Subplot

23 - Hermione

Hermione stepped out in the sunlight-flooded Hogwarts grounds in a daze. It was over. For better or worse, she had done it. After glancing briefly to the right and to the left to see that no one was watching her in particular, she let herself topple backwards on the fragrant grass, inhaling a promise of summer. Her strained back welcomed the awkward thud as she hit the ground. It's over, we're done, she told herself over and over again. I've taken my last OWL exam. Finally it was time to relax!

She resisted the urge to sit up and see whether Harry and Ron were coming out into the grounds, too. The two of them had still been waiting to take their Divination exams when she had finished her rune translation. She remembered their pale faces, their 'do not approach us now, Hermione!'-looks. Probably they had been making a last-minute effort to come up with a few catastrophes that still had a sense of novelty to them. Involuntarily, Hermione grinned - that would prove to be a tough job after three years of predicting the worst several times a week. Only yesterday evening, the two had been seen brooding over their Tarot cards in the Common Room, trying to invent sinister meanings for the overflowing happiness of the Ace and the Ten of Cups. Of course, the card 'The Lovers' had not caused them much trouble in that way. Some of the less pleasurable meanings of that card, most of them suggested by Ron, had convinced Hermione to go back to her runes immediately.

OWLs, Hermione thought. Not underage anymore. I'll be allowed to do magic at home. Now I can actually show Mum and Dad how I turn teacups into mice. Won't that be fun... Smiling wryly, she buried her fingers in the moist grass and pulled to give her stiff shoulders a bit of a stretch. Yes, Mum and Dad. Another school year was almost gone, and she would see them soon. A few more days at Hogwarts while the teachers corrected (and marked!) hundreds of essays, a few days of slow-paced lessons no one except Snape took completely seriously anymore, then the Hogwarts Express, and finally an endless, careless holiday at the Cote d'Azur. Well, not quite careless - Hermione realised those days were over when she could return to the Muggle world and pretend she was like them. Half of her mind would stay at Hogwarts, with all the new things she had learned this year, with the people she cared for, but also with the troubles of the witching and wizarding world. As much as she was looking forward to seeing her parents, she would certainly like to be invited to the Burrow as soon as possible. Not going there last summer had been a mistake. Thinking of Victor Krum now almost embarrassed her, although she had faithfully answered a total of eight letters over the year. What she really wanted was to spend the summer with Harry, Ron and Ginny - after seeing her parents for some time, of course.

Finally, Ron and Harry came trotting down the stairs that led down from the front door of Hogwarts. Hermione waved to them, then watched her two friends cut across the lawn towards her. Both were a bit pale, she noticed, and worries crept up her spine. Please, not another one of these ridiculous Trelawney predictions, she thought. Then again, the prediction the strange, insect-like teacher had made two years ago had only come too true.

"Prefect Hermione, you are not supposed to be out in the grounds all by yourself, but only in a group of four," Ron said with reproachful pomp.

"The same goes for the two of you," Hermione replied, slightly embarrassed that she had all but forgotten about safety matters, but also relieved to hear Ron joking. Obviously, nothing really bad had happened.

"C'mon, they wouldn't attack the castle on the last day of the OWLs of all days, right?" Harry said and threw himself into the grass. "Anyway, if Sirius and Lupin are right, we are safer by ourselves than in a large group, at least as long as they are trying to get us with Icy Fingers."

"Remember the dark fate that awaits thee, Harry," Ron mumbled, sat down and took a bag of Every Flavour Beans out of his robes' pocket. "Want one?" he asked. "Flavour of arsenic, especially for you, Harry."

Harry chose a dangerous-looking green bean; Hermione declined. "So how was your Divination exam?" she asked the two.

"Don't ask," Ron said and looked away from her.

"Because you two think you failed it, or because we are doomed?" Hermione tried hard to take matters lightly.

"Maybe both," said Harry with a shrug. "Judging from the cards, we are really doomed, but of course, the only one who will die is yours truly, according to the old fraud."

"That was a set of cards, believe me!" Ron said with a slight quiver in his voice which might or might not have been authentic, "The World in the central position, upside down, crossed by the Tower, of all things."

