Snape was sitting with his arms across his chest, looking sourly at Albus Dumbledore, who was emptying translucent threads of memories into the pensieve.
"Potter's obsession with Draco has gotten to Black and he is quite doggish about it. He summoned Kingsley and me, the other day. Wanted me to alert you about the imminent danger a sixteen year old boy poses to the Order" he said in a voice dripping with dislike.
"It's not usual for Sirius to care for Harry, Severus. Doggish he may be, but his instincts are correct. What has Lord Voldemort tasked Draco with?"
Snape made a clicking sound with his thin lips. "To kill you," he replied softly, raising a thick eyebrow at Dumbledore.
After a few moments the Headmaster spoke in an unaffected voice. "And if Draco fails to carry out his task, I assume, Tom would expect you to fulfil his plan?" he asked.
"Perhaps," grumbled Snape, his long pale finger caressing his jaw.
"Pity. It seems to be the case that he is using Draco to get back at Lucius for failing to retrieve the prophecy in June. Keep an eye on Draco, offer your help, the boy trusts you."
"Not as of late," replied Snape with a scoff. "He thinks I am looking to usurp Lucius' place in the ranks."
"Then you must help him. Do the deed yourself when the time comes," said Dumbledore looking at Snape directly.
"You want me to kill you?" deadpanned Snape, raising an eyebrow. "Is there a specific manner that indulges your fancy?"
"You will be doing me a service, Severus. Same with the boy. His soul is still salvageable–"
"And what about my soul, old man?" Snape said, raising his voice.
"Only you know if doing a favour to an old man whose days are numbered would compromise your soul, Severus," he said calmly, fleetingly gazing at his bruised hand. "I assume Narcissa Malfoy has asked you the same thing."
"She asked me to protect Draco, not assassinate you," he said.
Dumbledore was seated across from the former Potions Master now and his eyes were closed in deep thought.
"It is perhaps curious that you are drawn to women desperate to protect their children," he added, looking sympathetically at Snape who had an ugly flush on his pale face.
"Narcissa is not her, " he hissed, looking at Dumbledore menacingly. "And you are deluded to believe I will let you manipulate me like you do with Potter and Black. I know you better than those fools who let impulses and emotions get the best of them," he added vehemently.
"Then you know what is the right thing to do. For the common good–not only for Lily Potter's memory," Dumbledore said.
Severus Snape sneered and looked away for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually he looked up at the old wizard, whose damaged hand was touching the pensive and nodded.
Dumbledore softly smiled.
"One more thing, Dumbledore–" Snape said. The old man looked up.
"I need to know how much Black knows about what you are telling Potter. You do owe me that," he said.
Albus Dumbledore exhaled. "Sirius knows about the Horcruxes and the lessons. Of course he does not know about the full extent of Harry's task," he said sadly. "Only Harry can know for now," he added, predicting Snape's malaise about Sirius potentially knowing more than himself.
Snape scratched his hollow cheek, looking at Dumbledore intently. "Then, keep the dog on a tight leash, Dumbledore," Snape said. "He is starting to bark. Loudly."
"Don't worry about Sirius, Severus. I have a feeling that he will find himself occupied very soon," Dumbledore said. "His past is at his doorstep, I fear," he said cryptically, placing both of his hands around the rim of the pensieve.
"And Severus–" asked Dumbledore, before the younger wizard was about to get up from his chair. "Keep an eye on Peter Pettigrew, as well."
Snape said nothing but nodded, knowing that Dumbledore would explain this odd request only when he wanted to.
...
The Headquarters was hectic during the last few days, awaiting the appearance of Albus Dumbledore at the next meeting. Emma knew that this time would arrive eventually, but still, coming face to face with her former headmaster and current head of the Order left her uneasy. She highly doubted that he would remember her after all those years, but at the same time, she feared about the implications of Dumbledore's arrival.
Her fellow Order members were also feeling it. There was gossip that the Order would soon be in preparation for a mass operation and the news would be announced at the meeting that night.
The other source of her frustration was that because of the strict potion-making ordeal she had been assigned, she spent most of her evenings in the attic or the hospital wing and she had not managed to acquire any information that was pertinent to her brother.
And, of course, there was also him . For some strange reason he always managed to startle her, lurking around at some dark corner. It was like he would appear out of thin air whenever Emma needed to concentrate.
