"And that is all?" Albus asked.
"All that I know," Severus said, massaging the bridge of his nose between two fingers.
"You sound tired, my friend."
"It has been a long night, Albus. I need some food and some rest. The Dark Lord expects me back tonight, along with the rest of them."
"I'm afraid it is only going to get longer," Albus said, glancing around his office. "Meal and bed will have to wait. We have much to do."
Through the windows behind him peeked the light of morning, and Albus felt his weariness deep in his bones. When is it, he thought, that I last had an adequate night's sleep myself? Not since the girl had come to Hogwarts, at the very least, and perhaps not since he arrived at her home, all those years ago, with Minerva at his side, to see what she had been so distressed about. The same night where his plans changed, and all at the words of his least favourite employee. Albus rubbed at his eyes and turned his head when he heard Fawkes coo.
The portraits of the former Heads of Hogwarts were wide awake and alert, listening to their conversation. Briefly, Albus considered asking after their advice, but he already knew what they would say. Phineas would tell him to abandon the girl to her fate and save what he could, Phyllida and Edessa would urge him to go rescue her himself this very moment, Dilys would urge caution and to wait, and the rest would bicker and argue amongst themselves to no conclusion. Perhaps they would call for a vote, perhaps not; the results would be inconclusive and likely run contrary to what Albus himself believed to be the true path forward.
Of course, Albus thought, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes, that is assuming that I have any idea what to do. He felt lost, in a way he never had before, but he couldn't afford to give in to his grief. Ronald should have come to me earlier, he thought, and not for the first time that night. Then again, who was he to judge? He was hiding a prophecy of his own, after all, and Ronald Weasley must have felt much the same as he did- that if he simply ignored it, and tried to offer the girl moral support, it would never come true.
"Should I call for the Order?" Severus asked, breaking the silence.
"Not yet," Albus said after a moment, opening his eyes once more. "In time, yes- for now, we must decide on our next step."
"It may be possible for me to free the girl," Severus said, shifting awkwardly in his seat. "But it will mean Delacour's certain death, and I am not positive our chances of success are even slim."
"No," Albus said, cutting through the portraits' sudden mutterings. "We cannot risk you, Severus. Without you, we have no chance of winning this war."
"As you say," Severus said reluctantly.
Curious, Albus thought, watching him shift in his seat again. Why so restless, Severus? For a moment, he considered ignoring it and pushing forward, but he decided that would not do. He needed Severus on his side, and he could not have whatever the man was anxious about festering away inside of him.
"You have something you wish to say," Albus said. "Go ahead."
Severus shifted again, perhaps considering whether or not it was worth bringing up. Albus could see how eager he was to get at the matter, and, soon enough, he was speaking.
"Did you know?" he asked.
"Know what?" Albus asked.
"About the girl's father," Severus said, face suddenly flushed with anger. "About Black."
"Ah," Albus said, stroking his beard and thinking very carefully. "And how did you find out?"
"The Dark Lord only declared it in front of all of his followers," Severus spat. "Did you know?"
Albus considered denying it, but he could see the truth written on Severus's face. He wouldn't accept any other story, and trying to convince him otherwise would only serve to turn him away, perhaps driving him to the Dark Lord for good.
He hates Sirius too much, Albus thought sadly. I should have done something about that ages ago. But how to proceed here without him hating the girl, too?
"I only suspected," Albus said at last. "And it may even yet be that she is not."
"Voldemort claimed no Metamorphmagus has ever been born to the Potter line," Severus said.
Did he now? Albus thought.
He shrugged. "The Potter line is a new one, relatively speaking- they only go back two hundred years. They were the Peverells beforehand- and, yes, they have produced Metamorphmagi before, albeit not in the last four centuries. But that means nothing, Severus- it is not unlike magic to spring up suddenly where it has never been before. Otherwise, we would not have so many Muggleborn."
"Is it true?" Severus asked pointedly.
"It is possible, as I have said."
"I am not asking for your assurances," Severus snapped. "I am asking for the truth. Is it true?"
Albus studied him for a very long time. He tried- but it had been waste. He could push no further.
"We cannot know for certain," Albus said firmly. "The only one who remains who could is Sirius Black- and I, for one, do not plan on asking him anytime soon. But, yes- it is my opinion that Hazel Potter is not a Potter at all."