Harry rubbed his chin with two fingers and recalled: "The Nine of Cups in the position of the past, but- she really loved this - the stupid old Five of Cups in the position of the future. Then on the resource position, the blasted Emperor, inverted, and - imagine - Death in the position of the possible outcome. Whoever shuffled these cards should develop a more subtle kind of humour."

Hermione tried to point out that she didn't know a thing about Tarot cards, and that their names meant nothing to her, but she could not seem to get a word in sideways.

"You shuffled the cards," Ron reminded him. "And of course, the old fraud always says that Death doesn't have to mean death, you know -"

"Except for when it does," Harry continued, mocking Trelawney's misty voice.

"Yes, of course. And then -" Ron continued, jabbing a finger into Hermione's direction, "and then there was the inverted Fool in the position of the self, the Hanged Man in the position of the outer view - "

"- inverted," Harry added.

"Oh, yes, I forgot. He looks really dumb when he is hanging right side up, if you know what I mean," Ron replied. "Anyways, we had the Ten of Swords in the hopes and fear spot -"

"And the Wheel of Fortune in the spot for the outcome," Harry completed with a heavy sigh. "Actually, I thought they were the perfect cards for the exam. I predicted that we will lose the war against Voldemort, and Ron predicted the end of the world as she required an alternative reading of him, but of course, that wasn't sinister enough for the old cow. So I tried to make amends by predicting my own death, but she said any corrections I was making would not help my mark at all anymore." Angrily, Harry slapped the grass with his palm. Ron grinned his famous Weasley-grin, the one that could made him look very much like Fred and George all of a sudden.

"That's not funny at all," Hermione chided.

"Oh, who would want to get an OWL in Divination anyway?" Ron replied cheekily. "It's not like I'm planning to keep it on next year."

"I mean the prediction," Hermione replied impatiently. "I mean saying that we will lose the war with Voldemort and that the end of the world will come."

"C'mon, Hermione - since when do you think the end of the world is more important than a failed exam? You don't believe in Divination anyways," Ron commented, his mouth full of Every Flavour Beans. The thought that he was reckless enough to eat more than one at a time appalled Hermione, as always.

"Speaking of the end of the world - there is another order meeting tonight," Harry said and let himself sink backwards until he lay flat on his back.

Ron groaned. "Tonight? Don't these people have any sense of decency whatsoever? We should really ask them to postpone it if they want us to attend!"

"Ron!" Hermione could hardly believe she had heard him correctly. "You can't possibly mean that! They are all really important people who are planning really important things. It's an honour for us to attend!" But when she thought of the revision marathon the three had just put behind them, as well as of the stupefying boredom the last four order meetings had evoked in her, she had to secretly admit that Ron had a point there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As in the last meetings in Dumbledore's circular office, the air was stuffy, breathed by too many witches and wizards. Participants sat on chairs, some taking notes, some knitting; some were discussing matters with vigour and zeal, while others rather looked like they just hung in there, yawning and rubbing their eyes. It was just another order meeting; the exceptional assembly of witches and wizards was turning into normality.

One of the more exciting topics was the report of the dragon tamers, for the first time given by a nervous-looking Vanessa Craydon. Their dragons, she said, would be able to carry riders into battle with the Death Eaters; they were trained to pursue and to capture, though she could not tell them any more details, because... She gave Dumbledore a meaningful look. Probably she was hinting at the fact that it might not be safe to mention certain things in this order: The leak, if there was one, had still not been found. The enthusiasm the young dragon tamer had for her work could not be overlooked, however. She obviously loved the creatures she was working with. Every time she uttered the word 'dragon', Hagrid sighed heavily. Vanessa herself blushed every time she mentioned Charlie Weasley, who had remained in Romania, Hermione realised.

Of course, Hagrid would have sighed much louder if it hadn't been for Madame Maxime. For the first time since they met as an order, the half-giant headmistress of Beauxbatons was attending a meeting. In her purring accent, she told them news of the giants she had conversed with. Four of their tribes had elected a common war chief, an unparalleled occurrence in the history of the ever-fighting giants, it seemed. They were ready for the fight, she said, but there was one little problem: They wanted more bribes. Sadly the enormous woman shook her head; they would follow whoever paid the most, so it was necessary that the order outbid the Death Eaters. She had successfully raised some funds in France for the bribes paid so far, but now she requested financial help from Britain.

