Once again, thank you all for your generous feedback. And Please – Don't be afraid to be critical. Sincere expressions of concern over the way I am treating these valuable characters from which we have all gained so much enjoyment do not constitute "flames." They are genuine concerns which all of us who work in this genre must keep in mind.
Chapter 6
"Arthur, I believe we may have a problem. Sherbet lemon?" The Headmaster of Hogwarts sat behind his immense desk, the top of which was covered in a baffling array of tiny devices, ranging from sneakoscopes to kitschy items so tastelessly precious that advertisements for them were not even accepted by Witch Weekly. The Headmaster's trademark candy dishes were also present, but Arthur had never enjoyed snacking on anything as sweet as the treats Dumbledore's candy selection usually featured.
"No, thank you, Albus," Arthur Weasley said cheerfully. "And really, I don't think this Malfoy situation merits putting the entire Order of the Phoenix on alert."
"I disagree, Arthur," Dumbledore murmured, tapping his fingers against one another. "It's not just that they've left the house... I might have expected that, with the Ministry so rabidly drooling over Lucius' personal effects. That is... present company excepted, of course... I don't believe you drool rabidly, Arthur. But many of your... colleagues... do. So leaving the Manor would make perfect sense for both of them, mother and child. The difficulty is... they're nowhere to be found. Locator charms have been cast all over Britain to no avail. Owls have been sent, and have returned, exhausted and confused, with the missives addressed to the Malfoys still attached. Invitations have been issued, and have remained unreplied to. Which is the most surprising of all. No one with Narcissa's... ahhh... social involvement simply ignores the biggest and most important gatherings of the year. The wealthiest families in wizard Britain are presuming that Narcissa Malfoy will not be attending their soirees this summer. Now, what do you make of that?"
Mister Weasley sighed, and concentrated on keeping his reply polite. "I believe that Narcissa Malfoy has become rather used to being regarded in a comparatively positive light, especially in contrast to her husband. Lucius accomplished what he needed to do through threats and intimidation. He was sarcastic, unsympathetic and frankly frightening. By contrast, when people at even the highest levels of society thought of Narcissa, they thought of her as beautiful, charming, tasteful and a gracious hostess. If Narcissa appeared in public at all before... or during... or even immediately after her husband's trial, she would instead be seen as the wife of the traitor, or poor Narcissa who lost everything, or something equally abhorrent to her. And the tragedy would reflect on her son, as well. Why give people a chance to cement their negative impressions by mingling with them now?"
"But why go into hiding... unless they are planning something that ought to concern our Order?" Dumbledore asked with a sly smile. "This is, after all, the wife and son of Voldemort's closest follower and most powerful servant."
"From what the Ministry has been able to learn," Arthur said patiently, "Narcissa has not been involved with her husband's political activities for years."
"From what the Ministry was able to learn, Voldemort was defeated a generation ago, he had no chance of returning, and Death Eaters posed us no threat," Dumbledore countered. "Besides, do you not consider parties a political tool?"
"Not for the caterer," Arthur said sourly. "And for the past twelve years or more, Narcissa has been the pretty face and elegant voice of the official greeter... and nothing more. And as you should know better than any of us, Albus: Draco is not the wizard his father is.
"But both of the Malfoys have reason to hate the Ministry, now," Dumbledore said sadly. "And that will drive them to greater... ah... involvement than either of them has indulged in previously. Why do you imagine my locator charms - which, by the way, have been distributed from northern Scotland to the estuary of the Thames - are unable to point to them?"
"Probably because the Malfoys have had practice thwarting a real challenge lately. Namely, the paparazzi such as those employed by the Daily Prophet. In order to give those vultures the slip, the Malfoys will have had to become very clever indeed at spotting potential spies... and spying devices, and spying spells... and neutralizing them. It's not unprecedented, Albus. Entertainers have avoided the press for months at a time when something embarrassing is going on."
"Those entertainers have not had me combing the nation searching for them," the Headmaster said darkly. "The only possible explanation for my complete inability to find the Malfoys is that they are being shielded by a power nearly as great as my own. And if Lord Voldemort is sheltering the Malfoys, it is not out of kindness, or a sense of debt to his servant. The only way he would protect them is if they are providing him with a service as valuable as the one he provides in return. Your assessment of Draco Malfoy's ability is, sadly, all too true. But Narcissa is a competent magic user and a determined woman. Together, she and her son might well be able to take Lucius' place."
Arthur scowled across the wide desktop at the deceptively aged looking man opposite him. "Albus, I don't like it. Lucius had any number of government officials in his pocket. All Narcissa has is a bunch of old men who wish they could get into her pants. During the past decade, Lucius has made threats so frightening that all he needed to do was remind his victims of what he was capable of doing to them, and they were all still frightened enough to give in to his demands. During that same time, Narcissa has been welcoming, and polite, and totally in her husband's shadow. Lucius made certain to establish - within the Voldemort organization, as well as among the more general wizard population - that he was powerful and ruthless enough to use that power. Narcissa hasn't cast a spell in public since her son was born. Even if they wanted to join the Death Eaters, I'm not sure Voldemort would have them. He might even see them both as more of a liability than an asset."
"Arthur..." Dumbledore said condescendingly. "Do you really think that anyone with the Malfoy name would be considered a... liability... by Tom Riddle?"
"Yes," Arthur replied with confidence. "Especially since - when Lucius' trial is over, they will both be broke, and probably shunned by the very high society types that Voldemort used them to influence."
"And the locator spells? Where, if not with Voldemort, could the Malfoys be?"
"America?" Arthur grinned.
Dumbledore was not amused. "I am glad that at least one of us is taking this situation seriously. Lucius' trial is approaching soon and his family would hardly be likely to leave the country before a verdict is reached."
"Before a guilty verdict is reached, you mean," Arthur corrected. "The trial judges can't help but convict the man, and the government knows it. The Ministry is already dividing up the spoils of the Malfoy estate as though they were lottery winnings. We've hit the jackpot with this arrest; the trial is just a formality. Why would Malfoy's wife or son hang around for that? It's not as though Lucius is going to be given a free pass out of jail to say goodbye to his family. There will be no conjugal visits allowed prior to his execution. And Lucius isn't about to say anything that might further condemn him... or give the Ministry any clues as to where his real secrets might be hidden... so he wouldn't be very conversant even if his family went to stare at him through the bars! And with a very strong prejudice toward guilt by association running through the Ministry as the trial approaches, I wouldn't present myself at the courtroom or even for a visit with the prisoner if I were Narcissa - or Draco, for that matter. So why wouldn't they be in America?"
Dumbledore met Arthur's eyes directly. His gaze was clear and focused, without the muddled pose he often put on, nor his trademark twinkling eyes. With as much gravity as he had employed to announce the re-embodiment of Voldemort, he told Arthur, "Because they are English. They are English aristocrats, of a family whose patriarch served at the side of the wizard who nearly conquered our nation. Because their roots are English, the source of their wealth is English, and politically, socially and spiritually they are quintessentially English."
"Don't start me singing 'Erin Go Braugh,' Albus," Arthur said with some resentment.
"It would be an empty gesture if you did," the Headmaster countered. "You work for the Ministry. As much as the Ministry paints itself as an institution of Great Britain, working for a United Kingdom, it is at its heart English. Based in London, its top posts all staffed by Englishmen..."
"Now, wait a minute," Arthur interrupted with some heat. "There is such a thing as taking an opportunity wherever it's possible, no matter the nationality of the man offering the job."
