Title: All That Glitters
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Summary: "Narcissa Malfoy saved your life!" Nott answered coolly. "Pity, really. She should have just left you to die. The world would have been so much better off."
All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost
Chapter Twelve: Thunder
News spread quickly. Before long, everyone seemed to know that Narcissa Malfoy had been arrested by the Aurors in conjunction to Severus Snape and the kidnapping of Minerva McGonagall. The Daily Prophet printed sweeping headlines about bringing justice to a fugitive, and much of society seemed to be calling for the harshest interpretation of the law. But there were others, lead mostly by pureblood families, who responded with outrage at a violation of Narcissa's rights, claiming there was no evidence at all to tie her to Snape, and this was just a setup by a corrupt government wanting to seize as much control as possible.
As the controversy rose within a matter of hours, Narcissa found herself sitting in yet another questioning room, surrounded by Aurors. This time it was not Kingsley Shacklebolt who sat across from her, but Jonathon Abbott.
"Mrs. Malfoy," Abbott said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "Do you understand why you have been apprehended?"
She lifted her chin slightly and replied, "No. Why don't you elaborate?"
The answer seemed to amuse Abbott. He leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowed as he contemplated her. She didn't seem particularly worried about being in custody, but that could have been bluffing more than anything else. Surely Mrs. Malfoy of all people understood the dangers of Azkaban.
"You are accused of having been in contact with Severus Snape," Abbott said. "Do you deny it?"
"Who accuses me?" Narcissa asked softly.
Abbott shook his head. "Let's just say that information came from within this department." He pursed his lips and added, "So, how about you think carefully over you answer?"
Narcissa didn't respond right away. Finally, she asked, "Have you spoken to Kingsley Shacklebolt?" Abbott said nothing, and Narcissa continued, "I suggest you wait and speak to him when he returns." She slanted a look at the other Aurors and added, "He is the head of this department, after all."
"I'd rather do this now," Abbott hissed. "And if you refuse to talk, I'm sure we have ways to encourage your cooperation." He pulled out a thin vial filled with liquid, and swirled the clear substance around for a moment, staring at it.
"Truth potion," Narcissa sneered. "So unoriginal." Again, she looked at the Aurors. "Have standards become so lax that you allow someone who is neither an Auror nor on the Wizengamot to question suspects without the approval of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement?"
The few Aurors in the room shifted uneasily at her comment.
"I would like to really suggest that you speak to Auror Shacklebolt before proceeding with this." She leaned back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest, wondering if this was even the right move. What if Shacklebolt was behind this? What if he'd decided to sell her out? It had been a risk, making contact for Severus, but Shacklebolt was an honorable man and she had expected him to keep his promises.
"No!" Abbott snarled, but one of the Aurors interrupted before he could continue.
"She has a point, sir," he said uneasily. "We should speak to Auror Shacklebolt before proceeding with anything that could be determined," he glanced down at the potion in Abbott's hand, "illegal." Use of any form of truth potion, but especially one as powerful as Veritaserum, was strictly regulated by the Ministry, and no one, not even Abbott, was supposed to use it without permission.
Abbott glared at the offending Auror. "She doesn't deserve such rights," he said coldly. Rising to his feet, he leaned over to Narcissa and whispered in a low voice only she could hear, "Do you know what your friends did to my wife? You butchered her. Murderer. And I'm going to make you pay for it." Then he straightened up and stalked from the room.
Snape eyed Draco carefully. The boy seemed different, somehow. He'd always been too naïve and too spoiled for his own good, content to follow in the path of his father without any real thought as to the outcome of that decision. He'd been easily used by and against his father, a marionette. He'd been doted on by his mother, and turned into the prized and envied only child and inheritor of the Malfoy Estate. He was privileged… and he knew it.
Even during the war, when the Dark Lord had done his best to break the young Malfoy, Draco had managed to survive it by holding tightly to his belief that he was better than everyone else, and the name Malfoy would somehow always protect him.
But now… The rage was obvious in those slate gray eyes and the boy was shaking with pent-up fury. For the first time, Draco seemed to realize that there was nothing he could do to get out of this problem. His mother was in jail… and he was helpless to save her.
