Apologies for the delay. Things are rough.
Fun Fact: Although they're unrelated in subject, this chapter (set in an AU after year 5) was supposed to come right after Power. …Whoops.
~Multi-Faceted~
XV: Weakness
"You have been careless," hissed Severus Snape.
Unfortunate news was best tempered with a cup of tea; it was why a cup of Darjeeling currently warmed Albus' hands, even though he had no idea what the current fuss was about. "Mightn't we backtrack, Severus?" he asked lightly. "I seem to have blinked and missed the preamble."
"How freeing must it be to be a major player, able to make light of his pawns' distress?" the Potions Master bit back, and it stung so intensely that Albus' good mood dissipated more swiftly than the steam around his cup. "Would that the rest of us could afford inattention to the Dark Lord. He has found you out."
The headmaster's first thought was for Severus himself—poor Severus, strung up between two masters, and forced to dance slightly more convincingly for one than for the other. But he nixed that theory quickly. For one, although Severus was a proud man, even the idea that Voldemort might suspect his ultimate duplicity would likely inspire terror in him, not anger. And it was clearly anger that had him striding about the office now, snarling and spitting and, admittedly, being more unpleasant than Albus could stand to deal with on such a nice day.
His second thought was a touch more chilling—perhaps, against all odds, Voldemort has found out about that mission of mine...? It was such a disastrous thought that he could hardly express it properly even in the safe confines of his mind. There were too many horrors down that path—how much had he discovered, how had he connected the dots, who would be attacked or targeted as a result—himself, Horace, the Malfoys, Harry...? But after a moment his brain rebounded and prevented the cold sweat threatening his brow from appearing. No, not that. Whatever Voldemort had discovered this day, it was some subject Severus thought himself already aware of; and for his own safety and security Severus knew absolutely nil about the Horcruxes.
There were other guesses he might have entertained himself with were this a lighter subject. As it wasn't one, he merely sighed and avoided his Potions Master's latest verbal mine with minimal effort. "Well—if you are quite done with your show of temper at my mysterious error, perhaps you might deign, as my chief spy, to share the information you have learned?"
The hiss Severus emitted this time rivaled some of the angriest serpents Albus had encountered decades ago in the Amazon. He had been pacing during his tirade, wearing a thick line in the plush carpet of the headmaster's office, but now that he had been persuaded to speak clearly all the energy in his feet departed almost at once. So—bristling like a cat, planting his feet flat before his employer—he spat his concern out with as much force as he could muster.
"You recall the incident last week with the b—with Potter and his relatives? During which the Dark Lord sought to exploit their distance from the protected property?"
"I do recall," Albus allowed. His brows furrowed without his permission at the reminder, at the memory. The Dursleys were not often inclined to travel with Harry, according to the latter's own offhand admissions over the years—yet this summer, without warning, Petunia had seen fit to drag the entire family away from the safety of Number Four on a long-winded trip to the seaside. It was so puzzling that he himself had sent several of his most discreet Order members to check and see if she had been Imperiused on the sly; they had found nothing, but they had also been equally unsuccessful in persuading Petunia to stay put, or to at least allow Harry to remain alone in her home.
Naturally Voldemort took this as a written invitation from Harry's dull-minded relatives to attack—and why would he not? Petunia herself could not shield him. The tactile element of the protection that Harry had enjoyed for fourteen years thanks to Lily Potter had been broken a year before by Voldemort's dark ritual; and without Harry being in or near the home where his protection was strongest, there was nothing to stop his foe from ambushing their little hatchback on the road and killing everyone inside.
Nothing but me.
Though he had set nearly half the Order up at designated points along the road to the sea to protect Harry and the Dursleys on their hellish car ride, it had still come down to luck. Only Albus' own instincts (combined with Fawkes' shrill warning) had given him the knowledge that something was about to go wrong, very wrong; and only Fawkes' timely mode of transport had allowed him the ability to appear right at the center of the maelstrom. Death Eaters had cornered and murdered Emmeline Vance, the third lookout, and Voldemort himself had been there in her place, tearing apart the highway and delighting in Vernon and Petunia's screams.
