Chapter Seventeen: Captain of A Sinking Ship

We must free ourselves of the hope that the sea will ever rest. We must learn to sail in high winds.

-Hanmer Parsons Grant

It was shortly before breakfast, but Severus's adrenaline had long ago petered out, which left him longing for his bed. But first, he would have to give an account to the Headmaster. It was a meeting he was not looking forward to. He knew what he had done, while perhaps not the moral choice, was the best one strategically. Dumbledore would disagree, but he could hardly undo what Severus had done, and though Dumbledore would no doubt reprimand, lecture and condemn, Severus's unique usefulness shielded him from any serious repercussions. Still, Severus knew the Order would view his self-appointed mission as further evidence he was not to be trusted.

Severus crested the sloping hill and paused to survey the castle. It was quiet in the summer but seemed to Severus like a hibernating creature- dormant, rather than peaceful.

Ahead of him, twenty metres or so, Severus saw the air shimmer like a mirage on a hot day. Another wizard might have thought it a trick of the morning light or supposed their exhaustion caused them to see things that were not there, but not him. His suspicious nature refused to accept such a benign explanation.

He gave no indication he had seen the disturbance in the air but deftly palmed his wand. Then, quick as lightning, he flicked his wrist and cast a Summoning Charm.

There was a startled cry, the space in the air rippled and then a cloak magicked with a Disillusionment Charm was his hand, and an agitated Hailey Ahlgrim appeared. She was dressed oddly, she wore fitted trousers and a loose blouse. 'What are you doing here?' he demanded.

After a moment's hesitation, Ahlgrim strode forward and snatched the cloak out of his hand. She glanced around the empty grounds nervously and wrapped the enchanted cloak around her shoulders.

Severus rolled his eyes, he cancelled the Disillusionment Charm, a diversion that also allowed him to cast a silent Muffliato. 'I refuse to converse with a disembodied head. Now I asked you a question, Ahlgrim. What brings you here?'

The witch looked about her with obvious paranoia but clearly came to the conclusion that her attempts to be inconspicuous had backfired and that wearing a cloak on a warm midsummer morning would, if anything, only draw attention. Ahlgrim efficiently transfigured the cloak into a ribbon which she tied to the end of her plait. 'The Dark Mark was cast over Hogsmeade last night- above a body. The Aurors have not identified him, but they're accepting it as what it is: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned. The Ministry will make the announcement within the hour. I wanted Albus to know as soon as possible.' She glanced up at him, guiltily. 'Due to my campaign, I've been moved to a secure location, but as zealous as the Aurors may be, they wouldn't interrupt a witch's bath. I'm not as paranoid as Alastor Moody, but that doesn't mean I don't keep a Portkey for emergencies.' Ahlgrim looked away. 'I must confess I am troubled by last night's events.'

Severus arched an eyebrow. 'I would have thought you would be relieved to no longer be "the barmy witch from Beauxbatons?"'

Ahlgrim scowled. For a politician, she had a rather expressive face. He wondered how much of a hindrance that was. He started up the path to the castle. Ahlgrim followed. 'You read Skeeter's article I see. Of course, I'm glad that the Ministry finally saw the writing on the wall, but…' she pursed her lips, 'I'm worried how He chose to reveal Himself. In the First War, there was King's Cross.' She spoke of the massacre with a cultivated sense of distance. 'I thought He would have a similar show of force in mind to announce His return. That was certainly His original plan, wasn't it- the night of the Third Task?'

More and more lately Ahlgrim had managed to surprise him. Severus did not like it one iota.

'It was something that weighed on me after our interview with Harry Potter,' she continued. 'It was all so elaborate. If all You-Know-Who needed was Harry Potter, there were easier ways to have abducted him. He could have had a Death Eater snatch him during a Hogsmeade visit, or I don't know, turn his toothbrush into a Portkey. But instead, He hatched the most convoluted scheme I've ever heard of: a Death Eater disguises himself as Alastor Moody to enter the boy into the Triwizard Tournament, which he had no right to be a part of I may add, then coaches the boy through the three tasks while ensuring he is the first to reach the Triwizard Cup which was turned into a Portkey.' Ahlgrim shook her head. 'The plot could have failed in a dozen of ways. No, You-Know-Who had a larger plan.' Despite the summer air, Ahlgrim shivered.

'Why do you say that?' She was correct, but Severus was curious at her reasoning.

'The Portkey,' she said simply. 'It should not have brought Harry Potter back to Hogwarts. You and I know most Portkeys only work one way. As a half-blood raised by muggles, Harry didn't know. His first encounter with one was only last summer. It was a loophole in the anti-Apparation wards around the school. That was the real plan. You-Know-Who would regain His body, then He and His Death Eaters would have used the Portkey to get to Hogwarts.' She shook her head. 'They would have taken everyone by surprise. He could have dumped the body of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, the symbol of our victory at His feet and then… The Minister was there, visiting dignitaries, members of the Wizengamot, the press…'

Severus remembered the instant the Dark Mark on his arm had burned black. He had looked around at the stadium of cheering people, the tangled branches of the hedge maze, and had come to the same horrifying conclusion.

