Told you the next chapter wouldn't be long in coming. I apparently needed to get unstuck on the limbo chapter in order to get my fingers working again. Anyway, here it is and I hope you like it. Yes, Halloween will be coming soon but there was some unresolved business that I needed to get out of the way first. And it's a full length chapter as well. Success!
And please - REVIEW! 920 of you have viewed the last chapterso far and I have a total of six reviews for it which is just sad and makes me sad. Particularly as one wasn't actually for that chapter. Pretty please. With sugar on top and stuff like that. I'll even try to keep writing at a decent pace...
Chapter 5: The Dementor Effect
Thirteen Years Behind Bars With No Justice?
Azkaban Expose: When Innocence Is No Defence!
Minister Refuses Comment on Dementor Fiasco
Ministry of Magic Colludes With Dementors For Wizarding Souls!
Remus and I share a distinctly evil conspiratorial grin over the staff room as we glance over the various newspapers scattered across the table. Sirius Black and the miscarriage of justice has been the front headline news for the better part of two weeks and the Ministry is going absolutely crazy. I particularly like the Quibbler headlines myself; so far the Ministry have been accused of everything from collusion with a Grade 5 Creature to having a decade long infestation of wrackspurts. One thing I can say for Xenophilius Lovegood is that he has a magnificent imagination.
I will admit, the news has caused a significant amount of disruption around the school these last few weeks. The papers have been rather intrusive; as friends or teachers of the unjustly imprisoned, many of us have been asked for statements and the story has spread and built up until there is absolutely no ignoring it. Various Ministry officials have contacted Hogwarts, pleading with us to stay silent on the issue, but the flood gates have opened and the truth has come out. It had to in the end… at least when somebody is determined to keep stirring the pot.
Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House at Hogwarts for over a decade is willing to go on the record with her thoughts about the matter. "There is simply no excuse for such unforgivable sly and untrustworthy behaviour on behalf of the Minister for Magic. The moment it was discovered that Peter Pettigrew had not in fact been murdered by Sirius Black but had instead spent the last ten years hiding in his illegal animagi form, Sirius' case should have been brought to the forefront of the Ministry's attention. It is inconceivable that a potentially innocent man should be left to linger at the mercy of the Dementors of Azkaban for even a minute more than necessary, for the poor man to be left for months defies belief and understanding. I hope the Wizarding community can be trusted to rally around and demand justice. If the Ministry cannot be trusted then who is to say who might be wrongly imprisoned next."
And true to form, the wizarding community has indeed rallied. Even families like the Malfoy's have come out in utter condemnation of the Ministry's actions, although I have little doubt that they have their own ulterior motives for being so forthright about the issue. There were many true Death Eaters imprisoned without a fair trial on the basis of potentially shaky evidence and I imagine there will be more than one brought to a trial in the very near future. When it has been proven that even one person was imprisoned mistakenly, doubt and uncertainty will be cast on the convictions of many others. Mud will be slung and it would not surprise me if several actual Death Eaters are released come the next few months.
It's unfortunate but true. And if the Ministry had done their jobs properly it would be a moot issue, but the Ministry cut corners and a decade on, evidence is going to be difficult to find. Some of the true nut cases like the Lestrange woman will stay safely incarcerated, but I dread to think how many others will end up walking the streets due to a lack of diligence and foresight on the part of officials all those years ago. Such things are not in a school teacher's remit however. It is enough to know that by my actions and those of a few others who will not be named, we have brought about a complete reversal in the presumed fate of one Sirius Black. I think the Ministry had intended to try to ignore the outcry to begin with, presuming it would die down given time and lack of attention. More fool them.
Sirius has been moved to a secure ward at St. Mungo's pending his upcoming trial. Fudge, that deluded ape, had originally tried to rush it through with barely twenty four hours notice, but was shut down by Black's medical team. In a rare concession, St. Mungo's have even made a public statement which has now been printed in every paper in the country. It has even made it's way into a few of the international papers; there is little the foreign communities like more than being able to drag another Ministry through the mud after all.
