the memory of both the pain and the promise hit him like a Bludger all at once. "Oh Merlin—I…I remember now! The pain was so bitter…and the promise…" His free hand, which was again clasped in the older man's, now tightened its grip as his voice faltered.
"And had Harry not been there in time, we would have found your lifeless body, an obvious suicide," Dumbledore finished. "That we would have discovered the curse afterwards would not have made a difference: you would still be dead, and left us the poorer for it. A friend of mine from school fell victim to one of these and perished; I was the one who found her, too late." He returned the grip, held it, and then let go. His eyes grew distant as he revisited a century-plus-old memory.
"Mimi Black was a dear friend of mine, a year behind me in Ravenclaw; she and I were together for a while, and we were starting to make marriage plans. This was around 1870, about a dozen or so years after we left school; I had begun working with Nicholas at the time. But she was one such as Tish is, a Light Witch from a Dark family. 'Mimi' was for 'Mimosa', which is both a star name, as the Blacks' naming tradition preferred, and the name of what is commonly called a 'Sensitive Plant', which is a plant that visibly reacts to touch. That fit her; she had more caring in her than three generations' worth of the entire rest of her family.
"She had no reason whatever to harm herself; she had finished a Charms apprenticeship and was planning to go back to Hogwarts and teach. This was long before Filius was even out of school. Then one afternoon I went to see her at her flat, and found her already cold, with this blade in her heart.
"I never did find out who gave it to her. But while we Dumbledores are pureblooded and landed, we are hardly noble; all our wealth was always in our magic. Her family was much higher in social status than mine, and detested that I was also firmly Light-biased all my life. They had hoped for her to marry Adrian Malfoy, but she despised him; had he not been killed in a duel, I have no doubt that he would have been the Dark Lord of our generation. I would not have put it past them to do so—but the fact that it was a Snape dagger made no sense then and still does not, as they were not Snapes, and the male Snapes of that time were already married."
Madam Dumarest suddenly gave a slight gasp; all the others immediately turned her way. Her eyes were now wide open, and she had the appearance of someone hit hard with an idea.
"Tish? What is it?" asked Dumbledore anxiously.
"It fits…it all fits…oh, that poor girl…" she whispered. She was silent for a moment, and then started a low-voiced monologue in what sounded like French. What few words Harry could catch sounded like curses; and her tone grew angrier. The other four Wizards stared; they seemed to understand at least part of it.
"Who?" asked Moody finally, reacting with his Auror training.
Dumarest switched back to English. "Aunt Julia, that vicious, bigoted little tête de merde…" She fell back into French for a moment, then stopped, looked over at Dumbledore, and sighed. "Albus, didn't you say that this house is the old Black townhouse, and that there is a Black genealogy tapestry in the main drawing room?" Dumbledore nodded. "I need to see it…" Dumarest got up and went out for a few moments.
When she returned, she looked almost as sad as her old schoolmate. "Albus, I can't really prove it after all this time, and by now all of them are dead too; but it's the only answer that fits all the facts," she said quietly. "Remember, I knew Mimi, too; she was in my House after all if a year older. She's on the tapestry, as is my Aunt Julia."
"So there was a Snape who married a Black?" asked Harry. He had finally settled down, now that he knew that Snape and Dumbledore would be all right.
"Yes," Dumarest replied. She sat down on the couch next to her great-grandnephew. "My father was Titus Snape; his younger sister was Julia Circe Snape. She married Rigel Black, who was the elder son; he appears to have been the direct ancestor of your Sirius and his brother through his oldest son, which would make Severus and Sirius rather distant first or second cousins, about four or five times removed. His younger brother Alioth was the father of Mimosa Black—your Mimi. All of them but Mimi were typical Dark Snapes and Blacks, but Aunt Julia was a real piece of work, even more viciously bigoted and power-hungry than Father was. She was one of those who hated Robert, at least as much as Father and Aurelius did. If Rigel Black mentioned that Mimi was seeing you, then Julia would have given the dagger to Alioth; she detested the Dumbledores too. What happened after you found her?"
