A/N: Next chapter! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing these chapters for book three. I love having Remus (and in a way, Sirius) around. :)
62. Suspicions
Minerva hadn't exactly planned to have a drink with the Minister for Magic. It was the last Hogsmeade weekend before the Christmas holidays. She had wanted to do some last-minute Christmas shopping with Filius when they had run into Hagrid and he had suggested going to the Three Broomsticks. He seemed to be doing better, although Minerva had heard of certain overcorrections when it came to his classes. They had reportedly gone from being a little too adventurous to being completely dull. Perhaps getting a drink together would be a good opportunity to talk to him about that.
But then they met Fudge, who was early for his scheduled dinner with Albus, and Hagrid, being a little too kind, invited him to join them. And that was that. They spent the entire time rehashing the Sirius Black situation and the sad story that came with it. Minerva was secretly glad when she could remind Fudge of his appointment with Albus and usher him back to the castle. She was also relieved that she wasn't expected to have dinner with the two of them because the only thing they were sure to talk about was Sirius Black – again. Not that anything had changed these past few weeks, but they all knew how much Fudge liked to pretend that he was on top of things.
Meanwhile, Minerva didn't like the idea of the Minister for Magic wandering around the school on his own. She accompanied him all the way to Albus' office under the pretence of continuing their conversation from the Three Broomsticks. When they entered the circular room, Minerva could tell right away that something was wrong. There was a weariness in the way Albus turned around to greet them, a tightness to his jaw and a stiffness in his shoulders.
To her surprise, Fudge noticed it, too. But in his case, he was probably just attuned to the signs of bad news, not the intricacies of Albus' body language. "Did something happen? Not another Black sighting in the castle?" he asked.
"I just received word that the school governors have cleared Hagrid of any wrongdoing in the incident with young Mr Draco Malfoy and the Hippogriff Buckbeak in September. However, there will be a hearing in front of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures to decide Buckbeak's future or, most likely, the lack thereof."
While Minerva's eyes widened, Fudge relaxed visibly. Apparently, this did not constitute bad news in his book. "Yes, I know. Excellent news about Hagrid, isn't it? I thought you'd be pleased, Dumbledore."
Albus' brow furrowed, decidedly not pleased. "Hagrid's innocence was never in question and I don't see why the same cannot be said for Buckbeak."
"Well, this Hippogriff is a dangerous animal that attacked a student..."
"He's a sentient creature. He was mistreated and reacted like many sentient beings would have reacted to such provocation," Albus corrected the minister.
Fudge played nervously with the bowler hat in his hands. "Maybe, but Lucius is very insistent, you see..."
"And since when is the Ministry run by Lucius Malfoy?"
"Obviously that's not what I meant," Fudge said hastily. "It'll be the Committee's decision, not Lucius' and not yours or mine either. That's what the Committee is for. I really can't get involved."
What he actually meant by that was that he didn't want to get involved.
Which Minerva took as her cue to leave.
When the Christmas holidays arrived, the castle emptied faster than ever. Personally, Minerva thought that the threat of Sirius Black wasn't any scarier than an open Chamber of Secrets, but the parents seemed to disagree. For Christmas dinner they only needed one table for twelve people. Poor Remus couldn't attend because it was a full moon again. Minerva would have greatly preferred his company to that of Sybill Trelawney, who for whatever reason decided to grace them with her presence – immediately spouting her usual nonsense about thirteen being an unlucky number.
Minerva wasn't exactly on her best behaviour during that dinner, which earned her several disapproving looks from Albus. When Miss Granger asked to talk to her after dinner, she gladly agreed to stay behind so Albus couldn't give her a talking-to just yet.
"It's about Harry. He, uh, he got a racing broom for Christmas. A Firebelt, no, er..."
"A Firebolt?" Minerva helped her out, her eyebrows climbing all the way to her hairline. "Potter got a Firebolt?" She practically shouted the name across the Great Hall. Excitement surged within her too fast for her to suppress it. That broom would be exactly what Gryffindor needed to resurrect their chances of winning the Quidditch Championship after all.
"Yes, but there was no card, no note, nothing. Harry doesn't know who sent him the broom. And it's not cheap, is it?"
"That's an understatement." Minerva might have fantasised about getting one for the Gryffindor team when the Firebolt had first come out – until she had read the price tag.
"Right, so I was wondering..." Miss Granger bit her lower lip, clearly uncomfortable, but she forced herself to continue. "Why would anyone send him such an expensive gift and not let him know they did it? Unless... unless they weren't doing it because they liked Harry but because they wanted to hurt him, because they knew that he wouldn't be able to resist flying on that broom."