She was a healer, for Merlin's sake. She was supposed to be level-headed, unyielding in the face of emotional triggers. She didn't really know why the knowledge that Black's brother was a Death Eater was so shocking. She grew up knowing that Sirius Black himself had aligned himself with the dark forces, had betrayed his friends and then he proceeded to kill one of his other friends. He was dangerous and probably unbalanced well before his exposure to dementors—but at the same time, Emma could see the bitterness when he spoke of his brother, the disguised pain behind those seemingly uncaring comments of his. Emma knew that Sirius cared for his brother–or at least had cared at some point, even though he denied it.
What was worse was that although she knew that he had a dark past and she was supposed to detest him for what happened to her family, she also could not help but feel a tinge of sympathy for his nightmares.
He was not the man to deserve sympathy, in fact, she wanted to stay away from him as much as possible,
She sighed and poured the latest mix into the small vial, tightening the seal carefully.
She would need to personally hand this to Dumbledore tonight, for his little experiment with Black and his dreams.
She needed to get a grip.
Harry slammed his Potions book shut, the Half-Blood Prince's spidery script mocking him from the margins. Frustration simmered in his chest like a potion that was threatening to boil over during the last few weeks. No one believed him about Malfoy. Not Ron, who when he was not busy with Quidditch, would just roll his eyes and mutter something about Harry's 'Malfoy obsession.' Neither was Hermione, as she was currently giving him the silent treatment about his use of the Prince's potion book over the last weeks–an argument they continuously had, even twenty minutes ago, at the common room.
"It's just a few helpful hints," Harry thought out loud, talking more to himself than to his angry friend across from him. Hermione, however, pointedly ignored him, and remained
Harry sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. It wasn't just Hermione's disapproval that was getting to him. It was the feeling of being utterly alone in his suspicions about Malfoy. Even Dumbledore seemed reluctant to take Harry seriously. It was as if they were all blind to what was happening behind Malfoy's sneering facade.
The worst of all silences was Sirius'. Harry knew that his godfather wanted to urge him to remain safe and keep concentrating on his studies, but also on his mysterious lessons with Dumbledore that were interrupted by the headmaster's long absences. The worst part was that Harry knew that Sirius believed him, but he was too distracted with the Order to indulge Harry's suspicions. Or this was some belated tactic to prevent Harry from doing something reckless, which angered him more because he never thought Sirius to be a hypocrite.
This whole ordeal felt like his fifth year all over again–only this time it was Sirius who was keeping him in the dark. Harry would go talk to him through the mirror now. He was done with his godfather's letters and his excuses.
With a jolt of pain in his chest, Harry pushed his chair abruptly and got up, shoving his stuff on his school bag hastily. Hermione looked startled, her freckled face in an alarmed frown.
"Harry, where are you going?" she asked.
But Harry did not have time for this, he needed to get out of the common room, to get some air and clear his thoughts before calling Sirius.
With swift moves he headed back upstairs to pick up the mirror and shove it in his pocket and he was off to a quiet spot to talk to his godfather–perhaps the room of requirement would do.
Coming back down the common room from his dormitory, he sprinted through the large oval room, not looking behind him at Hermione whose eyes he could still feel. He sifted his way through a group of fourth years standing near the exit, and he swiftly turned the handle and entered the large corridor, heading down the staircase, until he found a secluded spot near a large window and he stopped to catch his breath.
He knew he needed to get a grip, to handle this situation because it was gnawing on him. Huffing loudly, he rested his hands on the large windowsill and took a deep breath.
"Harry, are you alright?" a soft soothing voice called on him and he turned around surprised.
Ginny's voice.
He was not sure why, but her presence made him calm down, forgetting his troubles for a moment.
"Ginny," he said, in a voice that was more of a throaty exhale. The girl across from him smiled tentatively, and as if she understood what was going on in his mind, she did not pry or offer chastisements, unlike his friends.
"Care for a stroll outside?" she asked with a confident voice that suited her. She was not the shy girl he used to know once.
Almost without realising it, he was already following Ginny's lead down the stairs, feeling much lighter for some strange reason he could not apprehend.
Emma could hear Molly Weasley and her large brood of children from two floors up. She was certain that the rambunctious twins were onto something again, always keen to anger the small plump woman who was very kind but could easily erupt into fits of rage.
She slid quietly out of the hospital wing and looked around her, vigilant this time for any impromptu appearances–of Black or any other curious Order member who could be lurking around. In her clammy hands she held a small wrapped package for Dumbledore.
