Yes, I know. It has literally been a year since I touched this. I can only apologise. It's not abandoned... I was just on a rather long hiatus. You'll be glad to know that I have the next chapter almost ready to go, so there won't be a significant delay in that at least. Hopefully I can keep the momentum up.

As per usual, please review. You never know, it might spur me on.


Chapter 8: Misery Loves Company

"You understand that this conversation is to be kept strictly confidential," Amelia begins, her mouth tightly pursed. She looks far more tired than the last time I saw her, despite it being less than a few months. "It is only due to your instrumental role in the capture and imprisonment of both Quirrell and Pettigrew that we are having this conversation at all."

"I will share pertinent details with only those already directly involved." I skirt the question carefully, particularly aware that we are having this conversation in Hogwarts which makes it Hogwarts business. I had offered to meet Amelia at the Ministry, but she seemed it was quicker and easier for her to come to Hogwarts instead. "Severus and Albus for example."

"Wasn't Albus the orchestrator of this disaster in the first place?" Amelia asks tartly. "One among many, in fact?"

"He was," I admit. "However, he does seem to have learned from last year's debacle. At least as far as I am aware. We certainly don't have any artefacts of immense power hidden in the bowels of the castle this year. And it is hardly as though he put that shade of You-Know-Who in the man's skull. Anyway, we have enough trouble this year already to keep Albus out of mischief."

"Oh?" Amelia looks at me, her curiosity piqued.

"Filch's beloved cat turned up dead earlier this week and we have absolutely no idea who might be responsible," I sigh heavily. "Worse still, we have no idea how it happened. The poor creature didn't have a mark on it. Filch is devastated of course, the poor man. He's had that cat for more years than I can remember."

"Mrs Norris must have been getting on a bit, though," Amerlia remarks calmly, sipping the tea in front of her almost daintily. "Cats don't live forever."

"Except according to Argus at least she was a picture of robust health earlier beforehand," I say, glancing down at my own rapidly cooling tea. "And of course, we have the small matter of her being found hanging upside down from one of the corridor lamps. That at least was a deliberate act of cruelty. Whether whoever did it also killed her though, is a whole different basket of frogs."

"Well yes, that would put a different spin on things," Amelia muses thoughtfully. "You have no ideas at all as to what might have caused her death?"

"None," I sigh heavily. "And that's only one of the unsolvable mysteries this year has thrown my way so far. There's also a mystery house-elf locking the Kings Cross barriers, writing in what appears to be blood that even Filius can't remove declaring that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened once more and of course, Mr Potter and his friends are somehow smack bang in the middle of all of this."

I refrain from mentioning the strange voice that Potter apparently heard that evening. Poppy didn't find anything wrong with the boy, although she is the first to admit that she isn't a mind healer. She's good at what she does, but that is largely fixing up the scrapes, bumps and magical maladies that come naturally in a school containing hundreds of hormonal adolescents learning to control their magic. She is more than capable of reversing a slug-vomiting charm for instance, and Merlin help us all that Molly responded so well to my owl about her youngest son's wand, but hearing voices is hardly her speciality.

But both Severus and Poppy seem to agree on the fact that whilst we might not know exactly what Potter heard, he heard something. Unlike Black, whose mind has been shattered by his years in Azkaban, the Potter boy seems otherwise healthy. His behaviour seems normal, and he isn't suffering from any other strange visual or auditory symptoms according to Poppy. When combined with how we found Mrs Norris, it all points towards the simple fact that whatever he heard was real. Which leaves us with the larger problem of what or who he heard. Something or someone is stalking the halls of Hogwarts at the same time as the Chamber has apparently been opened. That can't be a coincidence.

"The Chamber of Secrets?" Amelia asks, her voice suddenly hushed and tense.

"That's what's written. In foot high letters that seem to defy every cleaning spell, charm or even good old elbow grease. Nothing we do seems to make a mark on it at all. We've closed that corridor off for now, but we'll have to re-open it eventually. And of course, the entire school can talk of little else." I rub my forehead, as though that would help remove the tension that's building there. "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware."

"That's…" Amelia's voice trails off as she stares down at her hands.

"Impossible?" I finish for her. "Unbelievable, absolutely mystifying?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of deeply troubling," Amelia remarked faintly. "Deeply troubling indeed. My grandmother was at Hogwarts when the Chamber was last opened. She said very little about it, but I understand it affected her deeply for many years to come. And she was a pure-blood." She shakes herself visibly. "But that isn't why I came here."

