Chapter 58

EIGHT

Snape groaned. "What a feeble conspiracy this must be if every last detail can be laid bare in one hour."

"Oh, I think we've let slip a few hints," the elf said.

As Harry continued to gaze, the creature opened his hand to reveal a yellow medicine bottle. Reversal pills.

For a diminutive elf, the yellow caplet he plucked from the bottle was oversized. He took a big swig of tea to wash it down. As with Sirius, his body began to vibrate.

Professor Daine let out a startled, "Oh!" and shrank back against the sofa.

The elf's pointed ears retracted, and his body grew. As his head reshaped itself, his wispy hair thickened, then lengthened. The loden clothing spun itself into a more capacious, darker garment. The eyes contracted to human size and half-moon glasses materialized in front of them. In no more than a twinkling, Headmaster Dumbledore sat before them—in all his kindly faced, snowy-haired, experience-aged glory.

"The restoration looked painless," McGonagall observed. "I don't know what you were so worried about, Severus."

Snape steepled his fingers in front of his long nose. "To proceed directly from a human-to-human-to-human trial to a human-to-elf-to-human trial without first conducting toxicity experiments in rats goes against principles of sound research, despite the demands of an emergency situation such as this." He shook his head. "That it worked is sheer dumb luck."

"Polyjuice in a pill!" Professor Daine exclaimed, then beamed at Snape.

"For some time now, Severus has kept a vat of Polyjuice constantly simmering—never knowing when a need such as this will arise," Dumbledore said. "Hair is not abundant among our friends the elves, but they donated generously. Dobby volunteered an especially large hank."

"I'm having second thoughts," Snape said darkly, "about the prudence of your venturing out in that guise—not if our ruse about your death and transformation can be so easily penetrated."

"Nonsense," Professor Daine responded. "What you showed us in the Djinn ball was compelling. Voldemort and his gang ate it up. Don't judge its believability by Harry and me. We were predisposed to realizing you'd never go along with Voldemort. Those who don't know you like we do won't be looking for what's behind the curtain."

Harry nodded, taking a bite of apple muffin to hide his guilty smile.

Snape folded his arms on his lap and let his head sink between his shoulders. "Yes. You were predisposed."

McGonagall glanced sharply at Snape, then patted Daine's knee. "We weren't in control of every detail. That Harry had a Djinn ball on him was a stroke of good fortune. When he revealed young Avery's ambitions, we knew the Muggle had to be saved as well."

A warm smile wreathed Dumbledore's face. "You were invaluable there, Harry. When you beat Wilhelm, you gave the Dark Lord pause."

"You saw?"

"By linking to your Djinn ball, yes. We were deathly worried for you, but you did us all proud. If not for your victory, Voldemort would not have been receptive to Severus's bid to patch up their differences."

"Severus timed his entrance to the second," McGonagall put in. "A minute earlier, and he'd have had no rationale for talking He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named into letting the girl go. A half a word later, and she'd have been dead, Wilhelm would've been a Death Eater, and we'd be facing a formidable coven of thirteen fanatics."

"Your Djinn ball was useful in another way," Dumbledore added. "When Severus informed Voldemort that Wilhelm had bungled his search, it was the last demerit against him. If the Dark Lord hadn't taken Severus back, he'd have had a time of it asking for your and the girl's lives."

Harry gazed out the corner of his eye at his uncle. No matter who else had played a part in the plot, its success had been riding on him.

Dumbledore winked as if he'd heard his thoughts. "I don't want you to think we'd have left you, Ariel, Severus and that poor girl 'twisting in the wind.' Minerva had a team of staff and older students that she was ready to Apparate to Severus's side, wands drawn, at his signal. They'd have put up a brave fight, but at the risk of injury, even loss of life. As it was, cunning saved the day."

Harry began rocking meditatively in his chair, seeing the events of his last forty-eight hours in an entirely new light. As Professor Snape had told them in Advanced Potions, to truly understand anything, different viewpoints were necessary.

"No two ways about it," Daine said, "you all worked a miracle. I can't tell you how—"

A whooshing sound from the brick fireplace drew everyone's attention. In the vortex of green and orange flames and swirling sparks, a figure started to form. Harry relaxed. The Headmaster was too practiced at protecting his domain for unauthorized guests to find access. Sure enough, the friend that slowly appeared was Hagrid, ducking and hugging his great big knees in order to not bump his half-giant back against the flue.

McGonagall pursed her lips. "And here's the detail we had the least control over of all."

Hagrid crawled across the hearth, then clambered to his feet, his great shaggy head nearly bumping the high copper ceiling.

Professor Daine scooted as far as she could to her side of the sofa and beckoned him. With warm greetings all around, Hagrid shambled over. As he wedged himself between the ladies, the sofa adjusted its size until all three were seated comfortably.

