The Sybil's Oracle Book Two

Chapter 45

By Pigwidgeon37

After Apparating all over the British Isles, going back to Hogwarts had been an almost superhuman effort. Not to the gates this time, for the grounds and castle were bound to be swarming with Aurors and allies preparing for the battle to come. Instead, his target was a secluded spot at the far end of the Forbidden Forest, where a broomstick had already been concealed in the thick undergrowth.

He shed his Death Eater uniform—maybe for the last time, he thought, half-wondering why the idea did not cause him any joy or at least relief—put away his mask and Death Eater wand after having cast an Invisibility Spell on himself and the broom, mounted and soared off into the cold night air, in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower.

The windows of Narcissa’s quarters were well disguised, and it took him a few minutes to find them. Hovering at arm’s length from the castle wall, he knocked at what seemed stone but was in reality glass. Probably she had been waiting right there, because the wall became diaphanous almost instantly, so that he could float into her chambers, ducking low so as to avoid collision with the window frame.

“Severus?” Her voice was strangled.

“Yes, just a moment. I have to take off the spell.” As soon as he had returned to visibility, Narcissa flung herself into his arms, crying convulsively. “Shhh…” He patted her back. “It’s all right, everything’s all right. Lucius is well and alive.”

“And… and He?” She was still desperately clinging to him.

“Gone.”

Narcissa raised her head, to meet his eyes in an incredulous stare. “Gone? You mean dead?”

“No. Gone. His clothes were there, but his body had disappeared.”

“But how—”

“I don’t know, Narcissa. Now please let go of me. I have to return to my quarters and from there to Dumbledore immediately. I’m sorry, but I can’t afford even a minimal loss of time.”

She nodded. “But you’ll come back to me?”

“Right now, I can’t promise anything. Just stay here and remain quiet. Please, it’s important. We’re not yet completely out of danger. Oh, and…” He pulled the miniature Death Eater robes, wand and mask from his pocket. “Keep these for me, please. I don’t want them anywhere near me or my quarters.”

With a last smile and reassuring squeeze of her shoulder, he left for the secret passage connecting his rooms to hers. His quarters were dark, empty and silent. Not that he had expected to be greeted by a battalion of Aurors, but he was relieved all the same. A flick of his wand lit the candles and fireplace. A pinch of Floo powder, Dumbledore’s name called softly into the green flames, and already the old man’s face, ragged with worry, appeared on the grate.

“Severus…” The ancient wizard briefly closed his eyes. “Thank Merlin!”

“Are you alone, Headmaster?”

“Yes. Yes, come along—you must tell me… if you’re up to it… but I would really—”

“It’s all right, Headmaster. I’m coming.”

He had not realized that his throat was parched and his stomach rumbling until he was holding a steaming cup of tea, and looking at a plateful of mouth-watering sandwiches. “Thank you, Headmaster. Just a few sips of tea and a bite of sandwich, and then I’m ready to talk.”

“Of course. Of course, take your time.” Dumbledore was nervously petting Fawkes, but it was obvious that he just needed an occupation for his restless hands. “So,” he said when Severus put down his cup, “it did work?”

“Yes. Although I can’t tell you how. The discharge of magical energy was so enormous that we were all out cold for quite a long time.”

The Headmaster nodded. “Yes, I had expected something like that to happen. And Voldemort? Is he dead?”

“I don’t believe he is. He just… vanished—I know it sounds strange and unsatisfying, but it’s all I can tell you. His clothes were there, and his wand. The traitor took it, whoever he was.”

“So he was with you?”

“Yes. But he Disapparated while we were still trying to gather our wits.”

Dumbledore’s eyes went narrow. “And when exactly was that?”

He had to lie about the time, there was no other possibility. Even though it would possibly save that miserable bastard’s hide. But everything was better than to disclose the truth about their activities during the missing two hours. “I honestly couldn’t tell. I was rather shocked, and puzzled, as were the others. I didn’t bother to check the time.”

“Of course not, Severus. I suppose you had other thoughts on your mind, all of you. But tell me, are the Potters…”

“They are both dead.” Dumbledore's shoulders sagged, and he drew a deep, shivering breath. “I didn’t see who killed James, because I was already upstairs. I suppose Voldemort did it, and he also killed Lily. But at least he made it quick and painless.” No need to tell the old man about her agony, about those last desperate moments of pain and terrible fear.

“At least…” Dumbledore whispered and wiped a stray tear off his cheek. “We have become modest, haven’t we, Severus? We are so used to cruelty and torture that a quick, merciful death means comfort…What about Harry?”

“We put a sleeping spell on him and left him there. As you can imagine, we were quite eager to leave the premises immediately. The boy seems all right and unharmed. But I thought it was better to let you decide about the next steps.”

“Yes…” The Headmaster stared at the ceiling for a while, lost in thought. Severus refilled his cup and took another sandwich. The constant buzzing and humming of the knickknacks vibrating through the room was beginning to have a calming effect on him. “The next steps then,” Dumbledore said finally, refocusing his look on Severus and giving him a small smile. “Life goes on whether we want it to or not. And we will have to be very circumspect. If at least we had a body…”

“Yes,” Severus agreed, “that would be much easier. But even so, don’t you think you can convince Crouch that he has to act? The other Death Eaters must have felt something—after all, we are all connected to Voldemort by our Dark Mark.” And ‘felt something’ was an understatement, he thought grimly. He and the others had probably been in too much shock, or somehow protected by the elemental love magic the killing curse had released. But some of those seven he had had to obliviate had seemed to have gone out of their mind with fright and shock.