"How long?" Severus asked, staring at his tapping foot. Albus could hear it against the hard tile of his stone floor. I really ought to buy a rug.
"Have I suspected?" Albus finished for him. "Only in the last year. If I had thought it true any earlier, I never would have allowed Sirius to be imprisoned in Azkaban- I would have insisted Bagnold let the man go free, and I would have homed her with him rather than the Dursleys. Alas- we cannot correct past mistakes, and it changes nothing about-"
"Of course it does!" Severus said, standing suddenly and raising his voice. "It changes everything!"
"Does it?" Albus asked, raising an eyebrow and finding the path forward.
"Yes, it-"
"It does not matter who her father is," Albus said dismissively. "What has always mattered is who her mother was. Or have you changed your mind on the matter?"
"Lily Evans was not some wanton woman," Severus said, his face flushing. "She was loyal and just and-"
"And only a child, when you knew her," Albus corrected. "You never knew the woman, Severus, and it is time you let go of these memories of a girl who did not love you the way you did her. Lily Evans was human- just like us all- and she had her own wants and dreams."
Severus looked like he meant to argue further, but then he collapsed back into his seat, staring at the hands he held in his lap. Albus could see the grief written on his face. She has died a second death for him, he thought. I am sorry, Severus, but you needed to hear it.
"This is too much," Severus said, his voice thick. "I- Lily Evans would never have paid Black the slightest mind, let alone borne his child. This is too much, Albus."
"What are you saying, good man?" Albus asked cautiously. Did he go too far? No- he must stay on the path.
"I am done," Severus said, shaking his head. "I will not risk my life for any child of his."
"And what of hers?" Albus said slowly.
Severus shook his head again, but said nothing. A little push, then, Albus thought.
"How many times have we had this conversation, Severus?" he said. "How many times in the last few years have you come to me, claiming you can bear 'Potter's daughter' no longer, and that you were leaving, no matter the consequences?"
Severus continued his silence, but his foot was tapping again.
"How often have you changed your mind, merely by looking at her?" Albus continued.
"Too often," Severus said quietly.
"And you will do so again, now," Albus said. "Make no mistake, Severus- the only reason you have remained employed here, despite the frequent complaints I receive, is because you agreed to help me protect her, to work against Voldemort for her sake. For the love you bore her mother, you will continue doing so."
"I cannot do anything while she is under his control," Severus said like a petulant child.
"No," Albus agreed. "But we will have to find a way." He thought for a moment, and then decided it was time. He needed Severus on his side, and for that, Severus needed to know he was trusted. "There is a secret I would have you know, but I need to know you are on my side. I need to trust you, Severus."
Severus remained quiet and slouched for a long time, but Albus knew he would come around. He always did.
"What is it?" Severus asked at last.
"A prophecy," Albus said. "Although not the same one you overheard so long ago."
"Another one?" Severus asked, pausing before adding. "About- about her?"
Albus nodded. "And him, as well."
Albus could hear the portraits above them shuffling and sitting to attention. He had to hope they knew better than to speak; Severus would need silence while he made his decision.
"Very well, Albus," Severus said, straightening in his seat. "I am your man. What is it?"
Albus stood from his chair, turning his back to the other man so Severus could not see the smile he was wearing. "I received this four years ago, before the girl began her first year."
"And you decided to tell no one?" Severus asked, watching as he crossed the room to his cabinet.
"No one," Albus agreed. He never even mentioned it to the portraits. "I did not dare to. It was while Minerva was escorting the girl around Diagon Alley. I was returning to my office to make some further arrangements for her, when I happened to run into Sybil."
Severus scoffed. "That explains why you offered her a raise the same year."
"I am always willing to reward those who do impeccable work," Albus said, carefully lifting a little marble dish from the shelves. "It is a shame Sybil only does so very rarely. As it was- I could not risk the truth of the prophecy getting out, not after how the last one went." He heard Severus shift in his seat. "I offered it to ensure she stayed here, though I doubt she would have left otherwise. Sybil thinks of the castle as home, just as I do."
"The Pensieve?" Severus asked, watching as Albus set the dish gently on his desk.