Mr Black is in a stable but serious condition and is currently in no fit state to present evidence to his defence, leading to the decision by the medical community to refuse Ministry officials access to his care. No statements will be taken from Mr Black until he is deemed able to provide fair and clear testimony. Close family members and friends may be permitted to visit on a case by case basis.
Black's case is foremost on everybody's lips and the Ministry are going to rue the day they tried to bury this.
"A word, if you please, Minerva." Severus looms over me, his face set tight as he throws another bundle of papers down onto the wooden surface. "In private."
"Of course, Severus." I stand abruptly and follow him out the door. "My quarters are closer."
We walk in stiff silence down the corridors and it is only as I lean to open my door that I realise Remus has followed us out off the staff room. He completely ignores the glare Severus shoots his way. The door is barely closed before his whirls on me.
"I take it this is your doing?" He growls, tone low and dangerous but I refuse to flinch from his obvious displeasure. "That the mutt's face is all over the headline news and students are gossiping about it in the corridor?"
"As a matter of fact, it is." I reply evenly. "The Ministry looked to be trying to cover up the whole incident and something had to be done about it. It's been quite effective by my reckoning."
"You do realise that Lucius Malfoy is already petitioning to have Dolohov's case re-opened?" He looks furious. "And that's just the start of it. He has a dozen names just to begin with. He'd try to get Bellatrix released if she wasn't as crazy as a house elf on puffweed. Do you realise what you have set in motion? What you have done? Malfoy himself couldn't have hoped to strike a greater blow for the remnants of the faction if he had plotted it himself!"
"That is hardly my fault, Severus," I reply archly, trying to ignore my all too similar thoughts not long ago. "If anyone should take the blame, it's the Ministry. They are the ones who allowed this to happen. No trials, limited evidence and convicted on hearsay? It's no wonder it's coming crashing around their ears now."
"Yet you facilitated it!" his dark eyes face with rage, his perpetual sneer replaced by an expression more akin to a grimace. "If you had any sense whatsoever, Minerva, you'd have gone about this quietly! A word in the right ear not this circus of dancing flobberworms!"
"An innocent man is free though," I reply with more calm than I truly feel. Perhaps I should have approached Severus before setting this banshee and niffler show in motion. He certainly has a better handle on the darker factions of our political society than I do. "Long past due."
'One scraggly mutt sectioned in a padded cell of St. Mungo's is hardly worth a half dozen Death Eaters roaming free in Muggle London!" Severus spits venomously and I feel rather than hear Remus rise behind me. "Lucius is utterly beside himself!"
"Enough, Severus," my voice cracks like a whip in the enclosed space of the office and miraculously my younger colleague's jaw snaps shut, although the blazing fury in that dark gaze doesn't diminish. "You overstep yourself."
"In what?" He bites back. "The arrogant mongrel was hardly worth..."
Remus is between us before I can say another word, his wand held in a suspiciously loose grip by his side. Those amber eyes lock onto the sallow face with an intensity I have rarely seen in the mild mannered man and they flare with something primal as he takes a step closer. Severus is taller, but the way Remus holds himself makes him seem larger somehow.
"That 'arrogant mongrel' as you so charmingly put it," he snarls, muscles bunched in unmistakable threat, "has spent a decade rotting in a hellish prison, his mind torn apart by the ravages of some of the most hideous creatures that we have the misfortune to spare our country with, if not the entire world!"
Severus scoffed, rather unwisely I thought in light of the situation.
"It's a good job we did separate dangerous breeds from the Defence curriculum if you are that poorly travelled," he sneers dispassionately, not even bothering to look at Remus as he waves his wand with apparent disinterest, changing one of my hard backed chairs into a leather armchair and all but lounges in it, his wand arm relaxed and loose down one side.
I groan inwardly, rubbing my forehead tiredly. The last thing I need is a contest of who has got the largest… I stop my thoughts sharply. That is not a metaphor I have any intention of continuing.
