Author's Notes: Thank you very much to my reviewers, whose input has directly influenced this chapter. Specifically, I've changed some throwaway information on Dumbledore's portrait mentioned in the fourth chapter (watch for that chapter's edit and update in a few hours), and by doing so, in fact managed to unsnarl a problem in my plot, as you'll see in this chapter.
Chapter Five: A Traitor's Court
10:39 p.m., June 8, 1997
With a roar of unthinking rage, Harry raised his wand. Snape had no time to react to the silvery bolt of something Harry sent streaking toward the Death Eater.
But something else did: in an instant a flash of gold and red plumage shot through the doorway, and Harry saw the wings of a great bird arch up around the Death Eater's face like a halo before, a moment later, the unknown spell struck the bird's breast.
As the bird crumpled, the three Aurors shot off Stunners nearly simultaneously, and Snape had no time to react to all of them. Moody's spell slipped past the intruding wizard's shield, and Snape fell also.
There was instant confusion. Only a few seconds had elapsed, Harry realized, and more than a few of those assembled had yet to understand all that had happened. While Hagrid shouldered Snape's limp body, Harry dashed forward to where Fawkes – the bird had, of course, been a phoenix – now lay. In a smoldering pile of ashes struggled forth a tiny chick, nearly naked. Harry cupped the hatchling protectively in his hands, and felt the little bird press against the warmth of his body.
Behind him, Harry heard a deep, guttural voice say, "Well. Looks like we won't have go to searching for him, after all." It was Aberforth, and Harry could not read the man's face.
When Harry descended a moment later, he found the kitchen in pandemonium. Snape had been unceremoniously thrown into a chair at the end of the long wooden table, and Tonks and Kingsley were busy binding him with ropes and chains and other charms, until only his head was free.
Moody, meanwhile, and Hestia Jones, and Remus Lupin and Sturgis Podmore and Dedalus Diggle, were all engaged in furious conversation. "Well, what do you propose we do with him?" Moody snarled at Sturgis.
"You can't just kill him like that!" Hestia bawled at Moody. "He's an unarmed prisoner, it would be tantamount to murder!"
"He is a murderer," Lupin snarled. "And no doubt more than once since his reform." The werewolf imbued the last word with a hatred more vicious than Harry could quite believe from so gentle a man. "Where was he at the Department of Mysteries? Why did he wait so long to fetch help, to alert the Order? And you, Hestia – have you never wondered who it was who betrayed Emmeline? It had to be someone in the Order, and now we know who."
"He might deserve to die, Lupin," Sturgis Podmore barked in reply, "But he's too valuable to kill – you-know-who will want him back, surely!"
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does not pay ransom," Moody growled. "He kills the guards if the prisoner lives and then the prisoner if there's been treachery. Your family sits on the Wizengamot, Podmore! You should know this!"
"I want him dead," Lupin said flatly. "Traitor's justice."
Moody raised his wand – but with a shriek of horror, Hermione dashed forward in front of Snape's limp form. "No, you can't!" she screamed. "He's got to be sent to the Ministry for trial, you can't just kill him like this!"
"The same Ministry that sent Sirius to Azkaban without trial, and let Lucius Malfoy free?" Lupin spat, raising his wand also. "Get out of the way, you silly girl!"
Hermione stood firm, and Harry felt an echo of sick dread in the pit of his stomach. "That makes us no better than Death Eaters!" she shouted at Lupin and Moody, but Harry could not focus on her words. He'd dashed up to Lupin, shoving down the man's wand arm with the hand not cradling the infant phoenix.
"Professor Lupin," Harry said urgently.
Lupin turned roughly to Harry, his face still ugly with hate. "What?"
"If you kill Snape now, we'll never know why Fawkes protected him," Harry said flatly. "I want to know hwy." That was partly true, of course, but Harry's ears were still ringing with Lupin's command to Hermione, and the sick feeling had not yet left him. "It's temporary mercy, we can give him that." Lupin looked unconvinced, but Harry said, his voice very low, "You're better than this."