Minerva stared at this clever young girl and felt embarrassed about nearly letting herself get carried away. "What you're saying is that the broom might be from Sirius Black."
"I know it sounds crazy..."
"No, Miss Granger, it doesn't. Not in the least. That is some quick thinking you did there," Minerva praised her student, who smiled hesitantly. "Thank you for telling me about this. I better come and have a look at that Firebolt."
They walked back to Gryffindor Tower together and Potter showed her the broom with great reluctance. It looked fine. Actually, it looked magnificent. But of course, one wouldn't be able to tell from the outside. There was no way around it. Minerva had to confiscate the Firebolt until it could be checked for jinxes.
Potter acted as though she had plunged a knife into his back. She understood where he was coming from. They had always been allies when it came to Quidditch and, more specifically, Gryffindor winning at Quidditch. But this was more important.
The only thing Minerva could do for Potter was not to waste any time. She took the Firebolt straight to Filius' office.
She explained the situation to him and the Charms master looked immediately intrigued. "Don't worry, Minerva. When I'm through with it, we'll know exactly if Black tampered with it or not."
"Good, but be gentle with it, will you?" she asked him. "It would be a shame to destroy it. What I wouldn't have given to fly a broom like that back in my day!"
Filius looked back and forth between her and the Firebolt, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, if it checks out all right, somebody has to be the first person to take it out for a spin. I could give it straight back to you. Potter never needs to know."
"Oh no! Thank you, but no," Minerva declined hastily. If she got on a racing broom and managed to fall off and hurt herself, that would drive the final nail in the coffin of her attempts to convince Albus that Quidditch was fun.
He was already waiting for her when she returned from Filius' office. "There you are. I was beginning to worry that you had run into those mad axe-men after all."
Minerva shot him a quick look to gauge if Albus was truly upset with her or if this was just some mild teasing. "You know Sybill had it coming and it was only a joke," she said, erring on the side of caution.
"Perhaps one that was somewhat inappropriate, considering the Halloween incident."
"Actually, I think Black might have changed tactics." She told him all about the Firebolt. As always, Albus listened attentively and he didn't disagree with her decision to hand the broom over to Filius, but he didn't say if he thought it was necessary. "Anyway, now Potter hates me," Minerva concluded.
Albus' gaze softened. "He does no such thing. But it is cruel that he had to give up this remarkable gift after he only just got it."
"Don't I know it! There was a time when I would have killed for a broomstick like that," Minerva confessed.
"Is that so? Did you just tell me what I should get you for Christmas next year?" Albus asked, cocking his head curiously.
He sounded a bit like Filius, so Minerva told him the same thing. "Past tense, Albus. My days as a Gryffindor Chaser are over. Potter is the one who should fly that broom now, not me. Plus, they're ridiculously expensive."
Albus arched a brow. "I see your point. But just for the record, I'd love to buy you anything you want – if there was anything you wanted – no matter the cost."
"You're telling me that now? After I wasted all these years, insisting that you don't get me any presents!" Minerva quipped.
"It's still Christmas. Not too late to make a wish." Albus winked at her. It looked as though she had been forgiven for picking a fight with Sybill.
Minerva walked over to him and clasped her hands behind his neck. "Then I wish for time."
"More time to think about your wish?"
"No, just more time. That's the wish. It's the same thing I always wish for," she explained. "And so far, so good."
Albus' eyes twinkled. "A smart choice. A tad difficult to wrap up and give to you, though."
"That's all right. I'll just take it without the wrapping then," Minerva said, laughing about her silly joke, until Albus silenced her with a kiss that did a pretty good job of slowing down time all on its own.
Over the next several days and weeks Minerva's enthusiasm for the Firebolt waned considerably. Wherever she went, there was Potter, badgering her about when he could have his broom back. If it wasn't Potter, it was Oliver Wood, who was quite as desperate, if not more so. He only left her alone when Minerva yelled at him to get his priorities straight. He had claimed that he didn't care if Potter got hurt flying the Firebolt as long as he caught the Snitch first. Briefly, Minerva wondered if she sounded just as unreasonable to Albus sometimes, but she didn't really want to know the answer.
She was beginning to think that this Firebolt was more trouble than it was worth. How much trouble only became apparent to her when Minerva walked into the library at the start of the new term. She pretended not to see Remus, who was on all fours peeking behind some of the bookshelves. He was searching for Boggarts again and Minerva didn't want to get roped into helping him. Remus' work ethic and his dedication to his students were admirable, but she didn't enjoy fighting Boggarts all that much. For a creature that wasn't terribly dangerous in and of itself, its effect could be quite heartbreaking.