"Indeed," I reply slowly. "Your message was rather cryptic, I have to admit. And I can't deny that I am a little baffled by your choice of meeting spots. Hogwarts is hardly neutral ground, after the events of last year."

"The walls have ears at the Ministry right now," Amelia stated baldly. "The leak regarding Sirius Black's whereabouts and imminent trial hit the Ministry in general and Fudge in particular hard. They know the information had to have been leaked from my department, and the witch hunt is in full force."

"Won't they be tracking the floo network in that case?" I ask the obvious question.

"Of course they are," Amelia says simply. "I'm not foolhardy enough to have used the Ministry Floo Network in order to get here, Minerva. May Merlin call me paranoid in my old age, but I didn't even use my own floo. I apparated to the Longbottom house and used Augusta's floo. I have some self-preservation left in me."

"It's become that bad?" I ask, shocked despite myself. I knew our actions in getting various wizarding newspapers involved would have some repercussions, but what Amelia seemed to be describing sounded far beyond anything I might have imagined. Had Fudge lost his mind?

"I wish I were joking, Minerva," the tiredness in Amelia's tone says more than her words could. "It's madness at the Ministry right now. Fudge is accusing anyone who looks at him askance of being a traitor to the Ministry. I've lost two good underlings in the last week alone. One walked voluntarily and I can't blame her. The other was reported for seditious language and inciting rebellion after making an ill-judged comment about Cornelius' mental well-being in the corridors. His desk was cleared within twenty-four hours."

"That's…"

"Insane," Amelia said with a wry smile, as she almost parroted my earlier words back to me. "Impossible, unbelievable? Yes, it is. It's also all on my head, Minerva. If I hadn't tipped you off about the Black situation, none of this would have occurred."

"You've taken quite the risk to meet me then," I reply gravely. "Your absence is certain to be noticed for one thing."

"I've not had a day off for over two weeks, Minerva." She shrugged, her powerlessness evident in that simple movement. "Someone has to try to keep the show running and I refuse to run around like a crazed niffler like the rest of the Ministry. Even I need to sleep occasionally though."

"But you must have had a reason to come here," I say, giving the other woman a long look. I don't bother to say that it must have been a good reason for her to take this risk. We both know that.

"Fudge can't move on the Sirius Black trial until an independent Mind Healer has certified Black's mental fitness to sit trial," Amelia answers my unspoken question. "And despite his best efforts, he has not been able to bribe, flatter or coerce any of the St. Mungo staff into perjuring themselves." She just nods at my questioning glance. "Believe me, he has certainly tried. But I don't know if you've seen Black since his release to St. Mungo's?"

"No, I haven't," I say softly, knowing how callous my words sound. It is a poor excuse that things have been a little chaotic around here and I know it. That doesn't stop it from being the truth. "Remus Lupin has though. His report wasn't promising."

"That's an understatement," Amelia states bluntly. "The man is so far round the bend, he's about to walk into Narnia." She smiles slightly at my raised eyebrows. "Forgive me, Susan used to adore Muggle literature as a child. Either way, it's going to take years of therapy and treatment to get him back on an even keel. Half the time he doesn't seem to know if he's a dog or a man, he rants and raves at imaginary enemies or he spends his time talking to the Potter family as though they were alive and in front of him. The rest of the time he appears to be catatonic, staring off into space for hours on end. He is not a well man and in honesty, nobody seems to know how to treat him. St. Mungo's are flying a distinguished expert from the States who has more experience dealing with this kind of trauma, but everyone is more or less at a loss."

"So, a trial isn't looking likely?" I say flatly. It's a good result, a far better result than the previously planned travesty would have been. It does still mean that Sirius is a convicted felon though. And it means that it might be a while yet before we can take Harry to visit him. I'd hoped to introduce the boy to his Godfather sooner rather than later, even as the Longbottom boy's concern from last year niggled at me. Sirius could easily challenge custody of Harry and would likely be successful. "Where does that leave us?"

"It leaves us with a Ministry desperate to be seen to take action," Amelia said, throwing her hands up in a distinctly uncharacteristic gesture of despair. "Cornelius in particular is throwing his weight around. He is eager to be seen as a strong and competent leader, and that is leading to him making rash and perhaps actively unwise decisions."

"Decisions about Quirrell?" I ask, my heart sinking like a stone as the repercussions of Amelia's words sink in. I'd hardly forgotten about the shade of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named stuck to the back of Quirrell's head, but I had let it fade to the back of my mind. The shade was no threat whilst it was bound to Quirrell and Quirrell was safe in Ministry custody, or so I had thought. "What sort of decisions?"

