Chapter Eight: An Echo of a Nightmare

'All around me children, wounded and bleeding, were calling for their fathers and their mothers, brothers and sisters- but oh so many of their cries went unanswered. The Death Eaters were gone, but the screams continued as families realised the horror of what had occurred. I did what I could to help, cast all the healing spells I knew... While searching for survivors I found a little girl huddled under the train, I handed her to an Auror who looked just as shocked, just as lost as everyone else. I realised then our world was changed irrevocably.' -a reporter for The Daily Prophet describing the aftermath of the Kings Cross Massacre, from The Daily Prophet archives.

The delectable aroma of warm buttermilk scones wafted from Hailey's takeaway bag, eliciting an audible growl from her stomach. Sheepishly, Hailey glanced around but the dingy street was empty.

Working through breakfast and lunch had seemed like a good idea at the time, but after being visibly distracted while on the Floo with Dale Entwhistle, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Clark had pointed out a break wouldn't hurt and would probably do her a world of good ('Miss Ruggles and I can hold down the fort- you can even go to that Muggle place down the street you love so much').

It was Bertha Jorkins who had introduced her to the corner bistro and now whenever Hailey went to Prinny's she could not help but feel a pang of sadness. Hailey admittedly had not known Bertha Jorkins all that well. They had worked together organising the Triwizard Tournament; Bertha gave reports to Hailey, and Hailey shared the reports with Minister Oblansk and Felix Bonaccord, the Mugwumps of Bulgaria and France respectively, to ensure all three countries were in agreement. This led to Hailey and Bertha eating dinner together when the work ran late or they wanted to express the frustrations that went hand-in-hand with the organisation of such an event.

When the conversations turned personal, Bertha, a Muggle-born, told Hailey what it was like growing up with the idea magic was something only found in storybooks. A couple of days before she left for her vacation to Albania, Bertha got it in her head that she and Hailey should head down to a Muggle place down the street for lunch. Hailey objected, but Bertha managed to persuade her ('If you take off your pointed hat, your robes will blend in well enough, though you won't look too fashionable') and she had a marvellous time.

Hailey smiled sadly at the memory. As she made her way back to the visitor's entrance to the Ministry, her mind turned to her new campaign manager. When Hailey informed Clark of her candidature, he had written to Alice Ruggles straight away, saying she was 'exactly who we need.' Hailey trusted Clark implicitly; however, even she was sceptical at the first meeting.

Alice Ruggles couldn't have been a day over twenty-five (unless she was drinking Beautifying Potions by the cauldronful), wore her hair in a radical style Hailey recognised from the cover of Magical Hairdos and Don'ts and was dressed in a bizarre assortment of Muggle clothing that even Hailey knew was far from accurate. Yet, the witch quickly proved herself to be an outstanding speechwriter and a public relations genius. She was extremely well-connected and it seemed everyone owed her a favour. Alice Ruggles did not believe Voldemort had resurrected but flatly told Hailey that it didn't matter ('You're the candidate, I'm merely your campaign manager').

Suddenly a black cat streaked out from behind a rubbish bin and across Hailey's path. Casting her eyes about for the source of the disturbance, Hailey felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as she was gripped by the overwhelming sense something was dreadfully wrong. She dropped the takeaway bag and pulled out her wand, her breath coming in short gasps.

But there was no one, just the rubbish bin and the telephone booth that led into the Ministry. Hailey sighed in relief. No one's there. With all this worry about You-Know-Who, it's a wonder any of us can keep our heads on straight, she bent down to retrieve her takeaway bag. Now the scones will probably be squished-

And a red streak of light flew over her head.

Screaming, she whirled around in time to see a flurry of black robes- a wand pointed at her- then, blackness.

The arrival of one Harry Potter at number twelve, Grimmauld Place put Black into an ebullient mood and Severus into a corresponding foul one. Two days after his fifteenth birthday, Potter was attacked by dementors and while he had managed to fend them off the use of magic resulted in Potter being threatened with expulsion.

On any other occasion Severus would have been overjoyed with the opportunity to no longer suffer the presence of James Potter's son at Hogwarts, but under the present circumstances expelling Potter would have been synonymous with handing him over to the Dark Lord and Severus had grudgingly agreed the boy should be moved to Grimmauld Place without delay.

A position he was now regretting.