Dumbledore jumped in his chair, as if he had been hit by an electric discharge. “Of course!” he exclaimed and rose from his seat, “The Mark! Do you still have it?”

Strange, Severus thought, that he should not have controlled right away. But it had simply not occurred to him. He rolled up his left sleeve and took off the concealment charm. The skin of his forearm was white and unblemished. Dumbledore nodded, excited and apparently satisfied.

“I am glad you are finally rid of it, dear boy.” His hand came to rest upon Severus’s shoulder.

Severus looked up at the other wizard and shook his head slightly. “Outwardly, yes,” he said, “But I can still feel it under my skin. Which proves, at least in my opinion, that Voldemort is by no means dead.”

“Are you sure?” The Headmaster frowned down upon him.

“Absolutely. And somehow, it figures. He was—is much too powerful to die from a mere killing curse. He might have lost his physical body, but I feel that there’s something of him left. It is weak but doubtlessly there.”

Dumbledore’s hand slowly slid off his shoulder, and the old wizard walked back to sit down on the chair opposite Severus’s. “This is one more reason why we need a myth,” he said slowly.

Severus’s hand, transporting another sandwich to his mouth, stopped in mid-air. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me right. We need a myth.”

“Do you think you might elaborate?”

“Of course, Severus. Most of all because you will have to play your part in it, but it won’t be what you deserve.”

“What I deserve,” Severus replied, a sudden sharp edge to his voice, “lies in the eye of the beholder. You would get very different opinions, I daresay, depending on whom you ask.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Dumbledore shot him a stern look. “Without you, and Messieurs Malfoy and McNair, things would have gone differently. A most dramatic difference, I am sure. All three of you would deserve Orders of Merlin and due honours, in order to—”

“Stop, Headmaster, stop. None of us wants an Order of Merlin. And I certainly don’t wish for my role in all this to become public knowledge. Keep me safe from the Aurors, keep me out of Azkaban, and I’ll be satisfied.”

“Severus…” Dumbledore was suddenly looking uneasy and shifted in his chair.

The sandwich fell to the floor, spilling its contents over the carpet. Severus sensed fear creep through his guts, deep and desperate, making him want to cry out and hide where it was dark and soft and safe. “Not… not Azkaban, Headmaster.” How ridiculous he sounded to his own ears—like Bill Weasley pleading that his parents remain ignorant of his outrageous behaviour. But he did not care. He could not go to Azkaban—anything was better than that, even death. Even by his own hands.

“I haven't told you, Severus… Please understand—I couldn’t take any risk, not when…”

“You have been using me.” Pathetic, really. Why should one powerful wizard be different from the other?

“No. I have never been using you. And you don't have to go to Azkaban, I swear by my own life and the lives of all the children here. But I have been put under a lot of pressure by the Ministry lately. I can keep you out of there, but…” The look he gave Severus was almost pleading.

“But what? Inverness? Is that what you mean to tell me? Am I to share a room with my mother?” He buried his head in his hands, trying not to cry, although he wanted to. He just wished he could let go of it all, his pride, his dignity, his hopes… just cry, and then vanish without leaving a trace. Like Voldemort had done…

“Severus, listen to me! Please, just for a moment!” Severus raised his head. “That's better. Now let me explain. You are on top of the Ministry’s list of suspects, just like Lucius, Owen and his father. But you know how the authorities are…”

Severus gave a short, humourless laugh. “No need to remind me.”

“I know. I know, dear boy. As I was saying, they won’t try anything against Mr. Malfoy or the McNairs, simply because they are rich and powerful. So you are their logical choice, because suspicion is not outweighed by money or influence. However, I will be able to protect you. There’s one condition though.”

“Go on, Headmaster. Tell me. No condition can be worse than a life sentence in Azkaban.”

“You would have to stay at Hogwarts as a teacher. Even as Head of Slytherin, although they won't like it. But you have to remain here, so they can be sure I’ll have an eye on you.”

“My…” Severus swallowed. “My whole life?”

“That seems a little exaggerated. The next ten, fifteen years I’d say.”

“Fifteen years…” He closed his eyes, but immediately reopened them, as he was sure he could not bear the images that sprang free from his mind. “Fifteen years of teaching against a whole life in Azkaban… I’d say it’s an easy choice, Headmaster. Now I understand why you can’t divulge anything about what really happened last night. Why you need to create a myth. Dead Aurors certainly make better heroes than Death Eaters, I agree.”

“That is putting things very bluntly, but in a fashion you’re right, yes. I would have liked for you to reap the acknowledgement you deserve, but…”

“I’ll survive, even without an Order of Merlin to cling to. Voldemort is gone, at least for now. And that’s all that counts.”

“Well…” Dumbledore gazed at him pensively. “If that’s the way you see it, things will be a lot easier for me to arrange. You see, we can’t prove that Voldemort is gone. People have been living under his threat for years, and they will need something to hold on to, something that makes them believe that these horrors have come to an end. And if we can’t produce a dead enemy, we have to produce a living hero. A symbol of hope for British wizards, somebody they can worship, of whom they can think and say ‘Yes, thanks to him Voldemort is really and truly gone.’ Do you agree?”