"I notified the Aurors; they in turn did the investigation and told me of the cursed dagger," Dumbledore said tonelessly. "But I could not imagine, then, where a Snape dagger would come from, and I never saw it again. Her family took her away, and the last I saw of her was her tombstone."
Dumarest nodded. "After Mimi died, it was never seen in our family again." She got up and went over to the table upon which it lay. As Dumbledore had done, so did she: scanned it with her wand, nudged it partway out of its sheath, touched the blade with the wand, and lightly touched both hilt and jeweled pommel with one fingertip. With a sigh, she resheathed it. "It's the one, all right. No wonder Julia was so smug, after Mimi died, about a 'birthday present' she gave Alioth. Damn that bitch for causing so much pain! I know that Mimi got off lightly, though; this would have been a quick end. I'm not so sure about some other folks who died under shady circumstances about that time. That Bellatrix Black Lestrange you've told me about reminds me of Julia." She turned to Dumbledore. "And she'd be laughing if she saw that you'd run across it, and hurt from it, over a hundred years later, when all of them are now gone, and that someone else you cared about would almost fall victim to it, even if it was another Snape."
She then looked back at her great-grandnephew, and her voice softened. "Severus, dear, you've somehow stumbled on old and painful family history. I'm so sorry that this happened."
Snape raised his head, nodded to his great-aunt, and then gave a small sardonic chuckle as he met Dumbledore's eyes again. "Albus, now I see why you never gave me the Defense Against the Dark Arts post before. Some Defense Professor I'm going to make, when I fall victim to a cursed Dark Artifact before I even begin to teach—and get blindsided by a wandless Disarming Charm, that I never even saw coming, from a student."
This rare self-deprecating comment broke the tension a bit; Moody gave a snort and replied.
"Well, you did better than I did; you didn't spend ten months in a box before getting rescued." Dumbledore smiled, as did Lupin and Dumarest, who had resumed her seat on the couch. They knew that having an imposter in his place for the entire school term was one of Moody's most embarrassing memories.
Harry did not, though; he was still sitting on the floor with his head bowed. Snape noticed this.
"Harry," he said quietly, "thank you—both for saving my life and for being willing to show me making a fool of myself in private instead of in public. I owe you one now."
"No, you don't, Sir," Harry replied. He raised his head, and looked up into the older man's eyes. "This is part of the Order Oath I took: to endure risks to aid each other, and to stand true to each other. You fell victim to a hazard in my house, which I pledged for the Order's use, after helping us deal with that horrid portrait, and I haven't even thanked you for that yet. And I remember it was my idea to have either you or Professor Dumarest come over here in the first place; this is indirectly my fault. I got you into the mess, so it was my obligation to get you out of it. You owe me nothing."
Harry stopped for a moment, took another deep breath, and then risked saying one more thing. This time, he could no longer meet Snape's eyes, and his voice was less steady. "Sir, I know you hazard your life for the Order. I know that some time…you might have to…to let yourself die. But if you have to, then let it be of your own will, and for the good of the Order, not from something cursed before any of us were born and die for nothing. Not in my house, either, and not today; I couldn't stand it."
Professor Dumarest leaned over from where she sat next to Snape, laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. "Harry, I cannot see for the life of me how you could possibly be at fault for any of this," she told him kindly. "You were sensible to bring in someone who knows Dark Artifacts, the more so since I understand that this house is full of them: but there was no way you could have known about something like this. You certainly didn't know that this thing would be that powerful. You actually saved the life of the only member of my birth family who is worth anything, and you both inadvertently helped answer questions about the fate of an innocent woman murdered more than a century ago. I'm beginning to believe some of the stories about you. You saved the life of a man you don't particularly like, just because you thought it wrong for him to die from something like this. Thank you for preventing another blot on our family name; there are too many as it is."
Harry looked up at her. "I just wish it hadn't caused so much trouble," he said sadly. "I didn't mean for him to fall into a trap, I didn't mean to hit him so hard, and I really didn't know this would hurt Professor Dumbledore."
Dumarest shook her head. "Of course you didn't," she replied. "But a trap known is a trap that can be averted in the future. And under the circumstances, I figure that you could not control how hard you hit him. Better that, than what you saved him from."
