Chapter 37

The view from the headmaster's tower was usually quite inspiring. That evening, however, as the sun crested the low mountains, bathing the school below his window in golden light, Albus Dumbledore was unmoved.

Grumbling to himself as he leaned against the cool stone window casing, he rolled the tangy lemon drop from one cheek to the other. Hardly anyone took his offered candies, besides the odd mischievous first year that found themselves in his office. He had long since stopped bothering to mix them with watered-down veritaserum.

Still, they were his favorites and he was an old man. The tangy sweet flavor was one of the few remaining pleasures in his life. That and wielding his outsized and, by his estimation, deserved power over various parts of wizarding society.

Unfortunately, all of his considerable power and influence was of utterly no use to him in his current endeavor. Fabian Prewett was famous for his warding. That prodigious skill was keeping Albus from the information he so desperately wanted. The little hat business had garnered them favor and protection from the Ministry and the wards kept Albus's own men out.

Even worse, his best men, the ones that would be most suited to spy on the Prewetts, were completely unwilling. Oh, they hadn't abandoned him yet, but anything involving the once-devout twins was off the table.

It was his fault, he could admit that now. His ploy to use the Weasleys had been a step too far. No matter that he told himself he'd only imagined a few low-level nobodies easily dispatched by Arthur, the reality of what had happened that day and its consequences would haunt him to his dying day.

Not that he would ever have the chance to apologize, even if the desire truly struck him. No. Albus was honest enough with himself to know his true regret lay not with what could have happened to a good family, but what did happen to his plans.

It was a wonder more of his close associates had never realized exactly what an unfeeling pragmatist he was. He'd never have such devoted followers if he weren't such a talented actor.

Heaving a final sigh, Albus turned from the window to slump into his desk chair. The familiar cushioned velvet was less comfortable that morning than usual. Everything and everyone seemed intent on further fouling his mood.

He tapped his wand on the top of his desk, thinking. It had been several days since any of his favorite Gryffindor quartet—now a trio since Remus's reassignment—had checked in with him. Sirius and James at least were training to be Aurors. It was part of why he had chosen them for this mission, since so few wizards knew the Auror tracking spells.

Unfortunately, their training also put them in close, daily proximity to Kingsley, Moody, and Longbottom. All three men knew what had happened to the Prewetts. Kingsley and Moody even knew about the prophecy.

This put his only remaining useful pawns under the direct influence of his greatest detractors. While Longbottom hadn't said anything and Moody had stopped openly challenging him, Kingsley had never liked how Albus used the barely out-of-school boys. He was irritatingly sentimental about protecting the next generation—not that he was many years their senior himself.

The lack of contact was vexing.

Making a decision, Albus summoned Potter. He'd considered Black, but out of all of them, Sirius was the most skilled with occlumency. While it was useful in case of capture, it seriously hindered his own need for information.

As the minutes ticked by, Albus grew more and more agitated. The brat was making him wait. The impudence. If he had been concerned about interference before, Albus was more certain with every passing minute.

At last, his private floo activated, James Potter stepping through. He tapped his wand on himself, banishing any soot before crossing to stand in front of the desk, the nonchalance on his face too carefully arranged to be natural.

"Headmaster."

Affecting his usual twinkle, Albus forced a smile. "James, lemon drop?" When he gave the expected polite decline, Albus nodded. "It has been several days since I've had an update. How goes your critical mission?"

He did not miss the slight twitch of Potter's left eye before he shrugged. "Unfortunately, there hasn't been any change. Fabian's wards are as impenetrable as always. Back and forth between their townhouse and the woods."

Exhaling with grandfatherly disappointment, Albus nodded again. It wasn't surprising: it had been the same for weeks. Needing to keep him there and talking so he could skim his mind, he redirected. "I do hope you and your friends have not grown weary. How have you been getting on when you're not working? Is Auror training going well?"

James puffed his cheeks with air and exhaled, taking half a moment to think before starting to talk. Albus only listened with half an ear as he dipped into his mind.

It was as he feared.

Beneath the surface-level thoughts about the irritating wizard who shared his desk at the Ministry and images of his most recent evening with Miss Evans, were memories of betrayal. An argument with Sirius and something about Kingsley. Confusion and bitter realizations. Moody confirming the worst about his beloved Headmaster. Then, at last, a decision to ignore Albus's orders.

It was all rather confused and shrouded in emotion, as though the entire thing had hurt James greatly. Ultimately however, both he and his friends had decided to betray him. They had been influenced even more than he had feared.

Pulling out of his mind and attempting to refocus on what the young man was saying, Albus thought quickly. If Kingsley had decided to push them away from the Prewetts, there must be a reason. Perhaps the Auror had betrayed Albus even further than he'd imagined.

If he was working with the Prewetts directly, there must be a reason he was only acting now. They must have something planned. If that was the case, he needed his spies more than ever. He would have to cross yet another line.

With a genial smile and a nod at some mention of Miss Evans, Albus waved his wand beneath his desk. Wordlessly, he cast a compulsion charm. Nothing too extreme. He couldn't afford to raise any suspicion, not after the Burrow debacle.

Across the desk, James frowned slightly before his face cleared and he smiled. "Well, I've got to go, Professor. I'll stop by in a few days."

