The hour before the funeral, someone knocked on the door of Flitwick's office. "I'm coming in," came Lupin's voice as she heard the door unlock and open. Sharlen didn't move, heavy-lidded eyes unmoving as they watched the funeral arrangements being set up by the shore of the Black Lake. Mermaids were mourning at the surface. "I thought we weren't locking you in?"
"It's not to discourage me from escaping," she muttered. "It's to keep the others out."
Silence rang around her words, pressing in on her ears.
"I was able to get Tonks on board. She's going to keep your secret," he said. "It took a lot of convincing. Harry and the others, too."
Sharlen nodded her head, not looking away from the window.
Lupin sighed. "Harry has been unapproachable. He feels betrayed that all of us knew who you were and let him get close to you anyway."
Tears leaked out from the corners of her eyes and she inhaled deeply.
"He, Hermione, and Ron are becoming distant from us," he added, walking closer toward her into the room. "Harry won't tell us where he and Dumbledore went that night when they left the castle. We think they're planning something on their own rather than letting the Order help. Do you have any idea what it might be?"
Sharlen looked at him over her shoulder and shook her head. The beginning of all her calculated lying—the less people that knew about her father's Horcruxes, the better for Harry. "I don't. They were planning something with Dumbledore. Dumbledore told me it was imperative he only tell Ron and Hermione. Whatever it is, they'll go it alone."
Lupin nodded, disappointed. He walked up next to her and sat beside her on the window seat, facing the door while she faced the window. "Sharlen, we have to figure out what to do with you now. Snape told Harry he would be back for you."
"Want to use me as bait?" she asked quietly.
"I don't. I don't want to put you in danger needlessly."
Sharlen turned her whole body to face Lupin. Her eyes were swollen from crying but her face was set. "Remus, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Dumbledore felt I would be most useful to Harry as a spy, which he believed Snape was. That's what I intend to do. I must return to my Master for a short time."
Lupin began to protest, but she held a hand up. "I've consulted the tarot, this is the path I'm meant to take. I will be more useful to you as intel than something else you have to keep safe. That doesn't make any sense. I will return to Snape so he and my father believe my allegiance to them, that I've been held captive here against my will. Then, I'm going to join the Auror office without them knowing."
Lupin waited for more, considering her words carefully.
"The Death Eaters don't know who I am. I'm not sure you knew that. I'm not royalty to their side or anything like that—those men who attacked the castle, the Carrows, Fenrir Greyback—they don't know who I am. I was just some other Hogwarts student to them. It was always imperative to my father that Snape keep me a secret. Only Bellatrix, Wormtail, and the Malfoys know I exist. And I'm a ghost to the Ministry; the first time they became aware of me was with this Auror course, and you know I've nearly won them over. This Snape reveal is a setback but I think I can overcome it. I can be useful to the Ministry while my father thinks I'm on their side. And I can keep an eye on Harry."
"These are… ambitious goals," Lupin said tentatively. Sharlen watched him as he rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. "You're much too young to try and take on both sides of this war. This is a very dangerous part you're casting for yourself."
"Harry is younger," she said, "and look at what he has to do."
"Yes, but he doesn't have to do it alone!" Lupin said firmly, clearly frustrated with Harry. "And neither do you. We can figure something else out. You can stay at a safe house."
Sharlen shook her head gently. "If you try to conceal me, my father will slaughter everything he encounters until he has me back. Dumbledore wanted my position used to your advantage. The alternative does not exist in my mind."
Lupin considered her silently.
She straightened up slightly. "I will report to you. I need you to keep this secret, Remus. When I leave here I'm going back to my Master and then I'm joining the Ministry. Anything I learn that will aid the Order, I will relay to you." She reached into her pocket and drew out a gold coin, modeled after the communication Dumbledore's Army used, and handed it to him. "We can send messages between the two of us this way. If I need to find you, I'll send coordinates. You can do the same if you need something done, and I will meet you there as soon as possible."
Lupin was clearly struggling with this plan, but she could see he revered her as well—he'd seen her take down those Death Eaters the night of Dumbledore's death, knew she'd saved his life… and with a deep sigh, he decided to trust her. "Okay. I will keep your allegiance a secret. If you and Dumbledore discussed this plan, I have to go along with it."
"All year," she said, nodding. "I will help Harry in whatever way I can until the day I die."
"One question," he said, standing and watching her carefully. "Why are you telling me all this?"
"I just want at least one person to believe me," she answered, her voice breaking slightly.
Lupin reached forward and embraced her tightly, saying, "If you need help, you let me know. No questions asked. Don't ignore your resources."