McGonagall, meanwhile, had been restraining Moody, and a few moments later, after a brief conference with the ex-Auror and Aberforth, raised a hand for quiet.
"You have chosen me as your leader, and now I beg you to follow where I will lead," McGonagall said quietly. "Those of you who would kill this man now would act precipitously. Before we take any action against Severus Snape, there are a few questions we must ask of him." She paused.
"But he's an Occlumens, we all know that," Lupin said angrily. "And none of us are Legilimens as Albus Dumbledore was – and even he was fooled!"
"We will hold a Traitor's Court," McGonagall said, staring Lupin directly in the eye. To Harry's surprise, the man subsided, looking satisfied. "Some of you here," McGonagall continued, "Will know the customs – Arthur, Molly, Alastor, Aberforth – but for those of you not purely wizarding by blood, I shall explain."
Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, totally at a loss. Ron had a look of shocked comprehension on his face; Hermione, an irritated frown as if struggling to remember something.
"The Traitor's Court is an ancient rite, pre-dating the Wizengamot by a millennium," Professor McGonagall continued. "The traitor is confronted by those he has betrayed in a ritual circle – he, in the center, bound by fire and water, earth and metal, his wand – wood – suspended in air. Those betrayed form a circle of power and recite the charge of treachery. This will force the traitor's wand to snap, should he give a lie to any question put to him by the assembled Court."
"But Professor!" Hermione exclaimed. "The Ministry outlawed the Traitor's court in 1702! They said it was –"
"Barbaric," Nymphadora Tonks finished, "Because anyone could call a Traitor's Court, outside Ministry control, and the penalty for lying has always been death. The Ministry," Tonks said, lip curling, "prefers the far more civilized Dementor's Kiss."
"We cannot rely on Ministry justice," McGonagall said roughly. "They would not know how to interrogate him, and he would lie with impunity. Traitor's Court defeats even the Occlumens."
Hermione nodded once, firmly. "What do we do?"
The Order moved the table, and all the chairs save Snape's; Molly Weasley collected Fawkes from Harry and swaddled him in blankets heated by a warming charm; Bill began a purification ritual of water and salt, which, he said was traditional when Harry raised an eyebrow at him. McGonagall called for a calligrapher to paint the binding runes.
"I can," Hermione said, raising her hand as if in a classroom."
"Professor Dalecarle always praised your hand," McGonagall said approvingly, and Hermione rushed to paint the runes about Snape's chair. Harry saw, wonderingly, each rune ripple and shine as Hermione finished painting it. The very room seemed to hum, as if the magic in the house had begun to respond to the rite about to take place.
Moody, who had pocketed Snape's wand after stunning the Death Eater, placed the wand directly over the water rune before stepping back into the nascent circle. Harry found himself between Tonks and Hermione. He could feel his heart pounding. They were going to force the liar into some truth-telling.
When Bill had at last finished purifying and had joined hands with Arthur and Charlie, McGonagall raised her wand. "Ennervate," she intoned, with a voice as hard as steel.
Snape woke with a start. Glancing down at his chains, he sneered, "I'd expected you to kill me by now. I suppose one of you had to sit on Potter to stop him."
"I don't think you quite understand your predicament, Snape," Lupin said, his voice light, his eyes shining. Harry saw Tonks, standing next to him, squeeze Lupin's hand encouragingly.
"Severus Snape, you have shown yourself a traitor to the Order of the Phoenix," McGonagall said, her eyes very hard. "By the grace of Albus Dumbledore you first were spared, given mercy you never gave your victims as a Death Eater during the first war. That generosity you repaid with betrayal and murder. Through your collaboration with the Death Eaters – nay, through your open allegiance with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – you caused the death of Albus Dumbledore and the grave injury of William Weasley. For your crimes the Order can find no recourse in Ministry justice." She paused. "So we, the Order of the Phoenix, now call a Traitor's Court."
Harry saw with pleasure beads of sweat form on Snape's greasy forehead. The man's face was distorted by an animal grimace of fear and anger. Snape, Harry thought with relish, needed no refresher course on this particular rite.
