Title: All That Glitters

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: People were divisive, it was their very nature to separate the world into them and us, and wizards did it worst of all.

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

Chapter Eleven: The Subjectivity of Truth

Jonathon Abbott was not a remarkably brilliant, cunning, or courageous man. He had been sorted into Hufflepuff, he had long assumed, not because he was exceedingly loyal, but simply because he did not have any of the necessary traits for the other Houses. His daughter, Hannah, had followed him in that regard, and after the death of his wife, they had both gotten even quieter and more reserved.

Until the final battle. His daughter had risked her life, time and again, to fight You Know Who and his minions, and it was during those battles that Abbott realized he was a much stronger man than anyone, including himself, had given him credit for. If his daughter was going to fight so fiercely and so vehemently for what she believed in, he certainly was going to do his best to protect this world as well.

Which was how he had ended up in the Ministry. And it was why he had ended up in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was not an Auror, but Kinglsey had needed someone to look a things from a more governmental point of view, and so he was the one who sorted through the laws and regulations that controlled all their lives.

And it was during his work here that he had come up with the idea of separating Slytherin children from their families for the duration of their schooling. It was a radical idea, and strongly opposed by the traditionally Slytherin families. That would make it difficult to get the legislation passed, of course, because these pureblood families tended to have more political sway than the rest of the society.

Of course, that was part of the problem, wasn't it? And this would effectively end the problem and prevent prejudice in the future. Slytherin children would no longer be exposed to the damaging notions of pureblood superiority preached by their families. Instead, they would learn to accept halfbloods and Muggle-borns as equals.

He stared down at the drafted legislation. He was supposed to meet with Kingsley about it now, and he had no doubt that soon the Minister would be getting involved as well. He was not concerned with either of their opinions, however, because even if they did not support his idea, there were plenty of others in the wizarding world who did, and he had no doubt that he could at least get his proposal heard.

He took the parchment, rolling it smoothly, and walked towards the door. The hallway was empty, and he was not disturbed as he strolled along towards Kingsley's office, his mind on other thoughts.

What did surprise him was that when he reached the office, he found it empty.

The door was open ever so slightly, as though Kingsley had left in a hurry and forgotten to latch it shut behind him. The desk was still piled with scattered papers and books, and a few broken quills. A stone pensive sat in the very center of the desk, but the memories that had been inside it were gone now, obviously removed by the user.

Abbott frowned. He stepped back into the hall just in time to see one of Kingsley's aides rushing by. "Collins," he called out, and the young man paused and turned around. "Where is Auror Shacklebolt?"

"I don't know, sir," Collins replied. "He left a few minutes ago, said he had something important to take care of." He thought about it a moment, then added, "But Mrs. Malfoy was here a little before that. Maybe it is related to their conversation?"

Abbott's eyes narrowed. "Thank you, Collins," he said. The aide nodded and walked away, and Abbott frowned at the empty room behind him.

"He's doing something about Snape," a voice said, and Ernie Macmillan stepped through a door that connected Kingsley's office to the other Aurors' offices and cubicles. Macmillan was a junior secretary to the department, and as such often took notes or did research for Kingsley.

He also had a habit of eavesdropping.

"Oh?" Abbott pressed, smiling. Macmillan had been friends with Hannah at Hogwarts, and the boy had some loyalty to him because of it. That loyalty had helped Abbott in the past two years, allowing him inside information about the workings of the department.

"Narcissa Malfoy claims to have been contacted by Snape. He wanted to set up a meeting with Auror Shacklebolt." Macmillan paused, letting the words sink in, then added, "I think Shacklebolt agreed to the meeting. That's where he is going now."

"Setting a trap for Snape?"

"Perhaps," Macmillan agreed with a nod. "But as far as I know, he's made no attempts to go after the Malfoys."

Abbott narrowed his eyes at the young man. "What? Why?"

Then again, did he really need to ask that question? Kingsley, like Dumbledore, espoused the value of second chances. He was one of the few people who truly wanted to believe that the Malfoys had changed their ways… as though scum like that were ever capable of changing. He was blinded by his compassionate nature, by his desire to see the good in everyone, and he'd most likely never prosecute Narcissa Malfoy.

Well, Abbott thought to himself, if Kingsley wasn't going to do anything about the Malfoys, then he was.