Speaking of which, there was somebody else in the library, whom Minerva couldn't ignore. Hermione Granger had pushed two tables together and they were both completely covered in books and homework and long scrolls of parchment on famous court cases involving magical beasts. Apparently, she had added some extra work to her already extensive to-do list and right now she seemed to be drowning in it. Minerva had seen this coming and she had wanted to check in with Miss Granger for some time now.
"Oh, hello, Professor," she said distractedly when Minerva stopped by her table.
"How are you getting on? Any difficulties with your time management?" Minerva asked.
"Not at all, Professor," Miss Granger assured her.
"And are you enjoying all your classes?"
She hesitated for only a second. "Yes, very much, Professor."
After all these years of teaching Minerva knew what it sounded like when students gave her the answers they thought she wanted to hear. "Very good. But I hope you know that there'd be no shame in dropping a class if that changes," she said.
Miss Granger seemed almost scandalised by the mere thought. "Oh no, I couldn't! You went to all that trouble to get me the…" she glanced around the room before she finished her sentence, "… the Time-Turner."
"I did that so you could make an informed decision about your education, not so you could forge ahead without any sense or purpose," Minerva explained. She really wanted to see Miss Granger succeed and she knew what kind of pressure the young girl put on herself. Not unlike Minerva had done when she had been her age.
"I know, Professor, and I'm doing fine, really. I just have a lot of homework right now and it's very… loud in the Gryffindor common room." It sounded like a reasonable explanation, but something dark glistened in her eyes, as though she was fighting back tears. And those were not just tears of exhaustion.
"Can I sit?" Minerva asked and pulled out a chair before Miss Granger had even opened her mouth to respond. "Now, what's really going on?"
It took another minute before Miss Granger caved. "It's Ron… and Harry. They're really upset with me because I told you about the Firebolt and because Crookshanks is always trying to eat Scabbers. I told Ron that he can't help it, but now Ron won't talk to me and Harry's always taking his side. He never liked Crookshanks either and I don't know… if they'll ever talk to me again."
Minerva had no idea who Scabbers and Crookshanks were so she focused on the parts she had understood. "Mr Potter and Mr Weasley won't throw away your friendship over a broomstick."
"But it's not just any broom, is it?"
"And you're not just any friend," Minerva countered. "And you did the right thing coming to me."
Miss Granger looked as though she was too polite to point out that Minerva had to say that and that it didn't help in the least.
Which was true. Minerva leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I know it can be hard sometimes to take care of the people we love if they don't want to be taken care of. But in my experience it's always worth the effort, and they will come to see that eventually. Just give it some time and have a little faith in your friends."
At this, Miss Granger's face brightened and she managed a half-smile. "That's good to know. Thanks, Professor."
Before Minerva could say anything else, there was the sound of an entire row of books falling off the nearest bookshelf. "Sorry, sorry! That was me," Remus called from somewhere in the corner.
Minerva left Miss Granger to her studying, headed off Madam Pince and pulled Remus out of the library. "Why do you need another Boggart so badly?" she asked him.
"Just keeping a promise I made to a student," Remus replied vaguely.
Minerva decided not to pry. "Well, whoever it is, I hope they appreciate that you're risking your neck for them."
Remus frowned. "I think I can handle a single Boggart."
"I was talking about Irma." Minerva nodded back in the direction of the angry librarian, who was shaking her fist at Remus.
He ducked his head. "Oh, right. Thank you for saving me."
"You're welcome. This time. Don't expect me to do that again. Some of us still like to use the library for reading and can't risk being banned from it," Minerva warned him. "Anyway, I hope it works out with your student and that Boggart."
Remus laughed a little nervously. "You and me both."
Albus put aside today's edition of the Daily Prophet so he could butter his toast. Remus glanced at the paper. He was the only one sitting next to Albus this morning. There had been a (Quidditch inspired) fight between several students and all Heads of House had been forced to cut their breakfast short to sort it all out. These were the moments when Albus was glad to be headmaster and thus able to finish his breakfast in peace.
He had invited Remus to take one of the empty chairs next to him. While Albus now turned away to reach for the marmalade, Remus' hand suddenly shot forward and he flipped over the paper. Albus leaned back in his chair and their eyes met over the glass of marmalade in his hand.