Albus waved him off and with a whoosh of green flame, he was gone. The twinkling smile fell off his face at once, replaced by cold calculation.

"I'm not certain that was entirely ethical, Albus." The portrait behind him scoffed. "Not that that has ever stopped you before, old man."

A sneer twisted his face. "Is that a threat? Who are you going to tell, Phineas?"

The former headmaster chuckled. "Oh, no one of course. We're bound to keep your secrets, as you well know. Simply an observation." He pondered silently before continuing. "Considering the stakes, you've not gone half so far as I would. Then again, no one ever accused me of being a 'Leader of the Light'."

The portrait, clearly amused with itself, fell to silence after that, leaving Albus to his thoughts. No, he could only do so much now that he'd screwed up so badly. He couldn't risk any more flagging loyalty.

GH

James hated lying to his friends. It made him feel dirty, like a Slytherin. He'd never done it before. The few times he'd been tempted to avoid hard conversations, he'd been true to his Gryffindor nature and owned up to his opinions.

For whatever reason, this time James just couldn't make himself tell Sirius the truth. Every time he tried, the image of a disappointed Dumbledore floated into his mind and tied his tongue. For all that he'd been so sure of his disenchantment with the headmaster, meeting with him again had reminded James how truly great the old wizard was.

Surely, anything he had done was the right thing, even if it didn't seem like it… right?

In order to avoid suspicion, James had done his best to seem nonplussed, bored even, when he'd returned from Dumbledore's office. The next morning, he'd announced that since they were no longer taking turns keeping watch, he planned to spend the next several days with Lily. When Sirius had chuckled and asked if having her parents and horse faced sister underfoot was going to cramp his style, James reminded him of the small Potter family beach house his parents had given him access to after graduation. It was under extremely strong wards and he wanted to spend some time with her before the war really heated up.

Already knowing James had brought a ring out of the family vault, Sirius had smiled broadly. "Finally! Bloody hell, I was beginning to wonder if you were getting cold feet." He'd patted James on the back and laughed, congratulated him and not asked any more questions.

To make sure Lily didn't stop by at all while he was gone, he'd told another lie. She knew about the mission Dumbledore had given them. All he had had to do was explain that they'd taken longer shifts to make up for Remus and that he and Sirius would be out the weekend together. To her credit, she had given him a narrow-eyed stare as if she doubted what he was telling her before remembering that she trusted him.

He felt sick with himself for betraying her.

But it didn't matter how disgusted he felt. Dumbledore was counting on him and James absolutely could not let him down. So, for the last day and a half, James had camped out in the woods.

The massive dome of warding in the middle of nowhere had stumped all of them the first time they had followed the Prewetts' apparition. It was massive. When they'd first discovered it, it had felt like a breakthrough. Surely nothing good could be going on out in the middle of the woods. But after a while of nothing happening, they'd come to the conclusion they must have just moved their hat-making operation away from their home.

Squinting, James looked back at the sun where it sank behind him. He judged it to be near seven and casting a tempus confirmed it. Sighing and realizing he was hungry, he traipsed back through the trees to his makeshift camp. There hadn't been any movement today, or the day before. Slipping into his small, camouflaged tent, he dug out something muggle and tinned to eat and settled in for another long, boring night. Staring into his bland meal, he reminded himself it was for the greater good.

He had hardly managed three bites when the loud crack of apparition sounded through the trees. Already so used to the silence, the noise nearly startled him off of his stool. Picking up his wand, James tossed his dinner aside and peaked through the tent flap.

It was another shock to see none other than Severus Snape standing not twenty meters away. He looked like he was waiting for something, slouching and looking bored. Almost too casual. Then a bird called out somewhere in the distance and the Slytherin suddenly became rigid with tension, his wand slipping into his hand from a hidden arm holster.

For half a heartbeat, James thought he was going to hex a bird. Then a disembodied laugh sounded from the otherside of the wards and George Prewett stepped into view. James had to strain to hear what was said.

"Bit tense, eh Snape?"

Snivillious mumbled something he couldn't quite make out, to which George laughed.

"Relax, everything is going to go exactly as we've planned. You'll give the game away by acting like that."

What in the bloody hell did that mean? Was Snivilious involved with the Prewetts? Were they all working together? If that was true, on whose side?

A sudden hatred filled him at the memory of Sirius's capture. He had tortured his friend. While Sirius hadn't given any details, he could only imagine the Slytherin had done it with sick glee.

Forcing the distracting emotions away so he could pay attention, James strained to listen. Unfortunately he couldn't make out what the Death Eater had said and then the two of them were melting through the wards.

"Damn!"

James thought rapidly. He needed to tell Dumbledore what he'd just seen. He wanted to kill Snivellus. He needed backup. It sounded like there was some sort of plan happening. Was it tonight? Did he even have time to get to Dumbledore? If he left now, he might miss them apparating to wherever they were going.

He would just have to wait there. Wrapping himself in his invisibility cloak, James stepped from the tent and recast the apparition monitoring charm. He did not have long to wait. Not ten minutes later, it registered six apparitions.

"Got you!"

Following the pull of the charm, he followed them, hoping he wasn't landing anywhere immediately dangerous.

When he landed, proud of his newly mastered silent apparition, James had an immediate feeling of dread. Even though he hadn't visited since before Hogwarts, he knew exactly where he was.

Malfoy Manor.