"I think it best if you see the memory directly," Albus said, sitting back behind his desk. "First, though, I have more to explain."
"And that is?"
"When we removed the girl from her Aunt's and housed her here at the castle," Albus continued, "I meant only to house her elsewhere for the remainder of the summer. I had every intention of returning her to the Dursleys when the school year was completed."
Severus said nothing, but Albus could sense the judgment.
"I did not want her mother's protection to be broken, you see," Albus said. "At the time, I believed it to be of the utmost importance. But I was not going to return her to the same situation. She was to be given her own room in the house, and I fully intended on visiting every day, as I should have done from the beginning. I was a fool to trust that the Ministry's visits twice a year would be enough."
"But she didn't return," Severus said pointedly.
"No," Albus admitted. "By the time she arrived at the castle with Minerva, I knew I could not risk it. So, I told her the protection was broken completely, and that her aunt and uncle had renounced her. A lie, but one I do not think she minded."
Of course she did, Albus, you old fool, he thought, remembering the look of hurt and rejection the girl had worn as he told her. Even then, after everything, she still wanted them to love her. But he shook that thought away. He could not afford to care.
"Why?" Severus asked. "You do not often change your mind, old man."
"As to that, I think it best we view the memory, first," Albus said, raising his wand to his temple. "We will discuss it further afterwards."
Albus barely needed to think to bring the memory to the surface. He'd reviewed it so often, it was as fresh in his mind as the night's events. He spun the silvery, viscous liquid from the tip of his wand, and then he dipped it into the Pensieve's dish.
"After you," he said, gesturing to Severus.
Severus hesitated, and then his face set in stone.
"I will see it all, Albus," he said.
"All?" Albus said, knowing exactly what he meant.
"Hazel's memories," Severus said carefully. "At first, I- I thought they were just a trick or a fabrication, but- I will admit, they trouble my sleep at night. I will have the truth, now. I would see everything, from the moment you first arrived to take her from the house."
"You are certain?" Albus said, raising his wand to his temple once more. "You will not like what you see, old friend, nor will you rest any easier. It is my greatest failure, and one that has disturbed my own sleep ever since."
"Still," Severus said, tapping his fingers impatiently upon his arm. "I will see it."
"If you insist," Albus said, dragging the memory from his mind and depositing it, too, into the bowl.
Severus went in before him, leaning in to view the bowl, and Albus went in right after him. There was a brief swirl of colour and flash of silver, and then he was standing next to Severus in his office once more. This one was far neater, though, and the summer sun was still bathing the chamber in a warm light. Fawkes was nearer to a burning day than he was in the present, and his feathers were beginning to wilt and molt.
"You've hardly aged a day," Severus said dryly, watching the younger version of himself, sitting at his desk and writing a letter. To Cornelius, Albus remembered. The man needed help deciding on some matter that Albus couldn't quite recall; the Minister was often writing to him in those days. He had a large stack of papers at his side to get through, and the longer one worked at tedious paperwork, the more it tended to blend together.
"I believe I am well past that point, Severus," Albus said good-naturedly. "The older you get, the less there is to visibly change. My face can only hold so many wrinkles."
Severus opened his mouth to speak again, but then there came a knock at the office door. Both the visitors from the future turned to look at the door, but the Albus of the past didn't so much as glance up from his work.
I work too much, Albus thought, wishing he had the time to visit with- well, it didn't really matter who.
"Albus?"
"Yes, Minerva?"
The younger Albus Dumbledore looked up from his desk. Professor McGonagall was standing across the room, next to the entrance, a crinkled paper in her hand and a look of deep concern on her face. She wasn't wearing her usual robes of dark green; she preferred to wear more vibrant colours when students weren't around to see, and on this day, she chose a canary yellow.
"I've received a letter," she said, taking a few steps forward.
"As we often do," Albus said, nodding his head.
"A troubling letter," McGonagall said. Albus leaned back, running a hand through his long, silver beard.
"As we often do," Albus said again, this time with a deep sigh. "Which parent is it this time?"
"It's a student, actually," McGonagall said. "A future student."
"Interesting," Albus said. "I don't suppose Miss Weasley is begging us to let her in early again?"