"Cornelius Fudge, in all his wisdom, has determined that Quirinus Quirrell needs to stand trial for his crimes, rather than rot for eternity in a Ministry dungeon," Amelia began, her eyes flashing fiercely even as her tone turned didactic. "But in order to be tried for his crimes, he must first be separated from his Lord and Master. The logic is relatively sound at least; it is to prevent his responses being swayed by an individual of far greater strength and presence of mind that him."

"But that is likely to kill him!" I can't help objecting instantly, my voice becoming high and thin without my permission. "And if he dies…"

"The He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's shade goes free," Amelia finishes, her voice flat and empty. "This has been pointed out to Fudge and not just by me. I remember Severus' words all too well, Minerva, as I am sure you do. And I don't just remember his words. I remember his countenance. I had never thought to see the day when Severus Snape's voice would tremble with fear, yet I did. And I know what I saw. He wasn't just afraid. He was petrified. 'If they remove it…'"

"'…the Dark Lord will return." I take up the sentence numbly.

Amelia is correct. I more than remember Severus' words. I remember how his entire frame shook under my hand. I remember those unshed tears shining in his dark eyes and how his voice sounded like that of a broken child as he begged me, of all people, not to make him go back. I remember the tone of his voice as he described the horrors he had perpetrated in his Dark Lord's name. How he had tortured, killed and worse. I saw how much his past actions haunted him. And like Amelia, I saw his unbridled terror. It isn't a look that sits well on Severus and it will haunt me to my dying day. It is no wonder it has stuck in Amelia's mind as well.

"It might not be this year, or next year or even in five years' time. But the Dark Lord will return." She met my gaze levelly, before continuing and now it wasn't Severus' words that came out of her mouth. They were mine. "And this time we don't have a defenceless baby to protect us. This time… we will lose."

"Why?" I gasped out, my thoughts freezing momentarily. "It's madness… it's…"

"It is suicide," Amelia confirmed flatly. "But Cornelius didn't see Severus. I suspect part of him still believes that it is just a regular possession. That he will be able to control whatever form that possession takes. And he is desperate. He can see the Ministry begin to fall to pieces beneath him. He just can't accept that it is of his own doing. He sees plots and conspiracies in every shadow. He thinks by holding a full trial for Quirrell, he will be able to cement his foundering leadership."

"Can't you do something?" I ask blindly, trying to find some sort of solid ground to cling to. "You have to be able to do something!"

"Do what?" Amelia responds bleakly. "I told you, I am already suspect. Fudge is certain the leak must have come from my department. He is right, of course. I wasn't even on the need to know list for this, Minerva. The only reason I know what I do is because of my existing contacts within the Department of Mysteries. I have been completely side-lined here."

"So why tell me?" I bite out. "What do you hope to gain?"

"I don't know." There's no escaping the hollow sound of Amelia's voice. "Misery loves company, perhaps. And you are one of the very few people that I knew would understand."

"Do you know when this is going to happen?" I ask, fighting against the hopelessness that seems to well up from deep within me. "Where?"

"No idea," Amelia says and laughs bitterly, the sound echoing around my office unpleasantly. "The trial is apparently going to be early next week, but you should read about that in The Daily Prophet at some point today. The trial, not the attempt to remove the entity possessing Quirrell, I would note, and certainly not that it is suspected to be You-Know-Who. Those aspects will not be in print."

"It's Friday today," I say blankly. Who'd have thought that it was only last week that I woke to a castle of excited children and nothing more to worry about than a feast and a few hysterical students trying to adjust to the new curriculum. "That's less than three days."

"I am quite aware of the days of the week, thank you Minerva," Amelia replied tartly. "Essentially, what that means is that Cornelius must be planning to move forward with the removal of the force residing within Quirrell anywhere between today and Sunday. Time is not on our side."

"No… it's not." I stare across the room, focussing on nothing in particular for a long while before looking back to Amelia. "Thank you, Amelia. No matter what happens after today, thank you. You didn't have to risk yourself to inform me of this and yet you did. You have my word that I won't forget the turn you have done me today."

"For all the good it might do us," Amelia 's response is short, but I can see my words have meant something at least to the stern and upright witch before me.

It strikes me just how desperate Amelia must have been to give warning, not just today but also of Sirius' impending trial and inevitable conviction in light of the lack of evidence or sane testimony of the accused. Her loyalty is to the Ministry, not to Hogwarts and yet not once, but twice she has gone out of her way to inform me of things the Ministry would prefer did not see the light of day. Some part of me, the dark and fatalistic part, makes sure to store that information away for future use. For Amelia has shown her true loyalties this day and it is not to the Ministry. It is not to Hogwarts either. She is working towards something far more critical. For justice perhaps, but definitely for the good of the wizarding world as a whole, regardless of whose feathers she might ruffle in the process.

