Title: All That Glitters
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Summary: Life could turn in a moment, in a flash, and suddenly familiar places and faces would become foreign rooms full of strangers.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost.
Chapter Thirty: Andromeda Tonks née Black
It was a little ironic, Harry thought to himself as he clenched his wand tightly and crept through the trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, that he had come back to Hogwarts. It seemed that all things began and ended here.
He could see the distant white tomb holding Dumbledore's body, but Yaxley and and Malfoy were nowhere to be seen. He frowned, fear and concern rising in his chest, but kept moving forward, watching warily for any signs of movement.
Where could they be?
He was not entirely sure why he was here. Part of him wanted to believe that it was because he knew helping Malfoy was the right thing to do. Part of him wanted to believe that he knew people deserved second chances. Part of him wanted to believe that it was because this mess was partially his fault, and therefore partially his responsibility.
The other part of him honestly did not know why he was here.
Runcorn had been left with Hannigan. Hannigan certainly could not free the Dark wizard, not with all the political pressure to have him punished for his crimes. He was implicated in the Headmistress' death, and was most likely looking at a long stay in Azkaban. But even if Hannigan could not free his co-conspirator, he could at least arrange to make sure their secrets stayed secret. Runcorn would not be forced to tell the truth – not the whole truth, anyway. His lies would be shared, his words twisted to support Kingsley's guilt.
And part of Harry wondered why he was not back in London trying to have the truth revealed, trying to prove the Auror's innocence. Wasn't that more important than finding Malfoy and Yaxley?
He caught the sound of words, and stiffened. They floated to him on the wind, broken and unclear as he strained to decipher them.
"…you sense it…"
"…don't know what you want!"
"You lying…"
"…can't help…"
Harry turned and squinted, watching as the figures moved into plain view. Yaxley was striding forward quickly, one hand twisted around Malfoy's arm as he dragged the younger wizard along behind him. He held his wand in his other hand, and jabbed it at Malfoy every few seconds in a threatening gesture.
It was clear they were arguing.
As they drew nearer, Harry heard the bitter fury laced in Yaxley's voice. "I don't care what Hannigan did. I will make you and your mother rot in hell for all eternity if I have to…"
"Then go ahead and kill me," Malfoy said, his tone filled with false bravado. "Because I won't tell you anything!" Though Harry was not close enough to see the blonde wizard's expression, he had no doubt that Malfoy was not actually as unafraid as he wished to appear.
"Fool," Yaxley spat, shaking Malfoy sharply. "You'll talk. Trust me, I will make you talk!"
"I don't even know what you want from me," Malfoy protested, and now they were close enough that Harry could see the fear pass momentarily through Malfoy's pale eyes. He obviously knew just how dangerous Yaxley could be, and did not want to be caught in the other's schemes.
"The Elder Wand. I know it is here, somewhere. Potter took it from the Dark Lord, but he did not leave the school grounds with it. Where did he hide it? Where?" There was desperation in Yaxley's voice, as though he realized just how vital it was to find this wand before the Ministry's Aurors found him.
"How would I know?" Malfoy shot back. "How? Do you really think Potter would tell me something like that?"
"You were the master of the wand," Yaxley hissed. "You had a tie to it, and it to you. You can still sense it, you must be able to. Find it."
"Why would I help you when your ultimate goal is to destroy my mother?" Malfoy asked.
In the safety of the trees, Harry crept closer, his eyes taking in the scene. He could not attack yet, not with Yaxley standing so close to Malfoy. It would be too dangerous, and if something went wrong, if Harry's attack wasn't perfect, it would give Yaxley time to kill Malfoy.
But if he waited, would he lose any opportunity he had? He could not afford to let Yaxley leave Hogwarts.
"Your mother is a traitor," Yaxley answered coldly. "She betrayed us all, and still you stand at her side. Have you no honor, no pride in your name?"
"I have enough common sense not to give a madman like you a more powerful wand," Malfoy answered.
Yaxley flung Malfoy to the ground in front of him and lifted his wand, his eyes filled with a reckless rage. "Crucio," he snarled, and the jet of light left his wand and hit Malfoy in the chest. The young wizard began to scream, writhing on the ground in pain, and it took all of Harry's will power not to jump out and start hexing right then and there.
But he couldn't, not yet. Not until he was sure he could incapacitate Yaxley in one try.