Throwing aside the revised edition of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi he had been perusing, he paced about the dimly-lit kitchen. In the adjacent room, he could hear Weasley and Potter in hysterics over the latest of Black's exaggerated tales of his youth.

Potter's encounter with the dementors was troubling in a multitude of ways. Severus had no intelligence, no inkling the Dark Lord was planning such an attempt. If He was behind it and had not informed one of His most trusted servants, Severus's role as a spy was in serious jeopardy. But if it was the work of someone in the Ministry, as the Headmaster believed, it made him wonder who and why. If someone in the Ministry had it in for Potter there was no guarantee the boy's disciplinary hearing would be conducted judiciously... not to mention the possibility that the dementors were part of some convoluted plot to ensure Potter was expelled. At this point, nothing could be ruled out.

And if that was not enough, Severus was forced to spend much of his time at Grimmauld Place. It was oppressive, like sleeping under a lethifold, and he was just waiting for it to smother him. Everywhere were palpable reminders of all the memories he strove so hard to avoid and even if he was fortunate enough to escape them during his waking hours they were lying in wait to ambush him while he slept. In his dreams he followed a solitary pair of dusty footprints up an old, decrepit staircase to a door hanging ajar, he swung open the door and then- shouting and fighting- a flash of green light.

And then he would awaken, his heart hammering and drowning in guilt so overwhelming it felt like a sin even to breathe.

Severus halted his pacing and cast his eyes about the room, seeking a distraction. His eyes fell on a discarded copy of that morning's Daily Prophet lying on the middle of the table; the rag had been devoting equal ink to both Lucius Malfoy and Hailey Ahlgrim, presumably because it was unclear yet who would be most profitable for the newspaper's interests. The front page reported on both a speech given by Malfoy and a charity, some sort of hospital, Ahlgrim had founded. Probably the type of hospital that would give Ahlgrim plenty of opportunities to have her picture taken surrounded by sick little dunderheads and appear compassionate. The media fell for the trick every time. Idiots.

Albus held Ahlgrim in high esteem and firmly believed she would make an excellent Minister for Magic, that she would be good for the cause. Severus agreed she could be useful, especially with her promise to aid Potter, but to Severus that didn't mean much. Even flobberworms had their uses.

Just then there was a startled shriek from the next room, followed by a loud pop. Cursing, he stalked into the room. If another one of the Weasley twin's infernal gadgets has gone off-

Severus stopped short.

Moody, who had Flooed into the room (Grimmauld Place was warded against Apparition), was holding a limp body by the scruff of the robes. In her fright, Granger had upturned an inkwell over what was undoubtedly a verbose and discursive essay while Black, who had transformed at the sight of a stranger in Grimmauld Place, cowered behind the sofa.

Though the room was sparsely lit and the witch's face was obscured by a curtain of hair, Severus knew precisely who it was. 'What the hell did you do, Moody?' he snarled, stepping forward.

'She's only Stunned,' Moody said, dropping Ahlgrim carelessly to the floor. He looked pleased with himself, a hunter returning triumphantly home with a kill.

'I should have known this errand would have been beyond the scope of your ability,' Severus said cuttingly.

He had first reluctantly approached Shacklebolt to escort Ahlgrim to Order Headquarters. Shacklebolt had declined, saying he couldn't give those at the Ministry reason to be suspicious. The Headmaster suggested he appoint Moody to the task. When Severus had passed along the order, Moody had been less than pleased, revolted in fact, at having to take orders from a Death Eater.

Severus should have known Moody would retaliate, but that he did so against an unrelated third party was a cowardly move that made Severus grit his teeth.

He pointed his wand at Ahlgrim. 'Rennervate.'

She groaned into the worn carpet, then froze as memory returned to her.

'Constant vigilance, lass,' Moody growled. 'If I were a Death Eater you'd be dead now.'

Ahlgrim raised her head and looked about the room in confusion. 'Mr Moody?' she question blearily, spotting him.

Moody braced himself against the mantle and leaned forward, his arm extended. Ahlgrim refused his offer of assistance and climbed to her feet, peering at the wizard suspiciously.

'Mr Moody,' she said, trembling with the effort to keep the reins on her temper, 'if you have an explanation, any explanation at all for spiriting me away without so much as a by-your-leave, I shall like to hear it. Now.'