Again, Severus felt chilled to the bone. Had he really miscalculated so gravely? Had he really gone through all this anxiety and terror and heart-wrenching pain, only to see Dumbledore take what he had just wrestled from Voldemort’s hands? “I’m afraid I don’t, Headmaster,” he croaked.

Dumbledore shook his head and smiled. “I wasn’t speaking of myself, dear boy. No, no, that would be entirely wrong. We need something truly miraculous, you know?” His eyes were twinkling.

Now it began to dawn on Severus. “You mean… the child?” he asked.

“Of course. The one-year-old who defeated Voldemort. The Boy Who Lived.”

“The Boy Who Lived…” he repeated, too amazed to say anything more. “Well…” He cast Dumbledore a doubtful look. “It might work…”

“Oh, it will most certainly work. We just have to plan it carefully.”

“Indeed. Especially as Harry Potter is an orphan—where do you want him to grow up? I’m sure that every single family in this country will be only too keen on adopting him, but—”

“No, no.” Dumbledore took off his glasses. “No, that is out of the question. On the contrary, the child should grow up outside our world for a lot of reasons. But as you know, Lily was Muggle-born—”

“Yes, but wasn’t she an orphan? I seem to remember she lost her parents while still at school. A car accident, wasn’t it?”

“True, but she does have a sister. A married sister, who has a son about Harry’s age. We shall leave him with them.”

After he had been so thoroughly shaken, Severus's mind reluctantly started  working again. “Headmaster, try to be reasonable. You can’t just ‘leave’ a child with somebody, even if they are family, and even less so if they’re Muggles. There are such things as birth certificates, you know.”

The Headmaster smiled. “I know. That’s why I need some time. First, I’ll go to Crouch—as you said, it is imperative that he act now, while the remaining Death Eaters are still confused and unsure what to do. And believe me, he will act. But it is of the utmost importance that this night’s events remain secret for as long as possible, so I can prepare everything. Crouch will be busy enough all day long, and he’s also ambitious enough to not want me anywhere near him while he savours his triumph. I bet you my wand that he’ll try to use it as a means to become our next Minister. However, what I need is time, and that’s exactly what he’s going to give me. Are you following so far?”

“Yes, only I have no idea what you are planning.”

“It’s very simple, really. I’ll have to pull a few strings, so as to get a Muggle birth certificate for Harry, and, more importantly, to make sure his new home will be well protected. For, as you said—and I have no reason to doubt your words—Voldemort is probably not dead, and I’m sure that not all Death Eaters will be apprehended. Let alone the collaborators. Therefore, I need to put some very elaborate wards and spells on his relatives’ house. It might take me until tonight.”

Severus nodded, his interest now definitely sparked. To see Dumbledore’s Slytherin side was quite a memorable experience.

“All this must, of course, be done under the utmost secrecy. No-one must know yet, not even Minerva. Your task, if you agree to help me, would be to go back to the Potters’ house and fetch the child. We can’t leave Harry there all the time. The traitor is still at large, although I doubt that he’ll dare show his face now. But better safe than sorry. Take the child, and bring it back here—you can use James Potter’s Invisibility Cloak, I still have it here in my office. Then you will stay at Narcissa’s quarters—”

“Won’t that look a little suspicious? The other faculty members will ask themselves where I have gone…”

“Not if I am gone as well. You know how easily people jump to conclusions—you are gone, I am gone, so they will think we are gone together. Besides, I will give them something to do: the children have to be taken back into the castle, the wards around our makeshift camp have to be taken down, the resistance group and Aurors must pack and leave… Believe me, there will be such hubbub that nobody will miss you, especially as there will be no classes today—I’ll leave order to not wake the students before late afternoon.”

“They will be terribly confused and frightened, Headmaster—what about my Slytherins? I should—”

“Confusion is exactly what we need. Miss Reynolds and the Bloody Baron are capable of keeping the Slytherins in check while you are away. And once we are both back, the students will be the first to hear our story. How we were expecting an attack and had to hide them in a safe place, how Voldemort was defeated by a mere child…”

“Well, if you plan it that way… the potion should keep them asleep for about twenty-four hours anyway.”

“Exactly. No need to worry, then. Now, the child has to be found at the Potters’ house, in order to lend credibility to our story. We don't want it to be too far from the truth. So you will have to transport him back there, maybe around ten p.m. You must destroy the house and put Harry amidst the ruins.”

“You certainly don’t lack a certain instinct for drama,” Severus observed with a smirk.

“Believe me, that’s what people need now. And, as we have already agreed, I will not mention how exactly Voldemort was brought down—to explain a myth means to destroy it. The more inexplicable the events seem, the more readily people will accept them. It sounds paradoxical, but believe me it will work.”

“I have no doubts as to your knowledge of human character, Headmaster. And how exactly do you plan for the story to become known?”

“Well…” Dumbledore stroked his beard. “In order to have the story of Harry’s miraculous deed and salvation spread as soon and in as much detail as possible, I daresay Hagrid would be the right person to… er, rescue him from the ruin. I’ll leave a letter for him, which he must not open before ten o’clock this evening.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if you left it for me to dispatch at that time? Hagrid may have a kind heart, but he’s both nosy and chatty…”

“We want him to be chatty. As for nosy, I don’t think he’ll act against my explicit orders.”