The current Albus chuckled, remembering the letters from young Ginevra Weasley quite fondly. The girl so badly wanted to be in the same year as both her brother and Hazel Potter, and Albus had been half-tempted to allow it. It was only the advice of his previous Headmasters that kept him from proposing it to the Governors.
I should have done it anyway, he thought. The girl could have used more friends in her own year, and perhaps this Weasley would have deigned to tell me, should she hear a prophecy that changes everything.
"No," McGonagall said, setting the letter onto the desk. "As a matter of fact, it's from Potter. Hazel Potter."
"I am aware of her name," Albus said, lifting the letter and beginning to read. Severus inched closer to peer over the past man's shoulder, but the current Albus had no need to. He could still picture it clearly in his mind. The scrawl had been neat and curly, but the closer it got to the end, the more frantic and sloppy it got. It had been clumsily written, and, yet, even a bit brilliant, as only a child trying to write above their level could achieve.
Dear Minerva McGonagall,
I'd love to attend your school, although I've never heard of it. I'll need help if I'm going. I don't know if you noticed, but you must have from the listed address, but my Aunt and Uncle keep me in the closet under the stairs. Without their permission, I won't have the money to purchase anything or even leave my cupboard. I'm not supposed to tell anybody about it, but you already know, so it's fine, isn't it?
They told me magic isn't real, but I want to believe. If it is, please, get me out of here. I need your help. Please.
"Her cupboard?" past Albus said, raising an eyebrow.
"I checked the records," McGonagall said, taking a nervous step forward. "I must have missed it when I was sending them all out, the quill addresses them all automatically. 'Ms. H. Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs.' It was right there, right in front of my face."
"Perhaps Muggle cupboards are larger than our own," Albus suggested hopefully.
"Or, perhaps, you should have listened to me when I told you not to leave the girl with those Muggles!" McGonagall countered. "Perhaps we should have left her with-"
"Enough, Minerva," Albus said calmly. "The Ministry conducted a review only a month and a half ago. If there was any sign of abuse, they would have alerted me and removed her. I am sure this is just a mistake."
"But-"
"I will ask her when she arrives for the term," Albus said, raising his glasses back to the bridge of his nose and picking the Minister's letter back up.
You foolish old man, he thought angrily. He could see much the same belief written on Severus's face.
"And if she doesn't arrive?" McGonagall said coldly. "If her letter is real and she isn't allowed to attend?"
"Very well," Albus said after a moment of contemplation. "I will write to her Aunt. If I do not receive a reply confirming Ms. Potter's attendance, we will check on her ourselves this weekend."
"We should go today," Minerva said, taking a heavy step forward. "Now."
"If only I had listened to her," current Albus said with a grim frown.
"Patience, Minerva," past Albus said with a soft smile. "Hazel is perfectly safe with her family."
There was another swirl of colour, and then they were standing in front of a well-maintained house, resting amidst dozens of others just like it. Severus looked just as he had before, but he was holding himself stiffly, and Albus could tell he was distressed.
"It is not too late to return," Albus told him. "We need only see the prophecy."
"I will see it all," Severus insisted, just as two figures apparated at the end of the street. They watched as the two approached the house, and only as they neared the drive did they speak.
"We should have come earlier," McGonagall said as she stormed right up to the front door of Number Four Privet Drive. "I can't believe I let you convince me to wait."
"Patience, Minerva," Albus said again, stepping up right next to her and knocking lightly on the door. "All will be well, I assure you."
It took half a minute of waiting before the door opened, during which the grumbling from his Transfiguration teacher only grew in frequency and frustration. When the door was opened, it was to reveal a large, pink, blond boy, his small face and eyes squinting stupidly in confusion as he looked at the two complete strangers in front of him.
"Ah," Albus said, "yes, good day. You must be young Dudley."
"We're here to talk with the masters of the house," McGonagall interrupted, her voice not containing even an ounce of pleasantness. "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. If you would kindly fetch them, that would speed things up greatly."
Albus hummed as the fat boy turned and called for his parents, his thick hand still holding on to the door's handle. A second after Dudley turned his gaze back on Albus, his mother appeared from down the hall, from which he could detect the pleasant scent of a finished breakfast. Albus smiled at her, expecting a pleasantry from the tall, long-necked blonde woman.