Yaxley lowered his wand and watched with a cruel smirk, satisfaction burning in his eyes, as Malfoy lay panting on the ground, gasping wearily for breath. "Your mother lied to the Dark Lord. She told him Potter was dead even though the boy still lived. She brought about our Lord's death and let this country turn back to the hands of those weak, pathetic blood traitors. She deserves to suffer for her crimes." He pointed his wand at Malfoy again. "Now, get up and concentrate on the Elder Wand. You will find it for me."
"Why?" Malfoy asked, pulling himself slowly to his hands and knees. "Why do you want it so badly?"
"It is power," Yaxley answered simply. "Hannigan may have Runcorn, but he is a fool if he thinks he can ruin what we have worked so hard to achieve. With the Elder Wand, I will win."
He turned away from Malfoy, his eyes wandering around the ground of Hogwarts as though looking for the wand, hoping to find it simply by sheer force of will, and it was then that Harry saw his opening.
He sprung forward, crying out, "Stupify!"
Yaxley spun around and raised a shield almost instantly, blocking Harry's attack. But his attention was torn away from Malfoy, who used that moment to physically throw himself forward, knocking the Dark wizard to the ground. Yaxley dropped his wand in surprise as he fell, and the two rolled across the grass for a moment, locking in a twisting of limbs.
"Malfoy, move!" Harry ordered, running forward.
Malfoy forcefully pushed himself away from Yaxley at scrambled to his hands and knees, rolling out of the way as Harry fired another stunning spell. The spell hit the unarmed Yaxley in the chest, and he was sent sprawling into unconsciousness.
Malfoy climbed to his feet and let out a slow breath. He and Harry stood there for a moment, just staring at Yaxley in silence.
"Uh… thanks," Malfoy muttered finally.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "This isn't over yet," he reminded Malfoy. "Hold your thanks until after we take down Hannigan as well."
She had never wanted this.
Bellatrix had wanted fame and power, wanted nothing more and nothing less than to be the Dark Lord's favorite. Her obsession with the Dark Arts had led her to sacrifice everything else in her life, and it has always seemed worthwhile to her because it brought her closer and closer to her ultimate goal. Bellatrix had wanted notoriety, and that was what she had received. Even dead, her infamy lived on.
Narcissa had wanted prestige. She'd wanted the kind of life that was bestowed on so few, a life of ease and pleasure, a life lived entirely in the right social circles, rubbing shoulders with all the right people. She'd wanted fame, but not the kind that Bellatrix had desired. She wanted something softer, more subtle, something where her stunning looks and incredible wealth would be admired and envied. And she'd received that… for a time. It was taken from her, as was much else, although this farce of a trial had the potential to return to her everything she had wanted, and more.
But Andromeda had never wanted this. Never wanted to be in the spotlight, to have every eye trained on her. Never wanted to be the one who held the fate of the world in her hands, the one with all the secret answers to all the burning questions.
And yet, here she was.
She was not scared. Her dislike of the spotlight had never been due to any kind of fear, nor was it due to the assumption that she would somehow fail in whatever task she was given. But she still did not like this, had never liked it.
She was tired of this, of everything. The two wars had taken all that mattered from her. Her parents and sisters had driven her away because of their clashing beliefs, and her husband, daughter, and son-in-law had been torn from her by death. All she had now was Teddy, and though she loved him more than anything else in the world, it did not make up for what she had lost.
Still… she had been content to live in the shadows of her more illustrious sisters, content to stay in the background and live a quiet life. She'd done her part in the war, supporting the Order and allowing her home to be used as a safe-house. But she hadn't fought in any great battles, hadn't gone on any daring missions. And now that it was over, she had wanted nothing more than to fade into the background once more, to be left alone to raise Teddy without the constant interference of the world.
And then Narcissa had shown up at her door, asking for help.
The aristocratic blonde witch settled herself into the armchair and glanced discreetly around the parlor. Andromeda could not help but wonder if she was comparing it to her own manor, to the fancy decorations of the home Lucius Malfoy had given her.
But if there was any critique in her mind, she did not show it. Instead, she turned her gaze back to her the other witch, pale eyes open wide with a frank desperation that Andromeda had rarely seen in her usually composed and serene sister.
Andromeda glanced quickly towards the door leading into the playroom, watching as Teddy happily stacked several blocks, unaware of the confrontation about to happen in his own home. Then, after convincing herself that Teddy would not be too concerned about any of this, she turned back to her sister.
"Have you heard about the trail of Kingsley Shacklebolt? And of Severus Snape?" Narcissa asked, getting straight to the point.