Without waiting, McGonagall began to chant in Latin. Harry didn't know the spell, but several others did, and they joined in with McGonagall. It was a long incantation, Harry thought, not the simple spells and phrases he'd learned at Hogwarts – it was a ritual, part of a body of magic old beyond measure. Celtic elements and Roman language, British wands and Latin spells – and as Harry listened more intently, he heard the rhythm and repetition. He did not know how long it had been before he, too, could pick up the words to the spell, but he could feel it sweeping him along in a current of power, exhilarating and ancient.
And then – it ended, and Harry looked up to see Snape surrounded by a net of light emanating from the runes, his wand at the zenith of the magical web, floating in mid-air.
"We begin," McGonagall said grimly. "Severus Snape, when did you first betray the Order of the Phoenix to your master?"
"April twenty-first, 1980," Snape said without hesitation. He grimaced at his admission, his face that of a fox at bay. His wand, Harry noticed, remained intact.
"That can't be true," Elphias Doge said indignantly. "You didn't join the Order until –"
"That was when I heard the prophecy," Snape snarled. "The Potters died for it. I count it as betrayal!"
There was utter silence, broken only when Hermione hissed in Harry's ear, "You're crushing my hand!" Harry eased his grip slightly.
"Why did Dumbledore trust you?" Harry snarled. "How could he believe you when you only came crawling back from Voldemort after MY MUM AND DAD WERE DEAD?"
"Don't say that name!" Snape roared.
"You're on trial for your life, you murdering bastard, and that's what you're worried about?" Harry replied incredulously. "Answer the bloody question!"
The wand above Snape's head had begun to tremble, and the chained wizard hastened to answer the question. "I cannot believe that is what Dumbledore told you. I 'came crawling', as you put it, Potter, in January of 1981 – and I cannot believe you so imbecilic as to be incapable of simple math. Nine months, Potter! Nine months in Dumbledore's employ! That, you fool, is why he trusted me!"
His wand, Harry saw, remained intact.
"That still doesn't mean – that still doesn't change the fact that you killed Dumbledore!" Harry shouted back, still trying to process everything.
"How can that be true?" Lupin frowned. "If you'd joined the Order in 1981, we would have known – we would have known you'd come over, and none of us did." He glanced around the room for confirmation, and McGonagall and Doge and Podmore all looked just as puzzled.
"I was a spy," Snape hissed, "And Albus Dumbledore knew there was a spy for the Dark Lord in your midst. If I had joined the Order openly, I would have been betrayed myself! Think, for the love of Merlin, think! If I had been known to Pettigrew, I would not have lasted a day as Dumbledore's spy!"
An uncomfortable silence descended over the room.
Snape, still furious, twisted his head to stare at Moody. "And you knew that, you bastard! You knew I'd served Dumbledore, you were at my trial, and you didn't say a word for me, when Potter's been running around telling everyone that I didn't come back until after the Dark Lord fell. You've never believed anything but the worst of me, and this must have been your vindication, you paranoid old fool!"
Moody roared something incoherently angry, but he did not break the circle. McGonagall, still furious, burst in, "We have not given you permission, traitor, to address the Court! You will hold your peace until addressed!"
Snape spat. It did not reach her, of course, but her face went a livid shade of white.
It was Lupin who spoke next, sounding genuinely confused if still angry. "Damn it, then why did Voldemort trust you when you crawled back to him in '95? He must have known you'd been a spy for Dumbledore –"
"Fools, fools," Snape snarled. "I was a double agent, of course I was! I told the Dark Lord in 1981 that I had Dumbledore's trust, because he is a Legilimens and I was not, then, so accomplished as an Occlumens that I could hide long meetings with the head of the Order of the Phoenix. And the Dark Lord believed me his man, his spy – and Dumbledore believed the same. Dumbledore knew that I would sometimes have to reveal information to the Dark Lord, but the Dark Lord never knew that I told truths to Albus Dumbledore, because he would not have permitted it. I was Dumbledore's man in the first war from January twenty-seventh, 1981. And when the Defense post came open in 1981, I applied for it on the Dark Lord's orders, and was not accepted. And when the Dark Lord fell, I took the Potions position, and when he came back, I told him, and he believed me, that I had taken the Potions position only so I could spy on Dumbledore. Think! How will you win this war, you fools, if you do not think?"