"V-v-v-v-v-Vernon," Petunia stammered out, her face turning pale and a hand rising to her chest. Albus frowned, then and now. "We have v-v-v-v-visitors."
"Good afternoon, Madam," Albus said, despite the fact that it was currently late morning. "May we come in? I'm afraid we have a good deal to talk about."
Albus did not wait a single second before taking a step inside the explicitly clean home, nor did McGonagall right after him. Severus hesitated before doing the same, and the present Albus was last. Another figure appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, large and beefy and without a single hint of a neck.
"You most certainly may not," Vernon Dursley growled, stomping straight forward and getting into past Albus's face. "We welcome no solicitors, especially not any of you lot." Vernon pushed a fat finger into Albus's chest. "I must ask you to leave at once, thank you very much."
"I'm afraid that isn't an option, Mr. Dursley," McGonagall said coldly. "You see, we received a concerning letter from one Hazel Potter, and all of our follow-ups have gone unanswered."
"Of course we didn't answer," Vernon sputtered, puffing his chest out proudly. "I burned the lot."
"I bet that was delightful," Albus said. There was a hint of delight in his voice, but Albus could remember how furious he had been.
"Be that as it may," McGonagall said, glaring at his previous self. "I'm afraid your compliance is no longer an option. We are coming in."
"You most certainly are not!"
"Petunia, dear," Albus said, turning his gaze to the frightened woman. "Need I remind you of our agreement?"
"An agreement?" Severus asked, looking at the current him.
"Petunia promised me she would take good care of her niece," Albus said. "That she would be allowed to remain here to ensure all of their protection. That was after the first time the Ministry checked in on the girl, when they found her crying outside, every door to the house locked tight. Petunia claimed she'd been throwing a tantrum, and that she'd been sent into the garden until she could behave herself."
"How old was she?" Severus asked, his wrath almost audible.
"Almost three," Albus said, knowing he deserved it.
"And you left her here?" Severus asked.
"I had no choice," Albus said quietly. "This was right after the war ended, Severus. I'm sure you recall how the remnants of Voldemort's power were looking for her. I did not dare give her to a wizarding family, where she could be found easily, and I thought the two of us had reached an agreement. I knew the girl would likely never be happy- but I thought she'd at least be safe."
Severus nodded grimly, his lips a tight line. Albus could almost hear the grinding of his teeth.
There was a long pause, as Petunia continued staring at him, her face torn between terror and outrage. A little push of power from past Albus, and it settled on terror, and she turned to her husband.
"Let them in, Vernon," she said.
Albus wasted no time. He followed straight behind Vernon and Petunia, their son still standing awkwardly at the front door, and past the cupboard door and into the kitchen.
"What is that smell?" McGonagall asked.
Albus turned, finding his deputy standing close to the cupboard door, her nose crinkled at something. Albus came forward to drag her along, this time paying closer attention. Even now, Albus could remember. From the cupboard came a musty, foul smell, that reminded him of Ariana's worst weeks, when she wouldn't allow anyone to enter her room for a cleaning. It was like that of a caged animal; stale and full of fear. He had wanted to get away from it as quickly as possible, so he gently led McGonagall into the kitchen.
"I should have opened it immediately," current Albus said, following after them. "I could have saved us all a good deal of trouble." Severus stood staring at the cupboard door, face pale and pained, his jaw visibly working back and forth. Finally, he followed, too.
The kitchen table was set for three people, a fourth chair sitting empty. Past Albus frowned at that, as well as at the lack of an invitation. He drew his wand and, with a single, flamboyant wave meant to annoy the Dursleys, summoned a fluffy armchair for his travel companion.
"Here you are, professor," he said, offering the seat to McGonagall.
"Thank you, Albus," McGonagall said, happily taking it.
"None of that, thank you very much!" Vernon shouted, standing abruptly from his creaking chair. "I have allowed you into my house for the moment but I will absolutely not have any of that in my home!"
"Whatever do you mean?" Albus said nonchalantly, waving his wand again and summoning his favourite armchair directly from his office. He sat in the soft material, running a hand fondly over the floral patterning. "Now, to business. Would you like some tea?"
"Please," Vernon said again, a vein threatening to burst from the top of his head. "I have asked you not to perform-"
"I'll take two lumps, Albus," McGonagall interrupted, smirking as Albus poured fresh, steaming tea from the pot he conjured out of thin air.