Remus cringed. "Sorry. I just can't look at that and eat at the same time."
Today's headline, which was now lying facedown, announced in bold letters that the Ministry had given the Dementors permission to perform the Dementor's Kiss if and when they apprehended Sirius Black.
"Of course. That was rather insensitive of me," Albus apologised and removed the paper from the table altogether before he returned to his toast.
He was just about to start eating when Remus said, "I know it shouldn't bother me."
Albus paused with his hand almost to his mouth. "On the contrary. The Dementor's Kiss is certainly a disturbing enough thought to spoil anyone's appetite. I just happen to have a weakness for raspberry marmalade. We were out these past few days and the house-elves nearly died of shame when I told them. So you see, I really have to eat this."
Remus' mouth quirked upward, but he didn't quite muster a smile. "It's not just about the Dementor's Kiss, though. Yes, that is awful. But it's about who they'd be performing it on. That shouldn't bother me as much as it does."
Albus gave up on his toast and put it back down. "I'd find it a lot more worrisome if it didn't bother you."
"Why?" Remus demanded.
"Because to show mercy and to offer forgiveness is less about what he did and more about who you are."
Remus had added some sugar to his tea and had been stirring it absent-mindedly. He now dropped the spoon with a clang as though it had suddenly burned his fingers. "I never said anything about forgiving him."
"That is completely up to you, of course," Albus said softly.
The look in Remus' eyes was both sharp and deeply wounded when he asked, "Did you forgive him?"
"I wasn't his best friend," Albus hedged.
"Neither was I, which was lucky, because he killed him." Remus winced at the bluntness of the words coming out of his mouth.
Albus didn't say anything. There was nothing to say to that and Remus didn't really need him to.
"That's what I should be thinking about when I look at that headline," he went on, his voice strained. "The horrendous things he did to Lily and James, to Harry – for which I definitely haven't forgiven him. It's a nice thought, but I wouldn't even know how. And yet, I can't seem to forget all the good stuff either. Everything he did for me. He and James – and Peter. All those nights they…" He broke off abruptly.
"Yes?" Albus pushed him gently but curiously. "If there's anything you wish to tell me, I can assure you that it won't affect your employment at this school. Just between you and me, most teachers who work here broke one school rule or another at some point during their time at Hogwarts," he added for good measure.
Remus grimaced. "I have a hard time believing that anyone knows quite how to break the rules like James and… Sirius did."
"Well, that is true," Albus conceded. "But if I remember correctly, you had a good influence on them."
He snorted. "I know you and Minerva hoped I would, especially after you made me a prefect. But I was just too happy to have friends for once in my life. Friends who helped me recover after every full moon and made sure I didn't feel like a monster. So the sad truth is that I was a terrible prefect."
"That doesn't sound sad to me at all," Albus disagreed. "And that man – the man who made you see yourself through the caring eyes of a friend, see yourself for who you really are – could very well still be a part of Black to this day. It's not a crime to remember the good in him and let it live on. In fact, it's a great kindness."
Remus stared at him, his mouth slightly open, his face torn between relief and doubt. "Thank you. For saying that and for hiring me. It may not seem like it, but I appreciate all the trouble you had to go through for me – including listening to my sorrows rather than enjoying your breakfast."
"Oh, I think a piece of toast, even if it's my favourite kind, is a small price to pay for talking to a friend," Albus said with a warm smile. "You've never been trouble, Remus. And even if you had, some things are worth doing, even if they're difficult, and some people, most people actually, are worth the benefit of the doubt."
Once again, Remus looked oddly happy and pained at the same time.
"Like I said, you can always talk to me about anything that's on your mind," Albus reminded him.
It was unfortunate timing that his empty stomach rumbled in protest.
Remus laughed and his expression eased into something that was no longer agitated but also less honest. "I think I should let you finish your breakfast. We wouldn't want to upset the house-elves."
"Oh no, certainly not," Albus agreed.
Sadly, the toast didn't taste as good as he was sure it would have a couple of minutes ago.
Even for someone who didn't particularly like Quidditch, the match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw turned out to be quite interesting. The day before the game Albus was worried he might have to separate Minerva and Severus again when he saw them talking in the corridor. The self-satisfied smirk on Severus' face told him that the Potions master wasn't wishing Gryffindor good luck.
Minerva stormed off before Albus even got close enough to get involved. "Everything all right between the two of you?" he asked cautiously when he finally did catch up with her.