More stunned silence. "And why didn't you kill Harry?" Hermione said in a rush. "I've always said – I've always defended you to them, that you couldn't have been a spy for V-Voldemort, because you never killed Harry, but we know you're his spy now, so why didn't you?" She stared at him intently, meeting his black eyes with her own brown, as if searching for some proof in them.
"Because, you stupid girl, I do not want him dead," Snape said, and this admission cost him, as if it had caused him bodily pain to admit it. "Potter is the only hope anyone has to defeating the Dark Lord – why would I want him dead?"
"Are you – are you not a traitor, then, Severus?" McGonagall said quietly. Her face was still very pale, but Harry thought he saw hope in her eyes.
"No, Minerva," Snape replied just as quietly, "I am not. I have never betrayed the Order of the Phoenix since becoming a part of it, not without Dumbledore's full knowledge that what I did, I had to do."
"But Emmeline," a voice said from the back, and Harry saw that Hestia Jones was speaking through tears. "She is dead. You cannot tell me that Dumbledore let – that Dumbledore let you betray her?"
Snape was very quiet for a moment, but compelled to speak, said, "Dumbledore did not know until too late that I had been forced to give the Dark Lord that information. I was detained, and he had no time to alert her."
"That's all?" Hestia whispered. "That is all? Not a word of regret that Emmeline Vance is dead because of you, not a single word –"
"And how many others have lived because of me?" Snape snarled. "I have saved you fools time and time again, my information has kept you safe, but I cannot always protect all of you! This is a war, some of you will die, and I refuse to let you lay the blame for that squarely at my feet."
"I hate you," Hestia said softly. "I would that you had died instead."
"And I that I had died for Dumbledore, but I did not, and there is still a war to fight," Snape said through labored breathing.
"Why," Hagrid said roughly, his voice aching. "Did ye have ta kill him?"
Snape closed his eyes. "I swore an unbreakable vow to Narcissa Malfoy that if her son did not succeed, I would take his place."
"And that isn't treachery?" Podmore bellowed. "You enter into collusion with the Death Eaters to kill Dumbledore, and you don't think yourself a traitor?"
"I did not know what terms Narcissa Malfoy would name when she asked me to swear!" Snape retorted. "Would you have had me refuse, with that bitch Bellatrix watching and Pettigrew set to spy on me in my own house? She asked me to swear to protect Draco – and I swore at first to find out what she wanted me to protect him from! I told Dumbledore as soon as I was able that I would lay down my life rather than uphold the vow, and he refused. He was dying – did you not know that? – his flesh had begun to rot away, and I knew that when I treated him. He chose to die, and let me continue on as a spy. That is why he gave me the Defense post – the one we all know is cursed, Merlin knows how – because he knew that no matter what happened I could not remain at Hogwarts after this year."
Harry stared. The man's wand was still intact. Snape was telling the truth. "Then that was what it all meant, your argument with Dumbledore," he said wonderingly. "The one were you told him you didn't want to – didn't want to do whatever it was any longer…"
"How did you know about that conversation?" Snape snapped, looking furious. "In your invisibility cloak, no doubt, I've always told Dumbledore you shouldn't be allowed to have one –"
"Er," Harry said, but Hagrid saved him.
"I'm the one as overheard ye, Snape," Hagrid said, sounding none too friendly, though not quite as murderous as Harry had expected. "Shoulda known you were up to sommat fishy."
"That was – private," Snape breathed angrily.
"But you were arguing with him, weren't you?" Harry continued. "About the vow, weren't you?"
