Chapter 9
Aftermath:
Dumbledore carefully locked the door behind him, securing it with a spell Harry didn't know.
"What did you think you were doing, Potter?" he suddenly found himself face to face with a visibly upset caretaker. Filch must have been freed by Dumbledore from the curse and now, his face only centimetres from Harry's, he sputtered, cursing Harry loudly and furiously.
Harry observed him with detached interest and didn't pay any attention to the words the old squib threw into his face. What should he care about the scolding Filch, or eventual punishment? His Godfather had been killed today. No punishment could top that.
"Let the boy be for now, Argus. We'll talk about his actions later."
The caretaker immediately stopped his outburst, though he still glared at Harry full of loathing. Even this bitter, old man had enough respect for Dumbledore to obey him blindly and unasked. Dumbledore's word was law. Imperturbable and above all doubt, all living and dead beings in this castle seemed to respect this unwritten rule. Well, all but one in any case.
Harry felt new tears well up in his eyes at this thought. The immensity of Sirius' death, his inability to prevent it and his hatred for Snape suddenly seemed to weigh down upon his shoulders, threatening to bury him under their pressure. He felt helpless and weak all of a sudden and, against his will, started to tremble again.
Dumbledore came to his side and laid his arms soothingly around his shoulder. "Come Harry. You should go to your dormitory. It would be best if you lay down a for a bit."
"I can't lay down now. Snape, Sirius. It would only get worse – more real." Harry hated the traitorous undertone in his voice, which was bearing all his feelings so clearly.
Despite his feeble protest, Dumbledore started to steer him away from Snape's quarters and Filch. While walking, he reached into his robe, pulling out a vial. He held it in front of Harry. "This will help you to get some sleep, my boy."
Harry sceptically eyed the small container with the transparent liquid. "I won't need this, Headmaster. It's not like it's the first time I've lost someone close. I'm not a small child anymore."
Dumbledore ignored his admittedly weak protest and pushed the vial into his hand, not slowing his step while doing so. "Neither is Remus, but still, he has needed it too."
Astonished, Harry looked up and Dumbledore even managed something like a miserable, forced smile. "Why do you think he was not at Sirius' side in the hospital wing? It's hard for him, to lose the last of his remaining friends. There are not many people who would have done for a werewolf what the Marauders have done for Remus. Thanks to their nature, Werewolves rarely have any friends at all. Remus is now in his quarters, and as I hope, sleeping. All of this will be hard for him to process."
Not only for him, Harry thought, but he felt too absent to even comment on it, so he only nodded mutely. Too much had happened today, way too much for neither him nor Lupin to handle just now. Again he looked up at Dumbledore, who had still his arm around Harry's shoulder. The Headmaster looked old. Every wrinkle in his weathered face seemed more pronounced, his eyes dull and his whole demeanour full of bitter resignation. For him, the whole thing was probably not much easier. He too had lost someone he had liked a lot and he would have to send another person whom he held very dear to his doom.
"And how are you, Sir?" Harry heard himself ask on an impulse. The Headmaster sighed deeply before he stood still and faced the teenager.
"The times are not easy as it is. The war against Voldemort is on its full run. Sacrifices have been made before and will also happen in the future. People are getting hurt and killed. The sentiments of a single person can't be taken into consideration at this moment. We are forced to do things that would be unthinkable at any other time. I have no other choice but to end what I have started, even if it's proving to be the most painful thing I had ever have to do." Dumbledore looked at him for a moment longer before he again put a forced smile on his face. "Which reminds me, I had better go to my office. I have a letter for the Ministry to write. Will you get back to your dormitory all right?"
Harry knew that it wasn't his way-finding ability Dumbledore doubted, and he nodded in understanding. "I've calmed down, Headmaster. Snape will be turned over to the ministry and get his punishment there. I can live with that."
Dumbledore patted him once more encouragingly on the shoulder. "It's alright, Harry. You're not the kind of boy who is taking justice into your own hands. Such an action would be bending the rules which are separating the light from the dark side and would thus be the first step towards Voldemort's direction."
Harry winced at the implications of Dumbledore's suggestion – or had it been a warning?