Moody jerked his head in Severus's direction. 'He asked me to fetch you.'

'Fetch me? Fetch me?' she repeated shrilly, rounding on him. Severus, who had never had an occasion to see her angered, was surprised by how well she wore her righteous indignation. 'You asked him to-to abduct me? I thought he was a Death Eater! I thought-' Abruptly her anger fled, leaving her face pale. She crossed her arms and turned away.

Severus sneered. 'My orders to Moody were for him to escort you here. I believed it would be less suspicious for you to be in the company of an ex-Auror than myself. With Fudge's edict in place, I did not wish to give your colleagues something to gossip about.'

Her eyes searched his for a moment, then she turned to Moody. 'You,' she said, her voice hard, 'are a disgrace. You could be thrown in Azkaban for a stunt like this! Aurors are given great power, but power to aid those less capable, not to,' she gestured vaguely as she searched for the right words, 'use for personal gain or amusement; you may no longer be an Auror, but the basic rules of decency still apply!'

Ahlgrim's speech, vehement as it was, did not make any impression on Moody. Seeing this, Ahlgrim spat, 'I ought to transfigure you into a slug!'

Severus sincerely hoped she would, but to his disappointment, she merely took several deep breaths to calm herself down. To distract herself, she began to look about the room. 'What is this place?' she asked.

'Can't tell you that,' Moody said gruffly.

She scowled. 'I feel I deserve to know where I am at least.'

Severus was enraged over Moody's idiocy, and then his attempts to pin said idiocy on himself. So, keeping his eyes on Moody, he said, 'You are standing in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.' Moody's real eye narrowed, his magical one spinning toward Snape, while Ahlgrim took in her surroundings with new appreciation.

'Snape,' Moody growled, 'the nature of this place is not to be bandied-'

'Quiet, Moody,' Ahlgrim ordered firmly, 'At this moment you are hardly one to lecture on unbecoming conduct.' Ahlgrim glanced at the children sitting on the sofa. 'Why did you want me here, Professor?'

'Your offer of assistance to Potter, you have not rescinded it?'

She frowned. 'Of course not, I gave my word.'

'Potter broke the Statute of Secrecy,' Severus explained, 'and the Ministry is now threatening to expel him from Hogwarts and confiscate his wand.'

'I only used it because of the dementors!' Potter exclaimed, bursting out of his seat.

Though she tried, Ahlgrim was unable to fully conceal her surprise. 'And you want me to make all of this go away?' she asked, incredulous.

Weasley nodded emphatically.

'Surely a witch in your position wouldn't be completely useless in that regard?'

Ahlgrim gave him a wry smile. 'Is that an attempt of flattery, Professor?' she ignored his sneer. 'I shall do what I can.' She cleared her throat. 'Mipsy!'

With a pop, a house-elf appeared. Bowing low, she asked in a squeaky voice, 'What does Miss be wanting?'

Ahlgrim crouched before the creature. 'Mipsy, I need you to go to my office at the Ministry and inform Mr Brown I have been detained and that my meeting with Mr Laukkanen will have to be rescheduled. Also, I need you to grab the briefcase off the top of my desk; I did not have time to fetch it before I was abducted.' Ahlgrim cast a sidelong glare toward Moody.

The house-elf noticed and, tugging on one long, bat-like ear asked, 'Does Miss wish for Mipsy to beats the bad wizard with a skillet?'

Ahlgrim shook her head. 'That shall not be necessary.'

'As you says.' The elf bowed and disappeared.

On the sofa, Granger's lips were pressed into a thin line. It reminded him sharply of Minerva. Severus supposed she was still into that SPEW thing Draco had told him about.

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 'Potter, explain to Ahlgrim how you got yourself into this predicament.' And then swept out of the room to make himself a cup of strong tea.

When Severus returned, Moody had left, a fact for which he was grateful. It was best to handle one bane of his existence at a time.

'The dementors,' Ahlgrim asked, riffling through her briefcase, 'did they appear to attack you or your cousin first?'

Potter was visibly thrown by the question. 'Er... there was one at each end of the alley...'

'So you were standing between one of the dementors and your cousin...'

Potter nodded. 'Dudley ran straight into the other one.'

'Who cares who the dementors attacked first?' Weasley asked, 'What difference does it make?'

Ahlgrim pinched the bridge of her nose. 'It is doubtful the dementors were sent after Harry at all.'