Dumbledore held up his hands. "I'm not saying you're wrong to have accepted a job at the Ministry, Arthur. I am only pointing out that you are associated with the Ministry, both in the fact of your employment and in people's minds. And surely you, of all people, must realize what dangers that kind of politicized association poses for you and your family. The Malfoys will hate you for being a Ministry worker as much as for any of the other things they hate about you. I also believe this about the Malfoys. If the Ministry takes Narcissa's husband and Draco's father, those two will not run with their tails between their legs. They will take revenge. Their primary target will be Fudge, of course. But if I were you, I wouldn't rest easy until they are both captured. As a ministry official, and a perpetual thorn in Lucius' side, you will have a target painted on yourself, as well."
"I disagree, Albus," Arthur said seriously. "I take special precautions to keep my family safe, because it doesn't take a high-profile criminal to pose a threat to someone like me. Anyone who disapproves of our policy toward muggle artifacts might decide to take out his frustration on the government official he feels is deserving of some sort of punishment. As the man in charge of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, I am that man. So I do take precautions. But do the Malfoys hold some special grudge against me? No, they don't. The lot of them are too self-centered to care about someone as unimportant to their society as I am. In my daily work, I see people like the Malfoys all the time. Not as rich. Not as famous. Not accused of as spectacular a series of crimes. But people that are just like them in all the important ways. And I mark the Malfoys as runners, Albus, just like the people I often have to prosecute for repeated - though admittedly more minor - infractions of the law. I'd say that Narcissa and Draco are name changers. Hair dyers, glamour casters and contact-lens wearers. People like the Malfoys, when their cases are small time, say: 'Let's wait until this blows over. We'll stay in hiding until then.' There's no blowing over for this case. There's only starting over. Narcissa had a little money. Probably enough to buy a house. I'll bet that's exactly what she's done"
"But the locator spells, Arthur. They didn't work!"
"Did you set them to find someone who was named Narcissa Malfoy? Or Draco Malfoy?" Arthur asked, his face suspiciously innocent. He waited for Dumbledore to deny it. When the Headmaster made no comment, Arthur nodded slowly and said, "No wonder. They have changed their names. They probably found many occasions to use their new names as soon as they arrived in their new residence, to cement their new identities both in their communities and within their own minds. Introduced themselves to the locals, got hooked up to the muggle utilities, put in a notice of their arrival at the post office. As you can tell, I'm betting they're living in a muggle neighborhood. Why? Because they disappear from our view so much more quickly that way. Narcissa Malfoy no longer exists. Neither does Draco. They're probably Nancy and Douglas Murphy, now."
Albus grimaced at the thought, but persisted in trying to enlist Arthur's aid. "That's where the Order comes in," he insisted. "If we cannot find the individuals we seek by magical methods, old fashioned detective work becomes necessary."
Arthur studied the man sitting across the desk from him. Albus Dumbledore was one of the great heroes of the wizard world, and Arthur was proud to be associated with him. But the man had a definite tendency toward monomania. "You know Albus," Arthur said thoughtfully. "One of Tom Riddle's great failings was that he didn't know when he was beaten. You have the opposite problem. I don't think you can recognize when you have won. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy are living under assumed names in the muggle world on Narcissa's meagre personal savings. Even a witch's lifetime is not long enough for her to battle her way back to the heights of the wealthy society she has become used to. And what is Draco going to do if he is unable to finish his last two years of school? His life in the magical community is over. He is a non-issue. Please, Albus. Don't involve the Order in this hunt for two pathetic, broken people. It's not worth our time."
"Arthur," Dumbledore said, unrelenting. "I want you to contact the rest of the Order and let them know we must find these two vengeful, resourceful people. It is the most important thing we can do at this time."
"The Order of the Phoenix is not an army," Arthur said, eyes focused far away. "We are more like an association of Paladins. Each one of us uniquely talented, and particularly powerful - each in our own way. We come together because we may accomplish more in association with one another than we would be able to singly. Essentially, however, we are independents. You do not issue us orders."
"Then I beg you. Please. In honor of the years I have spent fighting Voldemort. In memory of the extensive experience I have with his methods and his peculiarities. In recognition of my own effectiveness in defeating him in the past. Please, Arthur. Contact the Order. Help me to organize them. Let us find these two missing people. They might, as you say, turn out to be no threat. But - they might turn out to be a lethal part of the Dark Lord's plot. Please."
Arthur thought about leaving without giving any answer. He thought about refusing to have anything to do with this particular search. He thought of resigning from the Order altogether. In the end, it was his respect for Dumbledore's years of effort to defeat their common enemy that swayed him. "I'll tell everyone. I'll ask them to get together and discuss ways and means of finding the as yet unfindable Malfoys. But don't expect me to be able to argue them all into participating. If they have questions, I'll have them get in touch with you."
"Excellent," Dumbledore said with satisfaction. "I will speak with Mister Lupin and Professor Snape. They are both here on school grounds. Their primary duty is guarding Harry Potter. He was attacked just outside our own greenhouses, you know."
"No, I didn't," Arthur said, concern clear on his face. "What happened."
"Oh, students on broomsticks," the Headmaster said, waving away Arthur's worry. "They even wore their school robes. It had all the markings of a classic quiddich grudge. Caramel cluster? No? Well, then Arthur, I thank you for your efforts. Say hello to your wife for me, won't you?"
--- --- ---
The Headmaster descended to the dungeons immediately after Arthur Weasley left. When he told his plan to Snape, the potions professor stared back in puzzled silence for a long time before saying anything. "Draco? My student. From my House."
"And a friend, as well. I realize that you have a fondness for the boy, and that you were friends with his mother before her marriage to Lucius," Albus said gently. "But the threat they pose now is very grave. We must take it seriously."
Snape's question was unchanged. "Draco?"
"And his mother," Dumbledore urged.
"Headmaster, Draco is a good student. By which I mean, he pays attention, does his assignments, and - for the most part - follows instructions. If he had two more years of successful schooling I might allow that he could develop into a competent adult wizard. Which is something he is not, at this time."
"I fear that it is his potential... and his bloodline... that Voldemort will value," Albus insisted.
"You realize," Snape warned, "that this will involve me... and Lupin... and, by necessity, Harry Potter... all spending a lot of time off-campus in our evening hours?"
"I do," the Headmaster confirmed, and it was all Snape could do to show no reaction.
"Fine," he replied curtly. "We'll search. With the boy."
"Thank you, Severus," Albus said, and left the dungeons.
--- --- ---
The afternoon's surprises were not over for Snape, however. Minutes after Dumbledore had left, Severus felt the painful summons of the Dark Lord. He rushed to an apparation point and transported himself into the presence of Voldemort.
The Dark Lord was agitated. He was pacing his throne room as Severus appeared.
"Well?" Voldemort snapped as soon as the noise of apparation faded. "You brought me young Crabbe days ago. Where is Draco Malfoy?"
"The Malfoys have fled, My Lord," Severus reported, standing at rigid attention.
"Fled?" Voldemort's inability to understand was almost comical. Snape reminded himself of the consequences of giving offense, and was able to contain his mirth.
"Lucius is already convicted by the Ministry, My Lord. He merely awaits a judge's gavel and the particulars of sentencing to seal his fate. The remaining Malfoys apparently fear government persecution. So fearing, they have gone into hiding."
"Well, find them."
"My search so far has revealed that they are no longer in Great Britain. Also, Albus Dumbledore is searching for them as intently as am I. He fears that you will be able to make use of them both. They may well fear Dumbledore as much as they fear the Ministry."
"Then bring me someone," Voldemort ordered petulantly. "Zabini, perhaps."
"I cannot be certain of Zabini's loyalty, My Lord. His intentions are very suspect."
"Someone else, then! I must begin to rebuild my youth base. My forces are aging, and being lost to attrition. Bring one of your Slytherin brats."
"Until term begins, I cannot approach any of the students without raising suspicions..."
"Are you making excuses to me?" Voldemort bellowed, spittle flying in his anger.