Harry, bless him, had managed to crawl out of the car once it crashed and had been facing Voldemort, man to man, throwing all manner of curses at him to try and distract him from his vulnerable relatives, and doing a decent job of it when Albus had arrived in a tornado of fire and tossed Voldemort arse-over-missing-nose into the incoming traffic on the other side of the bridge.
It had been a harrowing experience—not because of Voldemort (whom Albus found himself unable to fear when he was so superior intellectually and magically), but because there had been several moments in the duel that followed where Voldemort or his present Death Eaters had aimed Avada Kedavra directly at Harry—and more recently, just seeing that green light bending toward his student caused Albus' insides to freeze over. With only one recovering phoenix and a diminishing amount of physical objects to throw in front of that curse, he had felt pressured not to take his eyes off of Harry for too long, lest he lose him altogether.
"...I must admit I fail to see your point, Severus," he continued after his pause (and after another sip of his cooling tea). "It was certainly my mistake not to use more... persuasive means to prevent Harry from leaving the safety of his aunt's home—and poor Emmeline paid for my lack of pushiness with her life. But after their harrowing experience in Lord Voldemort's crosshairs, and the conversation I had with them during their time in Safehouse Ten—"
"I care not for anything to do with them," Severus snarled, his cheeks flushed (perhaps because Petunia had given him a very thorough tongue-lashing in that safehouse before Albus had started in on her). "I am speaking of what the Dark Lord observed about you and Potter."
Albus blinked three times.
"Harry and myself?"
"Yes."
What on earth...?
He scoured the memory's details again in his mind, wishing he could dismiss Severus and fling it into the Pensieve for a clearer view. Perhaps Voldemort believed he had noticed some improved prowess from Harry that day? Albus would not have disagreed with him; though his spells were still mostly rudimentary, Harry had managed to surprise both of them with some of the magic he threw back at his enemy. And although Albus had been constantly checking his side for the boy, he had not been disadvantaged by his presence as he had been in the Department of Mysteries. No—Harry had stood right with him, protecting himself and even covering Albus' rear from the Death Eaters' curses. On reflection once the worst was over, Albus had replayed the way Harry's last barrage of spells had incapacitated Thorfinn Rowle and sent the Dark Lord fleeing minus one hand and had nearly burst with pride on the spot—
"So you do recall?" Severus interrupted him, impatient as ever.
He must have seen some expression on Albus' face that Albus himself failed to decipher, for he still did not know what his spy was talking about.
"I'm afraid you still have me at a disadvantage. Whatever Lord Voldemort observed—"
"He saw you coddling the boy!" Severus cut in again, his voice so strained that Fawkes shifted uncomfortably on his perch. "Standing there with Potter afterward, patting him on the head and giving him undue praise! It took only the quickest glimpse into MacNair's feeble mind for him to happen upon the scene, and now he feels he has found your weakness at last!"
His glare was searing; his eyes blazed with mixed fury and despair. They seemed to say, how could you let this happen? How could you show your hand to that monster, when you are all he fears, all that stands between us and oblivion?
But the heat in his eyes was no more bothersome to Albus than an overdone Warming Charm. After so many worst-case scenarios had run through his mind, after he had partitioned part of it off to creating back-up plans and contacting trusted allies to counteract whatever edge Voldemort now believed he had, the reveal of what was actually bothering Severus—what had actually captured Voldemort's attention—was so insignificant as to be laughable.
After twenty years, this is how Tom Riddle imagines he will defeat me? This is the chink he imagines in my armor?
It took every shred of his composure not to chortle.
"Ah," he said instead, and set down his cup; "How interesting—I showcased that very same 'weakness' before his eyes in the Department of Mysteries not two months past, yet you say he has only noticed it now."
"What—"
"Should I take this to mean Voldemort has not heeded your reports, after all?" Albus went on, feeling a tickle of humor again at the vein starting to pulse in Severus' forehead. "Once he returned to a flesh-and-blood body, I knew you would need to provide information about me that he would find valuable. This is why I did not forbid you to inform him of my high regard for Harry—in fact, you'll recall that I instead took steps this past year to minimize any fallout from the information. He ought to have come to this conclusion sooner—unless you did not tell him?"