"Do you need to use my floo again?" I ask quietly, standing as Amelia does.

"No," she says with a slight smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'd prefer not to use Augusta's floo again and I don't dare floo straight home. I'll walk out to the gate and apparate directly from there. It is far less likely to attract undue attention that Augusta came to take Neville to Hogsmeade and then apparated home having seen him to the gates. Augusta has a tale to spin if anybody comes asking unwanted questions. I hope you will also play your part if it becomes necessary."

"Of course," I reply firmly, walking her to my door. "I certainly have not seen you today. Do you need an escort to the gates?"

"I am sure that I can recall the way," Amelia's voice is thin and brittle as she starts down the corridor, but her shoulders are squared and her head is high. "I am sure you have places to be and people to talk to, Minerva."

"That is very true," I agree, watching her stride down the hallway until she turns the corner. If only the Ministry were made up of people like Amelia.

I shake those thoughts away as I turn in the opposite direction. My footsteps are taking me towards the dungeon. Towards a conversation I am dreading. I stop suddenly, remembering a way to check if Severus is free.

"Silvia," I call out softly. "Silvia, if you can hear me, I'd be grateful if you would come here."

There's a brief silence as I stand in the middle of a deserted hallway, feeling distinctly foolish, but then there's a sharp crack and a diminutive figure stands before me.

"Mistress called?" It squeaks, staring up at me with huge watery eyes. I wonder how old this house elf of Severus' is and how long it has served him. "Silvia is here as Mistress demands."

"I'm asking, not demanding, Silvia," I say softly as the house elf continues to stare at me without blinking. "I'd be grateful if you could do me a favour."

"Mistress has only to ask," the small form nods as she speaks. "How can Silvia help Mistress?"

"Would you be able to check if Severus is free for me?" I ask, watching the house elf carefully. "If he is, could you inform him that I am on my way down and then check on Filius and Pomona… and maybe Albus, for me?" The elf is still gazing at me unblinkingly. "Can you do that for me?"

"Master is free," the elf replies without moving. "This is his time for preparing potions ingredients. Smelly, sticky things. Silvia keeps saying Master should let Silvia do it, but Master does not listen. Silvia will tell him you are coming. You should meet in Master's quarters. They don't smell like frog spleens. Then Silvia will collect Master Flitwick, Mistress Sprout and Master Dumbledore. Is that all?

"Thank you, Silvia. You don't know how much of a help that will be."

"Silvia will go now. Silvia will pass on all your messages. Mistress does not need to thank Silvia."

There's a crack and she's gone. Well at least Severus will know that I'm on my way. And hopefully, he will be able to read through the lines. I wouldn't have commandeered his house elf like that if it wasn't urgent, after all. I keep on walking, feeling the chill of the castle as I turn deeper and deeper into the dungeons.

It is no great surprise to find Severus waiting outside the entrance to his quarters by the time I reach them.

"If this is about Mister Longbottom's detention, Minerva, it…"

"No, Severus," I interrupt him before he really has a chance to get started. "This has nothing to do with any of the students. I almost wish it did. Albus and the other Heads of House should be down here shortly. This is far more serious than that."

Severus's eyebrows raise fractionally, before he pushes the door open wider.

"Well, you'd better come in then."

"We have a problem," I say bluntly, moving slowly into his living quarters as he shuts the door behind me. "A large Cornelius Fudge shaped problem. However, I only want to explain this once. If you have any Firewhiskey, I would suggest pouring five glasses. Large glasses."

His dark gaze settles on me for a long moment. If I were a student, I would be squirming under the intensity of it. Instead, I meet his gaze steadily. Finally he turns, a graceful flick of his wand the only thing needed to open the dark wood cabinet on the other side of the room and send five glasses soaring towards us. Another flick and a half full bottle of Ogden's joins them.

"It seems rather early in the day to be drinking, Minerva, but I will trust your judgement on the matter."

We settle into the chairs, if not comfortably then at least in a companiable silence before I quirk an eyebrow at my colleague.

"And Mister Longbottom?" Despite the gravity of the situation, my lips quirk up in a wry smile. "What did the poor boy do this time?"

"The 'poor boy', as you insist on calling him, decided in his infinite wisdom to add the puffer-fish eyes before the tubeworms and could have lost an eye." Severus mutters something incomprehensible under his breath before continuing. "Instead, he merely melted yet another cauldron bottom and will spend his detention writing out the potion instructions, in order, until they sink in. Until the boy learns to read, he will be a liability!"

