Title: All That Glitters

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, including the lines from The Lord of the Ring trilogy at the beginning of the chapter.

Summary: Harry interrogates Kingsley, Hermione and Ron attempt a normal date, Arthur comes to a decision, and Headmistress McGonagall takes a stand.

All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost

Chapter Three: Three Little Words

"Harry," Kingsley greeted, standing quickly and reaching out to shake Harry's hand. "How are you?"

"Fine, Kingsley," Harry answered politely, striding into the office and glancing around. The Auror's office had a homey feel to it. The wall directly to his right was covered in shelves filled with books, trinkets, and pictures of Kingsley's family and friends, who were waving excitedly at Harry. In front of him was a desk, and in front of the desk was a large, comfortable-looking armchair.

Harry took this all in curiously. He had never imagined Kingsley to be the homey type. In all his years of knowing the other man, he had never heard Kingsley speak of his family or of his life outside the work he completed for the Order.

"I was surprised when you said you wanted to talk to me," Kingsley said, gesturing for Harry to take a seat. Once the two were sitting, Kingsley added, "You said it was important…?"

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the scrap of paper Hermione had given him. He flattened it out and handed it to Kingsley. "Someone slipped this into Hermione's pocket the other day. She didn't see who it was."

Kingsley read the words through once, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Bat?" he asked, raising his eyes to Harry.

Harry blushed slightly and said, "It's what we all used to call Snape. The greasy bat…" He trailed off and shrugged, his face hardening as he nodded to the note again. "And the dragon."

"Draco," Kingsley confirmed. "I see where you are going with this. But the Malfoys have already been cleared on this particular matter, Harry. They don't know where Snape is."

"So they say," Harry retorted. "What makes you think we can trust them?" When Kingsley didn't answer right away, he pressed, "Ron said you were part of the people who are keeping their eyes on the Malfoys. Have you seen anything… suspicious?"

Kingsley fingered the note in his hand, picking his words carefully. "Nothing that would have lead to their arrest. Which isn't to say that they aren't up to something. But are you sure that this note is legitimate, Harry? Accusing someone of harboring Severus Snape is not a light charge, and I won't go into without weighing the consequences."

"What consequences?" Harry asked, frustrated. "We'd catch Snape!"

"If it is real…" Kingsley corrected. "If this is just an attempt to discredit the Malfoys, we may very well destroy them."

"So?"

"Harry," Kingsley said in a disapproving tone, "Whatever your opinion of the Malfoys, you cannot condemn them without evidence. And as far as I am concerned, a not-yet-legitimized note is hardly proof of any wrongdoing."

"How can you be so quick to forgive them for their past crimes?" Harry demanded hotly.

"Draco Malfoy did not commit any crimes," Kingsley answered calmly, ignoring the anger in Harry's eyes. His own deep voice was slow and measured, and he watched Harry with a calculating gaze. The Boy Who Lived was a wild card, and unfortunately he could already see the beginnings of some reckless plan forming in Harry's mind.

"He tried to kill Professor Dumbledore," Harry shot back, incredulous at Kinglsey defense of the other man. "And what about Lucius and Narcissa?"

"What about them?" Kingsley countered. "The note mentions only the dragon… Draco." A far away look came into his eyes, and for a moment he was silent, thinking. "As for Albus Dumbledore… by your own testimony, Malfoy was unable to kill him."

"I cannot believe this," Harry hissed. "Are you really going to do nothing?"

"I didn't say that," Kingsley replied. "I will certainly pass this information to the rest of the committee. And we will discretely search for evidence. I simply do not think that it is a good idea to bring any of this to public attention until we know exactly what we are dealing with." He leveled a look at Harry, instructing him with a simple stare that he would also be required to maintain his silence on the matter.

Harry huffed, outraged.

Kingsley added thoughtfully, "We do not want any news of this to reach the Malfoys. After all, if they are guilty, and they find out that we are investigating claims against them, they will cover their tracks more carefully."

Harry accepted this argument reluctantly. He was eager for justice, but he did not want to rush into something and therefore lose his chances of catching Snape. He knew that many of the remaining members of the Order did not believe that Snape would ever be found; he was too good and keeping himself concealed. If this was his one and only chance to catch the traitor, he would not ruin it with carelessness or haste.

It didn't make waiting any less frustrating.