They broke apart and Sharlen forced a small smile. "Thank you. From this point on, it would be unwise for you to tell me anything about the Order or any progress you've made. My father and Snape taught me Occlumency and I'm very good at it, but it's better for me not to know."
The door opened again and this time Professor Flitwick walked in solemnly. "It's time," he said in a small squeak. "Sharlen, you will stay with me, near the back, just in case."
Sharlen nodded, took a long draught of her potion, put on her cloak, and followed him silently from the office.
The white chairs before Dumbledore's white tomb were full of characters of all kinds, and all that remained of the student body was there as well. Sharlen recognized the Minister of Magic and all the Aurors she'd been training with, and when Moody's blue, swivelling eye found her she looked away, knowing she must speak with him soon but not anxious to face his inevitable inquisition at her first ever funeral, which found her in such turmoil. And then she saw Harry, sitting with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Ron's arm was around Hermione and Ginny's head was on Harry's shoulder. It looked like they were holding hands.
During the mermaid's salute, which raised her skin with goosebumps, Hagrid walked down between the long aisle of seated mourners with what she knew to be Dumbledore's body wrapped in purple velvet covered with golden stars. Her breath caught in her throat and she heard Flitwick sniffling down near her hip. As Hagrid lay Dumbledore's body down, her heart beat painfully for him. His eyes were so swollen it was a wonder he could see where he was walking. Hagrid took his seat near the back, joining his brother Grawp, the giant she met in the Forbidden Forest, who was dressed in the biggest jacket and trousers she had ever seen. Grawp, almost human-like, patted his brother on the shoulder in a way she knew was meant to help console him. Then the music stopped and a wizard she didn't know got up to speak. She looked at the ground for the entire ceremony, knowing she had no place there.
She willed her mind to be blank, but she was overrun with questions about Dumbledore. Had he truly not known what would be best when it came to her and Harry? Glancing around at those in attendance, she thought it was surely impossible he was really letting her figure it out all on her own. He knew what he was doing, leaving it in her hands. Or had he really trusted that she could convince Harry that she meant no harm? Was the old man's judgment tied up in his hope that Harry could overcome prejudice in the name of love?
Sharlen glanced back over to Harry and Ginny. He was whispering something to her. With so many people around them, it was impossible to discern their auras. Suddenly, Ginny laughed. A few seconds later, Harry got up and walked away from the crowd of mourners, off toward the Whomping Willow.
Without telling Flitwick or waiting for permission, she walked after Harry. Flitwick didn't stop her; wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he turned to watch in case he had to act. With every step she took, a deep breath followed and she willed herself not to tremble quite so violently. She stopped as close behind Harry as she dared.
"I'm leaving now," she told him, her voice small. Her eyes were as red as Hagrid's.
"Good," he muttered, turning around to face her. "The farther you are from me and everyone I care about, the better."
Sharlen closed her lips tightly to try and persuade the bottom one from shivering and looked down at her hands, which were clasped before her. "I am sorry I didn't tell you who I was from the beginning. I was selfish."
Harry did not answer, but the violet in his aura could not disguise his remorse underneath the dark orange of his distrust in her. But louder in his aura than any other color was his loneliness. The reality of Dumbledore's death had finally hit him.
"I want you to know, I've been meeting with Dumbledore all year too," she said. "Giving him information, helping him piece together how to destroy my father. He had a hunch, but he didn't want to tell you without confirmation from the memory." She waited for any recognition from him, even yelling, but was left cold. "You two went to get one that night, didn't you? You and Dumbledore went together… to go and get one of the Horcruxes?"
Without answering, Harry held out his hand for her to take, unable to talk. Realizing he conceded to show her instead, Sharlen ripped off her glove and took Harry's hand anxiously and Harry and Dumbledore's adventure into the cave replayed before her eyes. She didn't let go until they landed back in Hogsmeade.
"It wasn't right, though," Harry whispered, a soft sigh escaping. He was looking up at the sky, his face wet with tears. "It was a fake. Someone else got there first."
And just like that, Sharlen conceded into sobs, covering her face in her palms. "If only I'd known you were going there, if only you'd told me. I'm sorry. I should have gone with you. I should have drunk the potion."
"It doesn't bode well for me," he muttered darkly, "that you know I'm hunting Horcruxes. Now you can tell your dad and he can make more." He tilted his head at her, as though curious. "I should erase your memory, at the very least."
Sharlen shook her head. "I wish you could see people's intentions as clearly as I can. Then you'd know that is the opposite of what I'm going to do. You're going to win, Harry. You're going to live. I know you want nothing to do with me, but know that I will do everything I can to help you succeed. You aren't alone."
Harry looked at her, considering her. After a minute he said, "I told him I knew about you. I told him he'd made a mistake, letting you in. He defended you until the end."
