Interlude IV
Dumbledore paced wearily before his desk, his eyes on his feet.
The portraits spoke quietly amongst themselves, their muted conversation mingling with Fawkes' snoring and the occasional whirring of Dumbledore's instruments to create a calming susurrus.
Severus drained the gin in the glass, holding it in his mouth for a minute before swallowing.
Severus Snape was not a man to drink often. But if there was any time when he was owed the burning clarity that alcohol brought, it was now.
Slowly, the colour returned to his cheeks, the racing of his heart beginning to calm.
Severus shook his head slightly, his mop of hair flying around.
"Barty was not involved in Terrence's death," Dumbledore said finally, ceasing his restless movement and sitting down to face Severus.
"The Dark Lord did not say that he wasn't, he simply didn't mention it."
"No. If, as you wish to believe, Terrence had discovered Barty's secret, he would have used a Memory Charm."
"Memory Charms have been known to fail."
Dumbledore shook his head, stroking his beard.
"Even if he felt that there was no option but to kill him," he said, "there are many better methods than the Parerum Curse. And you are forgetting, I think, Mrs Norris and the other pets. Whoever it was, they needed to learn how to perform the curse. Barty would not have."
Not for the first time, Severus cursed Fudge for effectively executing Crouch before they had the chance to question him more thoroughly. Even if the Death Eater had not been personally involved, Severus was quite certain that the man had known the truth behind his student's death.
It was, of course, possible that Crouch had known, and had passed the information onto the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord was still hesitant to trust Severus completely, and Severus would not be improving that fledgeling trust if he were to constantly be asking questions.
Painful as it was, he needed to put helping the living before seeking justice for the dead.
"There is the chance that Crouch knew who it was…"
"Of course. And if so, the balance of probability is that the culprit was not one of the Durmstrang contingent. It is very likely that whoever it was, they are a student here."
"And we're no closer to finding out who it was."
"Unfortunately not. We will have to keep a careful watch."
Dumbledore sighed, reaching a hand out and running it along his sleeping Phoenix's back.
"I fear this coming year will be one full of distractions. It will be very difficult to pay attention to individual students. But it is something that must be done."
"Many of my upcoming seventh years are in danger of recruitment," Severus grudgingly admitted, "I will have an exceptionally fine line to walk."
"You cannot drop your cover," Dumbledore warned, "Even to save one of them."
"I know."
"You care for them," Dumbledore asked lightly, "do you not?"
"Slytherin has become the house of the blood purists and violent bigots," Severus said, "You know the types of families who fall into those categories. For too many of them, I am the only one who may care, even slightly. Some of them even look up to me. When they hear that I serve him, it will push them closer to that decision."
"It needs to be done. We cannot proceed without inside information of Voldemort's plans."
"I know."
Dumbledore sighed again, fixing his gaze upon Severus.
"Do what you can for them, without risking revealing yourself."
Severus nodded curtly, beginning to stand.
"And please, look out for Miss Weasley."
"McGonagall can worry about her," he said flippantly, waving a hand.
"She will. As I said, I believe we are all going to be very distracted this year. There cannot be too many people watching out for her."
"Albus-"
"The same way that your 'allegiance' to Voldemort may cause the students you care for to follow in your apparent footsteps, Crouch's care for her may push her down a terrible path. Not to mention the effects that the diary had on her."
Severus recovered from his instinctive flinch at his supposed master's name and nodded again.
"My students come before her. But I will keep an eye open."
"I cannot ask you to do any more than that."
"Thank you for coming, Miss Lovegood. Please, take a seat."
Luna pulled the chair out, making no attempt to hide her curiosity as she sat. She hadn't been called in for a private meeting with Professor Flitwick ever before, and frankly had no idea why she was being summoned for one now.
All she knew was that Professor Flitwick had asked to see her before she would take the carriages down to the Hogwarts Express, and so she was there.
Unfortunately, Professor Flitwick's office was not a particularly exciting place. The bare walls were painted a rather drab burgundy, and the Professor's desk was almost empty. She itched to walk over to his bookshelves but managed to contain that urge.
He sat on a special chair, one that was far taller than the usual ones.
Perhaps it was good that his office was not such an exciting place. Somewhere like this would be far less attractive to Phrelaxes than if there had been distractions filling the room.
And it made it easier to focus her attention on him.
"Miss Lovegood. Luna. I'm sure you have heard that your Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor this year was not actually Alastor Moody, but was a Death Eater imposter?"
"Yes, Professor. And I heard Professor Dumbledore's speech last night."
"Did you know that Miss Weasley was having extra lessons with the imposter over the course of this year?"
Luna blinked, suddenly realizing what this was all about. They were worried about Ginny, worried that perhaps the imposter had affected her, had tried to radicalize her or something like that.
She almost laughed, but remembered the lecture she'd once received from Professor McGonagall about propriety.
"Yes, Professor. Ginny was very proud of it. I didn't see the appeal at first, because Defence isn't my favourite subject, but then I thought about how I would feel if Hagrid would give me extra lessons and I have to say it sounds marvellous. I think I would be at least as happy as she was."
"Miss Lovegood-"Professor Flitwick began, and she realized that she'd started rambling again.
"Sorry, Professor."
"Did Miss Weasley tell you what they were studying in these lessons?"
She shrugged, her attention wavering for a moment at the sight of a parchment on Professor Flitwick's desk that appeared to be written in Gobbledegook.
Maybe Professor Flitwick would be willing to teach her Gobbledegook. The real one, not the sham that Goblins taught outsiders.
He repeated his question, sounding slightly annoyed.
"Sorry, Professor. Yes, she mentioned that they were going through the fourth year syllabus and even studying some of the theory from the fifth year one."