'What?' the students chorused.

'Oh, they were meant to hurt Harry, no doubt about that,' she said darkly. 'You see, Azkaban keeps meticulous records of each dementor, so if someone drew up paperwork for dementors to apprehend Harry Potter it would have raised far too much notice; no one would have signed off on it. But if the order was for the dementors to apprehend Dudley Dursley, and Kiss him if he ran, or anyone who attempted to aid the "fugitive" in his escape...' She shook her head.

It was all so hideously simple.

Severus leaned against the mantle. 'And the possibility the dementors received their orders from someone other than the Ministry?'

Ahlgrim's eyes flashed. 'There are no dementors outside of the Ministry's control!' she said forcefully. Taking a breath she continued, 'Dementors are dreadful creatures, among the very worst. When I am near them I hear terrible, terrible things...' She looked away. 'But they have their uses, and ever since the dementors bound themselves to Azkaban they have remained loyal to us. During the War, not one, not a single one, strayed. The dementors are the only thing keeping some of Britain's darkest wizards and witches in Azkaban.

'The records we need are kept at the prison; if you leave the Floo open, I can grab the records, and then return here without having to name the destination,' Ahlgrim suggested, though she looked anxious with the idea of going to Azkaban.

After Severus had met Ahlgrim, he had done some reading up on the family, mostly from the archives of The Daily Prophet. It was there he learned, while reading through old issues yellowed with age, that not only were Hailey Ahlgrim's mother and brother killed in the King's Cross Massacre, Hailey Ahlgrim had been present for the attack. It did not take a Seer to know what Ahlgrim heard each time a dementor drew near.

'They allow anyone in the Ministry to just waltz into Azkaban?' he asked scornfully.

'As a member of the Wizengamot, I am fully authorised,' she replied coolly. 'And since I am capable of producing a corporeal Patronus I do not require an escort.' Seeing his raised eyebrow, Ahlgrim raised her wand. 'Expecto Patronum!' A silvery eagle flew from the end of Ahlgrim's wand. The Patronus soared to the ceiling with the usual avian grace, its ghostly form casting flickering light along the walls until Ahlgrim waved her wand and the bird dissolved.

Ahlgrim took a pinch of Floo powder from her pocket and threw it into the fire which flared bright green, though she did not step into the hearth. Severus arched his eyebrow in silent query. Though she may not be required an escort, he was certain one would be helpful.

She shook her head. 'It must be done.' Moving quickly, as though she wished to proceed before her courage deserted her, she stepped into the flames, named her destination, and vanished.

The parlour descended into silence. The students were loath to speak in Severus's presence and Black was unable to speak at all. Black glanced at Potter, who patted him on the head. The ancient grandfather clock in the adjacent room rang dolefully, informing them all it was three o'clock.

The minutes ticked by; Weasley had just begun to fidget uncomfortably when the fire burned green once more and Ahlgrim stumbled out of the flames. Her wand fell from her trembling fingers and landed on the stone hearth with a clatter. She mumbled incoherently before her eyes rolled up to the back of her head and she pitched forward.

Reacting quickly, Severus threw out his arm and managed to catch her before she hit the floor. Her hair fell over his arm, he could feel it even through his thick robes. While her weight wasn't cumbersome, it made him uncomfortable for reasons he could not identify.

'A little help would be appreciated, Black,' Severus drawled. Being slender Ahlgrim was easily supported, but Severus knew after a dementor encounter it was best not to jostle the victim. Still Black remained stubbornly in his Animagus form, even going so far as to look the other way as if Severus were addressing someone else.

Granger shoved Weasley. 'Ron!' she hissed, 'Go help Professor Snape!'

Weasley was about ready to protest, but then caught sight of Granger's face. He shuffled forward uneasily. 'What's wrong with her?'

Granger, who could not resist the compulsion to answer any question posed in her general vicinity, began in her most know-it-all voice, 'She is-'

'Suffering from dementor exposure.' Severus finished with a glare. 'Which is no surprise given- grab her feet Weasley- the sheer number of dementors in Azkaban.'

Weasley bumped her feet against the armrest and Ahlgrim let out an obnoxiously pitiful groan. He glared at Weasley, who mumbled, 'Sorry.' Ahlgrim began to struggle weakly and continued to twitch and mumble after she was placed on the sofa.