"And remember, Harry, all this other happened a very long time ago," Dumbledore reminded him gently. "I am sorry for letting it upset me so at this late date; I suspect that a bit of the curse was indeed actually beginning to affect me a little. Mimi was the first woman I ever seriously considered marrying, and losing her was very painful. Now that I know the truth, I can let her rest again." He had regained his usual calm; he no longer looked so weary, and his eyes were brighter.
Snape eyed Harry for a moment, and cocked his head slightly in an inquiring gesture. "Tell me something: are you certain that you have no talent for Divination?" he asked.
The question was so unexpected Harry started, and stared. "Uh—why?" he managed to get out.
The dark eyes shone with just a hint of humor. "First, you suggested I come here, or Aunt Antonia, in order to spot Dark Arts items you and the other Light Wizards would miss. That has happened, although I did not expect it to be something from my own family, nor one imbued with a curse that has lain dormant but potent since before my grandparents were born. Second, you suggested that I was the only one who could actually talk to Madam Black; that has happened as well. Third, you saw clearly what I was cursed to do, and blocked it. So far, you are doing better than Sibyll Trelawney on her best days; as far as I know, she has only given two real prophecies, and those many years apart."
Harry continued staring; the others chuckled softly. They saw more clearly than Harry did that Snape was trying—in his own snarky manner, of course—to ease the situation with his quirky dark humor. The man didn't "do nice", but he was not totally without sympathy.
Finally, Harry managed to speak. "Well, I haven't gotten my OWL results yet, but I don't think I did too well in Divination. So no, I doubt that I have the kind of 'Inner Eye' Professor Trelawney's always on about. I'm not sure I want it; I have enough problems with the 'Inner Eye' viewpoint I do have." He managed a small, wry smile, as all the adults smiled; they knew exactly what he meant. Lupin mentally tallied one point for Snape and one for Harry in that exchange: points even, honor satisfied.
Dumbledore saw even more; both the boys he cherished were recovering from the incident, with no apparent permanent damage either to themselves, or to the fragile trust growing between them. In this time of impending war, he could ask no more.
"Severus, Tish, what do you wish done with 'Heart's Ease'?" he asked. "I know it is an heirloom of your Family, but I truly do not wish you or anyone else to fall victim to its lure again. There are others who might be tempted, even if they are not Snapes."
Snape considered that. "Now that we have seen it, I agree with you as to its danger. I do not wish it in the hands of the Ministry; I do not know if there is a law against that sort of Dark Artifact, but even so, that would be a certain way for it to fall into the wrong hands. And thrice over do I not wish my father to find out that it has resurfaced; he would sell it to Riddle or Malfoy in an instant, if he did not fall for it himself. He has much more experience with Dark Artifacts than I, and would know what this is, but he is not as magically strong as I—and look at how quickly I fell. I cannot afford at this time to become the Head of my family."
"Is he…what you are, Sir?" asked Harry hesitantly.
"Do you mean 'is he Marked'?" Snape corrected, and Harry nodded. "No, he is one such as Black's parents were: sympathetic to the Pureblood cause, but not willing to openly support or partake in the 'excesses', as he calls it, that Riddle uses: torture, murder and war. His father picked the wrong side in the Grindelwald conflict, and is in a secure ward now, as I mentioned this morning; also, both his older brothers died for the same cause. Father learned his lesson and does not wish to take part in a war at all. He despises me because I am Marked, and thus a bond-slave. At the same time, I am his only heir, so he cannot be too harsh with me. He cannot get another legitimate heir unless he marries again; his next nearest living relatives, apart from Grandfather, are Aunt Antonia and her descendants, whom he despises, and who are on the distaff side."
"Maybe Bill Weasley could get the curse off it," suggested Lupin. "Taken just as a dagger, without the curses and such, it would still be a valuable antique. I'd hate to see such a work of art destroyed, if we could render it harmless."