Andromeda stifled an ironic smirk at that question and commented dryly, "I doubt that there is anyone in all of Britain who does not know of this. Why do you ask?"
"Then you know it is all a sham."
That was not a question, but merely a statement of fact, and Andromeda did not bother answering. She wondered about Narcissa's allegiance, had wondered about it for a long time. It was clear to her that Narcissa had never felt the pull of the Dark Arts quite as forcefully as Bellatrix had, but nor had she tried to stand against them. Yet as Hannigan closed in on Kingsley and Snape, Narcissa must have realized that it was only a matter of time before he came after her and her husband and son as well.
Finally, she said, "Snape's trial will not be a sham."
Narcissa glanced at her, eyebrow raised. "Oh?"
Andromeda felt a thrill of something run through her spine at the hint of sarcasm in her sister's tone, at the look in those pale eyes. But she refused to act on that feeling, and instead asked, "What do you want, Narcissa?"
"Hannigan has offered my family a deal. If I testify against Lucius, if I arrange to lie on the stand and have my husband sent to Azkaban, he will ensure that nothing happens to Draco and I." Her gaze hardened, her words became strained as she spoke, as though the very act of speaking was taking all her effort. "Lucius would like me to take the deal. I would prefer not to sacrifice him."
Andromeda rolled her eyes at her sister. It was rather unbecoming and unsympathetic, given the emotional turmoil evident in Narcissa's eyes, but she could not help it. "And what do you expect me to do about that? I can't make a decision for you."
"My son or my husband?" Narcissa snapped, splotches of red appearing on her cheeks. "Do you really care so little for your family that you can speak that cruelly about…"
"Do I care so little?" Andromeda asked viciously, her temper flaring. "My husband, daughter, and son-in-law are dead, murdered by the people you and Bellatrix supported. You have spent years pretending I do not exist, and now that you find yourself in a challenging position, you come here and accuse me of not caring?"
"You never came to me for help," Narcissa answered simply, giving an elegant shrug.
Andromeda felt her retort die on her lips as she gave her sister a blank stare. It was true, she had never come to either sister for help. Bellatrix, she knew, would never have helped her anyway, and she did not want to give Narcissa the satisfaction of knowing that she had anything that Andromeda needed. So even in the hardest moments of her life, she had not gone back to the Black family for anything.
"Would you have cared?" she said finally.
Narcissa did not answer that question. Instead, she said, "If you do not care about my predicament, then surely you care about Auror Shacklebolt. This trial is all a farce, Hannigan's masterminding it. Don't you want to reveal the truth about him?"
"What do you think I can do?" Andromeda asked.
"Tell the truth."
"What truth?"
Narcissa hesitated, the indecision obvious in her eyes. Andromeda waited, wishing she could decipher those emotions. Finally, Narcissa sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "What did it take to convince you to join the war, Andie? You wouldn't fight with Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, I know that much. So what was it?"
"I didn't join the war," Andromeda answered firmly.
"Not outright, no. Not the way your daughter and son-in-law did." Narcissa looked away, lowering her gaze for a moment. "But you did help. You did lend your support. On Dumbledore's request, I presume." She seemed to be deciding something, and then, her gaze growing firm, she said, "After all, you were never friends with Severus, so I really don't see any other reason you would have wanted to help him."
"How…?" The word was out from between her parted lips before Andromeda could even register what she had said. Triumph flared momentarily in Narcissa's eyes, and Andromeda cringed inwardly, realizing she had given her sister exactly the answer she was looking for, proof that her suspicions had been correct.
"How did I know?" Narcissa asked coolly, eyes daring Andromeda to contradict the implication in her earlier statement. "It was a guess, and a lucky one at that. But it was the only thing I could think of, the only one that made sense. Severus has a Secret Keeper, obviously, and yet no friends whom he would trust. I know him well enough to know that he would not ever trust his safety to a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw, perhaps, but Slytherin is still more likely. And who among the Slytherins will support him now? Who is left besides my family?"
"He did not trust your family enough, though, did he?" Andromeda asked, wondering why she had not denied what Narcissa had said, trying to figure out why she was still having the conversation, saying the words that could be used against her, used as signs of treason.
Narcissa's eyes flashed, but she did not answer Andromeda's question. Instead, she said softly, "And I know you well enough, Andie, even if you pretend not to know me anymore. The look on your face the moment I showed up at your door… that was enough to give it away."
"You know far less than you think, little sister."