"Ah, Prime Minister, I jus' knew yeh couldn' keep the apple core from Ariel and Harry—" Hagrid frowned at his own odd words and tried again. "O'course, I mean yeh couldn' keep the mandolin—ach! I'm bollixing it. This isn' fair. In presen' comp'ny y'need no' tie me tongue abou' th'Rajah no' bein' outrun, I mean smudged, I mean matriculated, I mean flowered. Stone me! I give in."

Beside him, McGonagall nodded approvingly. "The Misspeak Potion's working. And you must admit, Hagrid, you agreed it was necessary. We respect you and we love you, but we don't trust you to keep a secret."

On his other side, Ariel stroked his hairy wrist. "You poor man! Surely, you should be able to speak freely in here."

Snape swept a hand across his forehead. "I'll see what can be done to refine the formula."

McGonagall shrugged. "Be grateful, Hagrid. The alternative was wiping the knowledge clean from your head. We'd never planned to include you. But when you scooped Albus up from the supper table, such plans went awry."

"You were kindness itself," Dumbledore put in. "You carried me so gently, I felt like a baby in my father's arms."

"And once he put the patient in bed," McGonagall continued, "he wouldn't leave his side until Poppy said, 'Quit your blubbering, Albus is fine. If you don't stop fussing, he won't be able to get up and get on with things.'"

Hagrid looked abashed.

Harry leaned forward. "Your blubbering was very persuasive in the Djinn ball," he said helpfully.

"Oh, that." His friend looked even more embarrassed. "After they lemme in on the grea' good news 'bou' yeh know what, I couldn' manage a tear. Not 'til I'd petted Bête Noire a good two minutes. Then I wep' buckets."

Dumbledore smiled. "Hagrid, you were invaluable in other ways."

Snape nodded. "When Albus presumably lay dying, Hagrid slipped out to the Forbidden Forest and obtained for me the last missing ingredient essential to concocting Polyjuice reversal pills."

"Ach, tha' was nothin'. Th'sugarcube was more'n willin' ter glide th'Skipper."

"You're too modest. For me to secure a vial of centaur's blood would have required force while you obtained a willing donation. Your intrusion into our scheme was providential."

Harry saw his uncle and Hagrid exchange a look of mutual respect. Mollified, the half giant leaned forward, pinched an apricot tart and an apple muffin between two fingers and popped them whole into his mouth.

When Madame Pomfrey and Professor Trelawney joined the group, Dumbledore's sofa expanded yet again.

"Our circle began as five. Now we are eight," Professor Dumbledore began.

"And if we don't restrict the number now," McGonagall interjected, "our next discussion will have to be in the Quidditch pitch."

Snape grimaced and rubbed his forehead. "The express is due. Members of the Ministry of Magic and various notables will be arriving for the funeral. Be on your guard. If our artifice raises questions, we may need to regroup quickly."

"Come what may, we've cause for thanks," McGonagall said primly as she shooed the last of the crockery back to the tea trolley. "Everyone is safe. Wilhelm Avery has been unmasked. Now he can be minded. And most useful of all, Voldemort's coven has been breached again."

"For how long we shall see," Snape muttered.

Harry scanned the adults, wondering who might be a weak link. Apparently, Hagrid was the only one whose knowledge had been encrypted. With Trelawney, the sheer volume of erroneous portents and predictions she spilled out provided the best likelihood of hiding the few that were valid. Pomfrey could be relied upon to protect Dumbledore. He had no questions about Snape or McGonagall. Of the group, Daine had had the most training in guarding whatever secrets she held in her mind. Harry wondered if she felt snubbed by Snape's plans to keep her ignorant. As for himself, he knew he'd keep mum, even if it meant leaving his friends in the dark.

The Headmaster gave each member of the circle a warm, personal smile. "No magic is stronger than good fellowship. The most powerful spell to ensure we keep our own council is our hopes, trust and commitment." He rose from his chair, and the rest of the witches and wizards stood to leave as well.

Professor Daine clasped her hands. "Before we scatter, let me say again how impressed I am. So many branches of magic woven into one marvelous stratagem. Each of you was necessary to make it work. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I'm afraid I'm the only one who didn't contribute a thing."

Her colleagues chimed in with denials and encouragement (except for Snape, elaborately preoccupied with shaking dust from his robes) that next time her Defense Against the Dark Arts skills would come in handy.

Harry knew better. Ariel Daine's contribution this time had been crucial—the clear vision to trust Severus Snape. If she hadn't exposed his good deeds, at Harry's first opportunity, he'd have exposed all the subtle, inspired plotting she was now praising.

The Potions master remained aloof, darting swift glances toward Professor Daine that then veered into inspections of the clock on the mantelpiece, the hang of his sleeves, the landscape painting covering the exit, and the flagstones beneath his boots.

Harry frowned. Surely, his uncle wasn't interpreting Ariel Daine's affectionate, stirring, glowing accolade to him as just a lingering effect of Adoripotion?

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