"I am giving reasons, My Lord. I can approach students without using proper discretion, or we may delay our progress for several weeks, when all of the students will be available to me once again, and I may bring them into your presence without undue attention from unwanted observers."
"Fine," the Dark Lord pouted. "But when term begins, we had better develop our new alliances quickly. I need manpower, Severus."
Voldemort had long ascribed to the 'silence equals agreement' principle. Unless there was something substantive to add, Death Eaters were to accept their Lord's statements stoicly. It would have offended him if Snape had expressed his agreement. But once the Lord had made his pronouncement, a new subject could be broached. "My Lord," Snape said, and waited for the slight nod that indicated permission to speak. "A new opportunity has presented itself at Hogwarts. The Herbology professor has resigned. It occurs to me that you have someone loyal to you who might take that position."
Voldemort looked lost for a while as he ran through his mental list of followers, trying to recall who Severus might have in mind. Then a slow grin spread across his face. "Young Aaron."
Snape wanted to make sure there was no mistake. "Aaron Sepal is sixty-seven years old, My Lord," he said cautiously.
"He's a wizard," Voldemort snapped. "He's just entering his prime. He'll do. I'll contact him, Severus. The less connection between the two of you there is, the better. Thank you for that bit of information. You have helped me. Now, begone."
Gratefully, Snape apparated back to the outskirts of Hogwarts' property. Somehow, he had survived another meeting with Voldemort. And for the first time, he had not merely obfuscated in such a meeting... he had lied directly to the Dark Lord. Snape had no intention of bringing Draco nor Narcissa into Voldemort's presence. And somehow, miraculously, he had managed to both mask that attitude and avoid betraying the Malfoys' whereabouts. He had lied carefully and, he hoped, cleverly. He had lied only by ommission. He had allowed some truth to season his lies. But he had lied. Directly to Voldemort. And had survived. For the first time, he began to believe that his desperate plan might have some chance of success.
--- --- ---
The next morning, Harry reported for work early once again, hoping to do the best job he was able to do for his professor. The day's work consisted of feeding and watering various plants, and leaving others unfed or unwatered according to a strict schedule. Harry had brought parchment and a quill, and he wrote and wrote and wrote, making his notes as specific as he could, and trying very hard to keep the list neat enough to be able to refer to all summer long. He was glad that the carnivorous plants had been fed before he started his summer's employment. Those plants received their food infrequently, but the particulars of feeding each type were highly detailed and confusing. He would need Neville's advice when it was time to feed them again. Harry's mind was reeling with the tremendous amount of information he had tried to cram into it all morning by the time Professor Sprout gave him permission to break for lunch. Remus met Harry at the greenhouse door and offered to accompany him to the dining hall, where the Hogwarts house elves would be glad to provide a meal, even if only two were on hand to enjoy it. Harry shrugged, trying not to show his annoyance. Remus had been prowling the Herbology grounds around the greenhouses all morning, and had been quite distracting for Harry. Several times, he was certain that he had spotted a potential attacker, only to realize that it was actually his own protector, patrolling the area to keep him safe. "I'll probably be reading these notes all during the meal," he said. "There's 'way too much for me to learn, and this is just the simple stuff. Watering schedules and all that. By the time Professor Sprout is ready to leave, I'll have written my own Beginner's Herbology textbook."
Remus smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. "Do what you must," he said. "I won't mind having your company, even if your nose is buried in a parchment." They walked up to the castle, but Harry noticed that Remus never ceased his vigilance, checking the horizon for flyers, watching the bushes for shadows, listening intently for any approach of danger. It was disconcerting to Harry to realize how much effort the man was putting into looking out for him. And it spoiled the illusion of casual relaxation that Remus maintained in his posture and easy conversation.
The house elves, frustrated at having so few people to appreciate their efforts during the season between terms, created a fabulous feast for the two who did show up for lunch. A banquet-quality bouef wellington was the main course, and for Remus, it was accompanied by a glass of rich, dark cabernet sauvignon.
About halfway through lunch, during which Harry had been concentrating on his food so intently he had spared not a glance for the parchment at his side, the owl arrived. It was the tiny Errol, struggling under the weight of the short missive tied to his leg. Harry retrieved the letter, poured the tired owl some water, and read. It was from Ron.
Harry,
I heard Dad telling Mom that you had been attacked at school.
It sounds like Malfoy... they were talking about him, too, but
I didn't get everything about that. What is happening up there?
Why haven't we heard from you? Ginny is particularly pissed
that you haven't written - I think she expected a personal letter
from you just for her. Sneak out and visit if you can. How close
can they be watching you, anyway? Or write and tell us if you
got hurt or something. Got to go. Garden gnomes need tossing.
See you soon, (I hope),
Ron.
How close can they be watching me? Harry was irritated. If Ron only knew. Magic Eye, then Remus following him around all day. Sneak out? Fat chance.
--- --- ---
That evening, Harry was not surprised to find Remus waiting for him at the greenhouse exit. He was surprised to learn that he and Remus, along with Professor Snape, were going off-campus again - this time on Dumbledore's direct orders. He was even more surprised when Remus told him that the object of their expedition was to locate Draco Malfoy.
"What does Dumbledore want me to do with Malfoy?" Harry grumbled. "Kill him?"
"Now, Harry, you know your Headmaster doesn't work that way," Remus scolded teasingly. "Don't you think he would much prefer it if you confused the lad so thoroughly that he would be unable to function normally?"
Harry laughed at the image of a confused Draco, stumbling through life as though caught in a mirror maze. But within a matter of mere steps, he had sobered again, and turned toward Remus, clearly burning to say something he could not bring himself to put voice to.
Under the pretense of smothering a cough, Remus put his finger over his lips. Harry nodded once and rushed ahead of the man to put his unruly stack of notes away in his room. Before he got too far, though, he turned back and called, "Muggle clothes?" Remus smiled and shrugged, and Harry rushed up the stairway.
The Fat Lady was outraged by this reckless behavior. "Still dashing about without concern for your own safety, my boy? It is so nice to have a handsome young man passing through my portal all summer long. It would be a shame if you were to slip and crush yourself to jelly on the unyielding stones of the castle floor. But you just don't learn, do you? Well, for that, you shall have to memorize a new password."
"All right," Harry said, barely paying attention to the tirade coming from the portrait. The Fat Lady had become increasingly chatty with each day that passed after regular term. He supposed that with so few people in the castle, a sociable portrait such as she was might have gotten lonely. She did maintain the entrance to the entire Gryffindor tower during the term, and saw literally hundreds of students every day. And as he came to think of it, most of the portraits - especially in the Gryffindor area of the castle - seemed to be rather crotchety and ill tempered. There may have been an isolated fun-loving individual or two among them, but as for the entire community, Harry imagined that there were few pleasant choices for any sort of decent socialization. So he had learned to wait for a while every time he came through, and listen to the Fat Lady for a bit. On this particular occasion, he used the opportunity to straighten his notes so they would be easier to put away once he got inside.
"The password is, as so many of you children are," The Fat Lady announced, with the air of someone imparting an important lesson she suspected would be ignored, "Oblivious!"
"Right," Harry said distractedly. "Oblivious. Thanks!" The portrait swung open, and Harry rushed to his room to put away his daytime things and change clothes.
He was back out again in minutes. "Enjoy your walk," the Fat Lady said pointedly. Then, "Don't run!" she snapped as Harry rushed away.
Harry caught himself, turned back to face the portrait and, very sweetly, said, "Thanks for caring." He turned back away and walked down the stairway, leaving the Fat Lady with her hand resting lightly over her heart, a look of beaming pride on her face.
Harry and Remus met Snape at the front entrance, and wordlessly began the long walk across the grounds. At first, Harry thought that Snape was merely angry again - a common enough mood for him - but there was more to it than that. He seemed on edge, as though about to do something very dangerous. Was Draco a real threat? Or was it his mother? Harry really had no idea of what Narcissa Malfoy was capable of. Perhaps Snape had a perfectly good reason to be nervous.