"Oh yes, Severus was just kind enough to remind me that Gryffindor will be out of the running for the Quidditch Cup for the eighth time in a row if we don't beat Ravenclaw tomorrow – and that he thinks it's an interesting strategy to let our Seeker play without a broom."
"Ah," said Albus. "And where are you off to now?"
"To give Potter back that bloody Firebolt," Minerva snapped, "so he can fly it down Severus' throat."
Albus chose to believe that she didn't mean that literally.
On game day, the Firebolt was impossible to miss. The students crowded around the Gryffindor table at breakfast to get a look at it and it was the topic of almost every conversation, even at the High Table.
"It was very big of you to declare the Firebolt jinx-free and give it back to Minerva one day before Gryffindor was scheduled to play Ravenclaw," Pomona said to Filius.
The Charms master looked as though he had added too much lemon juice to his tea. "Well, of course, I did what anyone in my position would have done…"
"You're already regretting it, eh?"
"Most definitely," he was forced to admit. "But we want to win fair and square and we can still do that."
"Oh, sure, uh, good luck with that." Pomona patted his arm as though he was a petulant child.
Minerva wasn't saying anything. She had her lips pressed together in a valiant attempt not to smile.
She did less smiling and more yelling during the game because Mr Jordan kept interrupting his own commentary with information on the Firebolt that had nothing to do with what was actually happening up in the air.
Albus let it all wash over him. His attention was split between watching Harry fly and keeping a close eye on the entrances to the stadium. He didn't expect the Dementors to dare defy his orders again. His fury seemed to have registered with them and Cornelius had talked to them as well, for whatever that was worth. Nevertheless, Albus would not be caught unawares this time.
He was probably the first to notice the three hooded figures who entered the pitch. Quickly, Albus rose to his feet to figure out who or what they were. But then Harry distracted him. He had noticed the intruders as well and he seemed to think that they were real Dementors, which Albus supposed had been the general idea. While Harry was racing towards the Snitch, he pulled out his wand and shot a Patronus at them.
And not just any Patronus. A fully formed, corporeal Patronus in the shape of a spectacular stag – one that Albus hadn't seen in a long time. It charged fearlessly at the wannabe Dementors, lowered its antlers and ran the four students who had been hiding underneath those robes straight into the ground. Albus was so surprised, he didn't move when Harry caught the Snitch, won the game and Gryffindor supporters began to flood the pitch in celebration.
Albus made his way down more slowly. First, he had to deal with those students, all of them from Slytherin, who had thought it would be funny to disguise themselves as Dementors. Minerva had the situation well in hand and had already meted out punishment. Albus only had to add that he would be writing letters to their parents. Lucius Malfoy might not care about his son's sabotage attempt, but he probably wouldn't appreciate the embarrassing way it had ended.
There was no getting close to Harry. He was surrounded and celebrated by a group of Gryffindors and rightly so. Albus sidled up to Remus instead.
"You taught Harry how to produce a Patronus."
Remus smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wasn't sure it would work. We had to use a Boggart to practise, you see, and Harry was really embarrassed about the whole thing. I hope you don't mind. I didn't mean to overstep."
Albus simply shook his head in amazement. "Well done, Remus. Very well done, indeed."
His smile broadened. "I suppose you saw… you saw the shape it took?"
"I did," Albus confirmed.
"James would be so proud," Remus said wistfully.
Albus squeezed his shoulder. "So should you. And Harry, of course. Tell him that for me, will you?"
Remus nodded, a little dazed, and Albus returned to the castle.
Needless to say, Minerva was in a good mood for the rest of the day. So were the Gryffindor students. Minerva had her hands full trying to control the celebrations going on in their common room. Albus thought one night filled with more fun than sleep wouldn't hurt anyone. Admittedly, Harry's impressive actions during the game made him feel lenient. But he knew better than to stop Minerva from setting certain boundaries for her students. While she strode off towards Gryffindor Tower in her tartan dressing gown at one in the morning to put a final stop to things, Albus decided to go to bed.
He had just dozed off when her cold hand shook him awake with a desperate roughness that told him what he needed to know before he even heard the low hiss of her voice. "Albus! Wake up! Black's inside the castle again!"
"Where?" he asked sharply, pushing back the covers and sitting up swiftly.
Minerva threw his dressing grown at him. "He made it into Gryffindor Tower this time, but he's not there anymore. I already checked. He must have run off mere minutes before I arrived."
"Wake the other teachers and start searching the castle," Albus said, putting on his dressing gown on their way out. "Same search pattern as last time."