"We will look into this claim," Kingsley said, his attention now focused on the note again. "Although I would be greatly interested to know where this information came from."

"Hermione was in Edinburgh when she received the note," Harry answered. "She didn't see anyone she knew, but she might have missed them. She said she was completely overwhelmed by the crowd."

After a moment of consideration, Kingsley said, "Let me see what I can find, Harry. I'll let you know if we discover any leads."

It was as good as anything Harry could hope for, and he bid Kingsley goodbye and left the office.

After Harry had gone, Kingsley stayed where he was sitting for a long time, staring at the note. Finally, he stood up and crossed swiftly to the fireplace. Snatching a handful of iridescent green powder from a small box on the mantle, he threw it into the flames, watching as they turned bright green.

"Minerva," he said, "there's something you should see," and a moment later Headmistress McGonagall was climbing out of the dying flames.

The hard cobblestone steps of Diagon Alley lead unevenly through the twisting labyrinth of shops, sliding to a stop outside of the white marble of Gringotts. The sun was out and the sky was blue, but a cold wind whipped through the streets, chilling the pedestrians to their bones.

Hermione stood near the bottom step, her eyes scanning the few withes and wizards out and about, searching for one in particular. Finally, out of the continually moving crowd, she managed to recognize the flame red hair and bright eyes. She raised a hand and received an answering wave and a smile.

Without preamble, Ron approached her and said, "Harry went to talk to Kingsley this morning. He was in a foul mood when he got back."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and said sarcastically, "Hello, Ron. It's nice to see you too."

Ron flushed, his skin turning almost as dark as his hair. "You look… uh… nice," he stammered, trying to make up for his lack of earlier greeting. "Do you mind that we are meeting here and not Edinburgh?"

"No, it's fine," Hermione hurried to assure him, a hint of a smile playing around her lips at his obvious embarrassment. "You know, Ron," she continued teasingly, "when we're married, you're going to have to know how to properly start a conversation without me guiding you through the steps."

Ron tried to glare at her, but seeing the look on her face, he couldn't help the smile that broke out across his. "It's been a long day."

Sympathetically, Hermione gave a nod. Then an idea occurred to her and she asked, "Should I not have shown Harry the note?"

Ron winced. "It would have made him easier to live with," he muttered, but Hermione was still looking at him, still looking for a real answer. He shook his head. "We do everything together, 'Mione. You shouldn't have to hide this from Harry."

"I just don't want him to get hurt… physically or emotionally."

"He's a bit of an idiot when it comes to Snape," Ron agreed. "I want to see the traitor brought in as much as anyone else, but…" He shook his head again. "He'll calm down."

Hermione frowned, unsure if she believed that, but she accepted Ron's words for what they were; an attempt at reassurance. She glanced around. "It's cold out here. Shall we find a café?"

Ron gave his assent, and a few minutes later they were tucked into overstuffed armchairs near a roaring fire in the back of a tiny café. The atmosphere was cheery and bright, and patrons were talking excitedly all around them.

"Mum Floo-called this morning," Ron said suddenly. "Wanted to give Harry a stern lecture, but he wasn't there so I got an earful instead."

"About what?" Hermione asked curiously. She had seen Mrs. Weasly's temper turned towards one of her sons or her husband, but rarely towards Harry. In fact, over the years, Hermione couldn't remember a single time the Weasly matron had actually raised her voice to Harry.

Ron grinned. "Harry bought little Teddy a toy broomstick to ride. It only goes a few feet off the ground, but Teddy's been zooming around the house and the garden on it, it's giving Mum a heart attack."

"Remus would be so thrilled to know how well Harry is taking care of his godson," Hermione remarked dryly.

"Are you kidding?" Ron demanded. "Lupin would be thrilled to know his son is going to be a great Quidditch player." He was smiling at Hermione's obvious disagreement as he added, "Who wouldn't want that for their children?"

"Ronald Weasly, don't you dare," Hermione threatened. "I will not have my future children…" Before she could finish the sentence, however, several people rushed up to her and Ron, closing in around them.

"You're Hermione Granger! And Ronald Weasly!"

"Look, Mum, it's real live war heroes."

"Can I have your autograph?"

"Is it true that you and Harry Potter had to escape You Know Who several times? Did you really destroy all the pieces of his soul?"

