Chapter 10
DISCLAIMER - None of these delightful characters are mine, all belong to JK Rowling.
As Headmaster of the most prestigious school of magic on the globe for longer than he cared to remember, Albus Dumbledore had experienced his fair share of surprising encounters in this office. Few had ever quite matched the slightly surreal circumstance of hosting his dour Potions Master together with a child who looked as though she had been playing dress up.
Buttercups were woven through the fine tumble of the golden hair, matching the shade perfectly, large silver sickles dangled from her ears and around her neck hung a string of what looked remarkably like table forks. Yet, her eyes were clear and focused and bright with an acumen that was entirely masked by the rest of appearance.
The events she was recounting at Snape's invitation were as bizarre and disconcerting as her attire but she spoke of them with certainty, command and no self doubt whatsoever. She and Severus were quite a lot alike, the ancient wizard reflected privately. Neither was fully what they appeared to be, both were possessed of rapier sharp intellects and both wanted the world to believe they were entirely self sufficient.
"And nothing this person in the chair said was a threat at all?" his blue eyes, met Luna's youthful regard of him, curious and kind.
"Oh no. Their words weren't threatening. They were, the evil within. I'd be a goner now if I hadn't got a whiff of that," Luna replied equably. Only the very young could be so serene about their mortality, Dumbledore thought, steepling his long fingers beneath his chin.
His eyes flickered to meet Severus' dark study. The Head of Slytherin had remained standing, as was his habit. He lifted an eyebrow, the message silent but clear; There you have it. As only Luna can tell it.
Luna was seated at the desk, opposite the Headmaster. She liked his crimson robes, the way they were trimmed with gold and how they matched his beautiful phoenix. The bird balanced on a gilded stand, his magnificent plumage catching the rays of the sun that slanted through the window of the tower that housed Professor Dumbledore's office. A silver implement, round and inscribed with delicate carvings that Luna knew were runes in an old, old language sat on a spindly legged table near her arm. It chirped cheerfully at intervals and emitted little puffs of steam that were fragrant with the scent of violets.
"Luna, you have given me a very valuable account and I thank you for your courage and your honesty. You have very fine instincts and I hope that you always maintain the courage to trust them," the Headmaster said in his warm voice.
He lifted the lid from a trophy shaped crystal container in front of him and extended the jar to Luna.
"Help yourself to a sherbet, my dear," he offered and Luna happily accepted, popping the brightly coloured treat between her teeth, her eyes widening a little as the fiz of sugary, honey flavoured sweetness erupted like stars in her mouth.
Severus dropped a hand onto her shoulder.
"Luna. Perhaps you would like to visit Hagrid a while. I would like a word with the Headmaster in private," he said.
Obediently, Luna rose to her feet but as she turned, she looked up at him.
"You have an idea what all of this is about, haven't you? Do you know what has happened to my father, Severus? Is that what you are going to discuss?"
"If I had that information, I would not keep it from you. Leave us now," his expression was not unkind but it was firm.
In her absence, Dumbledore sighed and bowed his head.
"I am glad you are here, Severus. I was going to contact you. I have spoken with Sybil. What she told me casts the events of recent days into a rather different perspective," he said.
"There is also rather important news from Azkaban. Barty Crouch Junior died there. Early this morning, I understand."
Snape's brows drew close together in a pensive frown, his only reaction to this announcement.
"I admit, this business looked liked his handiwork. Crouch was fanatical in his devotion to the Dark Lord. Ferreting information to garner his favour, that was his style. But he never left Azkaban, this we know," the master of the dungeons replied.
"And of Lord Voldemort, Severus?" the old wizard's eyes were sharp.
"Whereabouts unconfirmed. Rumours continue to circle among a few. Eastern Europe remains the likeliest hideout, Romania, most probably. Nothing definite. And none know of any reach out to old supporters here. Not one of his most trusted inner circle have heard even a whisper," Snape reported. As a member of that society himself, his certainty was absolute.
"All the more reason the incidents of this summer are disturbing. Not least because despite the suspicious nature of his activities, Bartemius Crouch clings to wizarding law as a drowning man to a raft. It is not in his nature to break the rules, Severus," Dumbledore said.
