Here Be Monsters

Saturday, 29 June 1996

1813 GMT

Things were ready by the time Severus arrived.

I have arranged for dinner to take place in the Nigellus Room. I don't usually use the chamber. It was designed as a formal dining room for small but important parties, but the taste of Phineus Nigellus did not run to suit my own preferences. It is a darkish, heavy space lined in stone with large fireplaces and a heavy wooden table that looks like it came out of a torture chamber (although I know in fact that Phineus had it specially made by a Glasgow carpenter). All of the furniture is portentious and wooden with somber cushions. The paintings are the most stylistic kind, as was popular when Nigellus was headmaster. They depict famous scenes in wizarding history. I will say for them that they lack the mawkish and hypocritical sentimentality found in so much modern art (including the recently demolished fountain in the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic). The best painting is that of Phineus himself. He is currently gazing down with frank curiosity, his expression tragically sad. Yes, Phineus has not been the same since Sirius died.

All told the chamber has the feel of a courtroom or inquisition chamber. That is the reason I have chosen it this evening.

Severus strides in a few minutes late, as I had expected - and counted on. He stops in the doorway, his sneer frozen in surprise at the scene that greets him.

The table is filled with food of course, as well as with Nigellus' silverware - as large and tastelessly portentious as the rest of the room. The occupants of the table do not fit the props quite so well. I sit in the center, trying my best to look at ease despite my misgivings about this hastily conceived plan. Minerva is on my left, an empty chair to my right. Beyond the empty chair sits Professor Flitwick, propped up on a mound of pillows the house elves have provided. On the other side of Minerva is Professor Sprout, looking like a philodendron in a mandragora bed. Beyond Professor Sprout, Poppy Pomfrey occupies one end of the table. At the other end Professor Binns' ghostly presence is the only member of the party even partly in keeping with the surroundings.

"Hello Severus," I greet the potions master with as much good cheer as I can deliberately muster, "please join us." I gesture at the chair to my right.

"Good evening....everyone," he says slowly, his gaze scanning the table, dark eyes drinking in details.

You do understand the details, don't you Severus?

I have requested that my guests present themselves somewhat more formally than is their usual habit. I am in one of my most official, and most uncomfortable, robes. Minerva is wearing her usual black, but with the crest of Gryffindor House embroidered on the breast of her dress. Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick are both wearing the glittering seals - a kind of archaic amulet - that proclaim them the Heads of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw respectively. Poppy is clad in her lime green Healer's robes - a sight almost never seen on Hogwarts grounds. And Binns is .... Binns.

Severus slowly circles the table and takes his chair, his expression one of wariness and distaste.

//This could be very amusing indeed.//

It could be, or very disastrous.

I make small talk as we fill our plates and begin to eat. Minerva remains quiet, but interjects forcefully when conversation threatens to lag. That is not much of a problem. Evidently Poppy and Sprout are eager to continue a friendly argument they began in the garden this afternoon, and Flitwick is rarely at a loss for words about anything.

As we finish our main courses and begin to move into the deserts, I catch Minerva's eye. She nods grimly. Severus has not said ten words the past hour, but the heat coming from his direction has been steadily building like a dragon stoking its furnaces.

"Colleagues," I say, rising to emphasize my words, "thank you for attending on such short notice. As my note indicated, we have a matter of grave importance to consider."

All of them regard me patiently except for Binns who rarely pays attention to anyone but himself and Severus, who is glowering death in my general direction.

"I recently spoke with young Mr. Potter concerning his experiences in the Ministry of Magic," this is a necessary ruse to preserve the secrecy of Severus' mission - I will bring Harry in on the situation as soon as I can. "In our conversation, he related a most disturbing series of events. Professors Snape, McGonagall, and myself have been in discussion about this affair. Frankly, I feel the need to bring this before a full meeting of the Heads, with Madame Pomfrey and Professor Binns kindly agreeing to contribute special insights."

Both Sprout and Flitwick are listening with expressions of concern. Poppy has her best professional air in evidence, but her eyes are solemn.

"Now, I feel it best if Professor," Severus stirs and leans forward, "McGonagall relates the situation to you."

I sit again and lean toward Snape. "It is best this way Severus. It avoids too many questions."

Severus just looks at me with a distrustful sniff.

Minerva does not rise, but looks around a sighs a trifle dramatically.

//She is going to have to take acting lessons if she ever wants to take over from you, Professor.//

Come now Tom. Headmaster Dippet was not a great dissembler, either.