Dumbledore rose, went over to the table, and scanned the dagger again with his wand. "I am sorry, but that dagger will have to be destroyed," he said soberly. "I sense that it is older than I first thought; it is at least three centuries old, and has in fact given its Gift more than just once before, each time reinforcing the charm. And while it is tied to your family, I heard it calling to me, and felt just a touch of its promises, over and above the painful and clear echo of poor Mimi's demise; in fact, it was almost inviting me to join her. If I can feel it, as far distant to you in kinship and as strong as I am, then it is far too dangerous for anyone else I trust to deal with. I am not certain that even Filius Flitwick, who is as talented a Curse-Breaker as I know, even better than Bill, could lift all the enchantments. Then it would have to have the potions on it neutralized; since both of the best Potions people I trust are Snapes by blood, and thus especially vulnerable, I cannot risk it; while I, as an Alchemist, have both the Potions and Charms skills, it is still a risk to me. Had you indeed used it as it was intended, the poison on the blade would have killed you faster than the actual stab wound, or the blood loss."
"For what it's worth, I agree," Moody said. "Something like that's too dangerous to be left around; what would we use it for? The only thing I can think of would be to make a present of it to Riddle; he's too smart to fall for something like that, even if it would work on him."
"I agree, too," Harry said in a small voice. "After seeing what its temptation is and what it almost did to him—it's tempting me, a lot, and I'm not even related to him so far as I know. I can't afford the hazard; I have enough." He took a deep breath, and spoke more firmly this time. "And if it's been here all this time, I guess I'm the legal owner, or was until I told him to take it. Dispose of it."
"And I agree as well," Lupin added. "I know how powerful Severus is, and it took him very quickly; someone of lesser talent, even if not related, would not stand a chance."
"Then get rid of it, and in a manner that will harm no one," Snape said decisively.
"Agree," Dumarest added in endorsement.
Dumbledore nodded once, turned back to the table, and Transfigured a broken clock into a small box. He put the dagger in it, closed the box and sealed it, shrank it, and tucked it away into a robe pocket. "It is insulated now. By this time tomorrow, it will be disposed of; I will tell you where and how afterwards."
"That is that, then. What now, Albus?" Snape asked.
For answer, Dumbledore reached into his pocket and withdrew a packet of letters. He riffled through them, extracted several, and handed one each to Snape, Lupin and Harry. "I suggest you read these later and in private," he said. "These are some of the letters that Sirius left for me to distribute; I have several more to deliver."
Snape stared at the envelope in his hand. "Considering what Black and I thought of each other, I had better open it remotely, and check it for curses beforehand," he said wryly as he tucked it away in a pocket. The others smiled a little.
IV: Plans
Harry likewise tucked away his letter. "I think that we should also do the…the service this week, maybe Thursday," he said quietly.
The others started and looked at him. "Is this not a little sudden, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, with concern. "You have only just taken possession of the house, and I was willing to have it at Hogwarts. And with all that has happened today, you need more of a rest than that."
"I know," Harry replied. "But the first joint regular meeting is Friday night, and I know we're going to be rehashing the Ministry fiasco then. I think that having the memorial the night before will help us…deal with the meeting without tempers going through the roof. I'll manage. The only thing I'm concerned about is Tonks' work schedule."
"She is still on light duty, so she only works in the office during the days right now," Dumbledore assured Harry. "That will not be a problem. Kingsley will also be available, unless there is an emergency callout."
Harry nodded. "Besides," he added, "having it on a weeknight will throw off anyone expecting a big Order bash on a weekend. And having it here will throw off people expecting something at Hogwarts. That's part of why I went ahead with the claiming. By now, someone will have noticed that there are more students and staff there than is usual for early summer."
"That's smart of you, Harry," Moody said gruffly. "I can spend the day tomorrow helping set up security with the house-elves while they clean up some more."
"Also, please pick out which room you want," Harry added. "If you're going to be living here you should have whichever one you like other than the ones Remus and I are in. You might as well bring in the rest of your stuff, too. After today, I think we'll need you here more than ever, if only to try to avoid more traps like this dagger and some of the cursed stuff we found here last summer."
Harry paused as another thought hit him. "Also—and I really hate to remind you of Fourth Year, but this applies: you live alone. You were taken once. I think that having you live here will benefit you as well as us." He managed a little smile. "And it's the least I can do for my new family."
Moody chuckled. "I can think of worse reasons," he replied. "Besides, now my other location is known; I was going to have to move anyway. This is as good a place as any."