“Are you aware that this is a big liability?”

“Yes, I am fully aware of that. As things are, however, there are few people I could entrust this mission to. I know that he cannot be the traitor, and I know that he will defend Harry’s life with his, should anything happen. I would ask you to bring the child directly, but we want the story to be told with as much detail and as many embellishments as possible, by a second source nobody will question. So I’m afraid we don’t have another choice.” Still not convinced, Severus merely shrugged. “He’ll have to travel by broomstick, which gives you enough time to set the scene, if you Apparate at ten. The letter will instruct Hagrid to get Harry and bring him to his relatives’ house, where I will await him. And once all this is settled, I am going to disclose the… well, let us say truth, to the general public.”

Severus frowned and shook his head in amazement. “This is so completely preposterous that it might actually work. I only hope Crouch is going to cooperate.”

“You know,” Dumbledore said, focusing his still-spectacle-less eyes on him, “you seem strangely unconcerned about your fellow Death Eaters. If they are captured and confess…” His white brows rose, and he gave the younger wizard an inscrutable smile.

“Let us say that I have taken my precautions,” Severus said, returning the smile. “That and your promise concerning myself, Lucius and Owen seems quite reassuring. Even though I’ll have to waste my youth teaching, whereas they’ll be free to do whatever they want.”

“My promise is as valid as it ever was. But I truly hope that your… precautions are sufficient.” Dumbledore rose and snatched his hat from atop a pile of books. “It’s your turn to wish me luck now, Severus. Crouch isn’t exactly known for his gullibility…”

“Good luck, Headmaster. I suppose I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes. I should be back around eleven o’clock. And, Severus?”

Already standing in front of the fireplace, Floo powder in hand, he turned round. “Yes, Headmaster?”

“I know it is a big sacrifice for you, but may I say that I am glad you will remain here as a teacher?”

Severus snorted softly. “Well, at least one of us should be glad, I suppose.”

~~~~*~~~~

Narcissa threw Severus a guilty look. “I always feel horrible when I put a sleeping spell on Draco. Ruthless and egoistic.”

“Now, now. You’ve been up the whole night, and so have I,” Severus replied. “We can use a little peace now, can’t we? Besides—” he tilted his head towards the two tufts of hair, blonde and black, that were peering out from under the blanket “—I can’t even begin to imagine what those two would be up to if left to their devices.”

“Poor Harry, though,” Narcissa said. “He must miss his mother… And that wound on his forehead is pretty ugly.”

“It’s already closing. But I suppose the scar will remain. And probably the wrist hurt him more—at least you could heal that.”

They sat down at a small table in Narcissa’s living room, where Peggy had served their lunch. While they ate their soup in silence, Severus eyed Narcissa. “You don’t seem very happy,” he said at last.

She looked up from her plate, evidently surprised. “I assure you I am. It’s just that I can’t yet believe my luck. To return home, finally, after almost a year…”

“Are you afraid that things might have changed?”

“Between Lucius and me? Not really, no. It will take us some time to get used to… well, to everything.” She took another spoonful. “May I ask you a question?”

Severus raised his eyebrows. “Of course. Since when have we become so formal?”

“I didn’t mean to be formal. I merely thought that you weren’t yet up to talking about last night. It must have been dreadful for you.”

Severus sighed and pushed away his empty plate. “Yes and no. I couldn’t say, really. My mind seems to have shut down completely. Not as far as logical thinking is concerned, but I still have the feeling that everything is not yet over. My emotions seem to have gone into hiding. Maybe that’s only because that fellow—” he indicated Harry’s mop of black hair “—still is where he shouldn’t be. So chances are that I’ll wake up, so to speak, when he has been ‘found’ officially. Then again…” His voice trailed away, and he looked past Narcissa, out into the November fog. Mechanically, his hand picked up a piece of bread he plucked small crumbs from. “I guess I’m also afraid that one of us might have botched a memory spell. Besides, we mustn’t forget that Karkaroff still has his memories intact, and so has Clarissa. If one thing leads to another, the Aurors might still come for us.”

“Not to mention if they somehow manage to get hold of St. John and Tabitha. Or Barty.”

“Barty has been taken care of by Owen. But you’re right—St. John and Tabitha are two time bombs. Impossible to obliviate them, though—you can wipe specific memories, which was difficult enough as things were, but cancelling ten years’ worth of memories is simply unfeasible unless you’re ready to take the risk of the person going mad. I wish one of us had had the strength to kill St. John last night. As things were, we had to decide between killing him and splinching while Apparating home. And alibis definitely had higher priority.”

Peggy brought the main course and the wine, and both started on their plates of cheese soufflé and salad—they had opted for a light meal, as they were both feeling rather queasy.

“I wonder…” Narcissa began and fell silent again.

“You wonder what?”

“Well, you see… What you said about going crazy and… I was trying to imagine St. John’s state of mind right now—to judge by your description of how he reacted to Voldemort’s disappearance…”

Severus’s jaw went slack. “Are you saying you pity him?”

“Not at all.” Narcissa sent him a shrewd smile. “I was wondering whether his desperation couldn’t be exploited, as well as the unpleasant side effects of a heavy memory charm.”

He had long learned to appreciate her mind, which was quite brilliant. And when she smiled that way… The last time he had seen this particular expression on her face had been more than a year ago, during the summer holidays, when she had come up with the idea of having his quarters searched by Aurors to gain him precious time for developing the Liberatio Potion. “Exploited? What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Hmmm…” For a while, she picked pieces of ham from her soufflé and stacked them neatly on the edge of her plate. Apparently it helped her think. “Let me try to explain: St. John seems to be desperate because Voldemort is gone, right?” He nodded. “So I daresay it’s a fairly safe assumption that he’d try anything to find him.”

“He or Tabitha, but that’s more or less the same. I agree. Go on explaining.”

“Well, it should be possible to lure our adorable couple out of their lair, some place where they would be caught…”

“You are forgetting the important detail that the Ministry doesn’t suspect either St. John or Tabitha, my dear.”

“Indeed. So you would have to get them to commit a crime… something blatant, unforgivable…”

“And inform the Aurors, so they get caught red-handed. Which still doesn’t solve the problem of their memories. If St. John starts unpacking his treasures, you can say goodbye to your husband.”

The small pile of ham cubes was growing. “Didn’t you say the traitor—whoever he was—took Voldemort’s wand?”

“Yes, but I don’t see how—”

“Wait. Just wait. You stunned him right away, didn’t you?”

“St. John? Yes, Lucius did.”

“Right… Did he see that the wand was taken?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure, though.”

Her cheek cupped in her left palm, elbow propped up on the table, Narcissa now started pushing the ham around her plate, forming a neat pink line across the white background. “If it were possible to let the Lestranges know that the traitor has been captured—do you think you could do that?”

“Yes, I think that would be possible. I could have heard it from Dumbledore. And we might pretend that it’s being kept a secret until they’ve squeezed a full confession out of him. It might even be somebody from Dumbledore’s group, which would be better because the Ministry wouldn’t know about it.”

“Exactly. Who might have caught him? The Blacks maybe?”

“No, I would leave them out of the game. Because St. John might know the bastard’s identity, and if it’s really Black… not bloody likely that they’d deliver their own son to Dumbledore, let alone the Ministry. Gryffindors, you know…”

“It should be somebody popular, though. Somebody whose death would cause a real uproar.”

“I understand that Longbottom and his wife are quite popular, due to their heroism at King’s Cross. Besides, they have a son of about Draco’s age, that might lend more dramatic flair to their death. Although I’m not quite sure how they’re going to die.”

“They’re going to die because they got hold of the traitor and know the whereabouts of Voldemort’s wand. Or of Voldemort himself, whatever you want. St. John and Tabitha rush to their house and try to torture it out of them. Unfortunately, the Aurors show up…”

“Brilliant, but what about their memories?”

“Severus, you are very slow on the uptake today.” She smiled at him and shook her blonde curls. “You’ll have to use a time turner. Tricky, but feasible. You let them do the dirty work, go back by five minutes, wipe their minds, and leave. Et voilà, the Aurors find a pair of seemingly crazy Death Eaters, who just tortured their beloved colleagues.”

Severus leaned back, crossed his arms and scrutinized her. “Today seems to be crazy-scheme day,” he said. “And I thought Dumbledore’s plans for creating the myth of The Boy Who Lived were insane.” Narcissa glared at him. “I’m not saying it’s idiotic, or impossible. I merely observed that it’s totally and utterly crazy. You know what? We’ll let it rest for the moment and talk it over with Lucius and Owen later on. But you might have hit upon the right idea.”