//And we all know what a success HE was. Remember that little incident with Aragog and the breaking of Hagrid's wand?//

"In the course of our conversation, Mr. Potter related his confrontation with Bellatrix LeStrange immediately after the death of the person I believe you now all understand was both innocent and his godfather." Minerva continues in her sharp, efficient way, outlining the events of Harry's use of the Cruciatus Curse.

Silence falls in the room as she finishes.

//Then again, she does know how to capture her audience.//

Professor Sprout sobs softly. The subject of Unforgivable Curses naturally brings up the memory of Cedric Diggory. Flitwick is looking uncharacteristically sober. Poppy has folded her hands, and her breath makes small whistling sounds as it passes through her clenched teeth.

//The roll of the dice.//

Tom, I don't care for the metaphor.

//Would you prefer the spin of the wheel?//

He is right. This is the dangerous moment. I force myself to remain calm and silent, and not to look at Severus.

"Dear, dear," Flitwick finally says, his high voice filled with concern, "we MUST do something about that."

I risk taking a look at Snape. He is leaning back in his chair looking like an owl that has just caught a particularly juicy mouse. "I agree," he says in a tone that is practically an audible manifestation of his sneer, "what shall we do with Mr. Potter?"

"Do with him," Professor Sprout interjects, "you mean do FOR him. I had not realized all of this .... It is DREADFUL!" She shakes her head vigorously, causing the various blossoms on her overlarge hat to dance fitfully.

I relax and let out a breath. I had my doubts about Sprout, to be honest. Her memory of Cedric Diggory is strong, but lately I have sensed her to be a little resentful of my concern for Harry's welfare. Hufflepuff House gets little notice or glory, and from time to time a streak of jealousy does manifest. I had gambled on her kind heart and basic sense of fairness, and I have won. The initial crisis point has passed.

Flitwick nods in agreement. "It is indeed dreadful, Professor Sprout. I feel for the boy as much as anyone. But this is a very serious matter." He drums his fingers on the table, a sign I have learned over the years of inner turmoil. Flitwick is as kind as Sprout, but has the Ravenclaw's love of logic and clarity. He is giving off waves of unhappiness.

Severus, however, is in his glory. "Serious puts it mildly, Professor Flitwick. We are talking of an Unforgivable Curse."

"An attempted Unforgivable, Severus," I correct softly.

Sprout's eyes narrow. She cares little for Severus

//Surprise there.//

and as I hoped, her love of Cedric Diggory and her innate decency are rapidly overcoming any feelings of jealousy concerning Harry's "privileged" status.

"Are you suggesting, Professor Snape," Sprout asks coldly, "that we turn the child over to the Ministry? To Cornelius Fudge?" I doubt the name of a dessert has ever been pronounced with such venom at this table before.

"I am merely saying, Professor Sprout," Snape replies at his most unctuous, "that all aspects of the situation must be considered."

"I am sorry to say I agree," Flitwick says miserably. "There are serious legal and ethical questions here."

"I agree as well," I say softly.

Snape looks at me like someone who has received a shock from a muggle electric device. Distrust and alarm cross his features.

//"Snap," goes the trap.//

True, I think with a lack of charity that surprises myself, "snap" on Snape.

"I anticipated that we might need to examine these issues," I continue, "so I asked Professor Binns to do some quick research on the precedents and background."

"The legal issues surrounding use of Unforgivables are common knowledge," Snape says coldly.

"That is an overstatement Professor," Binns interjects for the first time. He has drawn his spectral presence up and assumed a lecturing position. Minerva groans softly and Flitwick looks at the ghost with a smile on his face that appeared pained. "In fact, as with most historical matters, loose talk and insufficient attention to detail and facts have clouded public understanding to the point of creating an potpourri of incorrect understandings."

"Do go on, Professor Binns," I encourage. Sprout and Pomfrey both join Minerva in groaning. Both Binns and I steadfastly ignore them.

"Well, first of all," the ghost continues, "the term Unforgivable is a loose designation that has only been given some decree of clarity in the last three decades. Its roots probably lie in the Middle Ages with a group of spells that were known as 'Infernal Curses' due to their presumptive demonic origin. These included..."

"I am sure that is very interesting Professor," I interject, "but at this point brevity would be more helpful than comprehensiveness."

"As you say, Headmaster," Binns actually sounded hurt. But he skipped forward, "I suppose the point is that the so called Unforgivables have, in fact, historically proven to be anything but."

"How is that, Professor?" Minerva asked, trying to move Binns along a strategic path we have pre-arranged.

He rises to the bait wonderfully. "First off, the category is very vague until, as I say, relatively recent decisions of law. It first appeared in 1731 with regard to the Mentis Curse, an ancestor of the Imperious. That is an interesting circumstance..."