Lupin, however, had noticed something. "You said that was only part of why you went ahead with the claiming?" he asked gently.
Harry stared into space as he considered how best to answer. "Uh-huh," he replied. "I know I'm not healed up, as you say, and today didn't help as much as I hoped. I need to…to lay Sirius to rest, so that I can heal, then get on with everything else. I can't afford to still be…reacting to things so badly. The meditation book you gave me is helping, but it's still hard to clear my mind. About all I can say for myself is that I haven't had any scar problems…yet."
He turned back to Lupin. "Moony, is this all right with you? You're the other part of his family; you should have a say."
"I agree," the Werewolf replied softly. "You and I are not the only ones, either; most of the Order members, including your friends, need the closure as well."
"Then I had better start sending out the notices," Dumbledore replied. "I will still need to leave someone at Hogwarts; Severus, will you wish to be excused from this?"
The Potions Master considered for a few moments. "I will be here," he said quietly, surprising Harry and Lupin. "It is not only Black's friends who need to lay him to rest. And he was one of us, little though I liked it; I will not dishonor the Order."
"And I will be, too, Albus," Dumarest added. "I never met the man, but I can get to know more of the Order this way." She stood. "I should be getting back. Severus, a little salve should do for your chest," she said as she left.
"Then I will leave Professor Sprout, who did not know him, in charge while the other Heads of Houses and I are here," Dumbledore decided. "Most of the rest of the Order should be able to come, even at this short notice, and this will also key them into the new wards here engendered by a new Master of the House."
"That reminds me," Harry remembered. "Dobby and Winky are now the house elves here. Winky insists on being properly bound to the house and me as the Master—I still have to do that—but Dobby is a free hire who chooses to serve me. Is there any way we can make one or both the house elves for the Order, kind of like an extended family, so that they will be obliged to keep the Order's secrets? For that matter, would it hurt to have Dobby be an Order member, if he wanted to be, to represent house elves?"
"I had not thought of that so far," Dumbledore admitted. "Certainly, they will have to be instructed to obey me as well as Remus and Alastor. They both already know that they are under a Fidelius charm." The twinkle returned to his eyes a little. "May I give permission to Dobby to call me a 'barmy old coot' still?"
Harry managed a small smile. "That, sir, will be between you and him. So long as he shows proper politeness to everyone in public, what he calls you in private is your business and his alone. But I think you'll scandalize a few people."
"I rather prefer to call it 'shaking up'," the old man returned, still with the smile.
"Then in that case, I suggest you call them, and give instructions for the preparations," Moody advised. "We'll need chairs for the service, and food for afterwards."
Harry nodded, and settled into an armchair. "Dobby! Winky!" he called.
The two house-elves appeared. "You called, Master Harry?" Winky squeaked.
"First, you're both doing a good job so far," Harry praised. "Second, we are having a memorial for Master Sirius on Thursday evening for the Order. I will need the largest main room cleaned and tidied up, and set up with enough chairs for the entire Order; Professor Dumbledore can tell you how many, and also what else is needed; I have never done one of these and have no idea of the requirements. If you need the room expanded, ask him if you can't do it. Third, if you think it needful, and he is agreeable, Professor Dumbledore could maybe lend us some of the Hogwarts house-elves, perhaps Gaby and Leno as they've already been here. I don't need the whole house made ready yet, just the bedrooms we're actually going to use, the Entrance Hall, the kitchen, and the main room for the service. Maybe we can find something nice to put up to replace Madam Black. Fourth, if it's customary, I'd like to have snacks and drinks afterwards, something light."
Harry took a deep breath; the two house-elves waited patiently. "Last, and most important: you have both told me that part of the deal between a house-elf and his or her Master was that you keep your Master's secrets, and his family's. Right?"
"That is right, Master Harry Potter Sir," Dobby replied firmly.
Winky nodded her agreement. "That is part of why Kreacher was bad; he did not keep Master Sirius' privacy," she said firmly. "We is good house-elves; we kept the secrets of our last families, even though they were bad Wizards. We will keep Master Harry's secrets."