The words bit at her harshly as she imagined the old man in the cave. "He trusted me," she said in a small voice, barely more than a whisper. "Albus Dumbledore trusted me to help you."
"He trusted Snape too," Harry threw at her again, standing. He locked his eyes on her, his aura pure anguish. "It's been like… like something out of someone else's life, all these months with you." Tears leaked down from the corners of her eyes. "I can't be involved with you anymore."
He turned away and said, "I'm vulnerable to Voldemort around you, so we will never see each other again after this moment. You should go back where you came from."
"Harry, no," she said hurriedly, reaching for his shoulder. He knocked her hand away. "You need me now more than ever. I don't know where the real locket is but we can find it, and I might know where to find the others. I can—"
"Enough," he said, wounded.
"Harry, you know me," she moaned, tears leaking from her eyes. "You love me. I can see it. Please, don't—"
"Stop," he said cuttingly, pain in his voice. "We will never see each other again after this moment. If you care anything for me at all, please don't force me to be the one to kill you."
He set off around the lake, followed by Rufus Scrimgeour and his walking cane.
Sharlen stayed by Dumbledore's grave long after Harry had walked away without another word, long after Grawp had assisted a loudly bawling Hagrid away from the grave site, tears silently leaking down her face as she thought of how right the headmaster had been about espionage. The Aurors, for what it was worth, left her be; she had almost certainly thought Moody would approach her, but he seemed to be content waiting for her to come to him. Piotr was with her, waiting patiently on her shoulder.
She held one hand against the cold, white marble of Dumbledore's tomb and knew he was right to have said she would be able to protect Harry best if she pretended she was on her father's side. She told herself he needed someone on the inside, close to the enemy. "I'll help destroy the Horcruxes," she declared aloud to Dumbledore. "Someday, he will know I'm on his side."
She walked slowly through the grounds with Piotr until she was just beyond the gates of the castle. "Meet me at home," she told the owl, who took off into the sky. With one more long look at Hogwarts, she turned on the spot and Apparated to Snape's home in Oxford.
When she opened her eyes, Sharlen stood before the door and looked around dolefully at the surrounding brick homes. She looked up at the rusted, run-down street sign for Spinner's End, eyes raking over the tips of the houses with their shattered roofs and broken, boarded windows to see the old mill tower looming. The sounds of the river had picked up from the wind and poor weather. It was dreary here, overcast and lightly raining, so she made her way to the door and opened it, not at all ready to face Dumbledore's killer. She had been considering this moment for days.
Eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room, Sharlen gasped and quickly shut the door behind her. Voldemort was there with Snape, both of them standing as though they had just been deep in discussion. Her father turned to her with a sickening grin. "Sharlen, we were wondering when you'd make your way home," he said quietly, dangerously. "You've kept me waiting."
Sharlen tore her eyes from Snape, who looked infuriatingly unchanged by what he'd done, and met her father's gaze calmly. He looked so bizarre in this setting, as he always did; the small house opened into the living room, complete with ancient sitting chairs, bookshelves, and not much else; adjacent was the kitchen, barren except for a kitchen table and whatever appliances had come with the house; and upstairs, one small, windowless bathroom and two bedrooms. "I was being held by the Order of the Phoenix until after the funeral," she explained. She hadn't expected to need to turn on the deceit quite so quickly; she felt sick to her stomach. "After Dumbledore was killed, they were unsure what to do with me."
"We have plans for the school, so we'll deal with that accordingly," Snape said quietly. "What are the chances they've followed you here?"
"None," she said.
"Your eyes are red," her father noted, murderously calm.
"I haven't slept," she told him, which was actually mostly the truth. "I had to keep my guard up, in confinement."
"I'm curious to know," Voldemort said with an air of mirth, "just how devastated Harry Potter was by your betrayal, Sharlen." He sat in an armchair before one of Snape's many full bookcases, twirling his wand, amused. "Spare me no details."
"You should have told me from the beginning, father, that your plan was to break Harry Potter," she said coolly, trying to ignore a bead of sweat rolling down between her shoulder blades. Every muscle was tensed. "I could have done a little more damage."
"You mean to tell me he is not so affected?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. The grin didn't leave his face.
"He is angry and feels betrayed, for sure," Sharlen answered, deadpan. "I wouldn't say I was important enough to devastate him, although Dumbledore was."
"Yes, we have had so very much to celebrate these past several days," her father said, standing and striding to the window. "The death of Albus Dumbledore is a major triumph to my cause. Your Master will be strongly rewarded for it."
"And Draco Malfoy?" Sharlen inquired, stepping forward. "What will you do with him?"