He strode past Macmillan into a larger room. Several Aurors were moving about through the various cubicles, talking to each other in serious tones. The closest Auror, a man called Baker, looked up at nodded his head briefly at Abbott.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Good afternoon, Baker," Abbott replied. He gave Baker a thoughtful look, then said, "Come. I need you to arrest someone."

"Who?" Baker asked, summoning his traveling cloak and preparing to follow his superior into whatever situation lay ahead.

"Narcissa Malfoy."

Penelope Clearwater took a bite of her sandwich and gave Percy a long stare. He was sitting on the bench in the small park where they had agreed to meet for lunch, but instead of eating, he was staring off into the distance, obviously contemplating something.

"Perce?"

He looked at her, the serious expression replaced by a momentary smile. "I'm sorry, Pen. I'm probably not making very good company right now, am I?"

"What's on your mind?" she asked him.

He let out a slow breath. "Harry's decided to go after Snape instead of staying to finish his Auror exams." Penelope raised an eyebrow at him, and he explained, "Ginny told us."

"I see." The witch placed her sandwich on the brown bag next to her and intertwined her fingers, resting her hands in her lap. "Are Hermione and Ron going with him?"

"No, he's going alone," Percy replied.

"Oh."

Percy looked at her again, then shook his head. "You don't understand why this is upsetting."

It wasn't a question, but Penelope answered anyway. "No, I don't. I know Harry is practically part of your family now, but… Well, are you just concerned about him?"

"I'm concerned about all of us," Percy replied. "It's just… Harry has a way of… getting under my family's skin. And it seems like… when he goes off on these adventures… it's just that… Ron and Ginny… they get hurt, you know? And Mum worries the entire time. And…"

He couldn't really put it into words, how he felt about this. He knew his family loved Harry like he was another son. And, given his relationship with Ginny, he could very well become another son very soon. But it always seemed like he brought so much… pain, frustration, anger… everywhere he went. How many times had his recklessness gotten Ginny or Ron hurt? How many times had simply being associated with Harry put one of the Weasleys in danger? How many times had Percy's Mom stayed up at night, worried, driven to tears, panicked…

"But Ron, Ginny, and Hermione aren't going with him," Penelope pointed out. "They can't get hurt."

Percy nodded uneasily. "I know," he agreed, although he sounded far from convinced.

Penelope swallowed nervously, then said, "Percy… I have something I need to tell you. I… I meant to tell you this a little while ago, but then… something always seemed to interrupt our conversations."

"Are you alright?" Percy asked, instantly fearing the worst. "Is something wrong?"

She quickly shook his head. "It's nothing like that."

"Then what is it?"

"A while ago, I accidentally overheard a conversation between two people at St. Mungos." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "I think… well, they were talking…"

"Who was talking?" Percy interrupted.

"Two men. I didn't recognize them. I couldn't really see them clearly. And they were whispering… their voices were muffled." She glanced at Percy. "They were making plans to discredit Minister Diggory and… it sounded like they wanted to put someone else in charge of the Ministry." She closed her eyes, trying to recall as much of the conversation as possible. "They also mentioned something about catching Snape."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. That was really all I heard. I… I don't know. I wanted to tell an Auror or something, but… I just didn't even know where to start. You know?"

Percy nodded gravely. "I'll tell my Dad, and he can tell Auror Shacklebolt," he offered.

"It might not be anything, though," Penelope was quick to qualify her story. "I didn't hear the entire conversation, I might have missed something important. It could… it's possible that this isn't anything to worry about."

"You're probably right," Percy agreed, saying the words only to reassure his girlfriend. "Still… I'll tell Dad. Then he can deal with it, and you don't have to worry anymore."

"Stupify!"

"Protego!"

Kingsley dodged to one side as his own stunning curse was sent back at him, rebounding off the shield the other man had managed to create. It was dark, and the two of them were standing in the Forbidden Forrest where Narcissa had arranged for the meeting to take place. Shadows partially covered Kingsley, giving him an eerie appearance. But the other man, standing in a small clearing, moonlight cascading over his tall and lanky body, narrowed black beady eyes and looked thoroughly unimpressed.

"Is that the best you can do?" he sneered.

"Hello, Snape," Kingsley said coolly, taking a few steps forward, wand still held out in front of him.

Severus Snape glanced around. "No entourage," he said mockingly. "You're braver than I thought." He paused, then added, "Or just a complete idiot."

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm not afraid of you, Snape."

"Then you really are a fool," Snape replied.