"Yes! Yes, Potter, about the vow! I told him that I was ready to die, that the Order needed him more than me, but Dumbledore insisted, and I could not disobey him. I did not want to, but I obeyed.
"And Draco Malfoy," McGonagall said coolly. "Potter insisted all this year that he was involved in the attacks – and I do apologize, Harry, for disbelieving you. And if you knew that Malfoy had been ordered to kill Albus, knew he was a Death Eater – why did you not alert the Order of the night he'd decided to break open Hogwarts to the Death Eaters?"
"Because Draco Malfoy is an idiot taught to hate me by his Aunt Bellatrix," Snape growled, "And a very accomplished Occlumens for his age." This last was directed at Harry, who refused to flush. "He did not wish to tell me because he wanted the glory all to himself."
"Funny," Harry said, furiously, "How Malfoy who wanted to be a Death Eater couldn't manage to kill anyone, and you could."
"Draco Malfoy is a child," Snape replied angrily. "Who was told that if he did not succeed, his mother and father would be killed by the Dark Lord. Fenrir Greyback kept in his mother's home as a threat, his father in Azkaban – the boy had no way out!"
"You still care about him, don't you!" Harry yelled. "You know what happened that day you found us in the bathroom, Professor? He tried to put me under the Cruciatus Curse!"
"I know," Snape growled, "But Albus Dumbledore thought there was something in him worth saving, and so did I."
There was silence.
"Does anyone have anything left to ask?" McGonagall said quietly. "Because if not, I believe this Traitor's Court can be adjourned."
"I do," Harry grunted after a moment. "Fawkes. Why did he help you?"
"Because that was Albus Dumbledore's will," Snape replied flatly. "And Fawkes' last favor to him."
"But," Harry said, confused. "Dumbledore can't give any orders now, seeing as he's dead."
"But he has a portrait," Snape replied calmly. "And Fawkes has a will of his own."
"Enough," McGonagall said roughly, pulling her hands free from Moody and Aberforth. The circle of power broken, the runes faded away, and Snape's wand clattered onto the wooden floor.
"Moody, release him," the Transfiguration Professor said. "It is clear to me – and to everyone else here, I have no doubt – that this man is innocent of treachery."
Slowly, Moody complied, looking less than elated. When done, Snape stood, slowly, and retrieved his wand.
"Why did you come here tonight?" Lupin asked, suddenly. "Severus. Why, when you knew we thought you had betrayed us?"
"Because Dumbledore died so that I could continue to be the Order's spy," Snape spat out. "What good is the spy if his information goes nowhere?"
Harry remembered something, suddenly. "Professor – Snape –" He struggled for a suitable term for the man.
"Yes, Potter, what do you want?" Snape said with a sneer. "Believe it or not, I have information that might be of use to the Order of the Phoenix."
"Which I'm a part of, now," Harry said roughly. "I had a dream, another dream like the ones I had in my fifth year. Only this was about you."
Snape was paying attention, now. "Dumbledore told me those had stopped," he said, looking confused. "The Dark Lord had decided to block you out of his mind because of the risk."
"I saw – I saw Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange, talking. He doesn't trust you. Voldemort. It was – it was right after some kind of meeting, and Bellatrix was angry, she was furious, and he was consoling her by saying that he wanted her to – to spy on you."
Everybody was listening now, not just Snape. "When did you have this dream, Potter?" Snape asked quietly, still massaging his wrists from where he had been bound.
"Today," Harry breathed. "This morning."
"That can't be possible," Snape said flatly. "The Dark Lord called us together on the fifth."
"Well, that's what happened," Harry said stubbornly. "And I thought you should know."
Snape looked genuinely worried. "This is deliberate," he said at last. "The Dark Lord chose to let you see this, Potter. And I want to know why."
Harry shrugged. "Well, I don't know. But I thought you should know that you're in danger."
"Snape," Moody growled, from where he stood against the wall, his arms crossed. "You said you had information for us. Well?"