With Dumbledore it was always hard to tell. But when the Headmaster disappeared behind the next corner, Harry suddenly felt relieved that he hadn't killed Snape after all.
When he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady he took a deep breath to calm his frenzying nerves. Certainly Ron and Hermione would have told the other Gryffindors about Sirius. There was no longer any reason to keep all that had happened a secret. There was nobody to protect anymore. Harry blinked a few times to chase eventual tears away. He wanted to keep as much of his dignity as possible, as not to have a break down in front of the whole Gryffindor tower.
"Quiddich," he named the password and stepped through the opening, as the portrait swung aside.
The common room was crowded with what must be every last of the Gryffindors. They were sitting on the chairs and sofas, or stood in little groups, talking in hushed voices. Some of them looked up to the entrance as they heard the movement of the painting and their discussions died abruptly. Taking notice of the sudden decrease in noise, the other students looked up, one after the other, and their conversations faded too.
An oppressing uncomfortable silence laid itself over the room as Harry became aware of numerous pair of sympathetic eyes directed at him. Ron and Hermione had, as expected, told them about Sirius and his relation to Harry.
"Harry, where have you been? We've been worried about you," Hermione broke through the silence. She hurried towards him, taking him into a brief hug. Ron followed up closely, scrutinizing him worriedly. "Yeah, where have you been, mate?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I've been walking around."
Seamus cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Hermione and Ron have told us about what had happened in our third year and that Black is your Godfather and innocent of those murders. Can that really be true? It's hard to believe."
Harry glared angrily at the other boy. "Sirius WAS my Godfather, and he was wrongly accused." His looks were icy and challenged everybody to just try and contradict him. Nobody did. Only the more timid among them lowered their gazes in embarrassment.
"Professor Snape will not get away with this, Harry. The Headmaster will look into it," Hermione tried to calm him down.
"I wouldn't count on that," Ron doubted, for which he got a scanting look from Hermione. Still, he vocalized his uncertainties. "Dumbledore likes that git. What if he really lets him get away unpunished, like Harry suspected?"
"He won't." Harry stated sharply.
"Ahem, Harry," Ron countered, obviously ready to add a certainly unpleasant objection.
"I went to see Snape earlier."
Those words stole every concern from Ron and everybody was staring at him open mouthed.
"I wanted to kill him with my own hands," Harry continued unwavering. "It was Dumbledore, who stopped me. You should have heard Snape. That man has completely lost it. He only laughed about his acts, as if it all had been merely a game. Then he cursed at Dumbledore, telling him that Voldemort would win the war." He made a long pause before throwing his hands up in the air. "That Snape hadn't openly sworn loyalty to Voldemort was all. The git has never been an idiot. An immeasurable jerk maybe, but he's not stupid. He's rather the kind of guy who would deceive and plan behind Dumbledore's back. Even the Headmaster himself had said that Snape wasn't his usual self. Snape was acting completely crazy. Still, the Headmaster promised to have him arrested. For using one of the Unforgivables, he'll be getting the Dementor's kiss."
A collective gasp went through the Gryffindors as Harry stated coldly the worst possible fate for the Potions Master. Harry could tell that the others were stunned. Even though not a single one of them really liked their potions teacher, they still were shocked about the fate that awaited him. Harry didn't care. The others didn't know Sirius. They hadn't lost their last parental figure through the curse of a mean, crazy man.
"I'm going upstairs," he said resolutely. He threw a sideways glance at Ron, "And I want to be alone, understood?"
Ron nodded mutely. Harry knew that it was not fair to be so rude to his friends and that they only worried about him, but he couldn't take them for the moment. They just wouldn't understand, no matter how hard they tried. They didn't know how it was, when fury and grief ate at one's soul. It was impossible to say which feeling was stronger. Each one was overwhelming and competing for predominance, only driving the other to higher intensity.
He moved over to the boys' dormitory and the others stepped out of his way, their faces mirrors of sympathy and worry. Harry didn't look at them and only stared stubbornly straight ahead, his fingers clutched unconsciously around the vial in his pocket. Now he was glad that the Headmaster had been so insightful in giving him the potion. It didn't matter that it was the middle of day. He wanted to sleep and forget, be it only for a few hours.
T.B.C.