"What—how—I—of course I did not tell him!" the younger man exploded. "Why would I have given him such significant ammunition to use against you—"
Albus swiped at the air with one hand, and Severus' mouth snapped shut as swiftly as if a spell had done it for him. Amusing though it was to see his uptight professor sputter and shout, this was not a game he wished to drag out forever. Far better to clear the air now—and perhaps dispense with some of Severus' frankly troubling beliefs about affection in the bargain.
"Severus—there seems to be a misconception that you and Lord Voldemort currently share, one I feel obligated to clear up for you at the very least. You seem to believe that I have until recently been trying to conceal my bond with Harry from him, yes? Well—you are mistaken. I have done no such thing. On this matter I have not been 'careless' at all."
Where before anger had colored him red, Severus' face now paled to the color of milk.
"You do not understand, yes? That is perhaps my fault. Though we have planned and plotted together these past fourteen years, it seems there are still things I neglected to teach you."
"Teach me?"
"When I took steps before to keep Harry at a distance, it was not to protect myself; it was to protect him, specifically his mind. I believed (wrongly, unfortunately) that even if Voldemort did discover the connection between his mind and Harry's, he would not try to twist that connection for his own purposes if he believed Harry was divorced from all important matters. But ultimately that attempted ruse went nowhere."
"Headmaster—"
"No, Severus. I beg your pardon for my consistent interruptions, truly, but this is imperative. You must understand this: Harry is not ammunition Voldemort can use to destroy me. He is not weak, nor is he my weakness." Fawkes sang a pure, hair-lifting note, and Albus felt himself smile wistfully. "Quite the opposite, in fact."
"But the Dark Lord—"
"—believes he can use what he glimpsed?" he (reluctantly) cut in once more. "Believes, perhaps, that he might deceive Harry or myself into making a reckless move on the other's behalf? Then he remains as deluded as he has always been on matters of the heart. Though it's uncouth of me to say so, Harry would not worry for my safety as he did for Sirius'; nor would he act on such worries in the same way. Sirius had enemies on all sides and could not be seen in public—my movements are not so restricted. And Sirius was Harry's godfather, the one person whose safety Harry would take any risk to ensure..." And he glanced down at his interlaced hands, taking care to keep his voice light and unbothered. "Whereas I am merely his headmaster."
Surprisingly, Severus snorted; this last admission seemed to revive him some. "Forgive me, Headmaster, but I am not as ignorant as your student. I am well aware that Potter does not see you as merely anything."
Albus forced himself to ignore the dig. "Conversely, Lord Voldemort cannot target Harry any more directly than he already is, so there is nothing he can do to force a reaction from me. Your concern for my welfare is touching—and I do mean that most sincerely—but it is unnecessary. As long as the security measures for Harry are in my hands, he will remain quite safe, and I will not be lured into any traps."
His tea was no longer even lukewarm and he was not in the mood to finish it. What he had told Severus was true—once Voldemort regained a physical body, Albus had operated as though Severus had offered his foe every detail on his moves, political and personal. He knew that Voldemort might interpret Albus' sudden emotional distance from Harry this past year as an overcorrection, but he hoped that Voldemort's own annual underestimation of Harry's abilities would prevent him from prodding any further in that direction. It was true that he was not very worried that Voldemort was choosing now to notice the obvious bond and react accordingly, because he knew Voldemort still feared facing him directly and would thus tread carefully in plotting Albus' downfall...
And yet.
It was also true that he was worried about the potential psychological damage Voldemort could inflict on Harry in Albus' stead. Tormenting his mind, attacking his friends, killing his loved ones... Whether he harmed Harry to see how Albus would react or harmed Harry for the usual reasons was immaterial. Harry would still be the one coming to harm... and Harry's pain would cause Albus distress, no matter how skillfully he hid that distress from Voldemort.
He could still see Harry's afterimage sometimes in this office, torn-up and angry as he had been not two months past. Could still see the way his lips curved into a snarl as he barked at his headmaster, lashing out. People don't like being locked up! You did it to me all last summer.
The words still stung as sharply as they had the morning he'd first heard them.
No, Voldemort could not trick him into one place or another on Harry's behalf. He could not send Harry haring off anywhere either, in the name of shielding his powerful headmaster. But the hurts he and his lieutenants engendered were damaging enough.
Severus cleared his throat, bringing them both back to the present.