'It would have… It would have made King's Cross look like nothing. Harry Potter did not know it, but by taking that Portkey, he saved many more lives than his own that night.'

'Good thing you didn't enlighten him,' Severus grumbled, 'his ego can hardly fit into his skull as it is.'

She halted for a moment, her face creased in confusion, then hurried to catch up with him. 'I was not certain then. Also, I did not want to have to explain the mechanism of Priori Incantatem wand echoes to him. It would have been cruel.'

'The truth often is.'

'You were in no hurry to tell him either, I noticed.'

Severus scoffed. 'You made it abundantly clear you were the one conducting the interview,' he reminded her, 'and that my input was not welcome.'

He saw Ahlgrim start to retort before she caught herself. 'How familiar are you with spell theory?' she asked instead.

Severus thought of the many spells he had invented, including one he had used last night that multiple texts had flatly called "impossible." 'Enough.'

'No need to get huffy. A wand echo of that nature is a rare phenomenon. I chatted with a Ministry Unspeakable about it, framing my questions in an academic light, of course.'

'Of course.' He doubted her bit of subterfuge fooled anyone, but kept that thought to himself. 'And what did your Unspeakable say?'

'What I suspected and I am sure you already know: the echoes produced by Priori Incantatem are mere facsimiles, that includes the echoes made by the Reverse Spell Effect of the Killing Curse. Anything the echoes said or did was based on the preconceived notions of how Harry Potter himself believed they would act. Echoes are not souls. The echo of Cedric Diggory told him to take the cup because Harry himself thought the Portkey would still work. The echoes of his parents… They simply said and did what Harry imagined they would have said and done in such a situation, he was actually the one directing their behaviour.'

Severus looked away.

'The Department of Mysteries has delved into similar avenues of research in the past.' Ahlgrim shook her head. 'But I doubt they ever made any progress. Bewitched paintings, echoes, they may bring some comfort, but they are merely complicated recordings in empty shells. There is no soul present; nothing has ever been brought back.'

A change of topic was sorely needed. 'What did Albus say when you told him about last night?'

Ahlgrim crossed her arms. Severus wondered how much of her apparent unease was due to the Dark Lord's 'return' and how much was due to the rift between herself and the Headmaster. 'Not much. I believe he has his concerns as well. It all seems…' she hesitated, searching for the right word.

'Manufactured?' Severus supplied, he pitched his voice for sardonic innocence.

Her eyebrows shot up, and she looked at him sharply.

'You're welcome.' The words were accompanied by a smirk and mocking dip of his head. It was a rare thing for Severus to actually be in a position where he could receive credit for his work. Dumbledore would have had to be informed of the subterfuge with the Dark Mark, the Order could hardly take full advantage of the situation if they were acting under false information. He had not originally intended to inform Ahlgrim, he had thought Dumbledore would be in a better position to do so, but while the Headmaster obfuscating Severus's involvement in the plot was originally part of the appeal, Severus had come to decide he would rather Ahlgrim see herself as owing a debt to him personally, rather than to the Order as a whole.

Ahlgrim squinted at him, then her eyes widened comically, and she took a step back. 'You? How? Only a Death Eater can summon a Dark Mark!'

'I seem to recall you saying if you discovered any member of the Order using Unforgivables you would prosecute to the full extent of the law. So you can hardly blame me for being reticent. Let's just suppose I happened to know where a Death Eater might have been and I happened to make a persuasive argument.' Morsmodre may be among the spells that could not be cast by a person under the Imperius Curse, but Severus doubted even the Auror Department knew that, so he felt confident lying to the Wizengamot Elder on that point.

'And the dead man?'

'A muggle. He was already dead,' Severus added.

Ahlgrim shifted uneasily. 'It was a ruse then,' she said to herself, 'you were just setting the stage.'

'This is a war, Ahlgrim. If you're afraid to get your hands dirty you'll be destroyed by those who aren't.'

'That sounds like something Rufus Scrimgeour would say.' The way she said it, Severus knew it was not a compliment. 'This is a time when standing by our laws and morals is most important.'

He scowled. He had risked his life to do Ahlgrim a bloody favour, and in return, she was lecturing him on morals and war as if she had any-

'Thank you.'

Severus froze. He knew he had not misheard her, but some part of his mind insisted he had.