I clear my throat loudly.

"Uh, oh, in any case, the Imperious was the first to be included, followed by the Cruciatus. The Killing Curse was not officially declared Unforgivable until its use for executions was discontinued in 1958."

"Hmmm," Flitwick's eyes are shining as he senses a puzzle. Excellent! I had hoped his Ravenclaw proclivities would be piqued. "But what do you mean when you say that the Unforgivables are anything but?"

"Just that, Professor," Binns replies pompously, placing his hand on a largish stack of books resting near him on the table. "Exceptions are numerous and well-recorded. For instance the use of the Killing Curse during time of war is explicitly allowed, although to be sure debate rages as to exactly what conditions must be met before such a state of war can actually be said to exist. Similarly, in a famous case in 1931, that of Ministry of Magic v. Kennerhan, it was decided by the Wizengamot that use of an Imperious Curse to prevent a murder was not considered to fall in the area of Unforgivability."

"I am not aware, however," Severus says with a cold sneer, "that there are such exceptions for the Cruciatus."

"No, there are not," Binns allows, "not for a successful Cruciatus. But an attempted Cruciatus is another story."

"The Wizengamot has never..." Severus begins with a snarl.

"No, the Wizengamot has not," Binns says unperturbed. When he gathers momentum very few things can derail one of our esteemed historians lectures. "However, there is another case that applies. I have taken the liberty of making copies." He passes out pieces of parchment filled with close-set and official-looking writing. "In 1988, the Supreme Court of the American Wizarding State decided the case of a failed Cruciatus Curse arising in the context of a Quodpot game in Michigan. Evidently a player deliberately fouled a member of the opposing team, causing serious injury. The injured players brother, one Alexander Houdini Murgatroyd, snapped a Cruciatus at the offending party. The Cruciatus failed and Murgatroyd was taken into custody and found guilty. This is a copy of the majority decision, authored by Mr. Justice Begay."

I smile at the image the name brings to mind. The last time I saw Jefferson Begay he was cursing roundly after losing a bet on a Sasquatch weightlifting tournament. The old Navajo is colorful, foul-mouthed, and utterly brilliant when it comes to legal argument and interpretation.

Despite the fact that we all have copies of the decision in the case of Wizarding State v. Murgatroyd in front of us, Binns insists on reading it aloud:

"Per curiam," Binns explained, "is a legal term meaning by order of the entire court, it...

"I am aware of what it means!" Snape is almost snarling now.

//Ah, he senses the jaws of the trap about to spring down hard.//

"I fail to see," Snape continued, "what a decision of an American court has to do with this matter."

"A very great deal actually," Binns replied calmly. "While it is true that decisions of the Supreme Court of the American Wizarding State do not have the force of formal precedent in Britain, it is well recognized that Anglo-American Wizarding Law, like its Muggle equivalent, springs from common principles and historical roots. Especially in matters of basic equity, as opposed to technical interpretation, decisions of the Supreme Court are often referenced as justificatory guidelines for judgments of the Wizengamot and vice versa. This particular opinion by Mr. Justice Begay was referenced by the Wizengamot as recently as 1993, in regard to a failed Imperious Curse in the context of spousal abuse. Let me see," Binns flips through a book quickly, "the presiding judge was...."

"Albus Dumbledore," I finish for him. "Yes I remember that. The Darkstone Case. Most upsetting."

Severus lets out a sound like he has just been punched in the gut.

//And there goes the noose around dear Professor Snape's throat. I wonder how long it will take before he realizes that he can't breathe?//

Knowing Snape, longer than one would think.

Flitwick is beaming and rubbing his hands in delight. "Excellent, excellent!"

"Excellent?" If that word could kill, Flitwick would be dust. As it is Snape is clenching his own hands together so tightly that I wonder he does not break his fingers.

"Yes dear fellow," Flitwick pats Snape's arm, "nothing could be clearer! Mr. Potter's situation is most definitely addressed in Justice Begay's opinion!"

If Jefferson Begay were within reach I would kiss him.

"He is a minor and was certainly under extreme stress" Flitwick continued. "What would you say Madame Pomfrey?"

Poppy has been listening with alternating boredom and amusement. Now she smiles her small, tight smile and speaks for the first time. "I would say that, given the events of the evening at the Ministry, Mr. Potter's emotional state falls well within the category of extreme stress. I have no doubt the Wizengamot would concur."

"We have no guarantee that the Wizengamot would rely on this opinion..." Snape begins. Yes indeed, like a dog worrying at a bone.