Money, Steven Ricket replied in his BBC English, was in short supply. There had been a few generous donations made to the order, but they were needed for such things as international communication and ...

Penthesilea Finnegan interrupted him. International communication would not have to cost a knut if they used the international League network, she said impatiently. It seemed like the two of them had had this discussion before. Ricket's evasive answer implied that he did not find the League completely trustworthy.

"Oh, Steven, can't you see that unless you put a bit of trust in others, for example the League, these meetings are completely useless? We are offering this, without obligations, without asking anything in return, just because we want to contribute whatever we can. Even if we disagree on a thing or two, would you say that international contacts are tainted just because they are supported by the League owling system?"

"Constant vigilance!" Moody growled in the background.

"Be that as it may, but our financial situation may improve significantly within the next couple of weeks," Bill Weasley interrupted. "We've had some more negotiation with the Gringotts goblins, and while it certainly doesn't look like we've got the whole goblin population behind us, I've found some daredevil goblin investors. They said that the project 'Future without You-Know-Who Inc.' was worth a galleon or two to them. Of course, it may very well be that rather than buying owl treats with it, we need this money for bribing the giants. It may also be used to support those who had to drop out of their jobs to do guard duty at Azkaban."

"Guard duty at Azkaban - I can't believe you people haven't dropped that silly stunt by now!" Moody complained. "What we need there is a permanent squad of Aurors trained to kill, as well as about fifty barrels of Theraka to get rid of the Dementors if we need to."

"That's impossible, as you well know," Snape said icily.

Moody gave Snape one of his annihilating 'a Death Eater that walked free'-looks, then went on to complain in the general direction of Dumbledore.

"It disgusts me that we are discussing such petty-minded affairs of bureaucracy here instead preparing for the real fight, Albus. What we need is curse- and combat-training for the young -" with a gesture of his hand, he included Harry, Ron and Hermione as well as Ginny and Neville, "organised troops to fight the Death Eaters, and an international communication system that does not depend on an organisation which is even more chaotic than this order." This was directed at Penthesilea Finnegan. "We also need a decent ring of spies -" another decidedly condescending look into Snape's direction, "as well as an effective protection at what you euphemistically call the 'leak' in this order." Once more Moody turned to Dumbledore.

"By the way, Albus," he said, "could you please tell my why Sirius Black is standing there by the door, covered with an Invisibility Cloak? This is the kind of behaviour which looks a trifle suspicious in the meeting of a secret order, if you ask me!"

Hermione's gaze followed Moody's stare, waiting in vain for him to mention vigilance. When Sirius' head and shoulders appeared, she could hardly believe it. How could he be so stupid to come here? He had to know that it was not safe for him to attend order meetings, and that the concealing powers of a Demiguise hair Cloak could be penetrated by means of Moody's magical eyes, just to mention one example. Sirius took off the cloak and hung it over one arm.

"I am sorry to have disregarded your advice of avoiding these meetings, Albus," he addressed the headmaster. "You may think me crazy, but I do want to know how you are proceeding in identifying the traitor in our midst. The question is of particular significance to me, as you may know." Sirius took a hesitating step forward, then pointed a finger at Hogwarts' Potions Master. His eyes darkened; his voice was steady and calm.

"You are the traitor, Snape! Evidence against you is piling up, and if nobody in this circle has the guts to publicly accuse you, I consider it my duty to speak up."

Sirius' words caused a commotion in the headmaster's office. Hermione saw witches and wizards murmur among themselves; some shook their heads, some nodded vigorously. She also noticed that while Professor Varlerta had gestured for Sirius to be quiet while he spoke, she now turned to Snape, who looked haughty and unmoved. "Constant vigilance," Moody murmured thoughtfully. Dumbledore rose from his seat and beckoned to Sirius to come nearer.