"He repaired the Vanishing Cabinets and showed resourcefulness… though out of desperation, not loyalty," Voldemort mused, considering his wand carefully. "That will not go unnoticed, though neither will his failure. He is also the reason you were trapped with the Order."
"I advise you to spare the Malfoys," Sharlen said coldly, trying to sound tactful and dignified. "Because of him, the entire sense of security at Hogwarts has been torn down, and that cannot go without praise. Bill Weasley has been maimed and is likely a werewolf now, and Dumbledore did indeed die. There's nothing to be gained by wiping out an entire pureblood line."
Voldemort considered her, eyes blazing, and glanced at Snape before returning his smirk. "Lord Voldemort is merciful," he said quietly. "I will consider your logic, my daughter."
He did not stay long, and was soon gone with brief instructions for both of them; Snape was to meet with the inner circle that night and Sharlen was to lay low, stuck in this house, as she always had been. Once he'd gone, Snape turned to Sharlen.
They looked at each other quietly for a long time. After a minute, Snape stepped forward and reached for the collar of her cloak, pulling it back to see what remained of her burn. The skin was completely white, devoid of melanin, but the cut from Harry's necklace was nearly scarred over. "What happened here?"
"Dragon Fire Spell," she told him, shrugging herself out of his grip. She could feel him trying to look into her mind. "I used your Sectumsempra spell against him for it."
"Terrible way to die," Snape muttered, his eyes not leaving hers.
"Well I couldn't let them know I was on their side, could I?" she asked sweetly. Snape looked taken aback. "The Death Eaters don't know I exist and the Order opportunely thinks I'm on their side. I had to play my part." She walked over to the kitchen table and looked out the window at the dreary day. The skies had been clear at Dumbledore's funeral, but he was definitely not looking down at her here. She knew Snape had expected her to be angry with him about Dumbledore's death. "Father is very pleased that you killed Dumbledore," she added.
"I was going to come back for you," he told her quietly.
"I didn't need you to."
"Why the change of heart, Sharlen?" he asked slowly, walking over to her. She looked up at him blankly. "All year, your objective was to save Potter."
"Then I played my part well," she said simply. "I believed you were Dumbledore's man, and you've shown me, and my father, that you're not. Now we're free of him and I'm free to show my faith to my father."
Snape seemed unhinged, to her secret delight, at the idea that there was something between her and Voldemort that he wasn't privvy to, or at the idea that Voldemort's faith in his own had ever wavered. "Show your faith how?"
"That remains to be seen," she said loftily. "But I have things to do."
Snape put out a hand to stop her, which she briskly walked around as she left the room. "Your father has instructed you to stay. You are not to leave this house, as it has always been."
"Well, I don't intend to stay locked up in this house now that I've been out, especially now that I'm of age," she informed him, checking the levels of her flask. She made for the door.
"Your father told you—" Snape began, voice slightly raised.
"I don't think you'll be telling him," Sharlen muttered, boldly turning on the spot and Disapparating.
Before she and Flitwick went down to Dumbledore's funeral, he had allowed her to enter Snape's office—which had been thoroughly searched—and take whatever she might need out there in the world. She took advantage of this chance by grabbing as much of the potion ingredients she needed as she could fit in her largest canvas bag along with whatever money she was able to find. Truthfully, examining the coins in her hand now that she had Apparated into Diagon Alley, she had no idea how much she had—this was the first time she had ever been able to hold real money. She had heard of Diagon Alley from the trio back when they went on that first Hogsmeade trip and they found out she'd really never left the house. But this barren, gray, downtrodden street of largely abandoned shops hardly seemed like what she had been told about.
Very few people walked around, and at one end of the street was a giant white marble building—Gringotts, the bank. Sharlen put up her hood, making sure the money was safely stored. She had a small black bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm she and Hermione had found together while studying for the end-of-the-year Charms exam, which contained what little clothing she had, the potion ingredients and a cauldron, the burn salve Madame Pomfrey had insisted she keep applying, her little black book, and the double of the coin she gave Lupin to communicate.
Walking down the street and taking in the scene of abandon, she felt strangely light and frightened—being out in the open world where no one knew her was truly bizarre, and very unlike simply being a new student at Hogwarts was. Everyone was a new student at one point. This almost felt like being invisible.
Around one corner, she saw Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the only shop that seemed to have some life left in it, and brought the hood of her cloak closer to her face, though closer inspection showed it was closed for the day. She'd seen the twins at the funeral with their brother, Bill. Next door was the apothecary she was looking for, which she entered without delay.
Once inside, she removed her cloak and peered around the dusty, dim light of the shop. A clerk came bustling forward excitedly at the sight of her.
"Good day, miss!" he chirped. "So good it is to see another's face! You must need something very badly."