"That's a little harsh, Severus," I chide softly. "His spell work has improved in leaps and bounds since he got his own wand. And he seems to be doing reasonably well under Arnold Reynolds in most of his Potions classes this year."

"Professor Reynolds is welcome to him." The younger man sighs heavily. "He's welcome to the whole pack of them, in fact. If I only have to cover one lower year class this term, that will be more than enough. Maybe he'll manage to drill how to follow basic instructions into their thick skulls. I have my doubts, however."

I bite back a smile as I let that one slide. I suspect Arnold will have more luck with the younger students by far. Severus may be an exceptional Potions Master, but how he handles the students leaves a lot to be desired. Moving him into the advanced and speciality classes was perhaps one of the greatest achievements of the new curriculum.

At that moment there's a knock on the door and Severus stands to let Filius and Pomona into the room, followed closely by Albus.

"What's the problem, Minerva?" Filius says almost instantly. His dark gaze flitting around the room and settling on the tumblers of Firewhiskey on the table. He looks back to me, a troubled expression crossing his face.

"Cornelius Fudge is the problem," I say bluntly. "Cornelius Fudge and Quirinus Quirrell. According to Amelia, he has started what can only be called a witch-hunt in the Ministry in response to the leaks around Sirius Black's condition. He is paranoid and determined to cement his leadership with a strong show of action. As he can't get his hands on Black, he wants to try Quirrell in a court of law. But for that to happen, he…"

"He needs to remove the possession," Severus finishes my sentence for me, his dark eyes flashing bitterly. It shouldn't surprise me that he came to that conclusion so quickly. "Of course he does. He intends to set the Dark Lord free."

"I'm not sure that's how he sees it…"

"But that doesn't matter, does it?" Severus bites out. "That will be the end result either way. Either Quirrell dies, and the Dark Lord is free. Or Quirrell somehow survives the procedure, likely in a highly questionable state of sanity and still unfit to stand trial, and the Dark Lord is free."

"We have to do something!" Pomona's voice seems too loud in the otherwise silent room. Filius closes his eyes for a second, and I can see the weight of this lies heavily on him. "There must be something we can do!"

"But what?" Filius responds heavily. "For all our magical power, we have little influence in the Ministry at the best of times. And this is hardly the best of times."

He's right. The five of us combined have enough skill, proficiency and raw magical talent to take on any magical threat. And yet, all the power and talent in the world doesn't help us here.

"I wouldn't say that, necessarily," Albus remarks quietly, and we all turn to him. For all that my confidence in the man was shaken last year, I can't escape the small glimmer of hope that rises in my chest at his words. "I still have some influence with the Minister, after all."

"Your influence, Headmaster, is tenuous as best." Severus' tone comes out as controlled drawl, but it doesn't take legilimency to see how forced that control is. "Fudge has long since moved beyond calling you for advice on a weekly basis. He believes he is in control. Or at least, he believes he should be in control. He believes the world is out to get him. Most importantly, he must suspect that the Hogwarts had a hand in the Sirius Black leak, so he will believe that you specifically are out to get him."

"Surely though," Filius interjects, "the leak clearly came from the Ministry itself."

"Use your brain!" Severus snarls, and Filius shoots a reproachful look at his tone. "I know you have one. The initial leak was clearly internal; however, the media leak has Hogwarts written all over it. It was due to the Hogwarts faculty that Sirius's guilt was ever questioned, Minerva's interest has never been in doubt and she even made a statement to that effect for the initial reports. Fudge may be an incompetent buffoon, but he isn't a complete dunderhead. He is paranoid, not stupid. He will have joined the dots together and they will make a moving picture!"

"But perhaps I can speak with the Minister regardless…"

"And then he will conclude that Hogwarts is trying to control Ministry decisions!" Severus stands suddenly and paces toward his fireplace. "If he is threatened at the thought of dissent within his own ranks, how do you think he is going to respond to the idea that Albus Dumbledore is trying to pressure him? He knows as well as I do that he only became Minister because you had no interest in the job! He will be threatened by you, Albus. In addition, he will know for certain that there is a direct leak from the Ministry to Hogwarts."

"So what do you propose, Severus?" There's a hard edge to the older wizard's tone, and his trade-mark twinkle is nowhere to be seen.

In response, Severus barks out a harsh coughing laugh.

"What do I propose?" He measures each word carefully before sounding it out. "I propose nothing, Headmaster. The Dark Lord is returning and we can do nothing to stop it. Nothing at all."