"I heard you escaped from his giant snake more than once!"

"What was it like, chasing all those Horcruxes?"

"What's Harry Potter like? Is he really brave? Are you really brave? Was it scary? Were you scared?"

After answering several questions and signing a few photographs, Ron and Hermione both excused themselves from the little café and stepped out into the street. It was a relief to get away from the crowds, and Hermione was beginning to become more and more annoyed at her inability to go out in public without being recognized. She could only imagine what it was like for Harry, the boy credited with saving the world, time and again.

"Well, that went well," Ron commented, shoving his hands into his pockets. He glanced over his shoulder, a frown on his face. He'd always envied Harry for his fame, but now he wanted nothing more than to be anonymous again. There was something pleasant about staying out of sight. After the war they had all suffered through, he only wanted quiet peace.

"We're never going to be able to go out in public, are we?" Hermione murmured, rolling her eyes as a few witches and wizards on the street stopped and gawked at them.

Ron laughed. "You're just lucky you don't have to deal with the other Aurors. All the students in training right now are absolutely crazy. And they just adore Harry. I swear, they'd follow him around like little lost puppies if they could."

"I bet the professors love that," Hermione replied, having already heard the stories several times. Both Harry and Ron were celebrities in the program, and people hung on their every word. No doubt the current Aurors were less than thrilled to discover two boys held more prestige than they did.

Ron gave a snort of disapproval. He did not think highly of the professors. He did not think highly of any of the people who worked in the Auror's office. Only those who had been in the Order or in any way affiliated with Dumbledore seemed to have any common sense.

"We know more than they do anyway," he answered. "We've been through more than they've been through."

Hermione accepted this in silence as she watched all the people on the street who were watching her. In Diagon Alley it was impossible to avoid any type of confrontation with the press or the public, and she was starting to remember why she didn't like London.

"Son? Are you coming?"

Percy glanced up as his father's head poked around the door of his office. He rubbed his bleary eyes, turning from his father to the parchment on the desk in front of him. "In a little bit, Father. Tell Mother I'll be late."

Arthur frowned. Taking a few steps into the room, he asked, "How much longer do you have to stay?"

"I'm not sure," Percy answered, not looking up. He ran his quill over the parchment he was reading, pausing at some particular sentence, looking thoughtful.

Arthur opened his mouth to ask something, but his words were cut off by the arrival of an incredibly pretty witch who stepped through the door without even knocking. She had a narrow face with delicate, elf-like features and long curl hair. She stopped, appearing startled to see Arthur, but she gave him a hesitant smile and turned her attention to Percy.

"Hello," she ventured.

Percy looked up and gave her a smile. "Hello, Penny," he greeted, rising to his feet. He crossed to her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I thought you were going to have to stay at St. Mungo's later?" he asked, giving a quick glance to the clock.

"I did too," Penelope answered. "But it turned out that they didn't need me."

Percy turned to his father. "Father, you remember Penelope Clearwater?"

Arthur hesitated. In truth, he had no idea who this girl was, but since both Percy and Penelope seemed to think that he should, he didn't want to admit to his ignorance. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Penelope," Arthur said politely, wondering who this girl was and how her mere presence managed to get Percy's face to light up light Christmas lights.

"You, too, Mr. Weasley," Penelope replied. She turned back to Percy and asked, "Do you have plans for supper?"

"Oh, Mother won't mind if I don't come home for supper tonight, will she?" Percy said off-handedly to his father.

Arthur stared blankly at his third eldest son. He wanted to tell Percy that of course Molly would care and she would miss him. He also wanted to demand details about exactly who this girl was and how they knew each other. How could Percy so casually dismiss the rest of the family in favor of her?

Taking Arthur's silence for acceptance, Penelope turned to Percy and asked, "Are you almost done with work?"

Percy rolled the parchment he had been looking at only moments before into a scroll and nodded. "I'm done," he announced. "Let me just put everything away." He began to move around the room, piling rolls of parchment in a cabinet behind the desk and sorting through letters on a stand by the door.

"So…" Arthur watched Percy with a confused stare. His son was willing to drop everything to spend time with this girl? "How long have you two known each other?"

"Well, we met at the beginning of Hogwarts, of course," Penelope answered instantly. "Percy was very kind, he offered to help me with Transfiguration because I just couldn't turn that toothpick into a needle."