"What happened?" Snape asked finally, cautiously. "Who arrested her?" It seemed unlikely that it would be Shacklebolt. The Auror would not have had time to regain consciousness, leave Hogwarts, and organize the arrest of Narcissa.
"I don't know. Just Aurors," Draco answered harshly. "What does it matter who they were? They took my mother."
"Was Shacklebolt there?"
The young Slytherin huffed and shook his head. "I don't know. I didn't pay attention. Why do you care? Have you not heard a thing I just said? They're going to crucify my mother and you're concerned about who came to arrest her?"
"Draco, stop acting like a silly Hufflepuff," Snape said coolly, "and get yourself under control."
For a moment, it looked as though Draco was going to draw his wand and hex the other man. But after a brief pause, he nodded and said, "Fine. It was Abbott and a couple of Aurors I didn't recognize. I didn't see Shacklebolt, I don't think he was there."
Snape sank into a seat, his brows coming together and he contemplated this newest development. It was too much of a coincidence that Narcissa would have been arrested directly after his conversation with Shacklebolt. But if Shacklebolt was behind the arrest, what was he hoping to prove? And if he wasn't behind it, then who else knew about his attempts to make contact with the Ministry, and how had they discovered this?
The obvious choice was Abbott. He was placed in exactly the right position to pull a stunt like that, and he obviously had a motive. But did he actually have proof?
He could do his best to get Narcissa out of a position that he had helped to place her in, or he could focus his energy on finding Yaxely and Runcorn, and by association, freeing Minerva McGonagall from whatever fate awaited him. But, unfortunately, he wasn't sure if he could do both.
"So?" Draco pressed insistently. "What are you going to do?"
"At the moment?" Snape looked up at the boy. "Nothing."
"Nothing? You can't just do nothing! She's in this mess because she's trying to help you. When they arrested her, they said they knew she'd been in contact with you. This is your fault."
"Calm down," Snape ordered tersely. "Draco, please try thinking with your head. What can I do at the moment? I certainly can't rush to your mother's defense as that will simply put her in more danger."
Draco glared at the man who had once been his favorite professor. "Well, that is just the perfect excuse for you, isn't it? Gets you out of having to do any real work while my mother wastes away in Azkaban."
"Have they sent her to Azkaban yet, or is she just being held for questioning?" Snape asked, leaning forward interestedly, determinedly ignoring Draco's comment. There was very little he wouldn't do to get Narcissa out of trouble, but he was entirely correct when he said he couldn't do anything right away.
He had no idea what he was up against.
"How would I know?" Draco cried again, frustration lacing his voice.
"Go home, Draco," Snape said finally, his tone making it clear that this was not actually a request. "Go home, and do not mention this conversation to anyone, not even your father. I will contact you later."
Draco hissed a sharp breath from between his teeth, but nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But you had better fix this."
Snape closed his eyes and sighed. "I will," he promised, both to himself and to Draco.
He just had no idea how.
Kingsley blinked once, opening his eyes to the sound of water lapping against a grassy slope, waves softly crashing into each other. He pushed himself to his feet, staring about. He was still at Hogwarts, his wand lying close to his feet. The castle loomed over him, dark and silent.
The fight with Snape was fresh in his memory, and he wondered why he'd ended up in this relatively safe location instead of somewhere a little more dangerous. He'd been unconscious, and completely at Snape's mercy, and yet the traitor had done no damage.
He pocketed his wand and rubbed the last vestiges of foggy sleep from his eyes. His mind was swirling with confusion, and there was really only one person left who could provide any answers. So he turned his steps determinedly towards the castle.
Once he reached the double doors leading into the Great Hall, he paused and glanced around. There was no one else nearby, as he had expected, but somehow he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. Perhaps it was just paranoia left over from the war and dealing with the complicated matters of rebuilding a country. Perhaps it was remnant feelings from the fight with Snape. Either way, he picked up his pace and trudged quickly through the empty school.
He half-expected the school to attack him somehow. He was a trespasser interrupting the peaceful silence of the night, his footsteps echoing loudly on the stone floor. But he made his way easily towards the Headmistress' office, pausing only to utter the password to the guarding gargoyle.
