The Other Side Of The Dark: Chapter Three

There was silence in Dumbledore's office when Professor McGonagall had finished telling him all that she had heard at St Mungo's, and related her conversation with Snape. The late afternoon sunshine illuminated motes of dust in bright shafts and fell in strips on the fragments of machines smashed by Harry days earlier. McGonagall felt a slight alarm at the sight. While she could understand the complex of Harry's grief, she wondered at why Dumbledore had left the wreckage untouched. She was unsure what it indicated, but had already noted that Dumbledore looked particularly weary. Sirius' death was blow, to them all, but surely no more than the deaths of others had been? Compared with some, Sirius had been lucky. McGonagall's gaze wandered over the wall behind Dumbledore's desk and stopped at the sight of an empty portrait; she found herself unable to remember anything about its usual occupant. Then Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh, and her attention instantly returned to him, the painting forgotten.

'While I agree this is the kind of foolishness Fudge has exhibited before,' he said, 'I suspect there is more to it than a simple wish to be seen to be doing something. If Severus is arrested, the Order will have lost its most crucial advantage. Fudge has no excuse for suspecting him; he has only to read the documents relating to Crouch's conviction to know that Severus is entirely innocent.

'Yes,' murmured McGonagall, 'but what about Moody's report? He was the first Auror to reach the Longbottoms' house, and when he got there...' Her voice died as she recalled the graphic description of what Moody had found, and she closed her eyes as if this could blot out the vision supplied by her imagination. Dumbledore's voice seemed to come from a distance.

'When Alastor arrived, the house was in silence. Inside he found the Longbottoms apparently dead, and Severus holding Neville. Severus pointed his wand at Neville and told Alastor to put down his wand. Alastor did so. Severus handed him the child and Disapparated. Alastor left the Aurors who had followed him to attend to Frank and Alice, and took Neville to St. Mungo's himself.'

'He said there was blood everywhere,' McGonagall whispered.

'None of which belonged to Frank, Alice or Neville,' Dumbledore replied quietly.

'How did Severus get there before the Aurors?' McGonagall asked, almost to herself. 'Too late for Frank and Alice, but before Moody?' Tears welled as she looked at Dumbledore. 'Alice was going to have another baby...' She put her face in her hands and began to cry.

Dumbledore gazed out at the fading summer sunshine as McGonagall wept. That of course was the question which would condemn Snape, and there was nothing that could be done about it. Dumbledore himself did not know the answer, for Snape had flatly refused to discuss it, coldly submitting the names of those responsible without detail. Alastor Moody had been unimpressed by Snape's evidence; he always believed Snape had betrayed the Lestranges and Crouch to save himself and had only grudgingly accepted him on the strength of Dumbledore's faith. But Dumbledore knew that deep down Moody still believed Snape guilty and that his loyalty had been bought with the promise of exoneration. If Fudge had reviewed the evidence of 14 years ago and concluded the same thing, then Moody's faith in Dumbledore's judgement would be severely tested by his desire to punish the last of the people he blamed for Frank and Alice's attack.

A more urgent question was why Fudge was planning to pursue Snape at all. McGonagall's interpretation was extremely likely, but so was the possibility that Snape had been found out. Success and defeat were delicately balanced, and suddenly the fulcrum of that balance was the
accusation against Snape. If this was more than another example of Fudge's monumental stupidity, then it meant Voldemort had a very well placed spy in the Ministry.

Dumbledore got up and walked round the desk to McGonagall, placing gentle hands on her shoulders as she blew her nose and pulled herself together. He could think of nothing comforting to say, and so he said nothing.