"I think we do." Sprout's voice is cool, but her eyes are amused. "Have you forgotten, Severus? Albus has just been re-appointed as presiding judge of the Wizengamot."

Snape makes a choking sound.

//You are right. He managed to ignore the noose longer than one would think.//

"Certainly Professor Dumbledore would have to recuse himself..."

"Not at all, Professor," Binns' dry voice interjects. "Judges on the Wizengamot must recuse themselves if they are personally involved in a given affair or have a conflict of interest. Merely having previously stated opinions on a subject, or having produced a decision in an affair, do not constitute conflict of interest. If they did, Minister Fudge could not have presided over Mr. Potter's trial this past August."

I honestly think Severus might explode.

"Besides," Professor Sprout is now looking at Snape with flat dislike, "I see no reason that the Wizengamot should be bothered with this affair."

"Nor do I, Professor," Flitwick says cheerfully. "Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Headmaster, so that we can get all the possible tangles tied up. But I think this is clearly a matter for counseling. I suggest we leave it in the hands of Professor McGonagall as Head of Gryffindor, under your supervision of course Headmaster, and with the advice and aid of Madame Pomfrey."

"I agree," Sprout says decisively.

Minerva nods, as does Poppy.

Severus sinks back in his chair and almost growls.

Severus, I have given you more than ample opportunity to exit this affair gracefully.

Within me the thing in my heart emits a series of short and not very nice laughs.

"Still," I say, "that disgraceful episode in August over Harry's encounter with the Dementors shows that one cannot count on the good sense of the Ministry. If it were to come before the court, a record of our discussions would be most useful."

"Of course dear chap, of course!" Flitwick beams. "Let's have a decision drawn up and we can affix the House Seals!" He gestures at the amulet he is wearing. Sprout smiles and signals her concurrence with a wave of her hand.

"I rather thought we might want to have something written. In this case it would be best if we used a live secretary, don't you think?" Sounds of approval from everyone except Severus. Enchanted quills have their uses, but for official purposes hand-transcription is often preferred. "I took the liberty of having someone stand by just in case we decided to draw up a formal document."

Severus looks like he wants to spit acid.

Severus, if you had only been reasonable this morning. But that just isn't in your nature, is it?

//Reasonable people generally do not have careers as Deatheaters, Professor. No matter how brief.//

True.

I reach for a small chime similar to one of those in my office. After a few moments the door swings open to admit Iris. For the occasion she has changed from her normal apparel into a rather becoming tweed outfit complete with a jaunty hat cocked on one side of her head. She carries a muggle briefcase in one hand. However, the feather duster held in her other hand spoils the effect just a bit.

"You is calling, Master Albus?"

"Yes Iris. As I thought, we need a document prepared. Would you mind?"

"Of course Iris is not minding, Master Albus." She strolls up to the table and scrambles onto an empty chair. As their are no more cushions available, she simply remains standing, which puts her at about the same height as Flitwick. After making several vigorous passes at the surface of the table with her feather duster, she places the briefcase down and begins to carefully take out parchment, ink, and quills.

"Iris is being ready, Master Albus."

"I really must object, Headmaster," Snape has sucked in his cheeks so severely he resembles a skeleton. His voice actually hisses past his teeth. "It is not at all appropriate that a House Elf be party to faculty discussions, especially on such a sensitive topic."

"Iris is completely trustworthy," I answer coldly. "And she has a great deal of experience with regard to subjects of this kind."

"Experience?" Snape raises his eyebrows so high they nearly disappear under his hairline. "What kind of experience? Did she make beds for a Dark Wizard?"

"How is Professor Severus knowing?" Iris answers brightly before I can respond.

"Pardon?" Snape shoots me a final glance of disapproval then shifts his attention to Iris, whom he regards with the same expression he probably uses for a potion ingredient he is about to chop into small bits.

"How is Professor Severus knowing about that? Of course, he was not HIM," Iris shudders dramatically then, "just nasty Tom Riddle."

Snape looks completely confused as do the other members of the staff. I have never told them this particular story.

//Oh how delightfully droll.//

Do us both a large favor Tom and pretend you are suffering from a silencing curse.

"Tom Riddle?" Sprout asks, her voice hovering between amusement and amazement.

"Yes, Iris is being in charge of cleaning Slytherin boys' dormitory back then. Iris is knowing that Tom Riddle is nasty boy." She shakes her head sadly. "When poor Miss Myrtle is dying Iris is being sure nasty Tom has something to do with it. She is trying to warn silly Headmaster Dippet. But silly headmaster is no listening. Is saying Iris is making things up. Is giving Iris clothes." The good elf does not seem put out in the slightest by the memory of the injustice. "Is working out OK though. As soon as Iris is freed she is going to warn Master Albus."