"That he would stray from his nature is something I struggled to understand. Above all his hatred for the Death Eaters defined his career in Magical Law Enforcement. Why would he now turn to doing their work for them?" he stroked his long, snow white beard.
"I wondered the same. Breaking in to my house. Returning to the scene full of fake concern, attacking the girl? As I say, actions that pointed to the son far more than the father. He has not been under the Imperius Curse. I made certain of that today," Severus said.
"Yet he said something that was interesting. He said he would not have wished for Luna to be hurt. It was an accidental admission of knowledge of the deed but at the same time, implying no direct involvement."
Snape thought about the confrontation today, the distress that Crouch harboured.
"But there was something in his mind, I could see it. A worry, a deep seated anxiety for someone close to him. I could not see more clearly than that. But he knew of the one responsible. It terrified him."
A skilled Legilimens, Severus Snape could see inside the mind of another with magic so light, they never even suspected. Few things were ever truly private from him, unless he permitted it or chose to respect it. Dumbledore was mildly impressed Barty Crouch had succeeded in keeping him out as much as he had.
"And for the last piece of this puzzle, we turn to Sybil. She is quite the conversationalist when her beloved sight is the topic," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
"I have had a little more tea this summer than I might have liked but what I now know is that my dear Professor Trelawney was being courted by Xenophilius for a while a few months ago. Nothing came of it, something about seeing a dark shadow over the heart and the solitude that feeds the inner eye doomed the romance," he recounted, smiling as Severus' lip lifted in an impatient curl.
"This was undoubtedly how he came by the detail of the prophesy. Sybil slipped into one of her real states when she was with him I surmise. What I did not realise is that the good woman has been operating a little side line to supplement her teaching income," Dumbledore's eyes grew serious. They met the darker, keen stare of his younger, sterner colleague.
"Sybil has been doing readings for select clients," he added.
"Such as the wife of a prominent ministry official? Snape's drawl was met with a brief nod from the Headmaster.
"I suspect I am filling in the blanks to a conclusion you have already reached, Severus," Dumbledore met the knowing eyes of the Potions Master.
"Mrs Crouch's descent to madness has been disguised by Barty's story of her illness. He has been very loyal to her, the burden of his guilt must be great. Her suffering is too awful to contemplate. The boy was their only son, just nineteen years old when he was condemned by his own father," the silver haired wizard's already lined face looked suddenly older, wearier as sadness weighed on him.
"The heart broken mother of a doomed son, she sought a little solace from a Seer and from here we can but guess that Sybil inadvertently leaked the prophesy," Dumbledore closed his eyes a moment. How it is when sorrow heaps upon sorrow,
"Barty has kept prying eyes and questions at bay with the tale of her sickness. But things have spiralled. The death of the boy was clearly the last straw. What Luna confronted today was a soul rent with grief and remorse. A broken heart has no cure," he said softly.
Snape's gaze faltered for less than a heart beat. He clasped his hands behind his back.
"The question, Headmaster is what to do now. Crouch cannot keep her secure, even he must see that after the past few days. She has orchestrated an attack on an eleven years old child. Revenge for her son or hoping for a return of the Dark Lord with a key to his good graces, we may never know what her motives were or how deep her instability" he said.
Dumbledore nodded his agreement.
"Fudge is meeting with Crouch personally. As Minister for Magic he is aware of the seriousness of the situation but also of the sensitivities involved, Severus. There will be a ceremony for the boy they lost and then, Fudge will arrange for the wretched woman to be treated at St. Mungo's. Barty will make no objection, I understand."
Snape pursed his lips and lowered his eyes. He took a step towards the door.
"The girl will be safe. She begins term here on Monday. It will be a great relief to her to know that she is no longer in danger," he said.
"But none of this gives her the one answer she seeks," he added.
"No. Perhaps the healers at St. Mungos can unlock some of the things Mrs. Crouch has imprisoned within her mind, Severus. We wait and there is still hope," the wisdom of the head of this school was deep as was his capacity for kindness.