~~~~*~~~~

“Oh, shut up or I’ll splinch us both!” Severus hissed at the boy squirming in his arms. He was tired, and irritable, due to lack of sleep and the nagging uncertainty that did not seem to have any intention of leaving him. But little Harry Potter was tired, too, and probably he missed his mother. “Endormium!” Severus muttered, pointing his wand at his burden, and instantly felt the child’s body go slack. The green eyes were closed now under delicately painted black brows, which made the skin seem even paler, almost translucent. But the smooth, white surface was blemished by the scar Voldemort’s curse had left. It was still red and seemed to be throbbing angrily.

Just to be on the safe side, Severus Apparated at a greater distance from the Potters’ house than the other night, and carefully scanned the surroundings. But all was calm, as if frozen in time. So he rapidly approached the building—only now did he notice the plaque amidst the rests of the entrance door that said ‘Godric’s Hollow’, which made him shake his head, wondering why on earth Gryffindors had to be that pathetic—and started his work of destruction, carefully and methodically blasting apart walls, setting fire to wooden objects and curtains. He had to be very circumspect, so as to avoid too many flames rising too high. Although there were no houses in the neighbourhood, a mighty fire might be seen from a great distance and attract unwelcome attention.

A glance at his watch told him that Hagrid would probably arrive soon, so he extinguished the flames, careful to leave some smouldering remainders where they could not possibly harm the child, entered the ruin and put Harry in a relatively undamaged corner of the former living room. Then he removed the sleeping spell.

Shrouded in Potter’s Invisibility Cloak—he had been wondering all day whether Dumbledore had been keeping it since the day Black and Potter had been caught by Lestrange down in the dungeons and almost been expelled for trying to blackmail a teacher—he retired by a few yards to lean against the trunk of an apple tree, from where he had a sufficient view, thanks to the faint glow of still-flickering flames and glowing embers. Although Dumbledore had not explicitly told him to monitor the ‘rescue action’, he preferred to survey that great oaf of a gamekeeper with his very own eyes. If  the hairy meatloaf bungled it, he could still step in.