"It's a wonder our students were ever taught anything. Examples? Perhaps the Brazilian kanaima which have a talent for possession and grievous harm almost unheard of elsewhere. Or perhaps the parasitic obscurus, often found in ill developed countries and continents, that always kills its host and leaves a trail of destruction in its wake. And of course, the skinwalkers of Navajo are all but indestructible. In comparison, the dementors of Azkaban can merely be defined as 'unpleasant'. They are, after all, eminently controllable."
He stops, but only for long enough to twitch his wand slightly causing a large smoking tankard of something that I sincerely hope is not alcoholic to materialise in front of him. Taking a sip, he continues in the same dry, pedagogical tone as if we were particularly dull students he was required to illuminate on the matter.
"That is the reason the dementors are the Ministry's choice for the frontline defence of Azkaban, after all. They are creatures of dubious intelligence, however they can be negotiated with, they can be controlled and they can be confined. A single relatively simple spell protects you completely. It should go without saying that there are countless creatures more dangerous than the dementor, providing you don't insist on a predominantly 'Western' viewpoint as I believe it is known as in academic circles. Others may define it as a white pureblood mentality."
He smiles slightly, but it is not a pleasant smile.
"Some of them could even give the Dark Arts in the hands of a master a run for its money and that is not something I say lightly. After all, a creature is as the creature does. The Dark Arts on the other hand are unfixed, constantly mutating and indisputably indestructible even if the caster himself is not."
"I didn't know you had an interest in such things, Severus…" I remark lightly, trying to reduce the tension in the room, if only by a fraction.
"I have been applying for the Defence position for years, Minerva," he snaps harshly. "As you well know. And I would have been significantly more suited for the role than any of the dunderheads our esteemed Headmaster has deemed to employ these past five years. However, the Headmaster is as the Headmaster does and we must all work around that…"
"None of that has any relevance!" Remus finally explodes, striding forward until he is almost looming over the lanky frame of our Potions Master, still lounging unconcernedly in the chair. The only indication that he has recognised a threat at all is the slight tightening of his shoulders and the changed grip on his wand. It occurs to me to wonder when I started to be able to recognise all these miniscule cues in my younger colleague's behaviour and body language. To an inexperienced eye, it would be easy to assume that he is utterly blasé about the enraged wizard standing over him, wand gripped tightly and legs set in a duelling position. Somewhere along the chaos of the last year I moved into a far more select circle it would seem. I am not sure how that makes me feel. "Spirit walkers are not, as far as I am aware, used to suck happiness and will, leaving prisoners helpless as they languish, forgotten for years!"
"You wouldn't want to try…" That dry, academic tone again. Severus hasn't even bothered to look up at Remus, and when he does glance up from the contents of that tankard, whatever they are, it is to meet my gaze. His shadowed gaze glints with something… is that amusement I see lurking in the darkness. My exasperation rises. Boys or men, they are as bad as each other. "The skinwalker, not spirit walkers I might add – they are an entirely different breed of species as you should be aware, would tear any Ministry official fool enough to try before the buffoon could even open his mouth and then be minded to target anybody standing close enough to be interesting…"
"Can we stay on point please, boys?" I say pointedly, cutting across the rising tension before Remus decides to put his Knuts where his wand is. "This is not the time for a history of magical species, regardless of how fascinating it is. If you feel such a need to lecture, Severus, then maybe you should be approaching Professor Kettleburn or Madam Quinou for a spot in their curriculum. Until that time however, we were talking about Sirius. Please Remus, do continue. Without interruption if possible."
I fix a glare on Severus, who merely smirks at me. Irritating man. Remus takes a deep breath and, thankfully, steps back from his nemesis of old.
"What about the state that Sirius is in now?" Remus asks, visibly controlling his anger as he speaks. "It is hardly surprising after ten years in that place I suppose, but…" His voice cracks for a moment and he closes his eyes briefly. "He isn't the same. It's like the essence of all he was is gone somewhere… somewhere else."