Yet even he could not offer solace for a child who had lost the last remnant of her family. And Snape, who knew himself guilty of trading nobility for influence, compassion for solitude felt utterly inadequate to offer her the emotional haven she needed and deserved. So far, he had failed in finding her father, an unforgivable letdown.
He had his hand on the handle of the door when Dumbledore's voice stopped him.
"The risk to Miss Lovegood may have passed, Severus. Her need for respite in the absence of her father has not. I trust that you are to be relied upon to maintain your guardianship as uncertainty endures?"
Snape's head moved in the barest of nods before he exited with nothing more than a whisper of his cloak. He did not speak. He was afraid that to do so would betray just how much he himself had come to rely on playing that role.
His progress across the sun drenched grounds of the school was rapid and silent. With no students flitting about, the castle had the air of the regal home of a rich earl or peer of the realm. Or at least it had until he rounded the curving green of the lawn and caught sight of the Gamekeper's cottage, with it's dark thatched roof that sagged in the middle. The creature that cantored happily before the front door could never be mistaken for the offspring of a thoroughbred from a fine stable. Leathery wings sprouted from a sinewy body and Snape instantly knew it to be a thestral foal. The presence of the magical creature dispelled the illusion that this was an ordinary castle.
Tinkling laughter reached him before he caught sight of the girl, running lightly before the beast, letting it nibble gently on the ends of her hair. He stopped and watched, seeing the vigour and enthusiasm that enhanced her every gesture. Merlin, how could anyone be so young, so pure, he wondered, seeing her carefree expression as she played with the foal.
At that moment, Luna looked up, saw him standing on the grass above the hut and ran towards him, eyes sparkling.
"Easy there, Orion. That isn't very polite," she was out of breath as she laughingly scolded the creature which greeted Snape by chewing on the hem of his cloak.
Severus remained still but his gaze travelled down his nose, his expression fixed and without mirth.
"Orion?" his eyes flickered to Luna.
"A good name for him, he flies really high. I'm quite sure he'd make it right to the stars if he wanted to," she said.
"I will take your word for it," he looked up as the massive form of the Keeper of the Keys emerged from the darkened doorway of the hut.
"Ah, Professor Snape, Sir. Here fer your young lady? We've had a lovely visit and Orion here, he's beside himself to see her again. Remembers 'is friends, 'e does," Hagrid's hazelnut eyes twinkled above the impressively bushy beard.
"An admirable quality I'm sure," Snape's lip lifted as though he was smelling something the thestral might have deposited on the grass.
Again, his eyes found the girl who had planted herself by his elbow.
"Our business here is concluded. If you are ready?" he rose an eyebrow at her.
"Oh yes," she gasped, still finding her breath after the chase with the little animal.
She looked back at the towering form of the Gamekeeper.
"Thank you, Hagrid. Tea was lovely and I'm glad the felicities have settled in and aren't too much trouble. I'll see you in a few days, I suppose," she lifted a hand in a farewell salute.
"Take care of yourself, now, Luna. You be good for Professor Snape and we'll see you right soon," Hagrid gave her a beaming smile.
She matched his fleet footed march to the ornate gates of the castle, even if it did cause her to have to jog a little. By the time they reached Hogsmeade, she was out of breath. Neither had spoken on the short journey. Luna wanted to ask quite a few questions but held them back.
His profile was grimly set, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on the distance. He hardly seemed to remember that she was with him. Luna knew there would be no point trying to talk with him just then. It was just as good anyway, she didn't think she had enough wind left to say hello, much less manage a decent conversation.
At the village he reached towards her, hardly even glancing at her. Then, within a beat before he apparated, he looked down, saw the damp tendrils of hair that framed her face, saw the high colour on her cheeks.
"You look ready to fall down!" he couldn't keep the surprise from his tone. To Luna, he sounded mildly aggravated. She swept a hand across her brow, drew in a deep breath.
"A little brisk exercise is no bad thing," she said tranquil.
He took in the pinking of the sky, the lengthening shadows.
"I never did buy you that ice cream. Would a visit to Honeydukes compensate, do you think?" his eyes slanted at her from his considerable height.