He did not have to wait long. About ten minutes later, Hagrid made a rather ungraceful landing, tumbled off his broomstick and uttered a furious roar, when his eyes took in the full extent of the catastrophe. Dumbledore’s letter had informed him that the Potters had been attacked, but to see the scene with his own eyes was probably too much for the man. After a while, though, he wiped his nose and eyes, and began to look around, evidently trying to find a way to enter the ruin without being hit on the head by loose stonework or a still-smouldering rafter. Suddenly his head jerked up—he must have heard the child’s wails. Like a charging bull, he made his way through crumbled walls and splintered wood towards the source of the noise.

Severus nodded to himself in satisfaction and was just about to Disapparate, when he heard a strange sound, a kind of droning, sputtering, popping and cracking. It seemed to come from above and was approaching fast. Severus drew his wand.

He almost gasped aloud with shock when the noise grew louder and louder, until it was directly behind him—he turned and saw Sirius Black’s enchanted motorbike land on the grass behind his tree. Black jumped off and ran towards the house. “Hagrid!” he shouted, “Hagrid, are you in there?”

Stealthy as a cat, Severus sneaked nearer. The gamekeeper’s bushy head appeared between the jagged outlines of a half-crumbled wall. “Sirius? I told yeh not ter follow me!”

“Well, what did you expect?” Black yelled, “I had to see… where’s James? And Lily? Is that Harry you’re holding?”

“Yeah…” Hagrid stepped carefully through the debris. “Lily an’ James… they’re dead, Sirius…” His voice broke, and Severus heard the sound of muffled sobs. “Them bastards!” he roared suddenly, causing the child to start crying again, “Them bastards! If I ever get me hands on ‘em, I swear—” He had reached Black, who was sitting in the grass, shaking all over.

“Hagrid,” he said finally, “What… what about Harry? Where are you taking him?”

Hagrid scratched his head. “I’m afraid I can’ tell yer that. Shouldn’t ‘ave told yeh about this ‘ere business…”

“He’s my godson, Hagrid, I have a right to know!”

“No, no. I’m sorry, Sirius, really, but… Dumbledore surely does the righ’ thing, yeh know? Great man, Dumbledore.”

Sirius rose. His voice was low and hoarse when he said, “Hagrid, I just lost my best friends. I can’t…” He drew a deep breath. “I can’t even believe it yet… It’s all my fault, and now they are gone, gone forever. Leave me the child, at least leave me Harry!”

Severus’s fingers tensed around his wand.

“It ain’t yer fault, Sirius, what are yeh talkin’ about? Yer in no state now ter look after this wee one. Jus’ try ter calm down, an’ I’ll be off on me broomstick.”

“Broomstick?” Black looked around wildly. “You mean to carry him wherever you’re going on a broomstick? Take at least the motorbike, that’s safer!”

“Well…” Hagrid wagged his head. “I dunno… Dumbledore said broomstick… Then again…” He fell silent. “All righ’,” he said after a while, “If yeh lend it ter me…”

“Just take it and go…” Black let himself fall down on the grass again. Now he was crying, Severus could hear it distinctly.

When Hagrid had finally taken off and vanished into the night, Severus let out a sigh of relief. The child was safe now, but what about Black? The man was probably the traitor, had probably even been the Secret Keeper. The traitor who now had Voldemort’s wand. It would be easy to kill him; Severus was standing at a mere ten-feet distance… Then again, Narcissa’s idea had been brilliant, so if he killed the traitor now, chances were that he would be found immediately after Dumbledore had fed the public the story they had concocted. The Ministry’s bloodhounds would be unleashed, find Black, and they would not be able to lure the Lestranges to the Longbottoms’ house.

Much as he hated to admit it, he would have to leave Black continue his worthless life. At least for the moment. Careful not to make any noise, Severus sneaked out of the other wizard’s earshot and Disapparated.

~~~~*~~~~

When Severus returned to the castle, again by way of Narcissa’s quarters and the tunnel, Dumbledore had not yet come back. But the Bloody Baron was waiting for him, visibly agitated. “Professor, I think it might be a good idea to pay a visit to the Slytherin quarters.”

“Of course, Baron. Any particular problems?”

The ghost stared at him—it was the first time Severus had ever seen him look incredulous. “The whole school is in upheaval, Professor, and you ask whether there is a particular problem?”

Severus frowned. “What on earth happened?”

“I have no idea where you have been since four o’clock in the morning,” the Baron replied, frowning back, “But since seven, or maybe eight o’clock, the sky has been barely visible behind a veritable cloud of owls. From what I understood, Lord Voldemort is gone—”

“Yes, but…” Severus reflected for a moment. “How could the news… Oh, of course! Probably the Aurors couldn’t keep their mouths shut.”

The ghost raised his eyebrows. “I am not sure I understand, Professor.”

“Never mind, Baron, I’ll explain later. And now I should really—”

“Severus?” Dumbledore’s face, more tired than ever, looked at him from the fireplace.

“Headmaster! I was just on my way to the Slytherins.”

“Excellent. Tell them to go to the Great Hall immediately. Considering that the news already got out, I suppose nobody will have gone to sleep yet. And we evidently need to re-establish some order here. The students are puzzled and rumours seem to run wild.”

“The Bloody Baron told me as much. Was your mission successful?”

“Yes. Fortunately everything worked without a hitch. Except that Minerva was there…”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Hagrid?”

“Of course.” The Headmaster smiled. “He opened the letter as soon as he woke up and evidently couldn’t resist telling her. She spent the whole day there, waiting for me in her Animagus form.”

“But she didn’t tell anybody else, did she?”

“No, and neither did Hagrid, thank Merlin. It seems that Minerva gave him the tongue-lashing of his life for having disobeyed my orders.” Severus chuckled. “Oh, and Severus? I know you haven’t slept either, but I think we should have another talk after sending the students to bed. Just a short… how do the Muggles call it? Debriefing?” Severus nodded. “I have decided to cancel classes for the rest of the week, so you’ll have enough time to recover.”