"Don't patronize me," Narcissa snapped. "I know enough. Why haven't you spoken up yet? Why haven't you told the world that he was only ever acting on Dumbledore's orders? That the old fool had wanted Severus to kill him?"
"Severus did not want me to," Andromeda answered calmly, confidently. She still had the upper hand in this conversation, still had the information Narcissa needed. And her sister could not turn her over to the Aurors without first incriminating herself and her son. Which, Andromeda knew perfectly well, was something Narcissa would never do. Slytherins could be conniving and manipulative, and Malfoys and Blacks were perhaps some of the worst culprits of that. Narcissa would move heaven and earth to save her son if need be.
"He will spend the rest of his life in Azkaban! And that is if he is lucky. More likely, he will have his soul sucked out of him. Don't you think he wants your help?" Narcissa demanded heatedly.
Andromeda narrowed her eyes as she answered in a glacial tone, "Are you worried about him, Cissy, or yourself? Do you really care what happens to Severus? Isn't this just elaborate plan to discredit Hannigan and therefore save your husband and your son?"
"I would like to save them all," Narcissa replied softly. "Will you really refuse to help save Severus just to spite me?"
Andromeda licked her dry lips and eyed her sister warily. She had left behind the ideas of blood-purity that her family so vehemently believed in and had forged a new life for herself, married to a Muggleborn, raising a grandson who's father was a werewolf. But though she had given up so much of what her House believed, she had not lost all traits that made her Slytherin. Nor had she lost all traits that made her a Black.
She still held grudges.
But then, that was not a trait unique to Slytherins or Blacks.
There were a lot of things Narcissa did not know, many things her sister could never understand. They had lead two very different lives, lives that stretched out on paths that would have never crossed except for this one issue. Severus.
"I don't want to be a martyr," Narcissa murmured finally, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I don't want to be a hero. I just want… I just want my family back together again."
In the space that lay between the two sisters, the memories of the past resurfaced, floating in midair, reminding them of all that had been sacrificed. Of bonds broken and lies told and families ripped apart by this war. In the space between them lay the bittersweet regret that came with the realization that they could never go back to the way things had been before.
"I want my family back together, too," Andromeda said at last. "But that won't happen, will it?"
The courtroom had been filled with the angry cries of the spectators, the worried murmurings of the Aurors who lined the far walls, and the stunned, incoherent mutterings of the witches and wizards on the Wizengamot. This chaos had all been punctuated by Hannigan's furious screeches, his rage-filled words that demanded the immediate arrest of Andromeda Tonks. But Aurora Borealis had somehow managed to regain order and, unwillingly, rather reluctantly, filled with hesitation, she had allowed the questioning of Andromeda to continue.
Now that Andromeda paused in her narrative, letting her gaze wander from Kingsley Shacklebolt's attorney to the rest of the room, she realized that an unnatural hush had fallen over everyone. They wanted to hear the rest of her tale, not necessarily because they believed it, but because it was interesting.
"What happened then?" Ms. Trudea asked, prompting Andromeda to continue.
"I refused to help my sister," Andromeda said slowly, sighing. "I asked her to leave. I told her… I told her I did not want her to come back."
And she didn't. She never wanted to see Narcissa again. Family meant little to her now, given all that had happened. Given that her daughter had been killed by Bellatrix… How could she value a family when that family did not value her?
Except…
Blood was blood. And Black blood was Black blood.
"If Severus Snape is not a traitor, if Kingsley Shacklebolt is innocent, why would you not come forward to protect them?"
"Because, even after all this time, Severus had never once asked me to share his secret. He did not want the world to know and I… I was attempting to respect that. He seemed content with his life, how could I ask him to change it?"
"He is in Azkaban."
"Yes." She bit her lip, let her gaze move sideways towards Kingsley. "He knew what the consequences of his actions could be. He knew there was always a way out, or, at least, a chance to fight, to reclaim some of his life. He never took it, never wanted it."
"He was never so close to the end of his life before."
The ironic chuckle rose in her throat, and her eyes focused sharply ahead at the rest of the courtroom as she answered pointedly, "He was always close to the end of his life while working as a spy in You Know Who's ranks. Haven't you all learned by now what happened to the Death Eaters who betrayed their Lord? If he had been discovered…" She stopped, swallowed back the rest of her words, and lowered her gaze down to her own interlocking hands.