Cautiously, so as not to sound mocking, Harry said, "I thought Draco was out of the country."
Snape sneered at him, which was about what Harry had expected. But he also offered some explanation. "The Headmaster has seen fit to ignore my opinions regarding this matter, as he has chosen to ignore the opinions of Arthur Weasley, and - so far as I can tell - the opinions of everyone to whom he has spoken about it. Professor Dumbledore is convinced that the Malfoys are not out of the country, but are somewhere within its borders. Since they are here - and not responding to polite inquiries at the moment - the Headmaster has decided that both of them are plotting the overthrow of the free world. Since his locator charms have already failed, and it hardly makes sense to go door to door without a competent search team and a warrant, we are left with canvassing the places that missing Malfoys might go, and interviewing people such as those the missing Malfoys might have spoken with. It would be a colossal waste of time, except that Mister Lupin and I have found in you a talent worth developing. Remus will explain. I must take care of some pressing business." And he turned at right angles to the path and strode off into the nearby trees. After a short while, Harry could hear the resounding 'crack' of apparation. Remus strolled along as though nothing untoward had occurred.
"What... what was... " Harry stuttered, unsure of how to ask about Snape's 'pressing business.'
Remus was very thoughtful. "Your Professor Snape has a very hard job. He spies on Voldemort for Dumbledore... you know about that, after last term. He also spies on Dumbledore for Voldemort. Otherwise, the Dark Lord would never allow him to work at Hogwarts. The paradox is that both Dumbledore and Voldemort know that Snape is a double agent. Neither one of them is stupid, and both understand politics and espionage very well. Each of them uses Snape to plague the other, and neither one cares how hard that is on the man caught in the middle. Severus has worked very hard against Voldemort. And, I must presume that - since Voldemort hasn't killed him yet - he must have done quite a lot of work on the Dark Lord's behalf. And, he works very hard at being a good teacher. Yes, I know," Remus stopped the sarcastic comment before Harry could make it. "But I have seen his planning, the preparations he goes through, and the way he continues to stay up to date on his discipline so that he can present the best - if, perhaps the most difficult - class in Hogwarts' curriculum. So your Professor Snape is working three jobs, each one harder than most peoples' single job. He does it knowing that he may be punished by the government, or by the Death Eaters, at any time, without warning. He does this knowing that even if the side of good does win, that very victory will mean that one-third of his labors have gone for nothing. And he is too intelligent and knowledgeable of history to remain ignorant of the ultimate fate of double agents at the end of every war. The winning side kills them. They have to. The double agent may have helped bring about the victory - but they were also spies for the enemy. Besides, how can you trust someone who has already worked for two opposing sides? For that reason alone, double agents either flee the country they worked for... or they are executed. There are no exceptions of which I am aware."
"Then... Snape doesn't want either side to win," Harry said with a confused glance up at Remus.
"For all his sarcasm and ill-humor," Remus said sadly, "Severus is an idealist. I am embarrassed that I did not understand this sooner, but it was as true in his school days as it is now. And yet, Severus is too intelligent to simply cheer for one side or the other, as though the future of our world was a sporting match. He is intensely interested in finding a solution to the many problems that plague us - and in finding alternatives to the limited choices we seem to have for solving them. And that is were you come in, my boy."
"I don't think Snape sees me as a part of any solution he would want," Harry said.
"Harry, I think you have to learn who your friends are. Part of any serious fight is knowing who will be there to back you up. Professor Snape is a powerful and valuable friend."
"You're my friend. I'm sure of that," Harry said, but at the same time, he could visualize his other friends fading away from him. Neville, resentfully begrudging him his summer job. Ron and Hermione, busy with one another. Ron, especially: 'Sneak out and come visit.' What immature rot! What was he thinking? Harry's most painful thought was of Sirius - his godfather - who was lost to him forever.
"Severus Snape is a better friend than you are aware," Remus insisted. "Think of our magical test. Severus took us to the one place where you could have done that."
Harry's face immediately fell. "I thought I had killed Voldemort. As usual, something horrible had to happen - I thought you were dead. But I really believed... for a second or two... that I had done it. That he was gone, completely. Then I find that it was just a boggart. It was like thinking I'd killed a giant, only to find out it was a fly instead."
"Harry," Remus chided. "Do you have any idea what you did in that room?" Harry merely looked confused again, so Lupin began to review, ticking points off on his fingers. "First, you destroyed the boggart. No, don't groan, most people can subdue a boggart, and put it in a container. A group of people who know what they are doing can destroy one. But only in certain ways. Violent spells usually feed boggarts, not hurt them. Laughter, and the Ridikulus spell - those are harmful to boggarts, but even then, when the laughter is loudest, and the spells perfectly cast, all that happens to the boggarts is that they sort of... fizzle out. They fade, they dissipate. You blew that one into a fine mist! And then destroyed the mist! There wasn't even any boggart goo left behind to dirty one's fingers on. You completely, utterly eradicated it. I would have
been impressed if you had done that to a fly, let alone a giant. But a boggart... that's impressive! But that was only the introduction to what you did. That room was especially made to withstand the most violent spell that Lucius Malfoy could ever possibly cast. There were two layers on top of the reinforced walls of that room. One layer that was magic reflective, and a layer beneath that one that was magic absorbing. Imagine that you are working out in a gymnasium with walls that are plated with steel, but filled with rubber. If you manage to hit the wall hard enough to pierce the steel, the rubber will bounce your blow back into the room where you are standing. But when you cast your spell against the boggart you believed to be Voldemort, you not only evaporated the magic-reflective layer, and destroyed the magic-absorbing layer - you smashed through the reinforced concrete and dug a tunnel deep into the solid rock surroundings! That room was shock-protected well enough to contain a dynamite explosion, and you set off every alarm in the house above. Do you have any idea how much power something like that requires?"
Harry did not.
"Let me put it this way. I don't believe that either Albus Dumbledore - or Tom Riddle - could do what you did."
"So you think I could beat Voldemort in a duel?" Harry asked immediately.
"Harry, I said you had to learn who your friends were. You also need to know who your enemies are. Part of any real fight is knowing who is going to appear on the field once your primary adversary is down."
Harry thought hard, but could see only advantages in that respect. "Lucius Malfoy is in jail - and might be executed," he mused.
"Lucius is a minion," Remus interrupted harshly. "Learn your enemies. If you are thinking about Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle... all of those are minions. Your enemy in that case is Voldemort. You need to think more deeply... and wider."
"But Voldemort has always been my enemy. He killed my parents, he tried to kill me. He killed Cedric, and tried to kill Ginny. He... He's the one, my real enemy," Harry said desperately.
"What is your relationship to the government?" Remus' question was very quiet. Harry shook his head, not following the logic. "hem-hem," Remus coughed, clearing his throat.
Harry's eyes went wide. His hand began to ache. The disasters of last term came flooding back. Dolores Umbridge. The interference of the Ministry in the operation of the school. Fudge's accusations that Harry was a liar, or mentally incompetent...
"Fudge is the leader, the focus, the symbol of much that is wrong with the way we are governed today," Remus said casually. "But he has his minions, just as does the Dark Lord who would supplant him. Umbridge... even persnickety Percy Weasley, though I think he is more misguided than truly evil. But Fudge in particular, and the government organization as it stands beneath his leadership, is an enemy as powerful and clever as Voldemort himself. More powerful, and cleverer, in their way, since they can be public, and meddle in everyone's affairs very openly, rather than operating in secret like old Tom Riddle."
"But Fudge... I mean, the Minister of Magic... He's elected. By the people," Harry fumbled, unused to political conversation.