"Of course, Minerva, of course," Albus said, happily dropping two cubes into her cup (via floating them through the air, of course). "And you, Petunia?" Petunia shook her head, her lips a thin line. "None?" She did it again. "Are you sure?" Again. "Very well. What about you, Vernon?"
"I'm not having any of your swill," Vernon spat. "Likely the whole pot is poisoned."
"As you wish," Albus said, dropping the pretense of friendliness from his voice. "Where is Ms. Potter?"
The room went quiet again, and Albus was quickly losing patience. He was observant enough; in fact, he quite prided himself on it. The first thing he noticed upon entering their home was the complete lack of any signs that a certain young witch lived there. There were no pictures of a smiling redhead with her family hanging on the walls, nor any dolls laying forgotten on the floor, not even the sounds of laughter. Not a single sign.
Except for the smell emanating from where Hogwarts believed her to live, of course.
"She's in her room," Vernon said at last, Dumbledore's heart lightening slightly at the missing word 'cupboard.' "Punished for misbehaving, I'm afraid. She's been a very naughty girl."
"I would expect nothing less from the child of James Potter," McGonagall said, sounding just as relieved as Albus was. He saw Severus's posture go taut next to him. "Do go and fetch her, please."
"Dudley," Vernon said after another pause, his fingers drumming on the table. "Unlock the door and bring the brat out."
Dudley jumped from where he was standing at the kitchen entrance. Albus steepled his hands together across his chest, humming happily, waiting for the son's heavy footsteps to fall on the steps as he climbed the stairs.
Instead, they took just a few steps, stopping right in front of the hallway cupboard and causing Albus's heart to sink again, even now, even though he knew it was coming. They waited patiently for the girl to appear. When she did, it was on feet that didn't make a single sound, as if she was very well practiced at not being noticed. Unfortunately, based on the state of her, it wasn't because of any mannerisms inherited from her father- no matter who it may be.
She was thin, almost impossibly so, her eyes and cheeks sunken and sallow. Her hair was a dirty, tangled mess, and there was a smell that seemed to sling to her- a strong waft of terror. Her eyes were just like their mother's, and while they preferred to glance about fearfully and nervously, they still held the childlike curiosity and interest that Albus was hoping for.
They haven't broken her, Albus remembered thinking.
He heard Severus breathe in a sharp hiss next to him.
"I know," he said sadly. Still, he remembered feeling a bit relieved in the moment- her eyes had told him they had not damaged her irreversibly, and he believed, with a bit of care and a few good friends, she could still grow up to be the person she had always been meant to be.
The friends, she had found, although not as many as he hoped for. The care, he had failed her on, yet again.
"Albus," McGonagall said, a cold fury in her voice. "Look at her. Look what they've done toher, she's half dead!"
"Now see here-"
"I suggest you keep your arguments to yourself, Mr. Dursley," Albus said dangerously. "She is clearly underfed." Albus drew his wand again, and, with a wave, summoned a platter of sandwiches straight from the Hogwarts kitchens. The Hogwarts staff still at the castle would have to go with something else on this day. "Come, Hazel," he added, waving his wand again and creating a chair for her. "Eat. Have your fill."
The girl pinched herself, which Albus thought curious, even still, her eyes now darting between her family members and the food, her teeth chewing at her bottom lip as she thought. Whatever the Dursleys had done to her to make her fear eating, Albus still didn't know. He had been too afraid to ask. He glanced at Severus from the corner of his eye; his face was a deep red from fury.
"Look, Albus," Minerva said, still in complete disbelief. "She's terrified. I never should have let you leave her with these people." Minerva sounded like she quite wanted to use a different word to describe the Dursleys.
"I believed it to be the best option, Minerva," Albus said simply. "I see that I was wrong." The girl finally made up her mind and made for the sandwiches, walking on shaky legs. "We will be taking Hazel with us when we leave. I doubt she will be returning. I will arrange another home for her."
"You said you intended to return her," Severus said coldly.
"In the heat of the moment, my anger got to me," current Albus said. "It did not take long for the emotion to cool."