"I wish you had come to me with your accusations instead of voicing them in this circle, but maybe this is the way things have to be. Please sit with us, Sirius, and bring forth your evidence. Mistrust is poison in the veins of this order and slander a serious crime among those who must depend on each other. Your evidence, however, will be heard and judged here. I only ask that if the wizard you accuse can prove his innocence, you will apologise here and on the spot."

"That is only fair," Sirius said with a slight bow of his head towards the venerable old headmaster, disregarding Snape altogether.

Hermione watched Harry and Ron watch Snape eagerly. She knew that in spite of all contrary evidence, the two of them were still hoping that one day, Snape would be proven a traitor. From her point of view, this hope didn't make sense. Of course she didn't like Snape, but if there was a choice of having Snape on their side or having Snape as an opponent, she would always opt for the first, she thought as she saw the hook-nosed teacher sneer derisively at his accuser. Could the Potions Master be the traitor they were looking for - the one who had not only betrayed Sirius to the Daily Prophet and vandalised the books the Spellsearchers needed so urgently, but, according to Ron, had betrayed Varlerta to the Death Eaters? If Snape was indeed guilty of this, Dumbledore would make sure he didn't get another chance to harm anyone, Hermione thought as the murmurs died down so Sirius could state his case.

"We are looking for an individual who notified a Daily Prophet photographer where he could take a picture of me," Sirius said coolly. "This person must have known rather exactly when I'd go looking for the Figgs in Privet Drive, which limits the circle of possibilities to someone closely connected to Dumbledore." Professor McGonagall tried to object, but Sirius raised his hand, gesturing that he wanted to finish his contribution first. "I do realise that this occurrence might have been the result of a very inconvenient accident, but as I said, the evidence is accumulating," he said in her direction. "Then there is the problem with the vandalised books. Snape had the motive and opportunity to do that, because I asked him to get books for our efforts to find a counter curse for Icy Fingers."

Murmurs rose again. Hermione realised that Sirius was not acting very wisely now; he was telling the order members of a Spellsearching project which Dumbledore had kept secret for more than half a year. Of course, if Snape was indeed found to be the traitor they were looking for, it was not too likely that there was a second traitor in their midst. If they found the guilty person tonight, Hermione thought, trust might be regained; order members could again talk openly of their plans and project and re-establish the much-needed open communication within the order. If Snape was the traitor, Sirius' blunder would not matter. Sirius was bound to know this; that was why he had come forward in this fashion, she thought.

"Snape and I have always been enemies," Sirius said with feeling. "When he almost captured me two years ago, he did his best to have me subjected to a Dementor's kiss. He had good reasons to doubt that I was guilty of the crime I was accused, but that didn't matter to him. It is not hard for me to believe that he still wants me dead, and that he tries to hinder my success in Spellsearching even if that means endangering all of us."

Sirius voice filled the room although he did not raise it. All eyes were on the escaped convict whom they had believed guilty of vile crimes not long ago. Hermione saw a great sadness in Dumbledore's face; Varlerta was pale as death. The other teachers stared at Sirius; Flitwick trembled, Sprout shook her head in disbelief, and Quibster's face was ashen. Only Snape, whom these accusations concerned most, did not show any kind of reaction at all.

"The last straw for me is my conviction that Snape betrayed Professor Varlerta, Ginny and Neville to the Death Eaters," Sirius continued. "His personal hatred against me is bad enough, but we should draw the line at someone who consorts with the enemy - even if only for a show-off."

"A show-off?" Snape said in a choked voice. At last his composure seemed to dwindle; Hermione could see his hands tremble.

"I don't want to think you really wanted Professor Varlerta to permanently fall into the hands of the enemy," Sirius replied. "You were too well-prepared for the rescue party; if you hadn't wanted us to defeat your fellow Death Eaters, we would not have come out alive. How you can pull off such a dangerous stunt or what is really on your double agent's agenda is a mystery to me. It is a fact that somebody must have betrayed her, because again, the Death Eaters were at the right place at the right time and knew exactly who to expect. Also you knew where to look for the Death Eaters; you knew them by name. My guess is that you planned this thing well ahead of time, and if others got killed, for example me or one of the kids, you wouldn't have minded it."