Percy had flushed slightly at her praise, his face taking on a dull pink tinge. It clashed horribly with his hair. "I need to tell Crawley that I'm taking off for the night. I'll be back in a moment." He left the room, and Arthur and Penelope stared at each other in silence, the tension awkward.

"Do you see a lot of Percy?" Arthur asked at last, trying to get a better sense of this girl's relationship with his son.

Penny seemed confused by the question. "I suppose," she said. "I mean, I don't see him any more than you would expect to see someone you are going with…"

Arthur started. "Oh," he said, attempting to sound casual, "so you two are going together?"

Penelope raised an eyebrow. For a moment, it appeared as though she wouldn't answer the question. Finally, she said, "You don't remember me, do you, Mr. Weasley?"

Arthur shook his head. "I'm sorry, Penelope, I…" Somehow, the accusing and disappointed look in her eyes cut through him, reprimanding him so forcefully that he wondered if he hadn't just somehow failed a very important test.

"I guess it is hard to keep track," Penelope said quietly, giving a little shrug, "when you have so many children." She crossed her arms over her chest and explained, "Percy and I have been going together since out third year at Hogwarts. Of course, there was some time when we weren't together… you know, such as during the war, but…" She shrugged again.

Arthur swallowed uneasily. How had he missed something as important as this?

"What happened during the war?"

Penelope seemed surprised by the question, but answered, "I'm Muggle-born, you know. I had to go into hiding." She gave a wry smile and added, "I never did like Madam Umbridge. She's the one who brought me in for questioning."

"How did you escape?" Arthur asked, intrigued despite himself. He knew that this must have been a horrible time for Penelope and she might not want him to bring up old wounds, but it was rare in deed that any witch or wizard who had been brought in on charges of 'stealing magic' actually escaped punishment.

"Oh, well… Percy helped," Penelope answered vaguely. She glanced at the door Percy had gone through moments before. "I was one of the first they brought in, you know. We didn't know what was going to happen to us, but the Umbridge woman was just so…" She trailed off and shuddered slightly. "I felt safer, knowing that Percy wouldn't let anything happen to me."

At that moment, Percy reappeared. "Ready to go, Pen?" he asked. She nodded, and as the two of them left the office, Percy called over his shoulder, "Good night, Father."

Arthur stared, aghast, as Percy and Penelope walked out of the room. He wracked his brain, trying to recall any conversations he might have had with Percy about Penelope. None came to mind, and he realized at that point that he had never even asked Percy what his life had been like for those few years that they weren't speaking. He was slightly surprised that Percy had helped hide Penelope from You Know Who and the Ministry, especially since, according to Penelope, this was a full year before Percy came back to their side.

But to be honest, he thought, how much had he really known his son? Percy had always been somewhat of an enigma, someone he just couldn't understand. He wasn't a Weasley, not the way the others were. He was too serious, and not quite fun-loving enough, and just didn't quite mesh with the family. Harry and Hermione seemed to fit in more than Percy did, and perhaps that was part of the reason it had been so easy to accept them into the family. Perhaps that was part of the reason it had been so easy to feel as though Percy wasn't part of the family.

And perhaps it was time he started paying more attention to his son.

Minerva McGonagall brushed the soot from her clothing as she climbed back into her own office. It had been a while now since Dumbledore sat at this desk, but it still seemed strange that the circular office was accompanied by another other than the eccentric old wizard. When she sat in the chair behind the desk, she often felt like an imposter, like a cheap charlatan pretending to be something she wasn't.

The portraits were all asleep, accept for Dumbledore. His portrait didn't sleep much, and she wondered if the man had not slept while he was alive either.

"Hello, Albus," she greeted.

"Good afternoon, Minerva," the portrait replied politely.

"I've just received word from Kingsley that there is a new development in the hunt for Snape," she reported, settling herself at the desk. She turned her chair so that she was facing Dumbledore's portrait, wanting to be able to talk to him about this mysterious note that Hermione had received.

"Oh?" As always, Dumbledore's portrait did not seem as interested in this as she would have thought. Did he really have know desire to catch the man who had killed him and betrayed them all?

"Apparently, someone reported an anonymous tip," she continued. "There may be a link between Draco Malfoy and Snape." She wanted for the portrait to say something, but he didn't. Those infuriatingly calm blue eyes just stared back at her, and she felt suddenly uneasy and unsure.