'I am not going to ask how. I would have to have you arrested if I did.' Ahlgrim took a small step forward. 'I do not approve, but I know your motivations were just.' She laid her hand on his arm. Severus had to combat the urge not to wrench his arm away. His Dark Mark was directly below her hand. 'What you did… I want you to know it will not go to waste.' After a quick squeeze, she reached up to untie the Transfigured ribbon from her hair. 'Which means I have work to do.' She twirled her wand, and the ribbon was a cloak once more. Ahlgrim settled the cloak about her shoulders and set off down the hill. She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. 'This is not a debt, Professor Snape. Do not expect repayment.' Then she cast the Disillusionment Charm on the cloak and vanished from his sight.

When Hailey exited the bathroom of the seaside cottage she was to call home until the election, she was immediately met by a glowering Auror Gibbet. 'Guard duty is much easier when I'm in the same county as the person I am supposed to be protecting. I don't care if you left for campaign business, to watch a Quidditch game or to carry on an affair with a troll, next time, do me the courtesy of bringing me along.'

Hailey glanced back to the bathroom; she had not been long with Albus, only about ten minutes (but then she ran into Professor Snape), she thought her ruse would escape detection. She had even washed her hair.

'Give me some credit,' Exasperated, he rolled his eyes. 'If I was a witch in your position, slipping into the bathroom and using a Portkey is what I would have done. I knew the minute you were gone. I started belting out Celestina Warbeck songs, and you didn't say anything… Maybe you're tolerant of poor singing. But when I started yelling I had lit my trousers on fire and had a toad and a chicken egg and was going to have a go at making a basilisk and you still didn't say anything… Well, I doubt even you are that tolerant.' He regarded her gravely. 'I'm here to protect you. I can't do that if you're tearing off across the country. And I'm not only saying that because Scrimgeour would sack me if something happened to you.'

Chastised, Hailey nodded. 'I'm sorry, Auror Gibbet.' But she did not promise she wouldn't do it again.

His eyes narrowed. 'Miss Ruggles and Mr Brown arrived while you were taking your "bath".'

'Thank you.' Hoping to move past the stalemate, Hailey ventured down the narrow hall into the sitting room. Alice paced in front of the window, as she muttered under her breath and Clark sat on the sofa sorting what seemed to be half the scrolls from Hailey's office.

'How are Marigold and the children?' Hailey asked Clark.

'Shaken, but Marigold feels much safer with the Watch Wizard making regular patrols, thank you for that.'

Hailey nodded distractedly. She almost asked Alice how her fiance, Phillippe the broom maker, was handling things, but the witch was preoccupied.

So was Hailey for that matter. Moreover, she was disturbed by what Professor Snape had told her. The analytical part of Hailey had to admit his trick with the Dark Mark had been neatly done. The Dark Mark appearing after the Quidditch World Cup had been able to be explained away to most everyone's satisfaction as drunken revelling. With a corpse present, no one could make such an excuse again. But the rest of her was chilled. It took a certain amount of cold pragmatism, not to mention ruthlessness, to do what he had done. He had used an Unforgivable. And Scrimgeour was correct, whatever hapless Death Eater Snape had compelled to cast the Dark Mark was unlikely to survive Voldemort's displeasure.

Still, he had told her everything. Well, Hailey amended, not everything, but he had told her enough. Professor Snape had divulged his actions secure in the knowledge he was beyond the reach of any consequence.

In that, as much as it galled her to admit, he was correct.

It was strange, Hailey reflected, how quickly one's perceptions could shift and morph. When Professor Snape stood in her office during Professor Lupin's hearing and told her what happened in the dark tunnel all those years ago, Hailey had known far more than what he had said. Professor Snape had told her not to make assumptions about him, but Hailey did not need to, she had seen it in his memories. The bloodied jumper, the absolute terror in his eyes as he had screamed his friend's name, certain she was in horrible danger, suffering terrible pain and how he had charged forward regardless.

Hailey wondered which actions were closer to Professor Snape's true character. What he had done that night or what he had done last night. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. She wondered if Albus had known Professor Snape's involvement with the Dark Mark and if he didn't, whether that was good or bad.

And yet, she had thanked Professor Snape. Hailey was still wrestling with the moral implications, but she could not deny he had done her and her campaign a tremendous favour. Because of his lie, the world would know the truth. Hailey had dramatically and irrefutably been proven right about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name's return. And as a result, Lucius Malfoy would have an entire chicken coop's worth of eggs on his face.

Severus Snape may have torn the veil of secrecy away from Voldemort's return, but he had also woken a slumbering beast. The Death Eaters had been quiet on account of Lucius Malfoy's campaign, but now they were no longer beholden to that pretext. Perhaps they would remain dormant until after the election, a mere fortnight away.

After that…

With a start, Hailey noticed Clark's sharp eyes on her. She wondered how long she had been staring off into space. She gave him a half-hearted smile. Hailey had only just resigned herself to losing the election, but with the news of that morning, she was filled with an anxious sort of hope. 'You know what, Clark? I think we just might pull this off after all.'