"That fight stood on the edge of a knife, Black," Snape said in a dangerously soft voice. "As much as I hate to admit it, you saved my life there, and I saved yours, but easily we might both have been killed. Are you really suggesting that I planned that kind of a botched job?"

Hermione noticed bewildered faces all around the room. She realised that most of them did not know the story Ginny had related to Ron, Harry and her several weeks ago. This conversation must be confusing to those who do not know what happened, she thought as she saw frowns and furrowed brows everywhere.

"Mr. Black, please listen to reason," Varlerta said, her face pleading. "As much as some of your evidence seems to make sense, there is something missing, something essential: the motive. Tell me, why should Professor Snape do such a thing?"

"As I said, the only explanation I have to offer for that last treachery is that he wanted to show off, to appear a big hero," Sirius replied, but with less confidence than before.

"To whom, I wonder?" Varlerta sounded sceptical; she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "It isn't like anyone broadcasted information about how you four saved my life that night - before you did, that is. Who could he have wanted to impress?"

Sirius gave her a meaningful look to which she replied with a snort. "Please stop insinuating such things," she said. "Professor Snape and I haven't even been exchanging greetings when we met recently."

"If you two are finished with slandering me, maybe we could return to discussing what you call 'evidence,'" Snape hissed, casting a truly hateful glance at Varlerta. Then he turned to Sirius. "You've assembled a neat string of unconnected events to use against me, it seems. If this order hadn't decided that whatever skills you may have might still be useful for us, I would challenge you to a duel for your slander right now, and believe me, you wouldn't come out unscathed. As it is, I am forced to tolerate yet another stain on my honour for the sake of our common cause." The last words were directed at Dumbledore, betraying a deep bitterness.

"Sirius, Severus, please." Dumbledore rose. It scared Hermione to see him look so ancient and tired. The headmaster's chest heaved with a deep and sorrowful sigh. "How did mistrust manage to bloom so fatally in our order?" he asked. "The thought that any of you here might have betrayed members of any of us, whether to the Daily Prophet or to the Death Eaters, is unbearable. All of you are dear to me; all of you are chosen to be part of this order because you have earned your place in it. Yet it becomes more and more obvious that there is one among us who has broken the trust I placed in him."

From the row of the teachers, a single wizard rose: Professor Quibster. "What you say is true, Albus, and I am sorry about it," he said. "It has come to the point where I must reveal what I have done, for I am your traitor."

For a moment, had somebody dropped a pin in Dumbledore's office, it would have sounded like an explosion in the silence. Then a commotion broke loose. Witches and wizards shouted, screamed or banged their hands on the table. Hermione stared at the smallish, inconspicuous middle-aged wizard who had disclosed such unbelievable information to them. The Muggle studies teacher of Hogwarts was ordinary to the extent of being almost invisible. He is too boring to be a traitor, she thought.

Gerold Hawks and one of his fellow Aurors grabbed Quibster roughly by both arms and almost pulled him off his feet. Dumbledore raised his hand. "Leave him," he said very quietly. The two Aurors obeyed at once. When Quibster had both feet on the ground again, Dumbledore addressed him gravely: "Prometheus, what have you got to say for yourself?"

"Albus, I am sorry for the trouble and the disappointment I am causing you, and I will accept whatever punishment is found for me without complaining. However, I assure you there are reasons for my action. I implore you to hear me out," Quibster said and adjusted his grey moustache which had become ruffled in the brief struggle. When Dumbledore nodded, Quibster addressed the whole of the order.

"Friends, for as such I considered most of you for a long time, please lend me your ears for a moment. If my treachery, which I regret, has the effect of you giving my words some consideration, it has not been done in vain. I speak here on behalf of the organisation to which I owe more loyalty than even to you, Albus - the 'League for Magic and Non-magic Cooperation.' Many brave wizards and witches who will fight against the Dark Lord until their last breath are members of this organisation. While here at Hogwarts, the policy is to hide behind thick walls and hope the Dark Lord makes a mistake, this is not the way of the League. We fight the Dark Lord, with violence if we must, because we know that just playing for time will not work with Him Who Must Not Be Named."