"Is he?" Remus challenged immediately. "Who employs the ballot-counters... oh, yes. That would be the Ministry. Mmmm... Fudge hasn't ever lost an election. And God knows I've never voted for him. Can you think of anyone who would?"
"Percy Weasley," Harry offered.
"Self-interest. Percy believes the Minister actually knows who he is. He's hoping to rise to a real political career, our Percy is. I believe that he will forever be frustrated in that ambition... but that's just my cynical nature coming through. Seriously, Harry, I believe that if you consider Voldemort enemy number one, you have to consider the current existing government of Wizard Britain - at least as it is under Minister Fudge - enemy number two."
Harry didn't want to believe it. He had planned for so long to kill Voldemort that in his mind, once that goal had been accomplished, everything would be better. People would be happier and healthier, they would treat each other with greater consideration, there would be an era of prosperity and progress. Everyone's dreams would be so much closer to coming true... But now, Remus had to remind him that taking care of one problem only allowed the opportunity to go on to the next one. Voldemort was a problem. Eliminate him, and something else would rise up to plague you. But was that next problem really the government? It might be… Harry hated Umbridge, and he had no respect for Fudge. It would have been easier to view the Ministry of Magic as a terrible opponent if he had actually hated Fudge. But when compared to Voldemort, Fudge was just such a... nothing. "I don't know, Remus. Voldemort's easy to hate. It's hard to get really worked up over Fudge."
"Then you need more time to realize what real problems are facing you," Remus said easily. "Besides, if you have difficulty thinking of Fudge as your enemy, you'll need a while to wrap your mind around your biggest problem."
Harry wondered what problem could be bigger than Voldemort. The Dursleys? They were ridiculous by comparison. His schooling and future career had always been his major secondary 'problem' after Voldemort. He took his school work as it came, term by term. He had thought that he was doing pretty well until Remus had started talking about the days of early N.E.W.T.s and Advanced Studies for sixth-years. His career? He could see himself playing quiddich for a few years, but once he began to grow heavy and slow... then what? That was a problem. "What else could there be?" he asked, thinking he was ready to discuss any possibility Remus might suggest.
"Albus Dumbledore," Remus said, and watched Harry's reaction.
Harry thought hard. Dumbledore had placed him with the Dursleys... that was hard to forgive. But against that, how much good had the man done? He had made it possible for Remus to attend school. He had saved Sirius' life... his soul, come to think of it. And he had managed to save Buckbeak the hippogriff in the bargain. He had given Hagrid a job, had founded the Order of the Phoenix... "No," Harry said thoughtfully. "I don't see it. What's wrong with him?"
"Not so much what he's done," Remus admitted, "as the way he's gone about it. Very controlling, very manipulative, is Dumbledore. When you do defeat Voldemort, Dumbledore is ready to step in as soon as he's sure his old enemy is gone for good. He'll take credit for your victory, for having you ready to fight in the first place. And by that, he'll take control: first of public opinion, then of public policy."
"Better him than Fudge," Harry snorted.
"Is it?" Remus waited for an answer, but Harry only watched expectantly. "All right. Think about the way he told you of Professor Sprout's resignation. Did he tell you the truth?"
Harry was caught there. Professor Sprout had been furious when she had heard what Dumbledore had said. "No," Harry admitted
"And what about the way he got you into this summer job?" Remus continued.
"We've already talked about that. I don't like it, but... he couldn't have two students staying at the castle over the summer. I threatened him, forced him to take me..."
"Harry," Remus' voice was deadly serious. This was the central point he had to make. "He says he couldn't have two of you. Let me ask you: Is there enough work for two pair of hands in the Herbology department this summer?"
"Oh, yeah," Harry said immediately. "There's loads that I'll never get to. Two of us could be totally busy and still not get through all... the.... uh, Remus? What is it?"
"More than enough work for two," Remus concluded. "So, why not hire two of you? Only one reason. To get you to participate in a lie, and in cheating your friend of an opportunity. Which, incidentally, also put an extra hardship on one of your teachers. In plain speech, Harry: Albus did what he did in order to corrupt you. Which gave him an extra hold over you. And kept another powerful student from advancing quite so fast as otherwise he would. That kind of manipulation is characteristic of the kind of plan Voldemort usually hatches; and it's not too different from some of the things Fudge has done. And when I mentioned confusing Draco in the castle tonight, you had something you wanted to say to me."
Harry was almost embarrassed to admit it now. "I had wanted to say that's what Dumbledore does to me. Keeps me confused. It's hard to say why I thought that, now. Something about having to stay at the Dursleys... but... I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't really have a very good argument."
"Which is exactly the effect one would expect if you had been kept confused and ignorant and in a weakened condition all your life. Think about it."
Harry did think about it. He remained silent and thought about it as he walked, so preoccupied that he was nearly blind to the path before him. The two were nearly to Hogsmead when he said, "All I wanted to do was kill Voldemort. Now you have me planning to take over the world."
"The world is not a single entity that can be held at one point," Remus replied, not reacting as though Harry's suggestion was ridiculous in the least. "Voldemort has followers. If their Lord is destroyed, any one of those followers could become a leader - simply by pulling the leftovers of the Death Eater organization together to continue whatever evil the group had intended to accomplish. But... if someone were to replace their Lord... A wizard more powerful, and - in his own way - even more terrifying... what would happen to that organization then? The same thing applies to the government. Anyone who assassinates Corny Fudge will see another one just like him shoved into place within hours. And trying to tear the entire Ministerial structure down would be counterproductive - many services provided under Ministry auspices are necessary, and some are critical. But if someone were to take control of the entire structure..."
"That's insane," Harry stated flatly. "People wouldn't stand for it."
"Wouldn't they?" Remus prodded.
"I know Fudge is awful, and he's usually wrong, but people believe in him."
"Do they?"
"Ask! Even Dumbledore operates within the law."
"And when Dumbledore outsmarts the government, I notice people are usually quite glad about it. When Dumbledore thwarts the Ministry's will, he is essentially assuming the responsibilities of government... as it applies to him. And Voldemort believes he can take over the entire operation."
"Voldemort is mad!" Harry shouted, quite upset. "You can't copy a murderer who has to hide to keep from being killed by everyone who's not already on his side!"
"No, I suppose not," Remus sighed wistfully. "But I wonder what Professor Snape has to say on the subject. He has always been so much more practical a man than am I."
Harry was about to say that, if he were really practical, Snape would take great pleasure in sarcastically tearing apart all of Remus' suggestions. But then he thought of the magical test in Malfoy Manor, and the way Snape participated in casting silencing charms in his own dungeon to have a word with Harry out of Dumbledore's hearing. Harry walked in silence, but his mind was working furiously.
Remus had decided that, for their first evening of Malfoy hunting, the village of Hogsmeade was a perfect place to begin their search. After all, even if Narcissa might not have been particularly fond of the quaint village, Draco had always enjoyed visiting there, and that qualified Hogsmeade as a place in which missing Malfoys might be found. By unspoken mutual consent, subjects as attention-getting as Voldemort, or forcibly replacing the Minister of Magic, were dropped as soon as Remus and Harry walked into the Three Broomsticks. But there was one delicate subject that Harry wanted to broach, which he felt was innocuous enough to be discussed in public.
"Remus, the letter I got at lunch today was from Ron. He invited me to visit him at home, but... I'm supposed to make it as easy as possible for you to keep me safe... er... that is, I'm supposed to make it easy for Snape to keep me safe, and for you to help him... uh... do that."