Dementor exposure this severe needed prompt attention unless he wanted to run the risk of Ahlgrim suffering from chronic melancholy or depression. Severus grabbed Black by the scruff of the neck and dragged him into the kitchen.

'Open the liquor cabinet.' he ordered, releasing Black and hurriedly preparing a cup of hot chocolate. (Ever since Fletcher started coming to Grimmauld Plack, anything stronger than cooking sherry was kept under wand and key.)

Black reverted to his usual form and tapped the liquor cabinet with his wand. To Severus's surprise, Black did so without so much as a caustic remark. Severus set the steaming goblet of hot chocolate on the table and reached into his pocket to withdraw a small pouch. Severus always carried an assortment of potions with him, everything from Veritaserum to Blood-Replenishing Potion, for situations such as this. He added half a phial of Pepperup Potion to the hot chocolate. He didn't have a stirring rod; a spoon would have to do.

The liquor cabinet was exceedingly well-stocked: there were bottles of fine wines, rums, ports, scotches and brandies. Pushing aside the bottles of cheap swill that Black drank regularly, Severus purposely snatched the oldest, most-expensive bottle of liquor he could find: a bottle of port with a yellowed label in Portuguese and a date of 1809. Ignoring Black's outrage, Severus popped the cork and poured a liberal amount into the goblet. Hot chocolate, Pepperup Potion and a splash of alcohol was an old home remedy against dementor exposure, colloquially known as 'Fire water'.

Severus grabbed the mixture and strode back into the parlour; Black followed once again in his Animagus form.

Granger was in the middle of a lecture. 'A dementor is born when a lethifold swallows a person. It uses the victim's body to become corporeal but is left without a soul or any happy memories at all. That's why dementors try to drain the happiness, or even the souls of those around them- they're trying to fill the void. The book goes on to say-' She was speaking rapidly, trying to distract herself from the ashen witch lying on the sofa. When she saw Severus, she clamped her mouth shut with an audible click.

He stalked toward the sofa and looked down at Ahlgrim. Her eyes were moving restlessly under her eyelids and she twitched spasmodically, as though plagued with a high fever. Leaning over, he pinched her nose shut. She struggled for a moment, tossing her head to and fro, eventually opening her mouth with a gasp. Severus poured the mixture down her throat and forced her mouth shut.

Ahlgrim coughed and sputtered and continued to cough as she came to. 'Wh-what...?' After a minute's struggle, she managed to prop herself on her elbows and looked about the room with unfocused eyes.

'Drink this.' He shoved the half-empty goblet under her nose.

She held it loosely and stared into its depths with haunted eyes. Taking a deep breath she downed the drink without complaint, though she made a disgusted face.

Ahlgrim refused to meet his eyes, instead, she stared at the floor, lost in her ruminations. Eventually, she became aware of the eyes on her and regained her composure. She removed a scroll from her robes, broke the wax seal and unfurled it on the low table in front of her, the students peering over her shoulder. Ahlgrim donned a pair of spectacles she retrieved from a pocket and scanned the document. She cleared her throat and said thickly, 'My suspicions were indeed correct; on the second of August an order was drawn up ordering two dementors to arrest Dudley Dursley, a wizard believed to be responsible for a string of murders down in Kent, and Kiss him if he attempted to flee or Kiss anyone who sought to prevent the dementors from carrying out the task.'

'Who signed the order?' Severus demanded.

Ahlgrim's fingers trailed down the document. There was a beat of silence, then the students glared at Ahlgrim accusingly, who stared at the parchment unbelievingly. 'That's... that's not my handwriting.'

At the bottom of the scroll, in a tidy script, was Ahlgrim's signature.

'They forged my signature!' Ahlgrim was incredulous. 'I don't believe it!'

'Now we have seen the darkest of human hearts,' he drawled sardonically, 'not only that a person would dare attempt to rob a boy of his soul, but that the same individual would have the audacity, the malevolency to forge a bureaucrat's signature to do so.' Ahlgrim turned a deaf ear to his comment, which was unfortunate for he had been hoping for her to look at him so he would have the opportunity to peer into her mind and discern whether her astonishment was feigned or genuine.