Taken aback, Sharlen held up her hands to try and bring him down a notch. "I-I do need a few things. I was hoping you might help me."
He was all too happy to do so. With her stores memorized, she let the man know what she needed and bought as much as she could reason. Luckily she was able to get most of the more expensive, obscure ingredients from Snape's private stores and was able to walk away having only spent 17 Sickles and 20 Knuts. She felt bad leaving after so little time, as it was clear the man was lonesome, but she told him she had to leave and did so without delay. She didn't want to linger anywhere too long or draw attention to herself. She was unsurprised to see that the robe shop was closed for the day and opted to visit the next day instead. Recalling Harry's description of The Leaky Cauldron, she walked through the brick wall into the back alley and through the back entrance.
Her hood back over her head, Sharlen made her way to the bar. The Leaky Cauldron was more heavily populated than Diagon Alley had been, as wizards and witches of all ilks sat here and there, catching up, discussing in hushed tones, drinking flagons of ale or goblets of dragon wine. Most likely, they were toasting Dumbledore's memory. The hunched barkeep came her way with a nearly toothless smile.
"'Ello miss," he greeted her, "What'll ye have?"
"You're Tom, aren't you?" she asked politely. He nodded, both hands on the bar.
"My reputation proceeds me, miss. This is my bar," he responded.
Sharlen leaned forward. "Tom, I'm good friends with Harry Potter. I hear you have Ministry connections."
Listening more intently now, Tom was no longer smiling. He glanced around and leaned closer, murmuring quietly, "Ye got a lot o'nerve talkin' 'bout 'Arry Potter in public, miss. What do you need with the Ministry?"
"I need to get in touch with Alastor Moody," she told him, sliding a Galleon across the bar and into his hand. "Do you think you could get a message to him?"
"I could, yeh," Tom agreed, pocketing the Galleon and nodding. He seemed more easygoing knowing she was looking for Moody—what dark wizard would want to be anywhere near the Ministry's most seasoned Auror? "What'll yeh say?"
"Please tell him Down needs to meet with him, here, tomorrow," she said, standing off her bar stool. "Will you do that?"
Tom nodded, as did Sharlen. "Thank you." With a small wave she turned to leave, heading into the Muggle world for the first time in her life, removing her cloak once the door closed behind her.
Until nightfall, she walked around London, absorbed by the city and trying to pretend none of the events of the past several weeks had happened. She saw the Admiralty Arch, walked through gardens and parks, palaces and squares, and finally stopped at King's Cross Station. The emptiness that had been pressing in on her all day settled deep inside her as she walked in, her cloak tucked over her arm, trembling all over as she looked around the station.
It was chaotic, and every step she took made her feel more lightheaded—people entering trains, people exiting trains, trains arriving, train whistles blowing… She focused on putting one foot in front of the other and stopped far off to the left, facing the space between platforms nine and ten. She stood there, not drawing attention to herself, and began to notice that several other small groups and families were also loitering in the general area.
Sharlen began to panic; she hadn't thought this through. She just wanted to see Harry one last time, but of course dozens of students would be here looking for their families. Any one of them could recognize her. She hurried off toward the ticket booths and threw herself into a corner, glancing around quickly to ensure no one was watching her before transforming into an owl. She circled the top of the station and settled on one of the rafters, looking down and watching for signs of students and families leaving the hidden Platform 9 ¾.
Her breath caught and her wings fluttered slightly when she caught sight of Ron and Ginny's red hair, and Harry was close by. She watched them hungrily as, along with Hermione, they went over to who Sharlen now recognized as the Dursleys and began to speak with them. Harry had the aura of someone heavily burdened, but his heartache showed through.
Unable to handle any more, Sharlen flew off to find a safe place to transform so she could go home. She was emotionally devastated and needed her wits about her for meeting with Moody the next day.
Walking into Snape's Oxford home, he stood from the chair where he'd been waiting for her, a question in his eyes. Her gaze not leaving his, Sharlen took off her cloak as she walked upstairs to what was her room.
The next morning, not long after dawn, Sharlen was buried deep in the mostly-empty closet, setting up a new batch of her potion. Her ingredients organized, she raised her right hand to the back corner of the ceiling and thought, Lumos Solem. She drew the sunlight down from the corner over the boiling cauldron and stepped back, admiring the light before she turned and left the potion, closing the door behind her.
She shut the open black book on her bed, a simple twin with a graying duvet and one pillow. She was disappointed to see nothing from Harry, despite knowing there wouldn't be, as she added it carefully into her black pouch. The rest of the room was empty, save for a stack of books on the floor beside the bed and the few pages from old Muggle books she had magically adhered to the walls. Anatomic illustrations of flowers and animals. She took her dose of potion for the day and stored the flask in her bag before she swung her cloak over her shoulders and made for the stairs, worried that Harry had destroyed his black book when he found out about her.