"What do you want?" Kingsley said. "You're the one who asked for this meeting."

Snape hesitated. "Why did you come alone?" he asked finally, probingly.

Kingsley felt something in his mind, a foreign presence working its way through his thoughts. He had never been particularly good at Occlumency, but he had enough basic skill to recognize what Snape was doing. He waved his wand at the other wizard, sending a few sparks into the air. As expected, the sudden burst of light startled Snape, and he lost his concentration.

"Stay out of my head, Snape," Kingsley snarled.

"Hmm… anger. Be careful, people tend to lose control when their emotions get in the way," the potions Master goaded. "Take Potter, for example. He'll never be anything more than a second-rate wizard unless he can learn to…"

"Harry is a greater wizard than you will ever be!" Kingsley interrupted, his voice a low hiss. "He defeated Voldemort, didn't he?"

"That was mere luck," Snape countered. "He would have died long before if he hadn't had more intelligent and skilled friends to keep him alive."

Kingsley took a moment to calm himself. He couldn't afford to be blinded by rage, no matter how much he might wish to curse the man in front of him. He was here for a reason, and if there was any chance that Snape could save McGonagall, he was at least going to listen to the other man's words.

"I'm not here to discuss Harry Potter with you," Kingsley said finally. "Narcissa Malfoy told me that you were not responsible for Minerva McGonagall's kidnapping, and that you are being framed. Is this true?"

Snape nodded, once. "It is."

"And why exactly do you think I should believe you?"

"Well, you obviously believe me somewhat, or you wouldn't have bothered coming out here… alone." Snape gave Kingsley a thoughtful look as he spoke, then he corrected his earlier words. "No, that's not true. You don't trust me. But you care too much about Minerva to let any chance of saving her pass you by. That's why you're here… and that's why you came alone."

Kingsley found himself unnerved, both because Snape was able to read him so well, and also because the potions Master had used Minerva's first name as though they were friends.

"You wouldn't have shown yourself if there were others here," Kingsley pointed out. He wasn't stupid enough to think that Snape would be there, just waiting, as he marched in with an entire army. The traitor had not survived this long by being that reckless.

Snape inclined his head with a stiffly polite nod. "True," he conceded.

"In the memory I saw, Dumbledore… well, the portrait… he said he trusted you," Kingsley said finally. He held up the small jar filled to the brim with the silvery almost-liquid, Snape's memory floating around inside the glass. "Why?"

"We are not here to discuss that, are we?" Snape rejoined. "I can help you find Minerva before she's killed."

Kingsley folded his arms across his chest. "You told Dumbledore's portrait you would protect all the students and every legitimate professor at the school, as you have always done. What did that mean?"

"Enough," Snape hissed furiously. "This is not the topic of conversation."

"I want the truth," Kingsley replied. "I won't settle for anything less."

"Truth?" Snape asked, his voice lowering into a silky whisper. "Truth is only what a person makes of it. I killed Dumbledore. That's your truth. What else matters?"

Kingsley swallowed back his bitter retort. Truth was subjective, seen only through the eyes of the beholder. It could change from one person to another, could be different depending on the situation.

But he never thought he would be getting a lesson in philosophy from Snape.

"So why would someone frame you?" Kingsley asked finally. Snape was right about one thing. No matter what he had seen in that memory, Snape did kill Dumbledore and flee to Voldemort's ranks, and that was not something easily forgiven. But Minerva was still in danger…

Snape frowned, but answered, "That, I don't quite know. But I have a good idea who might be behind this."

"Oh?"

"Runcorn and Yaxely. Possibly Hannigan."

Kingsley fingered the wand still clutched tightly in one of his hands. He could feel the smooth wood running across his palm, and wondered if he could stun the other man with a silent spell. He was certainly a skilled Auror, and had been for years. But Snape was not a man to underestimate.

"Don't even think about it, Shacklebolt," Snape said quietly. Kingsley started, and the other man continued, "You might be good, but I'm better. I'll take you before you even have a chance to cast that spell."

Kingsley wasn't entirely sure that was true, but opted at the moment not to take any chances. Snape was proving to be a much more complicated man than he had anticipated, but perhaps he should have expected that.

"So… do you know where Minerva might be?"

Snape shook his head. "Not for certain, no."

"And you don't know why she would have been kidnapped, and you aren't entirely certain of who kidnapped her." Kingsley gave Snape a cool stare. "How exactly does this help me?"