She had not wanted to help the potions Master. In the beginning, back during the first war against Voldemort, when Dumbledore had approached her and asked for her help, she'd given it reluctantly, with the hesitation of someone who does not want to follow through on a promise but does not know how to back away. It was not that she did not like or trust Severus – she had not known him well enough to judge him. But she did not want to fight in the war. She did not want to participate in subterfuge and spying. She did not want this task that he was asking her to take.
But that first war had slowly ruined everything good in the world, taking away what she desperately wanted… peace, security, happiness. Eventually, she had been forced to face the truth, that she could no longer pretend this war did not concern her. And so when the Headmaster kept asking, kept arguing with her… she'd finally given in and agreed.
She did not spy, did not fight, did not face the war head-on the way others did. But she saw its consequences all the same. She saw what it did to people on both sides. She saw, and it filled her with disgust.
At some point, she had realized she was a pacifist.
But she was also a Slytherin. She understood the perils of trying to fit into a House that did not believe in the same ideals she supported, and though she had found an escape, a way out of it all, Severus had not. She helped him occasionally, supported him during his first few months of spying, tried to offer something akin to guidance. He did not want her help, and she did not want to waste her time with him, but she had given Dumbledore her word, and she could not go back on that.
And somewhere along the way, Severus had stopped being an unwelcome colleague and started being a… well, perhaps not a friend, but she'd started thinking of him as one of hers. As someone worth helping, protecting.
"So to respect Snape's wishes, you were willing to let Auror Shacklebolt be found guilty for crimes you are convinced he did not commit?" Ms. Trudea pressed, interrupting her thoughts. "Willing to let your brother-in-law be sent to Azkaban? Willing to turn your back on your sister as though you don't care about her…"
Andromeda frowned. "I don't."
"Then why are you here? Why are you testifying?"
Andromeda sighed once more, lifting dark eyes to the lawyer. She resembled Bellatrix, she knew that. The darkness of her hair and the heavy lids around her eyes were mitigated by a softness that Bellatrix had never had, but they did not erase the similarities. It was those similarities that had caused Harry Potter to draw his wand when he first saw her, and it was those similarities that often caused people to do a double-take when they saw her in the streets.
She could not escape her heritage, even now, even after Bellatrix was gone.
"I guess I couldn't quite convince myself that leaving her by herself was the best course of action," she said bitterly. "Blood is thicker than water."
"How can we continue to listen to this drivel? These lunatic ideas, conspiracy theories… Severus Snape is a traitor! We all know that." Hannigan was no longer able to contain his ire at Andromeda's story, and he leapt to his feet, face flushed red, expression apoplectic. "This is a farce, a mockery of our legal system."
"No," Andromeda spat, "the mockery was you. You betrayed everything you supposedly stood for when you convinced Narcissa to lie for you, when you forced her into a deal to sacrifice her husband in exchange for her son."
"You can't prove any of this," Hannigan snarled. But Andromeda could see the fear in his eyes. She knew, just like he did, that it did not take much to bring the world to a halt, to change everything in the blink of an eye. His plan was unraveling before his eyes, hanging together by just a few threads… Life could turn in a moment, in a flash, and suddenly familiar places and faces would become foreign rooms full of strangers.
"No, but truth serum could," Andromeda retorted. "I am sure Auror Shacklebolt will submit to questioning under Veritaserum. Will you?"
"I will not allow you to accuse me! I am not the one on trial, I should not have to provide evidence of my innocence when it is Shacklebolt's crimes that are in question."
"Then take the potion. What do you have to hide?" There was a challenge in her words and a coldness in her eyes. She did not look away from him even as his hand moved towards his wand, as a dangerous aura of power seemed to hover around him. She held his gaze without flinching, and waited.
Though his fingers clenched tightly into a fist around his wand, he was not foolish enough to use it. Instead, he turned a pleading gaze towards the Wizengamot. "Will you allow this outrage to continue?"
Madam Borealis seemed torn, unsure, and Andromeda guessed she knew why. While no one would believe a word she said about Severus without very strong proof to support her claims, Kingsley was a different matter. The Auror was a war hero, after all, and had been very well-respected before all this. He had fallen from grace, but if there was any chance that he was being framed, not investigating that could have serious political ramifications.
Andromeda waited for the reply, holding her breath. Madam Borealis' decision would determine whether or not this had all been a great waste of time.
At last, "Do you have any proof, Mrs. Tonks, besides your words and beliefs?"
Andromeda reached into the folds of her robes and withdraw a small vial containing a silver substance, and almost liquid that swirled underneath the clear glass. "Would a memory of Dumbledore's suffice?"