A strange energy seemed to radiate from the small, insignificant-looking wizard. Hermione was fascinated and repulsed at the same time: Here was the wizard who claimed to be responsible for the vile treachery that had caused them so much trouble all this time, but apparently, he had his motives too - motives which seemed not to be mere selfishness or cowardice.

"Out there," Quibster said, "are League members and their families, threatened to be murdered by Death Eaters every day. The total killing rate of League members has gone up to sixteen adults and nine children, more than half of them in Britain. Order members have told me they would like to help me protect them, but whenever I took anyone up on the offer, they didn't remember making it. In Hogwarts persecuted League members are not welcome, as you made clear to me months ago, Albus. The Ministry does not care about solving these brutal murders, because that would mean admitting that He Who Must Not Be Named is on the rise again. By tipping off a photographer of the Daily Prophet, I had hoped that once Albus' golden boy, Sirius, was framed for the murders, Dumbledore would move heaven and earth to clear the matter. I was mistaken. All he did was have him fetched here so he could be protected at Hogwarts. This school has become a fortress, impenetrable not only to the enemy, but also to those who might ask for shelter. The safer we feel here, the less we think of the refugees whose lives are in danger. This is why I did not want Sirius Black to find a counter curse for Icy Fingers: It is all of us, Muggles and wizards alike, who must fear the Dark Lord. If we lived without fear in these walls, we might forget the danger to others. Icy Fingers is the last link in the chain of our protection. I believe it should be left open so we remember that we are not the only ones in need of safety."

Hermione could see many order members stare at their feet or at the table plates before them. She wasn't sure she understood what Quibster had said, but she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she had to find out more about it. Remembering Quibster's organised and slightly boring Muggle Studies lessons, she was confused: Neither treason nor loyalty to an organisation like the League were what she would have expected of the grey little wizard. Only slowly, the witches and wizards around her seemed to recover from Quibster's speech; they talked among themselves again, trying to stomach these news. Penthesilea Finnegan rose from her seat.

"Metheus, how could you?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "You have dishonoured the League and this order alike. If this is how you think to fulfil your League member's oath ..." She did not finish her sentence, but just sat down again, apparently dumbstruck my the monstrosity of Quibster's betrayal.

"Why me?" Sirius asked suddenly. "Both parts of your treason were directed at me, whatever other reasons you might have for them. Have you never thought of the effect your actions might have for me?"

Quibster looked Sirius straight in the eyes. "It was easy to hurt you, as you are not as well protected as others in this order. The things I did to you suited my purpose; my fellow League members were always the first thing on my mind. However, there is another reason, though a minor one. Dumbledore once claimed your innocence at an order meeting, but I do not believe it. I am still convinced that you killed my wife," he said quietly.

"I did what?" Sirius shouted and approached Quibster in a threatening way. "I never killed anyb- I never killed a witch in my life!"

Hermione saw Ginny flinch, saw Dumbledore hide his face in his hand, noticed Moody looked sceptical and saw Quibster cast a hateful glance at Sirius. "She wasn't a witch," he whispered acidly. "My wife, killed 1981, was a worthless Muggle, the kind that hardly ever rates a mention with your kind. You probably didn't mean to kill her, but what good is that to me? When you blew up that street of Muggles to punish your traitor friend Pettigrew, did you ever wonder which consequences this might have for the Muggle bystanders?"

"I didn't blow up that street," Sirius replied slowly and softly. "Pettigrew did that to fake his own death. Then he cut off his finger and Transformed into a rat. I am sorry to hear about your wife, but I am not responsible for her death."

"I vouch for that, Metheus, and so does Dumbledore," Lupin said decidedly. "Harry, Hermione and Ron can tell you that they saw Pettigrew is still alive. He's the one you should try to punish. There's no reason why Sirius should have hurt your wife, or any Muggle. Pettigrew was trying to frame Sirius for the betrayal of the Potters, so he blew up the street to make him look evil and mad."

Hermione nodded, just like Ron and Harry. Dumbledore and Sirius confirmed Lupin's statement with nods as well.

Quibster looked very confused. So did Varlerta. "A rat? What do you mean, he Transformed? Was Pettigrew an Animagus like Mr. Black?" she asked.