But just like last time their search came up empty. Once the initial urgency had passed, Albus learned the details of what had happened. It all came down to the unfortunate and very curious circumstance that Black had somehow got his hands on a list with passwords to Gryffindor Tower. A list that should, of course, have never existed.
Nevertheless, there was need for further action. The Fat Lady had been successfully restored and she agreed to return to her post as long as she got two security guards to protect her. Argus would start boarding up all nooks and crannies of the castle and Filius would put additional protective charms on the entrance doors. Not that anyone thought that Black had simply waltzed through there. It was quite clear by now that he had possibly unrivalled knowledge of Hogwarts and its passageways – which, given his history as a rule-breaker and troublemaker during his time at school, wasn't surprising. But that explanation still had a couple of pieces missing.
At dawn, Albus sat in his favourite armchair, taking some time to mull all of that over.
Minerva slumped into the chair next to him, exhausted. "I just let the Gryffindors know that Black escaped and that they are exempt from first period so they can try to get some sleep. Well, all except Longbottom, who'll be in detention for the rest of his life."
"Making a list of passwords was ill-advised," Albus agreed. "But the real question is how it ended up in Black's hands."
"Longbottom obviously lost it somewhere. That boy would lose his own head if it wasn't attached to his neck!" Minerva's nostrils flared angrily. Poor Neville was clearly in for a rough time.
"He didn't just lose it anywhere. He must have lost it inside the castle, on the Quidditch pitch or somewhere in between. Black shouldn't be able to be in any of those places without being seen by someone, first and foremost the Dementors."
"Disillusionment Charm?" Minerva suggested half-heartedly.
Albus shook his head. "The Dementors can see through that. And it wouldn't allow him to walk through closed doors either. No, he must be using a passageway that leads directly from Hogsmeade into the school, which does not explain, however, why nobody has seen him get in and out – or who gave him that list of passwords."
"Gave it to him?" Minerva's face paled. "You're not saying…?"
"No," he cut her off before she could even go there. "I'm not blaming any of the teachers or students. Still, it looks as though Severus was right. Somebody inside this castle helped Black tonight."
Minerva groaned, took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I suppose I did by telling Sir Cardogan that if someone had the right password, he should let them pass. Of course, I also said that someone should be a student, not a homicidal maniac, but I guess that distinction was lost on him. He was never the sharpest tool in the shed."
Hoping to put an end to any such thoughts, Albus said, "And yet I appointed him to serve as the Fat Lady's replacement. So you see there's enough blame to go around. But that doesn't help anyone."
All Minerva said in response was, "I'm just glad that Black got the wrong bed."
"Did he?"
Quickly, Minerva put her glasses back on so she could stare at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"That it doesn't sound like the actions of a mass murderer to get the wrong boy and then make a run for it when the boy he's supposedly after was right there next to him," Albus explained.
"Weasley woke up and started screaming loud enough to alert half the school, including me," Minerva argued. "Black must have been afraid that he would get caught if he stayed."
"We're talking about a man who was convicted of killing twelve Muggles," Albus reminded her. "He could have silenced all five boys in that dormitory long before you even got close to Gryffindor Tower."
"Are you criticising him for not killing anyone? Or defending him?"
"Neither. I'm only trying to understand. Consider the facts, Minerva. Black got into the castle twice now. Once when he had to know that Gryffindor Tower would be empty and Harry wouldn't be there. And a second time when everyone was asleep, including Harry, and no one could have stopped him. And yet both times no one was hurt. If he were really trying to kill Harry, then he'd be doing a pretty poor job of it, wouldn't you say?"
Minerva refused to answer at first. "You're discounting the possibility that he's just completely mental at this point," she said eventually.
"Perhaps. But last time I checked being a little mad is not a crime. And a good thing, too, in my case." He chuckled.
Minerva didn't seem to find that amusing. "He approached a student with a knife. No matter what he was planning to do with it or to whom, that's enough of a crime for me."
"You're right, of course. Nobody should get in and out of this castle without me knowing about it and they certainly shouldn't threaten or frighten anyone. It needs to stop."
"I don't see how," Minerva said with a frustrated sigh. "Not as long as he's always one step ahead of us."
Albus reached out to squeeze her hand. "We know that there's something here at Hogwarts that he wants. He'll come back for it soon enough. And then we'll get another chance to figure out how to talk to him."
"Talk to him? Not catch him?" Minerva asked, her eyes narrowing shrewdly.
"Well, one would most likely lead to the other," he conceded.
But the more time passed and the more Black did and didn't do, the more Albus' conviction grew that just like twelve years ago he was missing something important.