"I can help you," Snape replied as though the answer was obvious. "If my suspicions are right, Yaxely and Runcorn will have done this to draw me out, to make me show myself. That they expect me to do that will buy us time, and the element of surprise."

Kingsley shook his head, staring past Snape towards the edge of the forest. In the distance, he could see the outlines of the castle, rising high above them all, outlined against the dark sky. He had been surprised when Snape had suggested meeting here, but assumed it was so he could enjoy some twisted pleasure at being so close to the place where he had killed Dumbledore and where Voldemort had made him Headmaster.

The problem was, Snape didn't really seem to have much to offer. Hunches and guesses wouldn't guarantee Minerva could be brought back to safety, and he couldn't risk working with Snape unless he had something show for it at the end.

To stall for time, he asked, "Why would Runcorn be out to get you when the two of you are working together?" He recalled when Snape had attacked at the Malfoy Manor, recalled the memory of Mr. Malfoy that had shown Snape admitting he was working for Runcorn, and that the two of them wanted the Elder Wand.

Snape gave a thin smile, and the realization dawned on Kingsley.

"That was a setup," he murmured. "You were just playing us. You've never been working with Runcorn, and were never after the Elder Wand."

"Hmm… but that doesn't mean Runcorn isn't after it," Snape said silkily, obviously enjoying the plain anger on Kingsley's face.

"But why would you go to all that trouble…?"

"To prove a point," Snape answered. "You called every Auror on duty over to the Malfoys, and that left Spinner's End unobserved long enough for me to meet Hannigan there and… explain… to him the consequences of interfering in his life."

Kingsley felt the heat rising in his face. The fact that they had been so predictable, that Snape could easily manipulate all of them, left him with an embarrassed and uneasy feeling. It also made him resolve the doubt in his mind. If Snape could so easily manipulate them when they were hunting him, how much easier would it be for the potions Master when Kingsley was actually working with him? No, this was not a good plan, and how could he have ever thought that Snape would honestly want to help him? It was probably just some elaborate plot for Snape's own gain.

And so he attacked without any warning.

Snape barely managed to raise a shield in time to protect himself, and the curse bounced off in the opposite direction. He countered with something of his own, and Kingsley felt a thin slice of pain as his palm slid open. He winced, but attacked back, two spells in quick succession, and was rewarded with the sight of one of them connecting with Snape's chest.

Snape stumbled, falling to his knees. His wand flew from his grasp, the force of Kingsley's spell knocking it clear from his hand. As he registered the loss of his wand, however, he felt his palm slide across something smooth and round. He looked down, and found his fingers resting on the tip of a ring he had not seen for several years, the ring that had caused the curse to spread through Dumbledore's hands and into the rest of his body. The ring that was a Horcrux, the ring that had contained a little bit of the Dark Lord's soul.

Slytherin's pendant.

He slid it automatically into his pocket at the same time spinning around to stare up at Kingsley. The Auror had advanced, wand out in front of him, eyes filled with a cold and calculating light. He hesitated, unsure of what to do, and Snape used that moment to call his wand to him.

Kingsley, seeing the movement, tried to attack, but Snape had already caught the wand and used his magic to push himself away from Kingsley… and straight up into the air. Kingsley fired another curse, but he easily moved to the side, skimming through the air like an insect on the surface of a pond.

He brought himself to land across from Kingsley, wand still held out in front of him, prepared to attack. The two stared at each other for a moment, as though sizing up the opponent. The fight had pushed them deeper into the Forest, however, and now they were at the edge of the school boundaries, far enough away from the castle that they could each Apparate to safety if they so chose.

Kingsley registered this briefly, but continued to fight anyway, flinging another curse at Snape with a fury and anger he did not know he possessed. Snape countered, once again, and they circled each other cautiously.

"You can't win against me," Snape said finally, his voice a strained hiss. "Don't be a fool."

"I'm not," Kingsley replied, waving his wand. A flash of red light illuminated the area around them, casting eerie shadows along the ground. "You're the fool if you really think you can escape justice forever."

Snape seemed even more livid at that comment, and he sent several successive curses at Kingsley. The Auror was sure that at least two or three of them were Dark Curses, but he couldn't quite be sure as Snape wasn't saying the words aloud.