"Be my guest," Vernon Dursley said happily. "It'll be much easier without another mouth to feed, or need I remind you that you dropped her off, completely unannounced, I might add, in the middle of the bloody night in November of all months? Hmm? What do you have to say to that?"
"I would say," Albus said, watching the girl scarf down bites of roast beef and ham, "that I expected Hazel to be treated with love and kindness, or, failing that, to at least be well-fed and healthy. Clearly, I was wrong, and for that, I will never be sorry enough." Albus turned fully towards the girl, who was starting on her third sandwich. "None-the-less, I am sorry, Hazel."
The girl swallowed, her eyes flicking downwards, towards the food, and then, frightfully, towards her Aunt, over and over again, before finally speaking in a raspy, scared voice.
"It's L-Lily, s-sir," she said. "It-it was my m-mum's n-name."
"She still stutters when she is overwhelmed," Severus muttered quietly.
"Yes, she does," present Albus agreed.
"Of course, of course," past Albus said, smiling at her warmly. "Lily it is, then. Have you eaten your fill?"
The girl finished her fifth sandwich, and then turned her gaze down towards her hands sitting in her lap before nodding slightly.
"First," Albus said. "Minerva will be taking you to fetch your school supplies while I return to the castle. I have some letters I need to send. Then, I believe, you'll be going to your new home, although it may not be today."
"The c-castle, s-sir?" the girl asked, her voice quiet, chewing at her lip again.
"Yes, Lily," Albus said softly. "The Hogwarts castle. I'm afraid we can't let you stay the rest of the summer, as it's quite against the rules to bring you there for just a day, but I think we can get away with at least that much."
Minerva stood first, while he remained sitting. She offered her hand to the girl, who took it with skeptical, nervous eyes. Albus couldn't help but notice the way the girl flinched at the sudden motion, but he tried to steel his heart and ignore it. As she stood, it was on much stronger legs, and, even now, Albus thanked the Elves of Hogwarts; without them, the girl might still have been frighteningly small.
"Are you coming, Albus?" Minerva asked.
"Not at the moment, no," Albus said. "I think I'd like a private word with the Dursleys, first."
"Enough," Severus muttered under his breath.
"You are sure?" present Albus asked. "I assure you, I spent a good deal of time reprimanding the Dursleys. It was quite cathartic."
"I will spend no more time in the presence of these monsters," Severus snarled. "Nor will I see you compromise the girl's safety, even if fleetingly, by promising to bring her back to them."
"Very well," Albus said. He had only to think, and there was another swirl of colour before they were standing in front of Hogwarts. Past Albus was walking quickly through the grounds, heavy thoughts on his mind. They followed after him wordlessly as he passed through the gates and into the Entrance Hall, walking with a determined stride. If Albus recalled correctly- and he did- he was off to summon the Minister for Magic. He wanted to know why the girl's condition was never brought to his attention.
He still didn't have an answer to that question; only insufficient excuses and denials of responsibility.
He was on his way upstairs when he encountered one of the permanent residents of the castle; Sybil Trelawney, professor of divination. Albus wasn't fond of her or the subject, but she, quite like the girl at the Dursleys, was kept here for her own protection. At the moment, the wild-haired woman seemed to be peeking into a suit of armour on the fourth floor.
"May I ask what you are searching for, Sybil?" Albus asked not unkindly, the divination professor nearly jumping five feet out of the shock.
"Undoubtedly for wherever she stored her brandy," Severus muttered.
"Oh, Albus!" Sybil said dramatically. "I didn't see you there!"
"No, I suppose you didn't," Albus said, looking at the woman's magnified eyes. Why she insisted on wearing those ridiculous goggles, Albus would never understand. "May I ask, instead, why you are harassing one of our wondrous suits?"
"Oh," Sybil said, waving it off. "It is nothing. In my crystal ball this morning, I saw myself eating sandwiches of roast beef and ham for lunch, but the elves claim they went missing when I asked for them."
"And the suits were for what, exactly?"
"The elves are always cleaning them," Sybil said as if it was obvious. "Perhaps they left the sandwiches unattended inside of one."
"I see," Albus said, not seeing at all. "Good day, Sybil." He attempted to pass her by quickly, but she, annoyingly, fell into step beside him.