"Very well," Harry nodded. "Now, I want you to know first that Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody will be living here; they are now my guardians, and they are to be considered family, just as if they were Potters or Blacks themselves. Mr. Moody will be in charge of security, and Mr. Lupin will be in charge of the general maintenance. Anything you need for house expenses and supplies, please tell one or the other of them, and they will be able to authorize it from the house accounts, which Mr. Lupin will help set up. Their secrets are to be kept as well as mine.
"Next—Headmaster Dumbledore is the leader of a group that meets here, the Order of the Phoenix. Master Sirius was a member, as were both my parents and all of us here. So are Professors Dumarest, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Hagrid, and I think Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey."
"The latter two are part-time members; they only deal with Hogwarts matters," Dumbledore put in.
Harry nodded, and continued. "This group fights against Tom Riddle, whom you call He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the other bad Wizards and Witches who work for him. In all matters relating to the Order and its security, Professor Dumbledore is to be considered the Master, even over me. He, as well as the other three of us, will have the authority to admit people here, as he is the Secret-Keeper for the Order. The secrets of the Order—who is in it, what is discussed, and so forth, are to be kept as if they were Potter family secrets. Are you with me so far?"
Both elves nodded. "We will treat Headmaster Dumbledore as Head of the Phoenix Family, and the rest of the Order as members of that Family," Winky replied. "Only he must tell us who is in that Family besides all of you here."
"That's an excellent idea," Harry agreed. "You can consider me a member of that Family, but the Headmaster is Head of Family. Miss Tonks is also a member."
Harry looked over at Professor Snape, who was again sitting on the couch upon which he had lain. "Since he is still here, I will mention it, for this is important," Harry continued. "You both served families of Dark Wizards who bore the Dark Mark of Tom Riddle. I take it that you can detect the Mark if you are so instructed?" At their nods he continued. "Professor Snape here bears the Mark as well: you likely know this after serving him at Hogwarts, but he truly serves Headmaster Dumbledore and the Order, and is to be considered a member of the Phoenix Family as well. This is one of the secrets of the Order: his life depends on not being found out. He is the only one bearing the Mark who is allowed in this house; any other person so Marked is to be captured or repelled if possible. Only Professor Dumbledore or Master Moody have the authority to override this command, and they must identify the person by name as bearing the Mark, either as a loyal ally or as a prisoner. This is so we do not unknowingly admit someone who has it. That especially includes a rat Animagus named Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail; Winky, you may have met him at the Crouch's house. His form is a large brownish rat with one silver paw, which is the right hand that Tom Riddle gave him. He is a traitor to the Phoenix Order, to Master Sirius Black, and to the Potter Family. And this applies triply to Mistress Bellatrix, Master Lucius, and any of their friends or families who support Tom Riddle, Marked or not; they are enemies of this Family and of this House, even though some of them are Blacks by birth. Will you have a problem with that?"
"Dobby is a free elf, and does not serve the bad Wizards any more," Dobby stated firmly. "Master Harry Potter set Dobby free, and Dobby will take care of him and serve him in all things, especially against my bad old Master. Headmaster Dumbledore gave me work when no one else would hire a free elf; I will take care of him as well and keep his secrets."
"Winky's old Master's family is all dead now," Winky said sadly. "Winky is wanting to be a good house-elf again; Winky will serve Master Harry Potter, the House of Black, and Headmaster Dumbledore and the Phoenix Family faithfully, even against the bad Wizards who were Master Barty's friends, and will never tell secrets."
"Then I accept your service," Harry replied, "under these terms and those we have already discussed. Now, I think there is a great deal to do to make this house fit for visitors in only three days, so you are excused to go back to work. Please tell Master Lupin or Master Moody if anything is needed." The two house-elves bowed and disappeared.
"And on that note, I think it would be best to return to Hogwarts; it is nearly dinnertime," Dumbledore reminded them. "I think we have done enough here for one day, and we will be in their way if we do not leave now." He picked up a dusty inkstand from the desk, aimed his wand at it, and murmured, "Portus"; it glowed blue for a moment. "Gentlemen, if you would…" All except Moody, who needed to return to his own home to prepare for moving into the Black House, touched the inkstand and were pulled the four hundred-plus miles to Hogwarts.