"Justice does not exist," the potions Master answered finally. The force of his attack had put Kingsley on the defensive, and allowed him the upper hand. As the Auror finally lost his grip on his wand, the thin piece of wood fumbling from his fingertips and falling to the grassy floor, Snape cast one last spell with unerring accuracy, and Kingsley fell to the ground, stunned.

The potions Master paused for a moment, suddenly unsure of what to do. If he left Kingsley here, he would certainly run the risk of being killed by one of the many monsters that lived in the Forest. But he couldn't very well return to the man to London and risk being caught by the Aurors.

Finally, he levitated Kingsley's still form into the air and began the long walk back through the Forest to the castle. When he finally emerged onto the carefully tended ground, he deposited Kingsley's body near the lake, content that he would be safe here until he awoke. Then he turned and slipped away into the night, leaving the empty grounds behind.

In the safety of his own tiny home, Snape sank onto one of the chairs and buried his head in his hands, trying to organize his confused thoughts. He had not been lying when he told Shacklebolt he could help find Minerva, and he certainly wasn't about to give up now. But things had just been complicated by Kingsley's lack of trust and faith in him.

He stared at the object he held in his hands, at what he had found on the Forest's floor. The ring, a dark stone inscribed with smudged marks, rested in his palm. He didn't really know why he had picked it up, but he placed it on the table nonetheless, intent on keeping it.

It was a memento, after all, a memory of everything he had fought against, of what he had wanted to prevent.

Of what he had prevented.

Justice, as he told Shacklebolt, did not exist. Not in some pure, objective form that everyone seemed to talk about. Like truth, it was subjective, unable to be measured in any scientific way. Every society had its own version of justice, and this one was no exception.

He knew his efforts had made the world a better place… but sometimes it was hard to see that.

He had known for sometime that Runcorn was after the Elder Wand. And that Yaxely wanted to continue the pureblood mania that had swept the country under the Dark Lord's rule. And that Hannigan, ambitious as ever, was getting into something too far over his head. But he had no idea how Minerva figured into all of this, and he knew that without Shacklebolt's help, he might never be able to find her.

At least not before she died.

He had one other option, and he did not like it. But if he showed Kingsley more of his memories, if he told him the truth… the whole truth… would he be willing to listen then?

He wanted out of this war. And he knew what everyone else did not, that the war hadn't ended when Potter killed the Dark Lord. Oh, it might have made the world a marginally better place, but evil didn't just die. People were divisive, it was their very nature to separate the world into them and us, and wizards did it worst of all. Sooner or later another Dark Lord would rise, and if he wasn't building his reputation on pureblood beliefs, he'd be building it on something else. That was just the way the world worked.

But Snape had given a lot of his life to defeating this Dark Lord, and he didn't want to invest the rest of his life in stopping Runcorn, Yaxely, Hannigan, and all the others who followed them. Simply put, he was tired, and he wanted a chance to rest.

But…

There was always a but in these situations. And in this case, it was Minerva.

If he gave Kingsley his memories, he would be pulled in front of the Wizengamot and all his past deeds would be inspected and judged by the men and women who sat in those stiff-backed chairs, condemning him for his faults, praising him for his successes. As though they had any right at all to judge him, as though they weren't filled with the same goods and bads as everyone else.

And they would twist the findings for their own reasons. Would they even find him innocent with all the proof in front of him? Unlikely. The world wanted him dead, and everyone knew the Wizengamot was swayed by public opinions.

A fair trial… it was one of the few things that the Americans had ever done right, and it was a pity that the English wizards hadn't adopted that idea.

He didn't want to be judged. He'd spent his entire life having other people determine who he was and who he should be. Potter and Black, the Dark Lord and his followers, Dumbledore, and then the younger Potter and his friends. Even Lily, to some extent, had known exactly what she wanted him to be and demanded it from him. So, too, had Narcissa and Lucius and anyone else he might have ever been able to call a friend.

He was tired.

And he wanted out.

Before he could think any further on this subject, however, the door to the small hut burst open and a young man entered, his pale eyes flashing with fury. The young Malfoy looked so much like his father at that moment that Snape had to do a double take before realizing it was Draco standing before him.

"Draco, what…?"

"What did you do?" Draco spat, folding his arms over his chest and marching over to the potions Master. "What did you do to us?"

"Draco, I have no idea what you are talking about," Snape said impatiently, waiting for the boy to explain himself.

"Then tell me," Draco asked, his voice quivering with anger, "why Aurors just showed up at my house and arrested my mother?"