"Perhaps this is a fortunate maneuver of fate, Albus," Sybil said. "I've been meaning to speak with you about the incoming third years."
"Is something wrong?" Albus asked.
"Yes, something is very wrong," Sybil said dramatically. "I have thirteen students total. Thirteen."
"I see," Albus said. "Very wrong, indeed."
"I need another one," Sybil said. "Or, barring that, I must lose one. I cannot have thirteen, Albus, I can not."
"I'm afraid it is out of my hands," Albus said. "Only thirteen students decided to take your class. I will not force one to sign up, nor will I force one to drop it."
"But-"
"Apologies," Albus said, "but I'm afraid I'm very busy at the moment. I still need to find a new Defense professor, or else give it to Quirrell, as well as arrange a few defenses for- well, never mind that- I'm sure you will have more students in the future, once our attendance gets back to the levels we experienced before the war."
"Very well," Sybil said with a deep sigh. "I suppose I will have to grin and bear it. Perhaps if I predict someone will drop the class, that will encourage one to do just that?"
"A fine idea," Albus said, nodding along. "Good day, Sybil."
"Good day, Alb- The-One-Who-Should-Not-Be will join him."
"Pardon?" Albus said, turning and finding Trelawney with a vacant stare, her voice gravelly and deep.
"The Dark Lord will join with them as one," she continued. "She will bear His mark and share with Him her power, and, together, they will bring about the world's ruin. Only the power He knows not may free her, or else The-One-Who-Should-Not-Be will join Him, and all will tremble in Her wake."
Sybil blinked while Albus kept staring at her with the same horrified expression.
"Albus?" she asked as he turned to sprint upstairs. "Is something wrong?"
One final swirl of colour, and then both men were sitting back in his office during the present day.
"Well," Severus said at last, "it seems we have already failed."
"Yes," Albus agreed sadly. "I will admit- I did not foresee any outcome that would result in Hazel joining the Death Eaters. You are positive she took the Mark?"
"She screamed, Albus," he said quietly. "I- I suggested she do it. It was the only way I thought Delacour could be saved."
"It is not like you to go out of your way to save anyone, Severus," Albus said.
Severus was quiet for a long time, staring at his hands folded in his lap, as if his glare could wash away the blood that stained them.
"She asked me to," he said at last. "I- I could not refuse. She was scared, Albus."
"I would imagine so," Albus said.
Severus stood to full height, a determined look on his face.
"She must be saved," he said.
Albus nodded. "If it comes to it, I intend to storm the manor with the full force of the Order. I fear that will mean our end, but it must be done."
"No," Severus said carefully. "I will find a way. I just- I will need time, Albus."
"Then you will have it," Albus said. "As much as you need, my friend. Go- rest. You have earned it, and I have much to think on."
Severus said no more as he left the room, but that was for the better. There was only one thing Albus was keeping from the man, and that was what he would need to be done should he- should they- fail. If Severus knew, it would be disastrous. Their alliance relied on protecting Hazel Potter- the daughter of Lily Evans- and keeping her alive and safe from harm. He would never follow through on what needed to be done, should Albus ask it of him.
Albus leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes once more as the portraits began to shout above him.
"We must act at once!" one said.
"Save her!" another said.
"Are you a fool, Cornelia?" Phineas said. "One girl is not worth the lives it would take to save her."
"We cannot claim to be on the side of good if we sacrifice so much as one life," Cornelia said. "She must be saved."
"And we would be saving two," Bagsyllia added. "Do not forget Fleur Delacour."
"She is doomed," Phineas said with a scoff. "They both are. Forget them, Albus."
"Thank you for your advice, Phineas," Albus said in a tired voice. "Silence, please. I must think."
Gellert, my love, what would you do, were you in my place? He would know exactly what needed to be done, and he would have done it without hesitation, even while Albus dreaded the mere idea of it. He could only be thankful that Severus hadn't noticed his little trick, or else the man would have abandoned him for good. He couldn't even bring himself to think the girl's name. He needed to give her up, he needed to stop caring for her, or he'd never be able to do it. They were in a war, now, well and truly, and a war meant hard sacrifices had to be made, and that he was the one that had to make them, just as he had two times already.
If the girl could not be rescued from Lord Voldemort, then she would need to be killed for the greater good.