He searched his mind for a spell or potion that would be applicable to the situation but came up empty. Severus found it unlikely Ahlgrim would suggest retrieving the documents from Azkaban if she was the one who signed it in the first place. Either way, it was imperative he find out who signed the document. He was about to ask Ahlgrim which Ministry workers would be authorised to visit Azkaban when it occurred to him that Fraudaire's Speciality Goods might sell something that would be of use in this instance. Fraudaire sold quills designed to replicate the signatures of famous wizards and witches; it was not that far of a stretch to suppose she sold a device able to detect forgeries or gave some indication of who signed the document.

A decision made, Severus informed them he would return momentarily and stalked out of the room before any of them could protest.

Once outside Grimmauld Place, Severus ducked behind a clump of hedges to Disapparate. It was mid-afternoon, however, Knockturn Alley was noticeably more crowded than usual. When he reached Fraudaire's Specialty Goods he was unable to converse with Fraudaire, as she was preoccupied with her customers. After handing a goblin a small, metal tool he quickly shoved into his pocket, Severus managed to catch her eye and she hurried over.

'Good afternoon, sir,' Victoria said formally, conscious of the others milling about. 'What'd you need?'

In a low voice, Severus explained his need for a device that would be able to detect forgeries in a document.

'I can do you one better,' she said with a smirk. She went to a nearby shelf where she picked up a delicate quill-shaped piece of glass full of what appeared to be ink. 'That's an Ink Identifier,' she said, handing it to him, 'It'll tell you who signed it. Just place the tip on the signature- that's all there is to it.'

He followed her to the front counter where she rang the item up on her cash register. 'How much?' he asked.

'Seventeen Galleons, six Sickles and twelve Knuts,' Victoria said.

He glared at her. 'I could get it at Borgin & Burkes for fifteen Galleons.' That was a lie, of course, but Severus was rather irked that he was being forced to pay out of pocket for such things, especially when he had given her forty Galleons a week ago for some Tentacula seeds. However, the hag standing behind him was eavesdropping and was now looking at her purchase (a bottle of Paralysing Potion), clearly having second thoughts.

Fraudaire saw this too and scowled. 'Alright, alright, 'ow's fourteen Galleons even?'

Severus smirked and pulled out his money bag.

He was able to get back inside Grimmauld Place without setting off any of the portraits. In the parlour, Ahlgrim was hunched over the low table and scribbling on a scroll with a large, plum-coloured quill. '...On behalf of the Wizengamot,' she read aloud as she wrote, 'I, Hailey Altheda Ahlgrim, acting as Interrogator, rule that the accused, Harry James Potter, is not guilty of violating the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute in performing a Patronus Charm, and in performing said charm in the presence of a Muggle and in a Muggle-inhabited area, having acted within the bounds of the Decree of Reasonable Restriction of Underaged Sorcery Clause Seven, paragraph nine...' Her quill continued to scratch along the parchment for several minutes, while the smiles on the students' faces grew wider. Ahlgrim signed her name with a flourish, rolled up the scroll and placed it in her briefcase. Still, she appeared troubled. 'Now, if we could only find out who sent the dementors after Harry in the first place...'

'We can,' Severus said tersely, unrolling the scroll Ahlgrim had gotten from Azkaban. He placed the tip of the Ink Identifier on the forged signature. The ink from the signature was sucked into the glass quill. For a second, nothing happened, then ink began to spew out of the tip. The ink crawled like liquid caterpillars, quickly forming what Severus recognised as fingers grasping the quill. The ink began to collect, forming a fat hand and wrist, which extended to an arm, then a shoulder; Ahlgrim stood and circled around the rapidly forming statue, her arms crossed and forehead creased in concentration. Another thick arm grew from the opposite shoulder with what appeared to be large rings on the hand's fingers. The legs and body quickly followed, revealing that the perpetrator was a rather squat individual. Then the neck and face began to appear.

'She looks like a toad.' Weasley said loudly, looking at the now completed statue.

Ahlgrim sucked in her breath.

Severus looked at her sharply. 'You recognise her?'

Ahlgrim's hands were clenched, her face a mask of fury. 'I do.' Her voice was clipped, betraying only a hint of her simmering rage.

Abruptly, Ahlgrim snatched her briefcase, reached into her robes and threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire.

'Where are you off to?' Severus demanded.

She glanced over her shoulder, her brown eyes hard. 'To have a little chat with the Minister.' And she disappeared into the flames.