She found Snape at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, reading the Daily Prophet. Locking eyes with her, he gestured to the cup as though offering her one of her own with his eyebrows raised expectantly. She turned away, Apparating at the threshold of the house.
When her feet hit the bricks outside The Leaky Cauldron, Sharlen grabbed the door and walked inside, eyes adjusting to the dim light once more. She saw Tom lowering the chairs from the tables as he looked up to see her. She walked over to him, hands up, helping him finish the work.
"He'll be 'ere this mornin'," Tom told her, nodding his thanks as she set the farthest chairs on the floor. "He seemed ta be expectin' yeh."
"Thank you," she said again, flicking her left wrist to straighten the bar stools. "I will wait outside. I'm sure he'll appear there, yes?" Tom nodded and she swept out without a word, transforming into an owl and flying up to the roof to wait.
Sharlen had hoped that after Dumbledore's funeral, more witches and wizards would be out and about, but it became apparent very rapidly that the wizarding world was in worse shape than she'd originally thought. Roosting and listening to the mutterings of who did come and go, no one felt an ounce of safety anymore now that Dumbledore was gone. Regardless of what power the Ministry had, Scrimgeour was clearly desperate for Harry to step forward and give the people hope—all she felt was fear. People were double-checking their fellows with questions only they would know before speaking with them. She watched fretfully as the morning wore on, until finally, startling a hoot out of her, Moody appeared in the alley.
She snapped her beak and he looked up, a crooked smirk on his face as she flew down to meet him. She transformed a few feet from the ground. "Thank you for meeting with me," she said, calm, clear, and purposeful. "I didn't want you to have to hunt me down, I know you must have questions."
Moody nodded. "I figured you would come to me," he growled. "Let's get inside." He motioned her to go in before him and she entered The Leaky Cauldron, nodding to Tom.
Tom perked up. "I 'ave yer room ready, Alastor," he said, motioning up the stairs. Moody grunted his thanks and put a hand on Sharlen's back to push her forward.
She looked back at him over her shoulder, confused. "A room?"
"Don't want to be overheard," Moody muttered, his blue eye swivelling endlessly. "You get all sorts here and the good ones are typically in their homes too afraid to come out about now." They went up the landing and Moody opened the door to room 13. Once they were inside, he took out his wand, closed the door, locked it, and sound-proofed the room.
Sharlen kept her face blank but inside she was a little shaken. She had been expecting to talk to him in a room full of witnesses, albeit quietly, to dissuade him from arresting her. She didn't think she could win a fight with Moody if her life depended on it.
"Sit," he barked, gesturing to a small coffee table by the window of the room. She did so with deliberate, purposeful movements and he joined her in the other chair, wooden leg clomping loudly. One forearm leaning on the table, Moody peered down at her. "Where's Snape?"
"I don't know," she lied, sighing. "When the Order let me go yesterday I went to our home in Harrow, but it's been cleaned out. Anything that was there…" she sighed and rubbed her eyes with one hand, going for exhaustion. "I'll take you there if you like, but I couldn't find a single trace of him. All I have in the world is what's on me right now." They had lived in Harrow the first twelve years of her life, and she knew that house was still abandoned. She couldn't let them know about the Oxford house, maybe not ever—especially with her potion brewing upstairs.
"We will go, yes," Moody muttered, sitting back. "Where are you staying?"
Sharlen gave a weak smile. "I can stay anywhere as an owl. I suppose I could keep staying there, wait for them to come looking for me. Last night I stayed outside the Harrow house to see if anyone would come, but no one did."
Moody seemed satisfied, because he switched gears. "You killed two men the night Dumbledore died."
Sharlen swallowed, her face set. "Maybe a third. I can't confirm that. Someone was coming out of the Vanishing Cabinet when it exploded."
Moody considered her for several seconds. "Excessive force, perhaps?"
"I don't think so," she muttered. "It's nothing they wouldn't have done to me, or Lupin. He was alone on the seventh floor. He would have been outnumbered."
"You were kept from the Ministry after Snape fled the grounds," Moody growled, leaning forward again. "McGonagall was good to keep you under the Order's watch; we believe the Ministry's been infiltrated. You took down two Death Eaters that night, and then you disappeared," he said as though seeing if she would contradict his information, both eyes on her across the table.
Sharlen nodded. "Hermione Granger thought I was working with Snape and subdued me. I was kept locked away. Harry… won't speak to me." She looked away sadly, a statement that truly hurt her down to her bones.
"Of course," he growled. "Snape pulled that off right under our noses. All these years, the old man trusted him. He knows everything about the Order. I think Potter lost more than anyone else did that night."