She carefully descended the stairs making sure her steps were light. She knew she should not apparate with the vials as it would change the consistency, plus she was still curious about the numerous rooms of this old house Black detested so much.
Apart from Molly's fading screeches, it didn't seem that anyone was ready for the meeting yet.
So she took a moment to calm herself amidst all her racing thoughts.
There was distinct chatter from the first floor, however, and this stopped her trajectory downstairs to the library.
Emma looked around for a moment, wondering if she could locate where the conversation was coming from. It was on the opposite side of the corridor, just above the ground floor.
She touched her wand uncomfortably through her pocket and felt its wooden stability, to calm her nerves. Perhaps this was an important conversation, privy only to the interlocutors.
She carefully navigated the corridor, and finally, the door of the first room on the left was slightly ajar.
She immediately recognized Black's voice, and with a jolt of recognition she remembered the second voice. She stifled a gasp and didn't dare to peek through the slightly opened door.
Albus Dumbledore's soft-spoken voice was a stark contrast to Black's increasingly frustrated tone.
"We need to take Harry's suspicions about the Malfoy kid seriously." Sirius Black was saying in an urgent voice that did not hide his resentment.
"Sirius, we've been through this," Dumbledore said. "I am not worried about Draco Malfoy," he added in a final tone. "It is your sleep that worries me most at the moment," Emma heard him say next.
There was silence from Black for a long moment, and she shifted closer to the door.
"You've been through a lot lately, Sirius. The ordeal with Bellatrix…it's rather understandable that you're seeing threats everywhere. The nightmares you describe…"
Sirius Black then spinned around, his voice rising.
"Don't you dare dismiss this as some type of trauma. Harry's right, that boy is a snake, just like his parents and you are letting him roam around the castle with Snape indulging that little brat. We need to act before–"
"Malfoy is not capable of what you accuse him of. Another leak, on the other hand, is more alarming," he said with finality.
"A leak?" asked Black. Emma heard a sigh, and then the headmaster's soft steady voice again.
"I believe someone may be privy to your…troubled nights. We don't yet know what lies behind the veil, what secrets it holds, or what effects it has on its victims," the headmaster started saying.
Emma could hear Black putting down something on a table abruptly. "I have told you many times, I don't remember," he started to say in an angry voice.
"I know, Sirius. But nothing tells that the other side doesn't know either. Someone who knows you well, possibly even someone who could be influencing them. A former friend, perhaps."
Black had stopped his pacing. "Wormtail?" he asked in a surprised voice.
"We cannot rule anything out, Sirius. We must be vigilant and this is why I need to access your dreams. But yes, I would say that if my suspicions are correct and somehow the Death Eaters have knowledge of your dreams, I'd say Peter Pettigrew would be very useful for them," Dumbledore said. "He was last seen at the Malfoy manor, my sources tell me," added the older man.
"Your sources, meaning Snivellus," said Black in a clipped voice, but Emma was far gone, lost in her thoughts.
Wormtail. Peter Pettigrew. Peter.
If Peter was involved in whatever was happening with Black's mind, if he was orchestrating it, that meant that Peter was alive, and not a victim. He was a Death Eater.
Emma felt a sudden wave of nausea and held her mouth with her palm, trying not to make a sound. She was not able to listen to Black and Dumbledore anymore, their voices echoing through what seemed to be a maze of confused thoughts she was trying to control.
Sirius killed Peter. That's what everyone believed. That's what she had clung to for so long. But if Sirius was innocent... then how could Peter be alive?
Panic seized her, a desperate need to escape the suffocating weight of this impossible truth. She turned around to flee, desperate to escape the suffocating feeling she was experiencing, she instinctively ran down the stairs instead of going upward, to retreat in the hospital wing or the apothecary.
She stumbled down the steps, her vision blurring, the world tilting on its axis.
"Emily, dear, there you are!" A familiar voice cut through the fog of her panic. Molly Weasley's concerned face swam into view, her hand reaching out to grasp Emma's arm. "Come along, the meeting's about to start."
"Are you fine, my girl, you don't look well at all," Molly said but Emma couldn't respond. Looking dazed, she entered the large room where more and more members of the Order were gathering and she hid at a far corner, near Eulalia, far away from where Dumbledore and Sirius Black would be, as much as possible.