"Yes, he was," Ron quickly enlightened her. "He posed as my rat, Scabbers. Scabbers had a toe missing, you know, because of the cut-off finger, but of course we didn't know he was Wormtail, and then Hermione bought Crookshanks, and Crookshanks wouldn't leave Scabbers alone, and then one night -"

Varlerta cut him short with a wave of her hand. "Okay, I think I understand," she said curtly, her eyes on Quibster, who somehow looked like a punctured balloon in his misery. Then she turned back to Ron rather abruptly. "A rat, you say, but what was missing was a front toe, not a front paw, right?"

Suddenly many heads turned to her; Hermione saw Harry as well as Sirius turn pale, while Ginny's eyes rounded.

"Volde - er, You-Know-Who had Wormtail cut off his hand when ..." Harry's voice faltered. Hermione noticed how shaken her friend looked. She felt the strong urge to put an arm around his shoulders, but knew that Harry probably wouldn't appreciate it in public. Sirius, she noticed, moved towards Harry and then checked himself, possibly motivated by similar thoughts and feelings.

In Varlerta's face a few muscles twitched; for a moment Hermione thought she could see the cogwheels turn and click in the teacher's brain. "Morgana's ass!" the witch suddenly shouted and slammed her hand down on the table in front of her. "Why the shnirk didn't any of you utter morons take the trouble to tell me?"

Several witches and wizards flinched or scowled at Varlerta's swearing. "Where have you seen him?" Sirius asked in a voice that sounded brittle as dry bones.

"I caught the little vermin, caught him in a rat trap right in my building. I was going to do away with it, but my stup-" with a glance at Ginny's fearfully large eyes, she checked herself and continued in a more neutral tone - "my assistants asked that the vermin should live. So I just sat it free at ..." her voice trailed off; her eyes closed for a second. When she opened them again, she said in a firm tone in direction of Sirius: "I set him free at the stone circle, on a full moon's night. That's how he and his Death Eater friends knew when and where to find us, I believe."

Sirius swore rather rudely. "You mean, nobody told you he was an Animagus?" Meanwhile, Snape was grinning evilly, Hermione could not help noticing. All around the room, witches and wizards were shaking their heads in incomprehension. Dumbledore still had his face hidden in his hand, while Moody murmured something about vigilance.

Varlerta snorted. "How slow do you think I am? No, nobody told me, because in this stupid order, all we ever do is mistrust each other."

"I am sorry, because this distrust is mostly my fault," Quibster said slowly. All his former bravado had evaporated. "I apologise to Albus, whose trust I have betrayed, as well as to you, Mr. Black, because I have done you great harm. I await my punishment. However, whatever happens to me, I still ask all of you to reconsider your decisions regarding the League members."

"How dare you mention the League after your treachery," Penthesilea Finnegan hissed at him. "The President of the League will decide what is to be done with the likes of you!"

With the bearing of a man whose core has been annihilated, Quibster slumped into an empty chair on the side. The witches and wizards next to him moved their chairs away from the traitor.

"So where's your evidence now, Black?" Snape asked derisively. All attention turned back to the Potions Master who had been accused of betrayal not long ago.

Sirius gave him a look of utter contempt, but, obviously remembering his promise, said: "I made a mistake, and I apologise for wrongly accusing you."

Snape nodded grimly, while Dumbledore lifted his tired face out of his wrinkled hand and looked up at the order again. Hermione had the impression that he held several pairs of eyes for a few moments before returning his gaze to Quibster.

"As much as I am dismayed by your treason, Prometheus, I see that there is no question of dismissing it as the crime of an individual, because all of our actions influence each other. The fault, it seems, lies as much with me as with you if you felt you had to resort to such matters to be heard. I will do as you ask and reconsider my policy towards the members of the League. As for punishment, I do not believe in it much. There is nothing I want to do onto you for the things you have done onto us. I hope that all members of this order see things the same way - I certainly would not like to hear of any mean-minded and pointless acts of revenge on you." Dumbledore raised one bushy, white eyebrow. Hermione felt a shiver run through her body. Although not pronounced as a threat, she felt very distinctly that Dumbledore was warning every witch and wizard in the room not to even lay hands on Quibster.