Sharlen considered him carefully and leaned forward over the table. From his aura, Moody was almost completely at ease—his standard blue-green suspicion was present, but much less prevalent than she'd anticipated it being. "Snape betrayed me, too," she told him, a bold lie. "I'd like to join the Aurors. I'd like to find him." Moody remained silent. "Snape… he was all I ever knew for most of my life. He was never kind to me but he was all I had before I went to Hogwarts this year. I never knew he was still on the dark side. I remember the first time I caught a glimpse of his Dark Mark, I didn't know what it was. He never explained it. But Dumbledore… Dumbledore always trusted him. I'm just blindsided. I'm not sure what else I can do now to help the cause other than offer my services to the Order, through the Ministry."
Moody took a long swig from his flask. "I actually do want you to go through the Ministry's Auror training," Moody told her, his blue eye back on the door behind him. Sharlen perked up. "You passed the course, and in this war I think it would be better to have your abilities on our side than the other. Tonks was ready to ban you from the program—you really rubbed her the wrong way, I'll tell you. Said there was something dark about you. I told her I'd been hunting dark wizards since before she was born, and you were no more a dark wizard than she was, ruddy family she has. Actually, to tell you the truth, you having no family is more beneficial to our cause. You said Snape was all you knew?" Sharlen nodded. "So the other Death Eaters, they don't know you exist?"
She nodded again, glad he saw the value in this. "Save for the Malfoys. I was homeschooled with Draco for a short time before Hogwarts. I hardly exist."
"It's morbid, but that means there's no one they could hurt to get to you."
Sharlen swallowed hard and averted her eyes momentarily. "Just Harry."
"We'll go to Snape's house, then you'll come with me to the Ministry. Kingsley and Weasley are going to Potter's house today to offer his aunt and uncle protection from the Order," Moody growled, his blue eye now fixed behind him on the door. The white side of the large eye facing her turned her stomach unpleasantly.
"Why do they need protection? Isn't Harry safe with them?" she asked, straightening up.
Moody held up a hand to silence her and she watched the back of his blue eye follow someone unseen outside the door until they were out of sight. "Ruddy terrible location you've chosen, Down."
Sharlen balled her hands into fistfulls of her cloak. "I haven't really been anywhere other than Hogwarts. I'd heard about this place, thought Tom could contact you. I didn't see a better way."
"The protection will break when Potter turns seventeen, and Voldemort will come for them. They all have to leave that house," he finally answered.
Sharlen had hoped he wouldn't answer—despite her burning curiosity to know what was going on with Harry, she had meant what she told Lupin about not wanting to know anything that might put the Order or Harry in danger. She quickly wiped it from her mind and took off her glove, extending her hand to Moody over the table. "I am grateful for this opportunity," she told him honestly. He took her hand firmly and shook it, his blue eye rapidly moving back to her as her pupils shrunk and her eyes glazed over white, a vision of him battling animated trash bins overtaking her sight.
She couldn't help but laugh as they released hands. "Magicked trash cans are more Arthur Weasley's specialty, aren't they?"
Moody scowled at her, standing from the table. "Keep those gloves on."
They spent the better part of the afternoon at Snape's old house in Harrow—Moody left no floorboard unturned. Sharlen watched, answering what questions she could, reflecting on how little memories she had there despite living there most of her life. Their lives were more stable and stationary in this large, quiet house before her father returned, not happy but at least predictable; they moved more often when he rose back to power, largely because of Wormtail's negligence. When Moody seemed sure, disappointedly, that there was nothing to find, he walked up to Sharlen and offered his arm. She took it without question, wanting to be helpful and obedient. They Disapparated from the house.
When Sharlen opened her eyes, she couldn't hold back a gasp. The Ministry of Magic was magnificent—they'd entered the foyer hall, the ceiling of which had to be fifty feet tall and flooded with light from the overhead ceiling dome windows. All around were giant fireplaces for wizards and witches to use the Floo Network to get into work, and in the very center was a fountain with golden statues of a wizard, a witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house elf. As she followed Moody past it, she read, "The Fountain of Magical Bretheren."
He walked her to one of the main desks near the lifts and rapped his knuckles on the window. A weary witch looked out. "She's a guest, an Auror trainee. She'll need an intern badge."
The witch's beady eyes flew over Sharlen, making her look like a hesitant bird of some sort—Sharlen was suddenly very aware of how petite she was, especially in contrast to Moody. "The Auror office?" she asked Moody.
"Is it your job to protect the wizarding world or is it mine?" Moody growled. The witch tutted and began typing something.
"Name?"