"That sounds very lovely, Severus," Luna looked up the street to where the magical sweetshop nestled next to the cobbles, just on a bend not far from where they had stopped.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a handful of shiny coins.
"Off you go, then. Choose as you wish. I will be here when you are done," he said.
The shop, with its barrels of jewel coloured sweets, its shelves heaving with jars of candy false teeth that really chattered, Bertie Botts every flavoured beans, liquorice wands and many more mouth watering treats could have held Luna's attention for hours. Yet she purchased a modest assortment of chocolate frogs without delay and was back on the street quickly.
The Professor was standing where she had left him, just as he said he would be and his head was bowed, an inky curtain of hair falling to hide his face. He was looking down at something in his hand and it as only as Luna drew closer that she recognised the object he was holding as the coin she had given him at the start of the summer.
He looked up and pocketed the coin, his eyebrows rising a little as she reached him.
"Well that was fast! You are either a very accomplished shopper, Luna or the merits of 'retail therapy' have yet to win you over!" he tone was bemused, his eyes still held that far away, troubled shadow within their dark depths.
She gripped his arm without another word and in the blink of an eye, she was back in the familiar surrounds of his urban home.
Almost immediately, a disagreeable restlessness gripped her. Her guardian had returned to silence as he banished his cloak to its hanger by the stairs and he stepped into the living room without a backward look at her. Luna was used to his taciturn ways, to his day time absences. Neither perturbed her at all.
This brooding quiet was not comfortable, it made her skin itch. She went and stood by the doorway.
"Are you hungry, Severus? I can make a sandwich?"
Silence.
"Or maybe I'll just feed Galahad. He's probably wondering where I've gotten to."
Nothing.
Still she lingered in the doorway, longing to ask the questions that buzzed in her mind, afraid of what he clearly did not want to say.
"And I should see about packing my trunk, I suppose. I've been putting it off but no time like the present."
He had been standing with his back to her, but he turned now, slowly, gracefully. The look on his face was pained, and his eyes narrowed as his gaze fell on her.
He took two or three steps back to the door, moving as though gliding on an unseen current. His movement was slow, deliberate.
Then, he was standing over her, looming, really and Luna's head fell back to bring her eyes to his face.
"Sandwiches? Packing? Luna, why are you not raging at me? You should be standing here spitting ire, Merlin knows you have the right!" he snarled.
"Instead, listen to you, trying to appease me by the sounds of it! Why are you not furious? I have dragged you around today like a sack of floo powder, walked you into a scary house full of mad people to do my bidding and did you complain? Not a peep! You are disappointed, you are afraid and you stand here trying to put me at my ease!"
He stared down at her. She had not moved.
"So yell at me. Get angry! It has to be there and I have earned it!"
He turned away again, lifting a hand to rub at the crease in his forehead with his knuckle. The torrent of his words vanished like vapour back into the silence of the room.
"I am not angry with you, Severus. How could I be? Everything you have done today, for weeks has been for me," the green eyes were worried now. Luna felt a keen distress at the torment she heard in his voice. Suddenly, she felt very young, very childish. Her fry tacks and Googlehoffs were no shield against the upset visited upon another. And she could not think how to alleviate it, though she really wished it otherwise.
"What are you made of, Luna Lovegood? You are not tall enough to see over my shoulder and nothing the past few weeks have thrown at you has bowed you! Dented you maybe, winded you some but you are far from broken. I know of grown men who would be blubbering heaps by now," he shook his head, looking back over his shoulder to regard her rather sadly.
"And I am no match for you, child. I have let you down, you wait for news of your father and every day, I bring you a heaping portion of nothing."
He came back to stand in front of her once more. His time, he reached out and took her hand in his.
"Come, you are certainly owed some explanations and I can at least give you that," he said, leading her to the couch.
Sitting beside him, Luna felt a measure of right return. His outburst had dispersed the oppressive silence and the twitchy, on edge feeling that had so irritated her lifted.
He would tell her the truth, there was enormous comfort in that. Up to this summer, her fears had centred on the possibility of never finding the right wand to work magic successfully. Or if she would ever meet a wizard who would fall head over heels in love with her and who owned his own mansion and unicorn herd as in her dreams. Or the very worst of them, that she might forget what her mother had looked like.