"You've been to visit him?" I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I have been ringing St. Mungo's for updates on his condition and been given vague answers and a promise that they will let me know when his condition improves. When I asked about visitation they informed me there wasn't a great deal of point at the moment, but they anticipated he would be in a better state in a couple of weeks. Of course, these things are never set in stone. Weeks could easily turn into months depending on well... on Sirius himself mainly. "You didn't mention it?"
"There really wasn't much to mention," Remus says darkly, sparing another glare in Severus' general direction which is completely ignored. "He's conscious and everything but it's like a huge part of his personality has been stripped away, leaving just an empty shell behind most of the time. You remember him from our early twenties, Minerva. Boundless enthusiasm and exuberance…"
"Get a puppy." Severus mutters as an aside, not quite under his breath, and this time I turn to glare at him. "You've got a chance of house training them…"
"Severus!"
"… a never ending stream of ideas and inventions for various pranks…" Remus continues, gamely trying to ignore the other man's interruptions, "…not to mention the inability to stay still for more than a second or two before declaring himself bored as an excuse to run off somewhere."
"Maybe some Cornish pixies…" Another aside murmur as Severus aimlessly stirs his concoction, clearly looking anywhere but in my general direction. "Just as much chaos, far less noise…"
"Now though?" The strain in Remus' tone is obvious, although I can't quite tell if it is pained or irritated… or most likely a mixture of the two. "I almost didn't recognise him, Minerva, and I don't just mean physically. It's like his personality has been drained from him. He recognised me well enough, but it was like all the stories and reminisces I tried to ply him with were things that had happened to a different person. Someone he just didn't care about. It was only when I mentioned Harry that he really engaged with me and that was…"
He halts, stutters and looks away, his eyes suddenly finding great interest in my carpet. His discomfort is clear for all to see as he shuffles slightly before shaking his head dumbly.
"That was what, Remus?" I prod, unsure as to why he has suddenly clammed up or why he looks so uncertain. "What did Sirius do? What's wrong?"
"It was…" Again he hesitates. "I don't know how to explain it…"
There is something in his manner that is beginning to make me uneasy and even Severus has given up making snide remarks and is listening closely. Not that Remus would be able to tell of course; it still looks as though he is contemplating the contents of his mug with all the gravity that you might treat the meaning of the universe. There's something in his posture though. The way his head has twisted just slightly to the side, the stillness of his fingers on the metal, the set of his mouth…
"It was… disturbing if I am honest. It was like a switch had been flipped but instead of getting the old Sirius back it was as though he were manic. He was moving the whole time, talking so quickly I couldn't make out individual words and punctuating well, sentences, I suppose, with a strange high pitched laugher. In fact, even when I could make out phrases they seemed jammed together incoherently. They made no sense. And he'd suddenly turn and start talking to Harry or even to James as if they were actually there. He'd reach out to touch them even. He'd stop talking and just stare at this completely empty spot in the room as if listening to an answer and then he'd be off again…"
Remus' brow furrowed. His obvious concern warring with his loyalty to one of his closest friends. A friend that he already felt he had betrayed once.
"But that wasn't it. Or at least not all of it. He'd… well, he'd morph half way through a sentence, change into his animagus form and run around the room barking at the walls or scrabbling at my feet, then revert back and go on as though he'd never been interrupted. He didn't seem to realise he was doing it. It was as if he'd lost control of some portion of his mind or his magic or his core or whatever you want to call it. It was all… very strange. I've never seen anything like it."
"Long term exposure to dementors is not something the wizarding community has invested a great deal of resources into," Severus muses, more to himself than to Remus. "This could be a fascinating opportunity actua…"
"Sirius is not one of your thrice damned experiments!" Remus all but bellows, the sound unnaturally loud in the enclosed space. "He is not a thing! He is a living, breathing person! He is a damn good wizard!"
Finally Severus actually looks up at him, his expression in something akin to surprise, as though he hadn't anticipated such a violent reaction. Then again, perhaps it honestly hadn't occurred to him. Severus has very few close friends and many of those are perhaps more for political expedience than true friendship, at least I presume from reading between the lines. To him, this is a question of academic interest. To Remus, it is immensely personal. To me, it is personal. Perhaps Severus doesn't see that… or perhaps he just doesn't care. It's difficult to tell with Severus sometimes.