"Sharlen Down," she answered quietly, glancing around. The witch tapped her wand on the counter and a golden badge that read SHARLEN DOWN - AUROR INTERN slid out into the till before her. Moody had already set off so she hurriedly grabbed it, thanked the witch, and pinned it to her chest, anxious not to get lost.
"I only want you concerned with our office, you understand?" Moody muttered to her as they got into one of the many empty lifts with three other wizards. Sharlen nodded quickly, watching tiny memos zoom overhead into the lift with them before golden cages slammed closed and they were flying straight backward. Sharlen's stomach lurched and she reached out to grab the side rail, nearly stumbling into Moody when the lift suddenly dropped and then zoomed to the left. She closed her eyes, grateful her stomach was empty.
"Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services," said a pleasant female voice when they finally, mercifully stopped.
Moody slammed her on the back in a way she knew was meant to be helpful or even sympathetic, causing her to stumble from the open gates. The lift took off immediately after they exited. "You'll get used to them," Moody growled, a little amused.
"Will I?" she gasped, taking a deep breath. The nausea stayed with her as Moody limped their way over to the ornate wooden door straight ahead that read AUROR HEADQUARTERS.
When they walked inside, Sharlen took in the scene; the room was huge, larger than she could have imagined from the outside, with mismanaged rows of desks piled with paperwork. On the walls were posters that had to be at least 10 x 15 feet with pictures of the office's most wanted glaring, screaming, and smirking down at them. Seeing Snape's face that large was unnerving, despite him being largely expressionless. Aurors with varying levels of physical marks of their trials, not unlike Moody's, were hurrying about, coming and going, taking notes and writing reports and shouting across the room to one another. A woman named Hestia Jones came up to Moody.
"Less than a month now, Moody," she said tersely, looking frazzled. "We need to get the Order together at Molly's to discuss departure."
"Yes yes, Kingsley and Arthur are going later to warn the Muggles." Knowing this was about Harry, Sharlen perked up but tried not to look too eager. Was it an insane hope to want to be involved? Harry would have none of it, she knew—she had to keep her distance. "We'll iron-out the details later."
Moody gestured her forward to a central desk that was messier than any of the others combined. He brushed aside an unorganized stack unceremoniously and sat down in his chair heavily. Sharlen remained standing. "You can see we need the extra bodies around here," he muttered, blue eye on her.
"Just tell me what to do," she said earnestly.
"Each morning, you'll need to be here at seven a.m.," he started, pointing toward frosted glass double doors in the back of the room. "That's where you'll be going through your training. Then at noon you'll be going on patrols with Kingsley. I want you with the Minister."
"No, Mad-Eye," can Tonks's voice from behind. Sharlen turned to watch her walk up to Moody's desk. "Put her on minor calls, she shouldn't be anywhere near the Minister!"
"She'll be with Kingsley, she needs to be part of his guard," Moody protested in a low growl. "Your questioning my tenure is growing old and far less cute, Nymphadora."
Tonks scowled at the name. "You're losing your touch, Mad-Eye. Putting an intern on the First-Level Guard, you must be insane. She's too young and inexperienced."
"You saw her in the Forest!" Moody shouted, banging a fist on the table. "She saved your boyfriend the night Dumbledore was murdered and I'd think you'd take that into better account! Minor calls, what a waste of her potential!"
"It's a matter of protecting information, Mad-Eye!" Tonks shouted back, drawing attention to them. She was clearly stung as her aura became more and more bright, lemon-yellow. Sharlen felt immense guilt; she knew Tonks and Moody were normally very close. "Any newcomer shouldn't have access to so high an official!"
"These are special circumstances."
"They are indeed," she challenged. "You're not even going to question why her defense is so advanced at her age? After living locked up with Snape all those years?" Tonks was glaring at Sharlen, and she knew Tonks was on the verge of revealing her secret.
"She's driven," Moody said darkly. "She'll be protecting the Minister, with Kingsley. That's my final word." He sat back in his chair and gestured Dedalus Diggle, another Auror who had been at her Hogsmeade training course, over to them. "We just came from Snape's home in Harrow. It's abandoned. I need surveillance on that house."
Tonks and Diggle nodded, curtly on Tonks's part, and walked away.
"You don't have to…" Sharlen started, clearing her throat. She didn't want Tonks to suffer for being burdened by the knowledge of her origin. "You don't have to defend me, I understand why she has questions. It's okay. I'm happy to answer any questions she has."
"Tonks has a good head on her shoulders and she's a skilled Auror," Moody grumbled, "but I was in the last war. I won't make the same mistakes again, being too precious. Sometimes, your gut instinct is the right call. You're my gut instinct."
Sharlen remembered the vision of him fighting the trash cans and gave him a small, pitying smile, feeling she was in way over her head.