"So, to make it easy for the two of us to keep you safe, the Headmaster has sent you out to hunt missing Malfoys with us. Off-campus, and straight into the lair of the - supposedly - treason plotting conspirators. Come on, Harry. If that's not enough of a sign that Albus is aging quickly, I can't imagine what is. And actually, compared to the witch hunt we're on, visiting the Burrow would be safe as houses for you. I don't see why we couldn't... Oh. Two butterbeers, please." Remus told the waitress, who gave him a flirtatious smile before going to retrieve their order. Harry thought she made rather a production of leaning over the bar to retrieve the mugs, but if she had intended to make an impression on Remus, she was to be disappointed. Lupin's attention was on the doorway, where a disheveled and breathless Severus Snape had just pushed his way into the pub. He stopped immediately inside the entrance, and pushed back his greasy hair, then straightened his robes. Taking a couple of deep breaths allowed him time to search the room for Remus, and to return to his usual appearance of disciplined self-control. He walked to their table regally, and sat without comment.
"Trouble?" Remus asked.
"For someone else," Snape drawled. "There was a matter of wrist-slapping to be done. No further need to be concerned over it."
"Good. Harry wants to arrange a visit to the Weasleys' home," Remus informed him brightly, as though discussing any normal summer vacation.
Snape closed his eyes and drew in a long-suffering breath. "Does this mean," he said with disgust, "that I will be expected to... chaperone the lad?"
"No, I don't think so," Remus reassured him.
"This had better not turn into one of your disasters, Potter," Snape threatened.
"No, Sir," Harry replied contritely, but beneath his serious expression, he was elated. He might have some fun this summer after all.
The waitress stopped at their table in the midst of rushing to put an order in for another party, caught Remus' eye, grinned mischievously at him, then turned her attention to Snape. "Can I get you anything?"
Harry wondered if Snape understood the concept of eating or drinking for pleasure. The potions master was normally so grim about every aspect of life, even scowling at the sumptuous Hogwarts' feasts, that the boy doubted whether Snape had ever enjoyed a snack just for fun. For his part, Remus had never seen Severus imbibe anything stronger than pumpkin juice. So it took both of them by surprise when Snape succinctly ordered. "Scotch. Double. Neat." As the waitress began to back away, Snape clarified his order even further. "I would like to remind you that 'neat' indicates that the drink shall contain no ice."
"No ice?" the waitress repeated, taken aback by her customer's insistent manner.
"Frozen water. Usually prepared in cubes for use in bars," Snape explained, exactly as he would explain a point in class when his students were being particularly thickheaded.
"I know what ice is," the waitress replied, annoyed.
"Excellent," Snape replied, taking no notice of her annoyance. "Please inspect my glass carefully for its presence. If ice has touched the beverage, please do not merely pick it out. Please return any glass that has contained any ice at all to the bartender, for a replacement, prepared properly." The waitress had any number of glib responses to such insolence, but the hawk nosed man with the cold voice did not take his gaze off of her, and she decided she would rather be away from that particular table right away. As she left, Snape turned to Harry and studied him intently, until the boy squirmed under the unrelenting stare. "I hope that summer visits have not been the sole subject discussed this evening," Severus drawled.
Harry looked uncomfortable, and immediately glanced around the room. Remus leaned back in his chair and looked askance at the potions professor. "Severus, I don't think you give the Three Broomsticks enough credit. This isn't some unsophisticated place, you know. I'll bet you would have gotten your scotch perfectly ice-free by simply ordering it."
Snape curled his lip at the werewolf. "The influence of the Americans is everywhere, Lupin, from the way food is prepared practically everywhere except Hogwarts, to entertainment, to what young people wear. You would be surprised to see who is placing ice in his whiskey these days."
"Not old 'You -Know-Who?'," Remus grinned.
Harry interrupted the men, clearly agitated. "This isn't a very good place to continue any discussion about -" His eyes widened and he stopped speaking abruptly as the waitress returned with Snape's drink.
Severus accepted the glass and tasted it without looking at it first. Remus noted with interest the way Snape's eyes closed and his whole face relaxed at the taste of the Scotch. "Thank you," the potions master said sincerely, and nodded to the waitress in recognition - and dismissal. He took another tiny sip of the drink, then set the glass down on the table very softly. He opened his eyes and turned them on Harry. "One of the advantages of being so irredeemably unpleasant is that people in public places ignore someone such as myself. Even those whose livelihood depends on serving me will forget my table, and return to it as little as possible throughout my stay here.
Harry felt his face heat as the blood rushed to his cheeks. He wouldn't have told his professor that he was unpleasant, but now that Snape had brought up the subject himself, it was all Harry could do to avoid shouting, 'You certainly are unpleasant,' or something even more explicitly insulting. Instead, he tried to calm himself, and quietly said, "We talked about a lot of things that I don't think we should mention if people are around. Whether they're shunning you or not."
Snape did not argue, but sat back to enjoy the remainder of his drink. "Then our discussion will have to wait until we are on our way back," he said, and turned his attention to observing the other patrons of the pub.
Harry wished he could have had a narration explaining what his teacher was seeing. The man watched people carefully, and with a great deal of interest, without drawing undue attention to himself. But without any clue as to what the man was learning from his observations, Harry found his attention drifting. He was impatient to get back to the serious part of the conversation, but equally certain that it was unsafe to continue it in his current setting. At the same time, he dreaded what was to come during that discussion. From what Remus had already mentioned, anything Snape brought up was sure to be filled with plans that involved danger with a high risk of failure. So Harry looked around the pub, watching people and wondering how well he was observing when compared to his potions professor.
As the three companions left the pub together, Severus asked Remus, "Did you see any missing Malfoys?"
"No, I did not."
"Were you looking?"
"I certainly was."
"Well, then, our official business is concluded." He turned his piercing stare upon Harry. "And what about you? Did you see the man with the artificial leg?"
Harry, expecting some question about the obviously absent Malfoys, was taken by surprise. He thought a moment, then hesitantly said, "No?"
"The prosthesis was fitted above the knee. He had adjusted to it very well, but the joint did not bend in a natural-looking manner at all. Did you see the man who was spending his last coins?"
Harry had no intention of moving past the first subject. "Why would a man wear an artificial leg? Mediwitches could regrow a limb, couldn't they?"
"Why does the Order's Mister Moody wear an artificial eye? Some injuries cannot be repaired as easily as others. Some are, in fact, permanent - at least with our current understanding of medical magic. Now answer me. Did you see the man spending his last coins?"
"Ummmm... the guy with the tattered robes?" Harry guessed.
"No." Snape looked more disappointed than nasty, and Harry actually felt worse to be on the receiving end of such a pitying assessment than he usually did when being sneered at in Potions class. "The man with the 'tattered' robes was quite well-heeled, at least as far as his budget for this evening's celebration was concerned. He was unconcerned about what his choices would cost him. He paid for everything he received and was counting out a rather generous tip as we walked out the door. The man with the fine black robe, who kept his new, pointed hat on a chair next to him; he was the one who counted his coins twice before he ordered his last drink, and then again after he paid for it. He thought about buying something else for quite some time - something cheaper than what he had been purchasing, I believe - but he decided against it for some reason. He was still nursing his final drink when we left. Did you see the couple ending their romantic relationship?"
Harry was completely baffled by this one. "No one broke up in there tonight. There were two couples, but both of them were..." he trailed off, thinking about what he had seen. "No," he said thoughtfully. "One of them was..." He couldn't explain it. There was nothing more than a vague impression, anyway, and that probably wouldn't have occurred to him unless Snape had suggested it. "Sorry," he said with a scowl.
"Mister Potter," Snape lectured sternly. "If you are going to lead people, you will have to become much better at watching them, and obtaining important information from what you observe. And, as foolish as I thought the idea was when first I heard it, I now believe that you are going to be leading people, and in the very near future at that." He waited for Harry to respond. The boy merely looked worried, which was a positive sign when compared to the pompous overconfidence Snape had expected. "I suppose Remus has outlined the three main obstacles you must overcome? Good. Voldemort is the easy one."