'Here you go,' Alice handed her a scroll, hastily written and with words scratched out and other words underlined. 'This draft walks the line of not being insufferably superior, while still pointing out Malfoy was damn wrong about everything.' In conversation, Alice rarely spoke with the same poise imbued in the speeches she wrote. Hailey skimmed the speech. The tone was sombre, but there was also a greater amount of optimism than Hailey would have expected. 'We need to discuss our next steps,' Alice continued.

Alice was referring to the campaign, but Hailey was still the Supreme Mugwump of Britain and had to put that first. 'When I spoke to Mr Scrimgeour, I informed him I would be restarting the Wartime Survivor Fund. I will also send owls to Mugwump Bonaccord and Minister Oblansk and discuss whether they would be willing to open the doors of Beauxbaton and Durmstrang to any Hogwarts students that might-'

Alice snatched back the parchment. 'Absolutely not!'

Hailey blinked at her vehemence. 'Why ever not? It's not compulsory, and the Marchbanks Commission estimated it saved the lives of-'

'Doesn't matter,' Alice interrupted.

'The fact it saved lives doesn't matter?' she asked incredulously.

Alice let out a short breath. 'When you step onto the stage today the public is going to be shaken and scared. But more than anything they're going to be looking for a leader. You must present yourself as having unshakable faith in the courage and tenacity of the people. You're at the helm of this ship, and your first order of business isn't going to be telling the passengers the ship is sinking and start pointing to the lifeboats. The public needs to have the utmost confidence in the Ministry and in you. I don't care what you do as Minister for Magic, but my job is to make sure you're spending Christmas at Number Eleven Upping Street. And this,' she shook the parchment emphatically, 'is how we will do that. Not by bungling into another PR disaster the second after you've lucked out of your last one.'

Auror Gibbet glanced up from the armchair where he had been reading a worn copy of Challenges in Charming. 'Which PR disaster are you referring to? Her announcing You-Know-Who had returned or the fact she cursed a Justicier?'

Hailey winced. Besides her slipping away to go to Hogwarts, her role in Justicier Lapointe's injuries had obviously lowered her even further in Auror Gibbet's esteem. He probably thought she had a serious contempt for authority.

Alice gave Hailey an arch look as if to ask, 'Who stuck a broomstick up his backside?' But Hailey ignored it. She did not want to explain the source of Auror Gibbet's understandable ire. Hailey was surprised she had had the gall to ditch him. She had not allowed herself to think about it then, instead she had been focused on alerting the Order of what had occurred. Which, now she had time to reflect, had been foolish. Auror Shacklebolt, the wizard who had saved her from Dolores Umbridge, was a member of the Order. He would have been able to inform Dumbledore. Moreover, he would be privy to knowledge Hailey was not. Rufus Scrimgeour had spoken to her out of professional courtesy and concern for her safety. He would not have shared everything he knew.

In her mind, a snide voice taunted her about her compulsive need to feel like she was doing the right thing. At the thought of Professor Snape, Hailey's eyes darted to Auror Gibbet. How well had Snape covered his tracks? What if the Aurors discovered the murder on Hogsmeade Hill had been staged? And if they did, would suspicion fall on her?

Her goal when she had reached out to the Order of the Phoenix had been simple. She had wanted to provide monetary support, as well as clarify the tenuous relationship the group of vigilantes had with the law and make it clear the Order would not receive favourable treatment from her. Pretty, but empty words when it came down to it. Albus Dumbledore was guilty of subverting the selection of a Wizengamot Elder and Professor Snape was guilty of, at a minimum, theft, casting an Unforgivable, and legally culpable manslaughter in the second degree. In both instances, Hailey had done absolutely nothing.

And she had been involved with the Order of the Phoenix less than a month.

And if she became Minister for Magic, dealing with the Order would be the least of her worries. Her head throbbed, and Hailey thought longingly of taking a proper soak in the tub, the kind with suds and candles.

Instead, she addressed Auror Gibbet. 'You are correct. "PR disaster" ought to be plural. I was rightly punished for what happened to Justicier Lapointe. And I hope to earn your forgiveness for my actions earlier. It will not happen again.'

Auror Gibbet weighed the sincerity of her words, found them adequate and nodded.

Hailey had sought to establish ties between herself and the Order of the Phoenix. In return, the Order was building ties with her. Ties that bound and controlled her like puppet strings. Hailey would have to tread carefully around them. She would not allow her limited involvement with the Order to jeopardise her relationship with the Auror tasked with guarding her life. There would be no more clandestine jaunts to Dumbledore's office or Order Headquarters.

Her eyes strayed to Clark. While she had no intentions of divulging specifics, the time had come to bring Clark into the loop about the Order. She had solely missed his insight. He suspected something was amiss already. Hailey having dismissed him during Professor Lupin's hearing so she could speak with Professor Snape alone was something she had never done before. Usually, people had no issue speaking of sensitive topics in front of Clark, as if he was no more than part of the furniture. But at the time, Hailey had needed to have a frank discussion with Professor Snape, something impossible unless they were alone.