Finally, Dumbledore's portrait asked, "Who received this tip?"

"Hermione Granger," the Headmistress answered. "Do you think it is worth following?"

The portrait gave her a crooked smile. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because you claim to know Snape better than any of us," Headmistress McGonagall replied. She paused for a moment, clearly thinking that it was evident that the Headmaster didn't know Snape as well as he believed he had, but she didn't say it. Instead, she asked, "Why don't you ever show more interest in this?"

"I'm a portrait, my dear Minerva," was the answer. "I'm not a member of your world, not really."

"And yet you have an opinion about every tiny detail of this school," she replied dryly, smiling slightly. It was true, the old portrait often liked to comment about what she did or didn't do while in charge. It had been hard for him to move on, to leave this world behind; of that she was certain.

"Why are you so determined to find Severus?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

Headmistress McGonagall didn't say anything right away. When she finally answered the question, her voice was laced with disbelief and sarcasm, and odd combination that made her sound angry and upset. "How can you even ask that? We all trusted him, and he betrayed us. He murdered you, in cold blood, in front of Potter."

"Hm… I don't like seeing the world so caught up in revenge," Dumbledore said. He seemed weary suddenly, although it was quite impossible for portraits to get physically tired. "It does not always bode well for us," he added, a lost look in his eyes.

"He's a threat," she shot back firmly, lips thinned into a narrow line. "He's a threat to all of us, as long as he is still out there." She glared at the portrait, daring him to contradict her, and the room was silent for a moment.

"There are other threats," the portrait said at last, "but you must, of course, do what you think is best."

Now thoroughly disquieted by the entire conversation, the Headmistress rose again and started towards the door of the office. She paused with one had on the knob, and glanced back at the portrait, as though there was something she wanted to say. But she simply shook her head and turned around again, walking from the room.

When the door closed shut behind her, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore let out a weary sigh and said to the empty room, "The things we do for love."

"After you kill me…"

"I do not want to kill you," Snape interrupted, his black eyes flashing with anger. He was livid, but his face was calm and unemotional besides the eyes. He had spent many long years keeping his thoughts and feelings closely guarded from prying eyes, and he refused to fall apart now.

But Dumbledore continued as though he hadn't heard him, "We will need to set up a way for you to prove your innocence. Not right away, mind you, but after Tom is defeated…"

"If you really expect me to stay in the Dark Lord's favor," Snape retorted sarcastically, "I do not think it would be a wise decision to broadcast my true loyalties."

"After the war is over," Dumbledore said, his tone patient "you will not longer need to serve Tom."

"I don't want your help in this, old man," Snape hissed, letting his self-control fall for one moment. He collected himself quickly and turned away. "I have no desire to have my innocence proven."

"I could plant a memory somewhere," Dumbledore mused, still ignoring what the potions Master had said. "Some place safe, where it would not be discovered until after the end…" He leaned back in his seat, pushing his half-moon spectacles further up his crooked nose, and continued, "It would be best if it was simply your memory, but I do see that you would not take kindly to the idea of the Aurors poking around in your head."

"You already made a promise," Snape said, forcing the words out between his lips. "Never to tell anyone why I did this."

Dumbledore frowned. "We don't need to tell anyone why," he said slowly.

"You won't tell anyone anything," Snape ordered tersely.

Dumbledore hesitated, realizing the futility of trying to ignore what his young Professor clearly wanted to say. He drew a breath and asked gently, "Don't you want to be cleared of all guilt?"

"There is nothing I want," Snape answered. "Nothing you can give to me." He look so bitter and so lost at that moment that Dumbledore found himself unwillingly agreeing. There was nothing anyone could do for Snape, not anymore.

"You deserve more than a life as a fugitive," Dumbledore pressed.

"I deserve what I want," Snape answered. "And that is simply to be left alone by this world that has so utterly failed me on more than one occasion." Dumbledore was wavering, and the younger man pressed his advantage. "You will remain silent, even after this is over. Your portrait will say nothing. If I survive, you will let me… you will let me leave."

Dumbledore nodded. It was the least he could do, agreeing to this final wish of the man he had forced to do every dangerous, deceitful task that he needed done. "I'll do it," he said.

Three little words.

And the fate of a man was written.