"My information, Moody," Snape hissed, "Concerns a change in the Dark Lord's tactics. He has reshuffled the Death Eaters following the Azkaban Breakout. And he has named me his top lieutenant, replacing Bellatrix Lestrange and demoting her from his inner circle."
"So that's why she was so angry!" Harry breathed in sudden comprehension.
Snape made no acknowledgement. "And apart from that, he's decided to take much more direct action. He's done with random strikes and quiet assassinations. He's decided to bring open warfare to the outlying settlements in the country. Any town with three or fewer wizarding families is at risk – and any family that's ever shown itself opposed to him especially. I don't know who he's chosen to strike first, but I'll send word as soon as I do. I can't come often – the Dark Lord has set spies on me – but I will be in communication as frequently as possible. If you can, alert the Diggories, Augusta Longbottom, the Moons, the boots, Griselda Marchbanks, and any of you who live in the country, be on the alert. I – I am afraid I will likely be at any attack," he said with some effort. "He has changed my obligations along with my rank. Bellatrix Lestrange had charge of the Dark Lord's warriors, she led combat operations. And that is now my post."
"What do you plan to do about that?" Aberforth Dumbledore said, speaking for the first time since Snape's capture. He had not spoken once during the trial, Harry realized.
"I will do my best to minimize damage," Snape growled. "I am the Order's spy. I must maintain my cover if I am to continue to serve as the Order's spy. And that means I must be the Dark Lord's Death Eater. I cannot use the excuse any longer to the Dark Lord that I would break my cover by killing visibly, as he no longer thinks I serve the Order. So I will have to kill."
Aberforth stared at Snape, who could not meet the man's eyes. "I hope," Aberforth said quietly, "My brother was right to die for you."
Little was said after that. Snape left quickly, informing McGonagall that he would be missed before long – he'd conjured some kind of simulacrum, but it would only last a few hours – and departed. People were exhausted. Hestia Jones had been weeping steadily since the end of the Court, and Tonks had been trying, without avail, to console her. Moody and McGonagall had a very quiet, very furious argument, and from the snatches Harry overheard, it seemed to be about Snape's trial in the Wizengamot. Molly Weasley and Arthur were talking in hushed voices about security at the Burrow.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione pulled up a few chairs to one side of the room, and had a talk. "Well," Harry said.
"Don't blame yourself, mate, for thinking he was guilty," Ron said forcefully. "Dumbledore didn't explain himself properly to you, and Snape's always going to be a murdering bastard no matter who he works for."
Harry shook his head, not quite consoled. "I suppose," he said, "But – Ron, Hermione, I would have killed him if I could. Lupin would have killed him. And it would have been murder."
Hermione nodded, slowly. "But Harry, you helped calm Lupin down. And you acted in the heat of the moment. Nobody can blame you after what you'd seen Snape do."
"He hated my parents," Harry said, ashamed to feel tears pricking in his eyes. "He hated them, and he gave them away to Voldemort. I don't care who he's working for, I'm never, ever going to forgive him for that. Once the war's over, we have a score to settle." He clenched his wand as he said this, his knuckles going white.
"We need to get some sleep," Hermione said firmly. "We have a lot to talk about tomorrow, what with – well, R.A.B." This she said in a hushed whisper, and Harry remembered his excitement and elation only a few hours before.
"I'm going to go talk to Mum," Ron said, standing suddenly. "I need to make things right, in case – well. I don't want this to be like Percy."
Harry and Hermione watched him as he approached Molly, who had been leaning against the kitchen sink, her head in her hands. Ron patted her gently on the back, and she looked up at him, tears in her eyes. Harry looked away. He had the feeling that this was very private.
Then something came to him in a rush, and he cursed himself for having been so stupid as to overlook it. He got up suddenly, leaving Hermione looking very confused.
"Professor McGonagall," he said urgently, interrupting her argument with Moody.
"What is it, Potter?" she snapped. "Can't it wait?"
"Professor, Dumbledore's portrait, when can I see it?"
"What ever do you mean?" she said, frowning.
"I want to ask him whether I can tell the Order about the – about what we were doing the night he died."