But there were other matters to address first. Hailey did not like the conclusion Alice had reached but had to agree her reasoning was sound. She nodded. 'I see your point, Alice. The start of Hogwarts's term is in a couple of days. There wouldn't be time to arrange for instructors who spoke English to be present at Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Plus the number of children aged eleven to seventeen who have parents who wish to send them abroad and happen to be fluent in either French or Bulgarian is likely to be negligible.' But even as Hailey spoke the words, it felt like a betrayal. In the years following the death of Charles and her mother, Hailey believed the only thing that kept her father from losing his mind utterly was that she was safe in France. To take away that same comfort from others… 'We shall re-evaluate the issue after the election,' Hailey said resolutely.

Mollified, Alice moved on. 'Please tell me you brought some suitable robes,' she said looking at Hailey's riding trousers and blouse, 'you can hardly go on stage looking like that.'

'Mipsy packed a trunk.' Hailey led Alice into the bedroom. Alice shut the door and started rummaging through the trunk, shoving aside the clothes and other sundry Mipsy had arranged with such care. 'We must project the right image. You need to look calm, collected and in control,' her hand snatched a necklace Hailey was holding, 'but not so put together people think we spent an hour deciding what you were going to wear. You are being reluctantly pulled from the business at hand to address the people. Because you know how important it is that they hear from you.'

Alice handed Hailey a rust coloured robe. It wasn't a favourite of hers, but she obediently accepted it. Alice made no move to leave the room, so biting back a sigh, Hailey started to disrobe. She wasn't a prude, (Hailey did spend seven years living in a Beauxbaton dormitory after all) but after she received the hex mark on her shoulder, she was reluctant to undress around others. As she changed, Alice sorted her stack of parchment, and they worked to put the finishing touches on the evening's speech.

Backstage at the Atlas Theatre, Hailey adjusted the lace around her neckline for what felt like the hundredth time. Now she remembered why she disliked the robe; the lace itched.

Clark appeared at her side with a goblet of water. 'Five minutes.'

She took the goblet gratefully. 'That's what they said ten minutes ago.' She wasn't thirsty, but it gave her something to do with her hands besides scratch her throat. Something to focus on besides her nerves.

Even before her campaign, Hailey was not a stranger to the podium or stage. Being a Wizengamot Elder meant delivering arguments and oration was part and parcel of being a Mugwump during sessions of the International Confederation of Wizards. She knew excerpts of her speech 'The Distance That Separates Us' in which she had laid the groundwork for the China-Britain Trade Agreement had wound up in History of Magic textbooks. She recalled sitting in the sweltering heat in Trinidad & Tobago as she had written what had then been the most important speech of her career, though she had not been the one to deliver it. But at the moment her stomach was in knots. She was about to give the pivotal speech of her campaign, if not her entire political career, and she'd had no sleep, only hours to prepare, and was wearing her most hated robes.

As she sipped from the goblet, her gaze wandered to Auror Gibbet, who was leaning against the back wall. In some ways having a bodyguard made her feel more on edge. Though he was projecting an image of being at ease, his blue eyes were alert, and his right hand rested near his wand.

'All right,' Alice strode to her. 'We're on.'

Hailey emptied her glass, perhaps she had been thirsty after all. She pointed her wand at herself. 'Soronus.'

She approached the edge of the stage, took a deep breath and stepped forward. She took slow, measured steps to the lectern and looked up at the crowd before her. She spotted Barry Curtis, Zora Lynch, and the scavenging hyena that was Rita Skeeter. Instead of the press, Hailey turned her focus to all the citizens listening at home.

'By now you have all heard the news. What was once unthinkable has come to pass, and I was proven to be right at a time when I have never wished more to be wrong. What we now find ourselves facing is a fear we are frightened to speak of, but it is not a nameless fear. It is one we have known, have struggled against and have ultimately defeated. We have done so once, and we shall do so again.'

'You have some nerve showing your face 'round here!' Moody spat as Severus entered the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Severus rolled his eyes. The Order meeting was called because of Severus, his attendance could hardly be unexpected.

Minerva's lips were pressed into a tight frown. Her eyes darted between Severus and Moody. The ex-Auror was rumbling like a volcano. The question was not whether or not it would erupt, but how much damage it would cause when it did.

Molly Weasley looked at him accusingly; it was an expression mirrored by most of the Order. However, Shacklebolt was watching him with curiosity, rather than any animosity, the Headmaster was grave, and Lupin sat silent and composed, awaiting facts before a rush to judgement.