"Perhaps you are correct when you say you will not be so quick to fall for a ploy of the Dark Lord's," he admitted, though there was still an edge to his voice which implied he was not fully confident in his own words. "But Potter is not as discerning. He has already proven vulnerable to deception once—"
"—which is precisely why I doubt it will happen again. Sirius has unfortunately passed on, and Harry and I do not have that kind of bond."
"Your unnecessary modesty disregards the fact that the Dark Lord can, and will, use you as ammunition against Potter if he cannot accomplish the other way round," Severus shot back, and for the first time he looked quite smug. Perhaps it was because he was the one doing the interrupting for once. "Please do not be deliberately obtuse, Headmaster; you are not the boy's father or godfather, but you still matter to him. The Dark Lord glimpsed this; he knows this; it is at present uppermost in his mind. He is searching for ways to use this information to take you off the board. You must take more caution in your next move—Potter is running out of father figures to lose."
"Kindly refrain from being so crude," Albus scolded. But the words had already slipped past—ripped past—his paper-thin denials. Rough as he was, Severus was only speaking the truth as he and others saw it—and he was not wrong. Although Albus' relationship with Harry was now greatly strained, it was far from broken. They were far closer than the typical professor and pupil, and had been for years now. It was foolish of him to pretend that Harry did not hold him in high enough regard to react if he thought the headmaster was in grave danger.
We are going in circles.
He sighed, and allowed his spy the victory in this round. "Thank you, Severus. Though I will admit to disagreeing with you on this matter, I can admit that my pride may be getting in the way. In matters regarding Lord Voldemort, you have yet to steer me wrongly."
Severus straightened; his expression only slipped for a moment, but the obvious pride and relief Albus saw there reminded him that it was not only Harry's feelings he needed to identify and carefully manage. "So you will take more care, in the future, with—?"
"I will think on what you have said and ensure any blind spots are minimized; you have my word."
This seemed to mollify Severus enough that he dismissed himself without any further show of temper or teeth. Albus was left only with the problem of his unfinished tea, and what to do with it.
...Aha!
There was a very moody plant Albus had been gifted decades ago by a student whose aptitude for Herbology was top notch even as his Transfiguration skills were embarrassingly poor. The wonders of magical cross-breeding and experimentation meant the plant (currently dozing by the unlit fireplace) was a quirky one that had been raised on tea and pumpkin juice from the Great Hall and would only accept one liquid or the other. When Albus approached the dear thing now with his cup extended, it perked up like a sunflower.
"Better you than me," he murmured, resolving to have Severus pay him back somehow for wasting such a nice brew. "Bottoms up."
The plant's bluish-green leaves vibrated happily as it partook. As he returned to his desk and his turbulent thoughts he found himself wishing, wistfully, that lifting his loved ones' spirits was half as easy as that.
Severus' words in particular would not stop haunting his thoughts.
You have been careless.
Albus shook his head, brushing absently through the end of his beard with his fingers. If I am guilty of anything, it is of not taking enough care. The broken instruments in his desk drawer were testament to that. Harry's lingering disappointment with him was evidence too; he had not lied to Severus about that. Although Harry had (eagerly) stood at Albus' back and (shyly) accepted the headmaster's effusive praise of his burgeoning dueling skill afterward, there had been a chill between them that was never present before. Voldemort might have been too blind to see it in Walden MacNair's mind, but Albus was not so fortunate.
Even so...
His resolve was set in stone long ago. Harry's feelings about him, positive or not, would not affect the myriad plans Albus had to protect him, plans that had grown and changed since long before he was born. Voldemort's fresh insight into his two greatest enemies would not do him or his followers any good. It was impossible for Harry to be treated as a gap in Albus' shields when that gap was known and its guard heavily reinforced.
Impossible, he repeated firmly, though he caught his fingers now nervously drumming the table. He cannot manipulate Harry this way. He will not manipulate me this way.
Yet Voldemort was a master manipulator, the best Albus had ever taught.
Fawkes sang a brief, haunting melody from his perch—and Albus sagged, sighing heavily.
"As you advise, my friend," he agreed sadly. "I will heed your warning, and Severus', and do my utmost to ensure Harry is safe... even from me."