"My point is," Severus remarks remarkably calmly, considering he has over six foot of muscle pointing a wand at him, "that regardless of how much more unstable than usual your mutt is, you can interest a wide variety of benefactors to work to find the most fitting treatment. Probably free of charge. This is virtually a once in a lifetime opportunity. People sent to Azkaban for ten years don't tend to come out. They rot in there until they die. There have been a few cases of people having shorter stints, but nothing of the degree in which you are talking about. There will be people willing to pay to have a shot at examining him…"
Severus doesn't get a chance to finish as Remus has stormed out of my office, slamming the door with such force that the paintings reverberate against the walls.
"Do you have to wind him up so, Severus?" I ask tiredly.
I'm too busy trying to process what Remus has told me to manage to interject any real anger into my tone. We all knew that Sirius would be in a bad way; after all, ten minutes in the presence of a dementor without a Patronus charm as a shield is more than enough for most people. A lot depends on how large your magical core is, I suppose. One theory at least is that the evil creatures are attracted to those with larger cores as they provide a larger source of energy. It's apparently one of the reasons they are attracted to crowds; so many cores are almost irresistible to them. Azkaban is a source of constant fodder. It's impossible to know the truth of course. The Ministry may have negotiated with them, but they are hardly conversation friendly.
"Not my problem that he's too sensitive for his own good," Severus grunts, waving a hand listlessly with no apparent concern. "The insolent brats will eat him for breakfast if he takes that attitude into the classroom. Not my problem though. Now hush, I'm thinking."
If anybody else had taken that tone with me, I'd likely have planting a well-aimed stinging hex as a reminder of good manners, but there's something about the way he's sitting that stops me. I wander across to my desk and collate the few papers that are scattered there. Just as I'm about to interrupt whatever the exasperating man is 'thinking' about, and follow it up with something more practical if necessary, he looks up.
"I would strongly advise not taking Mister Potter to St. Mungo's until there is a thorough assessment of the mutt's physical and, more importantly, mental state," he says abruptly. He stands and paces a few seconds before continuing. "It would be worth checking with St. Mungo's as to whether what Remus described is 'standard' behaviour as such, I suppose, but from the symptoms described the muggles would likely diagnose some form of psychotic episodes… it's certainly not neurotypical behaviour… but all the more complex because of the interactions with the magical core…"
"Psychotic?" I question slowly. I'm not sure I understood half of what he just spouted but my mind has stopped on one completely unfamiliar word.
"Psychosis," he responds shortly, his mind clearly somewhere else even as he answers the question. His tone is sharp and precise, his words clipped. He could be standing at the front of a classroom. "Relatively common in muggles. Probably just as common in wizards but we're so used to eccentric and inane behaviour that we likely don't even notice half the time. A debilitating psychiatric condition defined largely by an impairment of reality functioning which can be seen in either hallucinations or delusions, but whilst classic, psychosis cannot be constrained to those symptoms alone."
"I understand the concept of being deluded," I say, trying to keep up. "Hallucinations?"
"We'd likely call them apparitions in the most case," Severus replies thoughtfully, "based on the fact that we are aware that not all things can be seen with the naked eye. And of course that some hexes and curses can cause such impairments in sight, sound and touch alone. In this case however, I am referring to the description of the man having conversations with people either long dead or ensconced safely somewhere in this castle. We know that James Potter did not remain on the physical sphere as a ghost; he would have made his presence known by now, of that I am absolutely certain. The git would have revelled in it. We know Potter hasn't left Hogwarts. With those two facts in point, it is a reasonable deduction to assume that the mutt is seeing things that aren't there. Or hallucinations in the muggle medical parlance."
"And… this means what…?" My tone is distinctly doubtful.