At the top of the spiral staircase, he paused, drew a deep breath, and tried to clear his mind. Then he pushed open the door and walked into the circular room. It was dark, only faint moonlight passing through the window and illuminating floating dust motes in the air. All the portraits, save one, were asleep, resting against the sides of their frames with content sighs.
The portrait of Albus Dumbledore was wide awake, and watching him with twinkling blue eyes.
"Hello, Albus," Kingsley said, closing the door behind him.
"I've been expecting you for quite some time now," the portrait replied with a smile. "News travels quickly around the school, even when it is devoid of students. We are all very concerned about Minerva's disappearance."
Kingsley nodded slowly, taking a seat across from the portrait, the desk between them. Maybe he had imagined it, but he thought he heard something in Dumbledore's voice, and indication that the man had been waiting for Kingsley for much longer than just since Minerva's kidnapping.
Lips quirked into a thin smile, the Auror asked, "Should I assume, Albus, that you are just as omniscient now as you were when you were alive? Should I skip the explanation of why I am here and simply ask the questions?"
Albus regarded him through his half-moon spectacles. "You're here to talk about Severus," he said bluntly.
Not for the first time, Kingsley wondered how the Headmaster seemed to know so much about everything around him. He nodded slowly, agreeing with the statement, already thinking carefully over the questions he wanted to ask. He wasn't sure where to start, but he needed answers.
Surprisingly, Dumbledore did not give him a chance to ask a single question. Instead, he began to speak without prompting, his tone low and serious. "I cannot stress enough, Kingsley, how imperative it is that you trust Severus on this matter. He is not responsible for Minerva's kidnapping, but he may be able to return her to safety."
"How can you say he is trustworthy?" Kingsley sputtered. "He… he murdered you!"
"Indeed," Dumbledore replied dryly. "But that does not change my earlier statement."
Kingsley considered this, wondering if perhaps the Headmaster had gone mad. It was certainly possible, and there had always been rumors that he was going insane even while he was alive. But this was just too ridiculous to believe. Who trusted their own murderer?
"Why?" he asked finally. "Why should I trust him? Why do you trust him? Why… why?"
The portrait of the Headmaster seemed to pause, conflicting emotions playing across his ancient features. He opened his mouth several times, before shutting it with a tight snap. In the end, his made a decision, and his voice was filled with reluctance as he spoke. "I can't tell you."
"Why not?" Kingsley demanded.
"Because I made a promise," the Headmaster answered. "Because I made a promise to someone who deserved, at least this once, for me to keep that promise and honor their wishes."
The stern tone of his voice told Kingsley that Dumbledore would reveal nothing else, no matter how hard he pressed. The Auror accepted these words in silence, still apprehensive. But he had always trusted Dumbledore, and this time would be no different.
"How do I contact Snape?"
Dumbledore paused for a moment, then smiled as he answered, "I would imagine you can find him the same way he found you."
Kingsley raised one eyebrow, and said, "Through Narcissa Malfoy?"
"Yes," was the calm reply.
The morning dawned bright and early, and Harry found himself pushing through the crowd of people who had stopped to gawk at him. The Ministry was one of his least favorite places to be, and this reminded him of exactly why. People who believed him to be a hero, something he had never really wanted, flocked to his side and refused to leave.
He managed to ditch them all, however, when he ducked into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and sought out Kingsley Shacklebolt. The place was busy, filled with people rushing back and forth, voices meshed together, multiple conversations rising in volume from a simple murmur to practically a roar.
He caught the first person he saw, an Auror he knew vaguely. "Sir? What's going on?" he asked, remembering to address the man politely.
The Auror paused, eyes widening. "Haven't you read the papers, Potter? Narcissa Malfoy has been arrested, and Shacklebolt and Abbott are at odds over it."
"Arrested? What for?" Harry demanded, instantly both curious and worried.
"Conspiring with Snape," the Auror replied quickly, not noticing the abrupt darkening of Harry's eyes or the way his jaw tightened and his hands clenched into fists. The man shrugged, ran a hand through his hair, and disappeared into the throng, too caught up in his own work to worry about the Malfoys' predicament.