Despite the palpable tension in the room, each member of the Order seemed loathed to break it. Rather than sit at the table, Severus chose to lean against the wall, near enough to the assembled group to not appear blatantly rude, but still close enough to the door to afford him a quick exit. He had not expected to get the first word in, but the moment he opened his mouth to speak, Moody cut in.

'The coming days will test our fortitude, our strength and our resolve. We shall need courage in abundance, but perhaps, even more, we shall need kindness. The wizard you pass on the street is not a potential Death Eater in disguise, but a fellow countryman and potential friend. We remember the sacrifices of those who paid the highest price in pursuit of peace, but let us not forget the other sacrifices that were made, those who opened their homes, those who gave out food and clothing to those in need. We all have something to give, and I fear I shall be asking much of you. Not only are we fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and His Death Eaters, but we are also fighting the hate, fear and intolerance that brought us to this point. A point where we are more concerned with who someone's parents are than who they grow up to be. Where what a wizard becomes once a month is more important than the man he always is. Our worries and fears about what will come are real, but we cannot be governed by them, and we cannot let them make us strike out at others.'

'Traitor?' Severus repeated with a snarl, 'How have my actions benefited the Dark Lord in any way? I gave Ahlgrim the election on a goddamn silver platter. The Ministry finally has their heads out of their asses and-'

'And Voldemort no longer has any reason to keep playing dead,' Black interrupted, glaring at his beer. 'He has free reign to strike whenever He wants now.'

Lupin may have been sitting next to the mutt, but if the dark expression the werewolf wore was any indication, the rift between them hadn't been mended in the least. 'Voldemort would have lost any need to hide after the election,' he pointed out, 'that's only a fortnight away, and now instead of a Death Eater we have a good chance of having an ally of the Order as Minister.'

Moody was not about to be persuaded by something so trivial as reason. 'You killed-'

Severus rolled his eyes. 'I stole a body. A muggle one. Unless the funeral was meant to be one with an open casket, the family may never know. A muggle at the morgue may end up getting sacked, but that is something I can live with.'

Molly Weasley relaxed marginally at that; she wasn't the only one. Merlin, they really were a bunch of dunderheads, though he should not be surprised.

Shacklebolt nodded to himself, not hearing any news, but rather a confirmation of his own theory. Moody saw that and burst out, 'You're siding with him?'

Shacklebolt calmly took a prolonged sip of his tea; Moody was forced to wait for his answer. 'We are on the same side, and we are now-'

Moody flung an arm in Severus's direction, though he was unable to look at him with either of his eyes. 'He is sending the entire Auror Office on a wild goose chase to find out who this muggle is-'

'One,' Shacklebolt held up a single finger for emphasis. 'Currently, one Auror is tasked with tracking down the identity of the man found on Hogsmeade Hill. The rest of the department is mobilising against the threat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Recruitment will be stepped up, the Ministry budget will be re-prioritised, and the Order will be able to free up some of our own resources and shift the responsibility to the Ministry. Elder Ahlgrim is now under Auror protection and security at the Ministry itself, including the Department of Mysteries, will be heightened. Even if you do not like how we got here, Alastor, you cannot deny the view is much improved.'

'The ends don't justify the means, Kingsley,' Moody spat out the name, 'the ends are the means. And the fact is-'

The hypocrisy was astounding. During his career as an Auror, Alastor Moody had been lauded for "going to any length" to apprehend Dark wizards. And Moody had the battle scars to prove it. Less spoken of were the scars Moody himself had inflicted in that pursuit or how those who fell under the vaguest suspicion of Dark activity were treated the same as avowed Death Eaters.

Snape crossed his arms. 'The fact is I orchestrated the execution of a Death Eater and alerted the world of the Dark Lord's return in time for Ahlgrim- unless she buggers it up completely- to steal the election away from Lucius Malfoy. Now what about that,' Severus snapped, 'do you find so objectionable?'

Dumbledore leaned forward. 'Execution? Of whom?'

'Mordred Avery. He was my scapegoat. The Dark Lord believes he was the one who cast the Dark Mark.' He glanced at Kingsley, 'His body will turn up soon. The Dark Lord was displeased.'

'Mordred Avery?' Moody echoed. 'That worm?'

Severus wished someone would shut him up. But the majority of the Order was content to watch the two of them argue, their heads swivelling back and forth like they were watching a Quidditch match. The Headmaster remained silent, his own anger preventing him from coming to Severus's aid.

He glared down his nose at Moody. 'If I could have gotten away with framing Lucius Malfoy and having him killed in Avery's stead, I would have. Avery was the best candidate. He was foolish enough to pull off such a stunt and eager enough to prove himself that it would be believable for him to act independently.'

Moody bristled at Severus's snide tone. 'What about-'

'I believe in this matter,' Severus said coldly. 'My experience trumps yours.'