Harry glared at the potions professor. "Then why is everyone afraid to say his name?" he snapped sarcastically.
Snape's smile was cold and vicious. Harry felt a wave of pure fear in a visceral reaction to that look before he could remind himself that Remus was here, and that Snape was - supposedly - on their side. Severus relished this particular part of his explanation. "That very fear - and hatred - is your greatest ally. You don't have to justify killing Voldemort. Do that, and you will automatically be hailed as the great hero and liberator of the free world. If you can bring some sort of token of your victory into the public eye - a photograph of the moment of Voldemort's death, or his head on a stick, for example - people will not find it grotesque, they will feel they have even more cause for celebration. If you kill him and make sure he can never return, you will be - at least momentarily - the public's darling. And your history indicates that you can do the job. Voldemort's failure to kill you when you were a mere baby, your... crumbling... of his host when he was no more than a parasite, your destruction of his hopes for the Chamber of Secrets... even your absolute eradication of the Malfoy's training boggart... all of these things bode very well for you in your battle with the so-called Dark Lord. Which is why your attack upon him must be done last, once the remainder of your preparations are complete."
"Some of the 'preparations' Remus was talking about didn't sound particularly sane, Professor," Harry said carefully. He wanted to emphasize that he was talking about the plan, not Lupin.
Snape merely shrugged. "Then you haven't realized what you will be facing if you ever do destroy your lifelong enemy. The Death Eaters should be your primary concern in the moments immediately following Voldemort's destruction. They will be displeased, certainly, and many will feel they have the necessary qualities to lead the group themselves. In a way, our government has made that aspect of your challenge more difficult. By removing the most widely recognized, and broadly supported of the Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy, they have given many others in the organization unrealistically high estimations of their own status. So rather than having to kill the leader and then his most obvious successor, you shall have to subjugate all of the self-styled 'leaders' in the Deatheater hierarchy."
"Subjugate?" Harry asked dismally. He admitted to himself that - especially after Malfoy had gone to jail - he had expected the Death Eaters to simply evaporate once their Lord was dead. The idea of an endless train of minor villains, all bent on revenge, plaguing him for the rest of his life, was sickening.
Calculating the effect of his words very precisely, Snape waited until Harry had thought about the after-Voldemort Death Eaters for a while. "You don't want to deal with them piecemeal, over a period of years, do you?" Harry looked up sharply, alarmed that Snape had followed his thoughts so closely. "No? That's wise. I will tell you what I know of the people who belong to that organization. I believe I understand much of what motivates them. You will have to decide for yourself, of course. But my opinions are based on years of close observation. The men and women who have joined the Death Eaters generally share several broadly related sets of beliefs. It is important to remember that, no matter how corrupted some of these people have become, no one joins a political movement motivated by pure evil, or by the desire to live in an evil world. If they choose to follow an evil leader, or to do evil things, it is - at least originally - due to an impulse toward improving their lives.
"Most Death Eaters feel that the quality of wizarding in the wizard world has declined. They blame many things for this: the introduction of mixed-blood people into wizard society, the toleration of squibs, a decline in the quality of education, and more. They have many ideas for how to solve the problems: prohibit wizards and witches from marrying - more specifically, from procreating with - non-magical people; kill squibs; raise the standards of what is expected at school, and more. They generally believe in the benefits of discipline and self-control, and see our current government as being lax and indulgent. Therefore, the Death Eater organization is very rigidly structured. One absolute leader at the top, whom everyone follows. Severe punishments for failure to complete a mission, or dereliction of duty. Also severe punishments for falling short in any one of many ways. In return for suffering all of this severity, the Death Eaters believe their enemies will be killed, their leader will one day control this country - and eventually the world - and their ideals of a perfect magical society will be realized. How does one destroy such an organization?"
"Kill the head, and the body will die," quoted Harry, rather proud of himself.
"If the Death Eaters were a snake, that strategy would work. But as I have already described, the organization is more like a Hydra. If you kill the head, there will be seven or eight individuals who believe themselves to be the next head. Each of those will have his own followers. You will have seven or eight separate, secret Deatheater groups, each of which will be intent on killing you, then continuing Voldemort's plan. Your greatest advantage right now is that all of those people are together in one organization. So what do you believe you should do?"
"Call them all together, and kill them all at once?" Harry said uncertainly.
"Your classmates employ an appropriate taunt for that plan. 'You and what army?' The Death Eaters are not a small organization. They are secret, and few of them gather at any one time, in consideration of security. But should you summon even the most significant participants to one place, you would have the makings of a major battle. I assure you that what I know of you tells me you could defeat Voldemort one-on-one. To face this horde, you would need an immense force of battle-ready wizards."
"Then it's impossible," Harry moaned. "I'll just kill Voldemort. For myself, for my parents' memory, for... for everybody, really. I'll kill him, and be done with it."
"Dumbledore would like that," Snape sneered. "His greatest enemy is killed, and then the young hero allows himself to be cut down before he can receive his proper accolades. Dumbledore is left to take the credit, and ascends to even greater heights of power."
"Why are we always talking about Dumbledore?" Harry demanded.
"Do you think you are the only wizard in the world who hates Cornelius Fudge?" Snape crooned. "Do you think you are the only magic-user in Britain who has observed that our current Ministry are blind, meddling fools? Dumbledore runs Hogwarts because he has always had an absolute genius for being in exactly the right place to ensure himself of protection as he builds his own strategies. He managed to control your life almost completely from the moment your parents died. He has forged powerful alliances with many different groups of people because he gave one of their kind a unique opportunity. Squibs, half-giants, werewolves, even those thought to be irredeemably corrupted, such as myself."
Harry was embarrassed, and very uncomfortable. To hear his strict, demanding teacher refer to himself as having been considered irredeemably corrupted felt as improper as if the man had removed his robes to display scars of battle on his arse. But there was something wrong with Snape's whole premise. "You're one of the ones who got a... a unique opportunity from Dumbledore. But you're talking about him like he was the enemy. How does that work?"
"You've seen how Dumbledore recruits. He draws you in with a little reward for every little bit of corruption to which you agree. Do you need to stay away from the horrible uncle? Then betray your friend and House-mate. I'm sure you can think of some other examples over the past five years, and if you can't, Mister Lupin and I will help jog your memory. The point is, that sometimes an attempt to corrupt in that way fails. And sometimes, such an attempt backfires. That is, essentially, what has happened in both our cases."
"But Dumbledore is just a school principal. How is he one of my three big worries?"
"Good question. We'll get to that. Your second 'big worry' is the currently sitting Minister of Magic and his hand-picked minions. What did you think of Dolores Umbridge?"
"She was..." Under the pretense of searching for a word, Harry searched his feelings for what he truly wanted to say about the intrusive teacher and administrator. She had been instructed by the Ministry to address certain problems - most of which had to do with people such as himself discovering uncomfortable truths about the world in which they lived. But the way she had carried out her assignment had been colored by her own sadistic glee at causing suffering to those whom she felt presented her with resistance. She had come not simply to correct a problem, but to crush certain troublemakers. She had decided who the problems were before she had ever arrived at Hogwarts, and had paid no attention to any evidence that those people may have had any good qualities, or that their stories may have held any element of truth. Ultimately, she hadn't cared about solving problems, but only about inflicting pain. Her joy was in the amount of punishment she could hand out, her satisfaction in the number of facts she could keep hidden. "She was evil," Harry decided.
"And what do you think of Percy Weasley?" Snape asked in exactly the same tone as he had asked about Umbridge.
"Huh?" Harry did not get the point of that transition at all. Dolores Umbridge was a destructive, hateful adult who had been given enough power to abuse. Percy was still practically a child, and he was... Percy.
"The question seems simple enough, Mister Potter," Snape said with more impatience. You have told me what you think of one person, now I'd like to know what you think of another. What do you think of Percy Weasley?"