Harry hesitated for a moment, then turned towards Kingsley's office. He could hear sounds coming from it, angry arguments and raised voices. He took a few hesitating steps closer, straining to hear. Someone walked into him from behind, and he stumbled forward, almost knocking straight into the door. He reached out to steady himself, and caught sight of two people talking in hushed whispers towards the end of the hall.
Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott.
At the same moment, Nott looked up, catching Harry's eye, and surprise instantly filled his features. But his expression turned into a glower, and he pushed his way closer to Harry. When he came within earshot of the Boy Who Lived, he demanded hoarsely, "Do you make it a habit to arrest innocent women on trumped up charges just to further your own popularity?"
Harry flushed. "Narcissa Malfoy is hardly innocent."
"Narcissa Malfoy saved your life!" Nott answered coolly. "Pity, really. She should have just left you to die. The world would have been so much better off."
"Under Voldemort's control?" Harry sneered. He looked around, gesturing to the several Aurors rushing about. "Careful what you say, Nott. You don't want to say the wrong thing here, do you?"
"So, tell me, Potter," Zabini said, joining the conversation, "Why Mrs. Malfoy? What do you stand to gain from her?"
"I had nothing to do with her arrest," Harry answered, words sharp, eyes narrowing. "And I don't ruin people's lives just for fun, Zabini. That's your job."
Instead of taking any offense at the comment, Zabini just grinned. Arms folded over his chest, he replied in a cool voice, "It was never just for fun, Potter. It was for the greater good of the wizarding world."
It took all of Harry's willpower not to hex that arrogant smirk off Zabini's face as he thought of all the people he had lost to this war. Forcing himself to remain calm, he answered bitingly, "And I daresay arresting Narcissa Malfoy was for the good of the wizarding world as well."
"The charges won't last," Nott predicted gravely. "She'll be out before nightfall."
Harry turned to him with a contemptuous expression. "What makes you so sure? Your father isn't around to wield his considerable… influence."
Nott's lips thinned into a straight line as he silently took in Harry's words. His father had always had the ability to determine the outcome of important political events by lending his prestige and money to one or the other particular side of the debate. He was not unlike the Malfoys in that manner, only his father had not been able to keep himself out of Azkaban after the war, and the younger Nott was left alone now.
"Maybe not," Nott replied callously, "but I am. Watch your step, Potter. This war isn't over yet, and you wouldn't want to meet the same ends as your parents and that mutt you called godfather."
He didn't wait for Harry's response, but instead gestured to Zabini, and the two of them slipped away into the crowd. Harry stared after them for a moment, letting the threat roll easily off his skin. He knew there were many who still wished him harm, but he had spent so long living in constant danger that it almost didn't register anymore.
Instead, he turned back to Kingsley's office. The door was still tightly shut, but the voices from within were growing louder, and as he inched closer, he could just make out the words.
"… not an Auror! You have no right to order the arrest and integration of anyone." Kingsley was upset, but his voice had taken a new tone to it, one Harry rarely heard in the normally calm and collected wizard. It was fury.
"Narcissa Malfoy is a traitor and a disgrace to this country. You had no right to not arrest her the moment you discovered she knew where Snape was!" That was clearly Abbott, and he too was unusually angry. Harry barely knew the other man, and had only interacted with his daughter on a few occasions, but he had always been under the impression that the Abbotts, and indeed anyone who had been in Hufflepuff, would be milder and more placid.
"First of all," came Kingsley's tense reply, "we have no evidence that she knows anything about Snape. Her story is that he came to her, and that could very well be true. Secondly, did it ever occur to you that perhaps I didn't want to arrest any of the Malfoys because I had every intention of using them to lead me back to Snape?"
"She's a liar. Anything she tells you is false. How could you trust her?"
Whatever Kingsley replied, it was too quiet for Harry to decipher, and the conversation moved to hushed tones. He sighed and stepped into the hallway again. His first instinct was to demand an audience with Narcissa Malfoy, but he doubted that would be productive. And anyway, it was unlikely that he would be granted such a request, at least not at the moment. Having clout as the Boy Who Lived only worked in some situations, and Kingsley was never one to be awed by his notoriety.