~~~~*~~~~

“Maybe,” Dumbledore said, when he and Severus had almost arrived at his office, “it would be a good idea to invite Messieurs McNair and Malfoy as well? Lucius might take Narcissa home with him afterwards—I’m sure he would appreciate that.”

“Oh, he certainly will. It might take some minutes, though. We’ll join you by Floo.”

Half an hour later, the three Phoenixes, curiously eyed by the fourth, were sitting at the Headmaster’s office, discussing the recent events.

“They arrived around five in the morning,” Owen said gruffly—he, too, seemed to have reached the limits of his considerable strength, “and took me to the Ministry for questioning. But I suppose it was a mere formality. They didn’t even use Veritaserum, just asked a few questions and then let me go home.”

Lucius nodded. “Same for me. I suppose that you pulled a few strings, Headmaster?”

“I pulled lots of strings during the last twenty-four hours,” Dumbledore replied. “But I made it very clear to Mr. Crouch that it would be advisable not to step on certain people’s toes.”

The three shot each other alarmed looks. “You didn’t give him any details, though, did you?” Severus asked. Chances were that Crouch might tell his son, whose reaction was rather foreseeable—Barty was a dangerous fanatic, and if he suspected anything, they would constantly have to watch their backs.

“No, no. I merely insinuated that, given the general mayhem, the pillars of our society better be left untouched. Eager as he is to become our next Minister, this argument seemed to impress him sufficiently.”

“He’ll be even more impressed,” Lucius observed, “once he gets the names of all the Ministry officials who have been collaborating. Will there be public trials, or do you think he’ll try and hush up everything?”

“I haven’t talked to him yet—not since I woke him up at three in the morning, that is—but knowing him, I believe that he’ll try to avoid scandal, if possible. Of course, there will be a few public trials. However, unless I’m very much mistaken, they will be well-prepared, so that no compromising details will transpire. Everybody knows that he was the one who practically ran this country, and if he wants to become Minister, he has to create the impression that he was able to control his own staff.”

“Not the Minister of my dreams,” Lucius said.

“Nor mine, rest assured of that, Lucius. But there’s little we can do to prevent it. However, tomorrow there is going to be a press conference, and both Crouch and I will answer the reporters’ questions. You—” he looked from one to the other “—certainly agree that nobody must ever know what really happened last night. As I already told Severus, the more these events are shrouded in mystery, the more readily they will be accepted and believed. People have been praying for a miracle, and that is exactly what they will get.”

“It’s not as if it were all made up,” Owen said, “You just leave out a few details. Nothing wrong with that.”

“A very Slytherin point of view, but true nonetheless. We do have another problem, though: what about the traitor? Nobody knows his identity, and I couldn’t mention him to Crouch without giving away information I prefer to remain secret. Are you sure you did not recognize him?”

“Did Hagrid tell you that Black had followed him to the Potters’ house?” Severus asked, partly to sidetrack Dumbledore, but also to prevent the other two from uttering any conjectures—they had not yet been told about the plan concerning the Lestranges, and it would be unwise to jeopardize it.

“Yes, he did. And, as you might have noticed, Sirius hasn’t returned yet. On the other hand, if he really is the traitor, he also knows that such behaviour is bound to raise suspicion. And he certainly wouldn’t want that.”

“Except if he has already left the country,” Lucius remarked.

Dumbledore shook his head. “He knows how much Lily and James meant to me, and therefore he also knows that I will not rest until whoever betrayed them gets what is coming to him. No matter where he is hiding. Do you think Lestrange might know more?”

“Maybe,” Severus said cautiously, “But I don’t think it would be a good idea to contact him right now. I’d rather wait a few days, until the situation has calmed down a little. Or at least until we can be sure who has been arrested and what they have told the Ministry. We don’t want to attract attention, I think, while everything still seems so unsure.”