"It is your choice, Metheus, to remain a member of this order, or to have your memory modified. I assure you that you will leave this castle unscathed if that is your choice, but of course, if your fellow League members decide to punish you, that is out of my hands. If however you want to stay a member of this order, be aware that I could never tolerate this kind of treachery twice, or pardon a member who works evil for the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore's benevolent speech of pardon had a sharp edge to it, Hermione thought. Even though the head of the secret order had decided not to punish the wizard who had betrayed his trust, she could not help wondering if Dumbledore might actually kill a witch or wizard who had overstepped a certain limit. Then she saw the headmaster's eyes rest on Penthesilea Finnegan as if daring her to contest his decision. Suddenly she realised that there was more than black and white in the struggle she was witnessing. Even those who should be united to fight Voldemort were sometimes at cross-purposes, just as disagreement seemed to exist even in a mysterious group such as the League. At times, there seemed to be no such thing as a right and a wrong position. Hermione did not feel comfortable with this insight at all; rather it felt like someone had draped a heavy, soaked blanket over her head and shoulders.

"As I said before, miscommunication is the curse of our order, and today I was proven right in several instances, none of which are any cause of contentment for me. The danger of treason is always among us; as long as people trust each other, trust can be betrayed. If there is anything to be learned from that, it is that we have to trust each other nevertheless, that we have to take the risk that comes with communication. Many things that have gone amiss could only happen this way because we did not trust each other. Therefore, I implore you all not to decrease, but to increase your trust in our order."

After a few seconds of confused silence, Gerold Hawks rose. "You old devil, Dumbledore - you have a point there, so I will confess, too, and abandon myself to your mercy. I have an agreement with Fudge to inform him of all things that pass in this room. He convinced me that although he does not mean to interfere with your actions if he can help it, he needed to know what you and your followers are planning. I apologise as well, for I betrayed your trust as well."

"I knew you did," Dumbledore said, and Hermione thought there was a touch of smugness in his eyes. "However, I also know which things you chose not to tell Fudge, namely those which might have convinced him that it was indeed time to interfere with me. This in turn assured me that your real loyalty lies with this order, something that is confirmed by your confession."

Hawks was apparently dumbstruck. "But ... how?" he finally retorted.

"Don't you think I do not have my spies at the Ministry?" Dumbledore said loftily, and Hermione thought she might even have seen a twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, and if you think my plea for trust and honesty goes so far that I will disclose their names to you now, I must disappoint you. I will indeed not. If there is one thing I learned in the past is that some secrets must be kept better than others, and that spies are almost on top of the secrets priority list."

There were a few more topics on the table drawn up for the meeting, but after these disconcerting revelations, nobody was in the mood to discuss things overly much anymore. Most of it had to do with the Ministry, of who was on whose side, and how to keep tabs on Fudge's staff and their lack of activity regarding the threat of Voldemort. All these things had been discussed at great length in previous meetings, and the question of who might be spying on who within the Ministry seemed to be far more interesting to most order members than current events at the office. Hermione sat it out, her mind on other things. The more she heard, the more she wondered if this order was such a great idea after all. Of course, people could help each other and keep each other informed, but it seemed that all the order members were working mostly on their own specific projects. Hermione wondered if this revelation was something she should worry about, but decided that after all these OWL exams, she would leave the worrying to other people for a while.

Somehow, the fate of the Muggle Studies teacher was weighing on her mind. Every now and then she cast him a furtive glance, but Quibster did not look up from his feet even once for the remainder of the meeting. I should despise him, because he betrayed us, Hermione reminded herself. She felt uncomfortable and out of place in the order. When the meeting was over, she gladly rose with Harry and Ron, but as they left the room, she cast another glance in Quibster's direction. She saw Varlerta halting when she passed the traitor on her way out.

"By the way, where are the missing pages out of those books?" the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher asked him in a casual tone without contempt or disgust.

"I will give them to you tonight, before - before I leave," the Muggle Studies teacher replied in a choked voice.

Varlerta nodded, then put a hand on his shoulder. "I will put in a word for you with - you know," she told him silently. Quibster glanced up at her with eyes that had lost all their zeal and energy. "Thank you," he whispered, then averted his gaze.

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