Hailey braced herself against the lectern. The whirr and flash of the cameras had died, leaving the theatre silent except for the sound of her voice. 'Everyone in this room, everyone at home listening on the Wireless, has endured loss in the War, in the First War. We have lost loved ones- family and friends- even those fortunate enough to emerge with their families intact faced loss- the loss of security, of hope, of belief in the goodness of men's hearts.

We face before us what shall surely be a long, hard war. Our victory will be purchased with our blood, sweat and tears, but victory will come. It is inevitable. In years past He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has declared the complete elimination of all wizards and witches who oppose him to be His aim. That is His stated goal, and as such He shall never win. For we in Britain are born free. And as long as there remains a witch or wizard in this good land who breathes, defeat shall not come to us.'

'Avery's family is where?' The wrath and unadulterated hatred in Moody's eyes as he awkwardly rose, his wooden stump thudding against the table, only served to cement the rightness of Severus's actions in his mind.

Severus lifted his chin. 'Somewhere safe.'

'You're worried about their safety? Hand the munter over to the Aurors! She needs to be interrogated and incarcerated she-'

'Knew nothing,' Severus hissed. 'Imprisoning a terrified mother and orphaning her son may be your definition of justice, but it sure as hell isn't mine.' Severus narrowed his eyes. 'She was innocent-'

More than anything Severus had said or done thus far, that word enraged Moody like nothing else. The wizard sputtered like a dying automobile. For several seconds his rage utterly robbed him of speech. His magical eye looked about to pop out of his head. Then, regrettably, he found his voice. 'Innocent? Innocent?' he screamed. Hestia Jones started, sloshing tea across the table. 'You expect me to believe she didn't know what Avery was?'

'Of course she knew!' Finally, Severus raised his voice to match Moody's. 'He bloody told her! And he terrorised her for years!' Alastor Moody was not all a complicated man. His hatred of Death Eaters was plain and personal. The effort he made in apprehending Death Eaters alive hadn't been out of any sense of mercy. The opposite really. He wanted them to suffer. Moody was a simple man and as such Severus knew precisely what buttons to push. 'But yes, throw her to the dementors. That would be the moral thing to do.'

'If you expect me to listen to lectures about morals from a ruddy Death Eater-' Moody whirled on Dumbledore. 'It's high time you brought your so-called spy to heel!'

Severus waited for the Headmaster's answer without any suspense. Dumbledore had the opportunity to either placate the Order or defend Severus personally. That left no doubt as to what he would choose.

'Alastor,' the Headmaster leaned forward, his long white beard brushing his steepled fingers, 'We are all gathered here for a common purpose, any discord we spread among ourselves will only aid Voldemort. That said… Severus, you should have consulted the Order. You put yourself, as well as every single one of us, at risk. Your intelligence is too valuable to be endangered by taking on such a hazardous mission alone.' The headmaster's frown deepened. 'Did you act alone?'

Severus let a beat of silence pass, to give such an idiotic question his full derision. 'Yes. There is no one outside the Order I trust.' He felt the tapping of an Occlumency probe. Severus returned the Headmaster's gaze with a steely look of his own. The Headmaster may be considered the one wizard the Dark Lord feared, he may be one of the most powerful wizards of the age, but outside of Potions there was one other area where Severus bested him, and that was in Occlumency. Severus kept the wards around his mind locked fast, though his eyes spoke volumes. Meddling, manipulative bastard.

Severus was not going to let the Order anywhere near Victoria Fraudaire. She was already putting her life at risk by helping him. Tory was discreet and careful; both were qualities one needed to possess in abundance to last in Knockturn Alley. She had helped him before and after he had defected from the Death Eaters. She danced on the knife's edge of legality and morality. To her, a slip of the tongue could be as deadly as the Killing Curse. But it was a waltz she had mastered and kept between the two of them, one she was likely to survive. He did not trust the rest of the Order that much. Carelessness was as deadly as malevolence, and the Order had both in spades. Any association Tory had with the Order of the Phoenix would jeopardise her.

Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes searched his. The Headmaster could not tell whether or not he was lying and Severus knew how that infuriated him.

Minerva was simply exasperated. 'Do you have any other surprises up your sleeve, Severus?'

'The only thing up my sleeve is my wand.' It was a play on an old adage, but Minerva didn't smile. While she would have been one of the most vocal opponents of his scheme had he proposed it in advance, she was a pragmatic witch. What was done was done. They were better for it, and no harm had come to anyone (apart from the unlamented Mordred Avery). If there was one thing Minerva had learned about him in the decades they had known each other was that he was a stubborn sort and lectures and reprimands would only fall on deaf ears. Being a stubborn sort herself, it was something Minerva could grudgingly respect, even if she did not appreciate it.

'And things less pleasant,' Moody grumbled in a voice meant to be heard by all. Raising his voice, he demanded, 'How the hell do you expect us to trust you now?'