“Yes, it is probably wiser for you to lie low for a few days,” Dumbledore agreed. “Well then, gentlemen, I think we all may get some long-overdue sleep. Tomorrow will be a tough day for me, what with the press conference and all the celebrations. Not to mention the feast we’ll treat the students to tomorrow night. Tonight it was too late, so I could merely tell them the official version of our story. But, like everybody, they need something tangible.”

~~~~*~~~~

“I’d never have thought that Dumbledore is such a shrewd old fox,” Lucius said once they were back in Severus’s quarters. “Impressive, really… And people will lap up his story about The Boy Who Lived, that much is obvious.”

“Just wait until you hear what your wife has come up with,” Severus told him. “Very cunning indeed. And worth staying awake for a little longer. I’ll go get her.”

Severus and Owen grinned at each other when Lucius, every inch the impeccably-bred head of the Malfoy family, got up and merely kissed Narcissa’s hand, saying “How are you, my dear?” His composure was thoroughly shaken, though, when he heard about her idea concerning the Lestranges. “Brilliant, Narcissa, just brilliant,” he said, pacing the room until Severus told him to kindly sit down. “And we might include Barty.”

“Considering the state he was in when I obliviated him,” Owen agreed, “I think he’d jump at the possibility. But we have to be quick. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that they’ll capture the traitor for real.”

“True.” Severus stifled a yawn. “So I suppose I’ll have to take the risk and inform them—after all, it’s only likely that I heard it from Dumbledore. And I doubt whether they’d follow an anonymous message.”

“Probably not,” Lucius said, “But you can charm it to self-combust one minute after being opened.”

“Maybe I’ll just charm it to dissolve. But who is going to give a hint to old Crouch?”

“Not Crouch, you moron,” Owen said, “Not if his own son is involved. What about that new department? Magical Catastrophes?”

“Well…” Lucius’s eyes lit up. “That’s not a bad idea, you know. After all, Crouch’s chances to be the next Minister will drop below zero when it turns out that his son is a Death Eater. So it would be better to make friends with the most likely candidate. And Fudge, idiot though he is, falls into that category. Owen and I could go and feed him some credible story. What do you think?”

“I can’t imagine what the two of you could possibly tell him without somehow incriminating yourselves,” Severus said, “But it would certainly be a brilliant move.”

“What about the child?” Narcissa broke the ensuing silence.

Her husband looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Which child—oh, you mean Nimue Something…”

“Hermione,” Severus supplied.

“Whatever, I never remember the name. What about her? She’ll be raised by the family—there’s lots of relatives on both sides.” Narcissa vehemently shook her head. “What?” he snapped, “What’s the problem?”

“Can you imagine how they’ll treat her once it becomes known that her parents used to be Death Eaters? Besides, we, too, are her relatives, so we—”

“No. I know she’s your cousin, my dear, but I will not have St. John’s spawn grow up at my house. And this is final.”

“But Lucius—”

“I said no.” He gave her a hard stare. “You know I’ll grant you every wish you might have, but not this one.”

Narcissa’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s not her fault, Lucius. She’ll be an outcast, although she has done nothing…”

Severus, who had been quietly listening to their exchange, raised a hand to forestall Lucius’s heated reply. “Wait a moment. Narcissa is right—I said wait, Lucius. Just hear me out. Narcissa is right insofar as the girl will be punished for her parents’ faults. To bear the name of Lestrange will probably be as much of a burden as bearing the name of Potter, only the other way round. So why don’t we take a leaf out of Dumbledore’s book?”

“She doesn’t have any Muggle relatives, though,” Owen objected.

“I know she doesn’t. But Muggles do have orphanages, just like we do. We could take her to an orphanage and leave her there, with only her name written on a piece of parchment. The middle name, so as to make it completely inconspicuous.”

“You got that from some Muggle book, didn’t you, Sev?” Lucius asked, shaking his head.

“Yes, it seems that they did that a lot, especially in the last century. But it wouldn’t be much trouble for us, and the girl would at least stand a chance. She might be adopted—”

Lucius harrumphed. “She might just as well grow up in the bloody orphanage, just like Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle. What with the powers she seems to have, not to mention her genetic heritage…”

“Now don’t be irrational, Lucius. If she grows up shunned and despised, she’d be a lot more likely to turn against our society.”

“If you say so.” Lucius shrugged. “I couldn’t care less. Now let’s finalize that plan, and then I want to take home my wife and child. I’m in dire need of some normalcy.”

~~~~*~~~~

When Severus finally went to bed, after forty-five hours without sleep but so crammed with life-changing events that he still had trouble believing it had all really happened, he tried to determine what exactly was his outlook on the future.

Their plan to get Barty and the Lestranges caught had been elaborated and fine-tuned down to the last detail. Unless Black—or whoever the traitor was—got caught before 4 November, chances were that they might actually succeed. Probably none of them would have to face a trial, and Azkaban, a threatening spectre until recently, had now retreated to the realm of the possible but improbable. The price for his own safety was high… To stay at Hogwarts, to teach day after day, never condemned but never truly declared innocent… yes, there was some bitterness rising within him, he had to admit that. And he had not yet recovered sufficiently to pick up the shambles of his life, put them together and decide whether the final product had been worth it. Instead of the burden he had been carrying, he had received another one, less dangerous, yes, but maybe not less difficult to carry. In a way, the future seemed more uncertain now than two days ago. Voldemort was gone but not dead, and although there was no reason to dread his return in the immediate future, he might come back anytime and take his terrible revenge.

In a few hours, the world would have its hero to worship, whereas those who had operated this miracle would remain in the dark, skilled puppeteers who did not wish to be seen by the public. They had pulled the strings and could be satisfied with their success, secretly sneering at a public that believed the puppet’s movements to be its own. And amidst their applause, the curtain would finally fall over the past.

~~~~ T H E * E N D ~~~~

Disclaimer: Except for a few original characters and, of course, a part of the plot, nothing belongs to me. It’s all JKR’s, who has invented this wonderful world.