But there was someone else who might give him answers. He doubted Draco Malfoy would willingly help him, but he was the Boy Who Lived, and his opinion carried powerful sway in the magical community. This time, he had something Malfoy wanted, and maybe they could make a trade.
Severus Snape for Narcissa Malfoy.
It went against everything he'd ever been taught in the Auror training program. He knew he wasn't supposed to side-step the laws or the opinions of his superiors. And he knew that using his own popularity to broker a deal that would be frowned upon by Kingsley and Minister Diggory would not sit well with the other Aurors or his own family. And, on top of all of that, he knew that if the Malfoys had been in league with Snape for the past few years, they deserved to suffer for their crimes.
But this wasn't about laws or rules or policies. This was about bringing Snape to justice, and if absolving the Malfoys of their sins and incurring the wrath of everyone he respected or admired was the only way to do it, then so be it.
"Uh… Father?" Percy stuck his head into his father's office, looking a little diffident about intruding.
"Oh, Percy," Arthur replied, looking up with a smile. "Come in." He gestured with one hand for his son to take a seat across from him, and frowned as he realized that Percy actually looked a little scared to be here. "What's wrong?"
"Uh… actually, it's Penny," Percy explained. "She overheard something a while ago. At St. Mungo's." He seemed to be at a loss for words, groping for a way to explain what he was trying to say. "It was people. Two men. Talking. She said… she said they were making plans to discredit the Minister. And something about Snape."
Arthur leaned back in his seat while he contemplated this. The wizarding world was in disarray, no matter how hard the Ministry tried to hold them all together. It came as no surprise to him that people would be discussing how to discredit Diggory, but to do it openly and in St. Mungo's? That seemed a little extreme.
"Anyway," Percy continued, rising back to his feet after he had faithfully conveyed the message, "I didn't really know what to do with that information. I hoped you would have an idea."
"Of course," Arthur assured his son. "I'll pass it along to Kingsley, and he can take care of it." Of course, Kingsley was currently embroiled in a political battle involving the fates of Narcissa Malfoy, Severus Snape, and Minerva McGonagall, and probably had a few other issues on his mind. Still, he would make sure that someone looked into this.
"Right." Percy turned to go, and had almost reached the door when his father called him back.
"Perce? I was just going to take a break for lunch. Do you want… do you want to join me?" It was an olive branch, although awkwardly offered, his words coming out in a stutter. Still, it was the best he could manage at the moment to repair the strained relationship.
But Percy shook his head. "I… uh… I have plans. I was going to meet Penny…" He trailed off, looking uncertain. He was sorely tempted to invite his father along, but the words died on his lips and he found himself unable to form the sentence.
"Oh. Okay. Will you be home for dinner?"
"I can't,' Percy replied, looking apologetic. He didn't elaborate, and instead averted his eyes, almost guiltily. "I'm sorry." Without saying anything else, he hurried out of the office.
Arthur watched him go curiously. All of his children had long since moved out of the Burrow into flats in London, Diagon Alley, or other parts of the country. But they all returned so frequently, bringing their family with them, that it felt in some ways as though no one had ever moved out. He liked it, the constant bustle and noise, the feeling that his family was so close.
Only Percy seemed to resist that, coming for brief periods of time, and usually merely if something important had happened that the family needed to discuss, or if Molly bothered him enough that he eventually caved to her dinner request.
"Arthur Weasley?"
He started and looked up as the ancient man with piercing blue eyes walked into his office. "Aberforth Dumbledore." He rose to his feet, surprised to see the recluse standing before him. "Please, come in."
"Thank you." The man stepped into the room, looking decidedly out of place. He had never particularly like society, keeping mostly to himself. Now that he had walked directly into the heart of the Ministry, he was obviously incredibly uncomfortable, and it was only something very important that could have dragged him out here.
He was holding a partially-crumpled Daily Prophet in his hands.
"I wanted to speak to Shacklebolt, but he wasn't available," Aberforth explained. "And… well, everyone knows that Shacklebolt and Diggory both listen to you. You were in the Order of the Phoenix. With my brother and I."
"Yes, I was," Arthur replied, flushing slightly with the praise. He wasn't sure if Aberforth was trying to flatter him to win some favor or if he actually believed what he was saying, but his words had a bit of truth to him. He did hold sway with Kingsley, having fought beside him in both wars.