Her dad had always found the right words to chase them away, well two of the three, she hadn't shared much about the handsome wizard and the unicorns. He had told her that her magic was in her heart and wand or no wand, when she was old enough she would learn to free it. And on her last birthday, he had given her an old mirror and told her that any time she wished to be reminded of her mum, to look there.
Luna realised now that these terrors were but the thorns of childhood, their bite easily pruned. She knew that there were other, more sinister barbs ready to cut you and tangle the path of your life. And the Professor knew that sweet words weren't enough to drive them back. Instead, he could teach her to stand firm. Knowing what you faced and what you could do about it, that was where lay the power to overcome real fear.
Luna met his eyes evenly as he spoke of a woman drenched in sorrow, a woman so beset with grief that her mind somehow fractured.
"Did Mrs Crouch harm my father, Severus?" Luna asked the question, her gaze faltering just a shade as she spoke.
"I do not know, Luna. I'm afraid she did have something to do with whatever happened to him but remember, she is simply too far gone to answer any questions about her actions in the last weeks," he said.
"But you believe she broke in here that day, that she sent the elf after me?"
"I believe she is responsible for those events. She may not have personally carried them out. Apart from the elf, she must have had an accomplice and I will find them, whoever they may be," his eyes darkened further as he said the words, his lips tightened.
"How terrible it must be to feel such pain," Luna's eyes dropped to study her hands, clasped in her lap.
"When my mother died, my dad didn't smile for a long time. He did a lot of writing. We didn't grow roses in the garden after that. They were her favourite and dad said seeing them made his eyes feel sad," Luna told him.
"The sadness didn't fill all his heart though, there was still room left to love me. Poor Mrs. Crouch, she missed her son so much, she forgot to keep her love alive."
Severus' expression was harsh. He could not fathom how she could feel any measure of compassion for the woman who had brought such calamity to her own life. Pondering this unexplainable phenomenon made him feel weary, the long day suddenly weighing on him.
And perhaps because he was tired, Luna's words prodded a nerve in the recesses of his own mind. Something long buried, that he had never allowed himself to fully examine stirred. To ache so much you felt every shred of yourself shatter, Severus knew how that felt. Luna's expression was the innocent, yet insightful articulation of a child. To forget to keep your ability to love after enduring a loss, it was a very uncomplicated way of imagining the bitterness that could infect a damaged, broken heart. He didn't have to imagine it, he lived it.
She was quiet a long time, sitting there on his couch, in his shadow, her eyes away from him, hiding whatever thoughts passed within. He knew this was a retreat, he had seen her do it before, Waiting was one of the things he could do very well and its what he did now.
When at last Luna had processed her thoughts and could let him back in, she looked up into his face.
"The trail to find Dad has gone cold now. That's what you haven't said."
It was a statement, not a question, one he wished he could refute. He had not said it, hoping the omission might have gone unnoticed. It was a foolish hope, Luna listened well, attuned to what was not spoken.
She stood up and from her vantage point she looked back down to where he still sat.
"I thought it would be harder to face that. But then I remembered, there's you. You won't give up, you said that already. And it seems to me it's lucky I remembered. That's an awful lot to have going for me."
Shock reverberated within him. Then came the raw, unfiltered agony of seeing the tornado come and being unable to stop it wiping away what was precious. How could he ever hope to live up to trust so willingly gifted?
"Luna…" his voice was a ghost of whisper.
He closed his eyes and in the darkness, felt the weight of the day grow heavier, felt his own strength ebb beneath it.
Summoning the reserve of his stamina, he rose to his feet, opened his eyes, looked at her with total calm on his face.
"Of course I am not giving up. I gave you my word. I cannot guarantee the outcome but where ever this road leads, Luna, we are on it, you and I and until there is no more, on we go," the black eyes settled on her as inside himself, his emotional equilibrium see sawed with sickening speed.
Being disliked, despised, distrusted, this was territory he knew and could control. He almost longed to get it back.