"I see. Can you think of any times during this year when Miss Weasley seemed…odd? Upset or troubled, perhaps? Did you ever receive the sense that something was different about her, or that she was worried about something? More than could be blamed on the hurly-burly of normal life, I mean."
She was just about to open her mouth and respond with a resounding no when she paused, cocking her head and considering it.
There had been times when Ginny had seemed troubled. Many of them.
There'd been all that time around the winter holidays when Ginny had barely spoken, when she'd said that there was something going on that she didn't want to talk about.
An icy snake of fear wiggled through her chest, coiling itself around her heart.
There'd been all those times when she thought Ginny looked like she was about to cry for no reason. There'd been the times when Ginny had looked sad and disconsolate, had seemed to lose all interest in whatever they were talking about.
There'd been all of those strange conversations, questions about hearts and minds and masks and secrets.
Could it be? Could Ginny really have been brainwashed by a Death Eater?
'No,' she decided, shaking her head. There must be some other explanation. It couldn't be that her best friend; the girl who had never mocked or insulted her, the girl who had kissed her and didn't call her a freak, the girl who had listened to her with interest even when she didn't believe what she was hearing.
It couldn't be that her best and only real friend had been brainwashed by a Death Eater. It simply couldn't be.
There was another explanation. There had to be.
The relief that filled her was not enough to entirely blot out that freezing bit of doubt.
But it was enough to dim it, to dull its edge.
"No, Professor. Not that was out of the ordinary"
"Miss Lovegood, please, think about it. This is not to get Miss Weasley into trouble. I promise you, we want nothing but to help her."
For a moment, she debated telling him. Telling him how she had been so concerned about Ginny, how even though Ginny had come back to herself she still seemed a bit different.
'What if he's right? What if-'
'He isn't. He can't be. And if you tell him, she won't want to be your friend anymore.'
"I will, Professor."
Professor Flitwick sighed, shaking his tiny head and staring at his desk.
"Please do. Anything you think of, anything at all, please tell me."
She nodded, standing up.
"Have a good holiday, Professor."
"You as well. And if anything comes to mind, don't hesitate to write to me."
Molly wiped her eyes, her lower lip trembling, her fingers trailing over one of their old family pictures.
She and Arthur waved out of the centre of the picture, surrounded by their children. Bill was proudly gesturing to the Head Boy badge on his chest, and beside him, Charlie was pointing his thumbs at his Prefect's badge. Percy stood next to his father, looking solemn in his Hogwarts robes, all ready to face his first year. The twins were flanking the rest of the family, their faces contorted in identical ridiculous poses. Ron stood in the middle of the picture, his arm around the girl next to him, the picture having been taken while he was laughing.
Ginny stood next to him, wearing a sunny grin that showed the fresh gaps in her smile.
The happy family in the photo suddenly jumped, scattering out of the frame as Molly's torrent of tears fell.
"Molly? Molly, dear, are you in here?"
She gave a coughing sob, her attempt at answering Arthur failing miserably.
A moment later, she felt his arm snaking its way around her side as he sat next to her and pulled her close to him.
"Molly, it's alright. It's alright."
"It's not!" She cried, shoving her face into his shoulder, "it's not! My little girl-she had a Death Eater tutoring her! My little…Ginny…"
She broke down again, her sobbing overtaking any possible words.
Tears filling his own eyes, Arthur hugged her close to him, rubbing her back and murmuring comfortingly as the throe passed.
Eventually, the heaving of Molly's chest began to lessen and she sat back up, wiping at her face and breathing heavily.
"It just doesn't end, Arthur," she said bitterly, "one thing after the other. And now-now we've got to worry that he-that he was trying to recruit her. Now we have to worry about what she's picked up from that monster."
"Ginny will be fine-" Arthur began, but Molly shook her head, her eyes swimming again.
"How could she be fine? You heard Albus, she trusted him! She trusted him, she trusted that memory of-of You Know Who. He must have made her think that he really cared about her. How could she just be fine after that?"
"We've always raised her well," he hesitantly replied, "she knows right from wrong."
"So? They've managed to pull people onto their side who came from normal families before. Remember Jugson? Rookwood? Crouch?"
"That's different."
"Only because we never thought something like that could happen to us!"
"Molly, Albus said that he'd spoken to her and to the other students Crouch was teaching. Professor Flitwick spoke to Luna, and they say…"
"I don't care what they say," she snarled, "She's my daughter"
"I know," he said soothingly, "she's my daughter too. Of course we should be worried. But we can't treat her with suspicion."
"How can I not? After spending so much time with a monster like that, after everything with the diary, how can I not be worried that she's been influenced by them?"
"Of course we should worry! But we can't risk alienating her. We need to watch and listen very carefully, and do whatever we can to counter any poison they've whispered to her."
Another spate of sobbing took her, shaking Molly like a leaf in the wind.
"Listen to me," Arthur said, "we're going to discuss all of this at length with Ginny. And this time, we won't just let it go. We're going to show her just how much we love and care for her."
"We've been trying that for two years!" Molly cried, "And she's just drifting further away from us! We've discussed it so many times, how she's become so much harder to talk with. And now this!"
She collapsed onto her husband again, hugging him as if for dear life.
"I don't want to lose her," she sobbed, "I can't. And with this war, with all of them at risk…"
"It's going to be fine," Arthur said thickly, "we're going to do everything we can."
"But is that enough?" Molly whispered. "I can't-I keep thinking that it's too late, that we can't-."
"We will get through this," he said, holding her tightly to him, "it's not too late. We'll get through this, dear. And the boys will help as well. We'll get through this, as a family."
Looking at him through tearful eyes, Molly could only hope that he was right.