"Is this true?" Aberforth asked, flattening the Prophet on the desk.
Arthur glanced down at the first page, at the headline which read Traitor in Our Midst: Narcissa Malfoy Arrested for Conspiracy with Snape. "She's been arrested," Arthur agreed, "but the charges haven't been confirmed."
"If they are confirmed, what will happen to her?"
Arthur raised his eyebrows, surprised by the question. He hadn't expected it, not from this taciturn and reticent man. He was rough around the edges, jaded and cold, unlettered. Arthur had barely known the man, only worked with him once or twice during the first war. He seemed to care little for the opinions of others, and there was always a simmering tension in his eyes when he spoke with his older brother.
"She'll go to prison, I expect," Arthur answered. "But I'm really not qualified to speak about it."
"I've heard rumors that they might make a deal with her. She hands over Snape, and she goes free." Aberforth was staring hard with those blue eyes, so incredibly like his brother's, that seemed to stare directly through someone and into their soul.
Arthur fidgeted under the stare and wondered how the younger Dumbledore knew this. He had no doubt that Kingsley was considering that offer, but he found it unlikely that the Head of Magical Law Enforcement would let those rumors be known.
"You need to catch Snape," Aberforth continued.
"Wh-what?" Arthur stuttered, surprised.
Aberforth expelled an annoyed breath. "I won't pretend to think my brother a saint like everyone else. The entire world, including your precious Potter, practically worships him. He had flaws like you couldn't believe, and that Skeeter woman was closer to the mark in her book than any of you have come in all your years of knowing him."
"Albus was a great man," Arthur protested.
Aberforth snorted. "Albus was a fool. An arrogant, haughty fool. He had a habit of ruining lives, particularly those he claimed to care about." He paused, his expression softening slightly, the hard edges melting. "But he was my brother. And Snape killed him. I want Snape caught."
Minerva McGonagall came back to consciousness slowly and painfully. Her limbs were stiff, and it took her a moment to realize that it was not the presence of any spell that was keeping her trapped, but rather a combination of her own old age and exhaustion.
She kept her eyes firmly closed, listening to her surroundings.
Footsteps echoed next to her on the cold cement floor. A voice said, "Are you sure she knows?"
"How many times have we been over this?" another voice demanded, coming somewhere from her left. It was male and harsh. "Potter had the Elder Wand. He took it from the Dark Lord. But he doesn't have it now, so it has to be somewhere on the castle grounds."
"That doesn't mean she knows where it is," the first voice protested, also male, but weaker, more timid. "Anyway, how do you know it is at Hogwarts? The Brat Who Lived could have hidden it anywhere."
"He didn't. I know him, alright? He feels a connection to Hogwarts. He would have hidden it there."
There was a silence, and Minerva chanced a flickering of her eyelids, glancing around the room. From underneath her lashes, she could see a stone wall dripping with damp water. The air smelled like mold and was filled with tiny flecks of dust. She could only conclude that she was in some sort of basement.
The two speakers were out of her line of vision.
She hadn't been able to identify either voice, although they both sounded somewhat familiar. The one thing she had been able to determine, however, was that neither had the trademark sneer, drawl, or hiss of Snape.
So where was he?
"What if she doesn't know where it is?" the first voice questioned, and Minerva shut her eyes tightly, forcing herself to relax and think of a plan. She didn't have her wand, and she doubted she'd have been able to easily escape from here even if she did have it.
"It doesn't matter," the second voice answered after a pause. "It isn't about her. If she doesn't know, we'll get it from Potter." When the other man made no reply, the voice continued, "What's the matter? Are you getting cold feet?"
"No. Of course not." The reply came a little too quickly to be completely honest.
"It will work. Potter, Diggory, and Snape will all walk right into this trap. If we're lucky, we'll get the Malfoys also."
Minerva was unable to keep the slight breath of surprise from escaping between her parted lips. How could this be a trap for Snape? He was the one who had kidnapped her, and that didn't make any sense at all.
"She moved," the first voice said, scared. "I think she's waking up."
She didn't even register the stunning spell before a burst of light flashed before her eyes and she was sent sprawling back into the darkness.