"Well, when combined with the disordered thinking, chaotic speech patterns and erratic behaviour…" Severus continues, fingers tapping restlessly against the tankard which must, I would judge be virtually empty by now. "…it would all seem to point towards a neurological cause…" He catches my blank look and sighs. "An issue with the brain to be blunt. And the problem therein lies that we don't know what exactly caused it or what Black might do." He glances down at his goblet again before muttering. "After all, he was never the most stable individual to begin with…"
"Enough, Severus," I retort sharply. "I know you have had your differences but…"
"The man tried to kill me," he states blackly, boldly. There's no obvious rancour in his gaze now. "At sixteen years old and with a full awareness of the dangers of his actions, the high probability of either injury or death – with the latter being the preferred option, I might point out – he put not only me at risk but his supposed best friend. You can't be unaware that the Ministry would have had Lupin culled if that particular escapade had wound its way to the conclusion Black apparently wanted? You cannot tell me that was the act of a reasonable, rational young man?"
He stares at me, his expression giving little away but clearly expecting something of me. I sigh once more.
"No, but he was…"
"He was a stupid, irresponsible teenager who either lacked the ability to understand the consequences of his actions or had no capacity for empathy." Severus interrupts flatly. His hooded gaze almost dares me to disagree. I wish I could but… If Albus had told me at the time, I would have been hard pressed not to suspend the boy, if not push for outright expulsion despite his name and the prestige of his House. But Albus kept his secrets close even then. And for once, the individuals involved kept their mouths shut as well. "Yes, he was a minor according to Wizarding law, but he knew damn well what he was doing and there is no denying it. That wasn't some prank gone wrong, it was an outright attempt on my life. He should have been expelled."
"It was a long time ago, Severus," I start hesitantly, but again my younger colleague speaks over whatever else I might have said.
"Yes, it was a long time ago. It was before the death of his closest friend, before any suspicion of a member of the group being a spy for the Dark Lord, before his abandonment by the last remaining Maurader." The last word is said as a sneer, the loathing that is never far from the surface rising once more. "It was before he spent over ten years in direct proximity to the dementors. Not one dementor. Not even a handful. An entire prisons worth, constantly patrolling the hallways of that dark place. Ten years with no contact with the outside world, limited stimuli, mediocre sustenance."
He looks at me once more for a long, long moment. The silence grows but somehow I know there is more to be said.
"I would not wish that on my worst enemy. I would not wish that on James Potter. Oh, I might have once," he reacts to my raised eyebrows with a smirk. "Not now. That is the kind of experience that would send the sanest example of a wizard fleeing to the recesses of his own mind. And I think I have demonstrated that Sirius could never have been considered for that particular honour. He was childish, thoughtless and cruel without any thought to consequences or repercussions."
"People change…" I say weakly. "It's been ten years…"
"Ten years of that," Snape retorts, his voice rising slightly, "is ten years of hell. One does not walk away from that a better person. You cannot learn from your mistakes or have a chance to rectify them. You cannot grow up. You can only regress."
His gaze is almost compassionate, but he speaks with a frightening finality.
"You cannot expose the Potter boy to him. Not now. Not until we know. You cannot know what he will do."
"But Remus was clear that he loves the boy still…" Even I can recognise the plaintive note to my tone.
"And what happens if he thinks Potter is an imposter? That his hallucination is real?" Severus says it so calmly, but my heart turns to ice in my chest. "What if he suddenly blames the boy who lived for surviving when his parents died." He stops my response with an upturned hand. "I know. It isn't logical. The boy wasn't even two years old. But remember, I was willing to blame him for the sins of his father when he walked through the doors last year. We aren't always sensible. And Sirius is all the more dangerous for his potential unpredictability."
"So what do we do?"
"I don't know," he shrugs, the action seeming to roll all the responsibility off his shoulders and I fight back the flare of my temper. "I won't go anywhere near him, in any case. The werewolf wouldn't let me even if I wanted to. Which I don't."
He stands suddenly and heads towards the door at a more sober pace than Remus managed.
"Don't mistake me. I'll read the literature with great interest."
He smirks and I fight the temptation to hurl something at him.
"I'm sure Lucius will as well."