"He's big-headed, self-important, and tends to puff himself up whenever he thinks people should take notice of him. He's young. He's harmless."
"And is a big-headed self-puffer not a danger to you? He supported Fudge's every move throughout the past year, including the Minister's invasion of Hogwarts. He even opposed his own father when Arthur objected to the Umbridge appointment."
"He's young. He thinks about his career. He was Head Boy, and he's never gotten over the attention he had then." Harry felt odd about defending Percy Weasley to anyone, even if it was in the face of Snape's accusatory grilling. Percy was an arse, so far has Harry could tell, but he wasn't evil.
"So the younger Death Eaters should be forgiven their support for Voldemort, on the basis that they are thinking about their careers. And they may have enjoyed serving as prefects, or some such?" Snape asked mildly.
Harry was getting angry, now. Maybe this whole discussion had been a test of how far he would go along with a premise before he declared it ridiculous. If so, he had probably already failed. Nonetheless, he was putting a stop to it right now. "Percy Weasley is pursuing a legitimate career in our rightful government. He's trying to make something of himself legally and in full public view. Why the bloody hell are you comparing him to a Death Eater?"
"Because it's the same damn thing!" Snape returned with equal heat, using the muggle-style profanity with such familiarity that Harry was taken completely by surprise. "If you can't see that, you are missing the biggest lesson of last school term. When Percy graduated from Hogwarts, The Ministry was the most obvious opportunity available. The boy was shown a clearly marked 'career path,' and he took it regardless of the qualities of the man he had to support in order to succeed. If Percy had been older - if Voldemort was on the rise when Head Boy Weasley graduated from school, young Weasley might just as easily have taken his propensity for following orders and his thirst for discipline and orderliness into the service of the Dark Lord, and become a Death Eater. That is how so many of your lifelong enemy's followers found themselves in his service. A great many of them are exactly like Percy - they love rules, they crave orderly behavior, they want to punish the mischievous and the silly as though those people were serious criminals. And the grim structure of Voldemort's army appeals to them for the very reason that the Ministry's more draconian measures appeal to Percy Weasley. Are the Death Eaters sadistic and murderous? Yes. How is that different from Fudge's closest associates? Umbridge? Sadistic. Fudge himself? He may use dementors instead of his own wand, but 'murderous' is not too strong a charge to level against the man.
"Take last term's events as an example. Fudge wanted to suppress a truth. His aim was not just to lie, but to silence anyone who disagreed with his lie. 'Rightful government?' Rubbish. He put every citizen of Britain in danger by his own actions and threatened everyone who challenged him. And when he was proven wrong, then what? He acted as though he had decided to make a huge concession, all on his own: 'Oh, sorry, I'll take my enforcer out of your school.' What were the consequences for Fudge? Nothing. What were the consequences of his little experiment in education for you? Permanent scars on your writing hand. Not to mention a lingering suspicion of you, personally, in a great many people's minds. Potter the insane. Potter the liar. Potter who hallucinates. Do you have any idea why the most powerful elected official in our nation would bother to establish such suspicion?" Harry's mouth was set in a firm line. He made no reply. "Because he is afraid of you!" Snape said, forcefully enough to make Harry stop walking and take a step back from the man. "He is afraid of what will happen when you succeed in eliminating the greatest single threat to our nation in the past several generations. Heroes are feted in many ways. Fudge fears that you may take his job. Or ask the crowd to put his head on a pike. I'm not sure which of those he fears more."
Harry did not start walking again. He stood on the path to Hogwarts, immovable, a look of grim determination on his face. "All right, let's get it out. Voldemort is last, so I guess you're saying Fudge has to go first. But before that... what? I'm supposed to get rid of Dumbledore?"
"You have it wrong, Potter, but only slightly," Snape said, once again looking more disappointed than angry. "If Fudge is discredited, Dumbledore stands ready to expand his power even further. The Headmaster may not even want an actual government post - that may prove too restrictive to him. But he is famous, and with the threat of Voldemort being generally recognized once again, the Dark Lord's most famous enemy will certainly be in the public mind once more. And he will be more than willing to take credit for any victory you may achieve. But what you must do is change the way you think about defeating your oldest enemy. You have always wanted to kill him. I understand that and applaud the sentiment. But once you accomplish that, you can't simply walk away. Killing him leaves you with even greater responsibility than you will have faced before. You must kill him. And, you must take over his organization, pull his followers close to you, make them bend to your will as effectively as he has done already. You must control them well enough that they do not become a rampant force of destruction, killing and burning all through the nation. And in order to maintain the kind of control you will need, and prevent your enemies from taking action against you while disguised as legitimate public servants, you will have to depose Fudge and take over the operation of the government. And as you do this, you will have to prevent Dumbledore from undermining your efforts, stealing the credit that belongs to you, or even battling you with force of magic. In order to accomplish this, Mister Potter, you must become king of the wizard world, at least throughout Britain."
Harry stood and looked back and forth between the two men. Severus wore an expression of almost frightening intensity. Remus looked thoroughly supportive of the ideas that had been expressed. It was surreal. Harry reminded himself that he was talking to one of his teachers and one of his father's best friends. He searched for a diplomatic way to express what he was thinking. There was none. "What about the Wizengamut?" he demanded. "What about the Order, or the Aurors, or... or anyone who thinks a violent takeover of everything is a bad idea? What about the rest of the world?" He waited for the men to admit he was right, and turn back toward the castle and forget about this whole evening's discussions.
He was disappointed.
"France, in particular, already hates Fudge," Snape said coolly. "They have already failed to support any of his cross-channel proposals and have actively opposed some of his all-European suggestions. Most of Europe feels the same way. America doesn't care. They never did feel that Voldemort presented them with much of a threat, but that's just the way Americans are. The aurors are already sick of much of Fudge's denials - especially his denial of Voldemort's return. For the most part, they will follow anyone who is in charge, anyway. A successful takeover would effectively co-op the aurors, making them the ally of whoever held power. Most of the Order of the Phoenix already supports you. Most of us are merely waiting for you to grow up enough to take your responsibilities seriously. And as for everyone else - who is going to oppose the man who commands the feared legions of the Death Eaters?"
"That seems pretty weak," Harry replied, feeling distinctly worried. "Even if all of that other stuff fell into place, what about the Wizengamut?"
"Dumbledore has put unappreciated leverage on too many of those worthies to be able to call on them at will as once he could. If the Wizengamut sees that it is you in control - and especially if you are seen to be opposed to Dumbledore, rather than his childish tool - they may well decline to interfere. But the key to all of this is you, Mister Potter. If you were merely a very powerful wizard, such a plan would be useless. But you have power that is pure, and extremely flexible, and possibly almost unlimited. The power I tested in the Malfoy Manor was greater than that I have ever seen in anyone, Dumbledore and Voldemort included. You will need to learn how to shape the magic that is at your disposal. We will have to find someplace to experiment with your abilities. But if you can use 'Repellimus' to turn a curse, and reduce a boggart to plasma while destroying the magic-proof wall behind it and drilling a tunnel into the rock beyond that, you should be able to force your power to perform to very exacting specifications. You, Mister Potter, may well be able to do anything you can imagine. We will have to work on your imagination. But the raw power is there. You could be our next king."
Harry thought silently for a long moment. "That would be an enormous responsibility."
"That, Mister Potter, is, I believe, the single most mature statement I have ever heard you utter," Snape said sincerely. "I believe we have spoken long enough about these matters tonight. Let us plan your visit to the Weasley household as we make our way back to the castle. I would not want anyone to worry about us and come out to search." Snape turned and began to walk toward Hogwarts without looking to see what his companions did. Remus and Harry walked together behind him, and discussed a visit to the Burrow.