Severus did not bother to conceal his snort. 'That would imply you trusted me to begin with.' It was time for Severus to make his exit. If the Order were ever to come around, it would only be after he left and was no longer directly antagonising them. With that thought, he headed for the door, though he paused with his hand on the brass doorknob to look over his shoulder. 'I do wonder though. If Hailey Ahlgrim- that legalistic, moralising toff- could not only recognise what I had done was for all of our benefit, but also thank me for it, well, it makes me wonder why you cannot?'

And with that parting shot, Severus left and shut the door behind him. He immediately concealed a yawn behind his hand and then massaged the bridge of his nose. The headache that had been lurking behind his eyes all night had finally pounced on him. He was exhausted, and his last meal had been in Linnea Avery's kitchen the previous morning, and he had ended up vomiting that up in a filthy muggle toilet. At least it had quelled his nausea. His lower back hurt, but that was only his kidneys protesting, rather than anything muscular. In all, the inventory of his body was less than satisfactory, but finally, he could return to his quarters, eat a slice of toast, and sleep.

Severus crept to the door, careful not to wake Mrs Black's portrait. A creak on the stairs made him turn around. Harry Potter stared down at him. Potter was still in his pyjamas, and despite the distance, Severus could see that his fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat. Potter looked about as unwell as Severus himself felt.

Potter blinked owlishly. 'Professor?' Potter glanced towards the kitchen. 'Is there an Order meeting going on?'

Severus crossed his arms. 'Yes, a meeting was called so if you want Black to play nursemaid it'll have to wait.'

Potter didn't rise to the bait. Rather he rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand as if he too was plagued with a headache. 'Yeah,' he mumbled absently, 'I guess there would be.' He turned and climbed slowly back up the stairs.

'Harry!' Molly Weasley appeared at the foot of the stairs with a tray of toast, marmalade and juice. 'Why don't you have a bite to eat? I'm sure a good breakfast will fix you right up!'

Potter plodded down the stairs and took the proffered tray. 'Thank you, Mrs Weasley,' he muttered without any enthusiasm or gratitude.

Severus watched him ascend the stairs, his brow creased in a frown.

'Poor dear, caught a touch of a summer flu I'm afraid,' Molly Weasley confided with a sigh, then winced, her eyes darting to him as if she had just then noticed who she was speaking to.

Severus would have bet his broomstick that whatever was ailing the boy was not influenza of any sort. Potter's scar hurt at odd moments; there had been the 'dream' before term last year and now… It was all amounting to an alarming picture. Severus had broached the subject with the Headmaster, only for his concerns to be brushed aside. He figured the Headmasters had his own worries and would deal with it in a manner he saw fit. Which apparently involved sitting on his hands and looking the other way.

Severus reluctantly moved away from the front door. Mrs Weasley was about to reenter the kitchen when he called after her. 'Send Lupin out, if you would.'

When Lupin emerged, the werewolf was looking decidedly wary. But he buried his unease and put his hands in his pockets in a bid to appear casual. 'Yes?'

With a jerk of his head, Severus indicated the door to the study, Lupin followed him inside and shut the door. Now that the Granger girl was no longer underfoot, it would be a place they could have a private conversation. If Severus's theory was correct- and they usually were- it was not something he wanted being overheard.

'So, what's this about?' Lupin let a tired sigh escape. 'Is it about Sirius?'

'No. It's about Potter.'

As Severus laid out his theory, Lupin's expression morphed from worry, to scepticism, concern and then to alarm. 'Shouldn't Albus-'

Severus snorted. 'I thought you weren't a fan of the Headmaster's policy of burying the truth until it came back to bite you in the arse.'

A shadow crossed Lupin's face. Then he squared his shoulders. 'All right, what's the plan?'

Hailey folded the parchment over, her eyes trailing over the blank page. She cleared her throat. 'My mother and brother were killed in the first volleys of the War, and though they are dead and buried that does not mean they are gone. Seeds we bury, and though they may appear dormant, over time they grow- into mighty oaks and towering willows. So to our country's dead. They are no longer with us, but their roots are deep in the earth. We remember their kindness, their bravery and their sacrifice and it impacts us still. It inspires us to be kinder and braver, to strive to be better people.'

Out of the corner of her eye, Hailey saw Alice doing a celebratory jig in the wing of the stage. Hailey refocused her attention on her audience before she became distracted.

'I will not promise peace or ease like others have. The road ahead of us is arduous and to make such a promise now would not merely be foolish, it would be a lie. What I can promise is to fight tooth and nail and wand to restore peace and not to rest until we do. You-Know-Who is the one who has initiated this War, and though it is a battle we enter reluctantly, that does not mean we shall fight it any less fiercely or doggedly. There is a motto we are all familiar with, and You-Know-Who would do well to remember: "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus."' Hailey folded the parchment into a square and tucked it into her robes. She surveyed the assembled reporters. 'Questions?'