Indeed she did. Her visit was the first confirmation that someone besides myself had an uncomfortable feeling about Tom Riddle.

//Done in by the maid. Oh my.//

"Master Albus is needing someone to clean and fix his pretty things. So Iris is going to work for him as personal elf."

Most of the staff are watching the elf with various levels of surprise. Severus, however, goes on the attack.

"How DARE you! What do you mean insulting a Hogwarts Headmaster?!"

"Iris is not insulting Headmaster Dippet," the elf says with a casual shrug, "is only telling truth. Headmaster is being good man, but like a lot of wizards, is being thick in head. So is doing stupid things."

"And what makes you think you are qualified to judge Headmaster Dippet's actions?" Severus glares at Iris with narrowed eyes.

"Is Professor Severus reading newspaper lately?" Iris responds easily.

A choking sound comes from the end of the table. I look over to see Professor Sprout, as red as a strawberry from suppressed laughter, fighting hard not to guffaw. Beyond her Poppy is grinning like I have seldom seen, and even Phineus Nigellus in his portrait has his hands over his mouth to hide a smile.

"Professor Binns," I interject, having to use a good deal of willpower to keep my own voice from shaking with mirth, "would you do the honors of dictating our findings?"

"Certainly Headmaster," Binns replies. Is it my imagination, or does even he have a new trace of warmth in his tone?

If he does, it is soon lost as Binns, in his glory, drones out several paragraphs summarizing our "consensus" opinion in suitably high-sounding jargon, occasionally aided by interjections from Flitwick. Iris quickly copies the dictation in her clear hand, the quill magically transferring her markings to several other parchment sheets resting on the table nearby.

After several minutes Iris puts the final flourish on the closely written document and holds up a small pile of copies. "Is being ready to sign, Master Albus."

"A dozen copies?" Snape sounds like he would love to tear someone limb from limb.

"Yes," I say. "Our recent experience with the ministry has impressed me with the ... eccentricities ... of government when it comes to manipulating paperwork. We have a copy for each House, two for the Headmaster's files, three for the ministry, and three for the Wizengamot." I beam in Severus direction, trying to plead with him through my eyes not to make things in harder on himself. "Of course, it is to be hoped that those last six will never have to be filed."

"And why should they be more dear fellow, why should they be?" Flitwick cries merrily. "Pass them around Iris and we will get them all signed and sealed." He detaches the Ravenclaw seal from its chain, while Sprout readies the badger seal of Hufflepuff. Minerva quietly removes the Gryffindor seal from a pocket of her robes.

I look at Snape, who is now openly fuming. Has he defied me yet again? The letters I sent to each of the House Heads this afternoon, including Severus, specifically instructed them to bring their House seals. Finally he reaches into an interior pocket and produces the serpent seal of Slytherin House.

"It strikes me," Severus says suddenly, "that in affairs of this nature a minority report is often included. Are we sure that all points of view are represented in this...document?"

//Oh ho. Good move.//

Yes, and one I had not anticipated.

"Do you mean you have another opinion, dear fellow?" Flitwick asks.

"Yes I do," Snape says vehemently. "Frankly I think we are using very questionable reasoning here. Letting Mr. Potter off the hook just because some Apache judge"

Navajo, Severus, Navajo.

"thinks he can make fine distinctions. That is a decision for the Wizengamot, not us."

"So Severus, you think Mr. Potter should go to Azkaban?" Poppy has lost her grin rapidly.

"I think that I cannot endorse such an irresponsible act as is being proposed here! We are talking about cavalierly throwing out Wizarding tradition!"

"Scarcely that," Flitwick says. "After all, there is plentiful precedent, as Professor Binns has provided."

"Who are we to decide that?" Severus is nearly yelling. "Let Mr. Potter take his chances with the court! That is what it is for."

Silence descends on the room. I put on my wisest expression and try desperately to think of some way to salvage the situation.

Luckily I don't have to.

"That would not be a good idea Severus." Professor Sprout is still red, but this time from anger rather than joy.

"To send Potter to the Wizengamot. I think it would be a VERY good idea!" Severus sniffs like someone caught in the midst of a suddenly discovered garbage heap.

"No, it would not be a good idea for you to refuse to sign." She smiles, and I am taken aback by her expression. Sprout is the most good-hearted of souls, but suddenly she reminds me of one of her carnivorous trees. I am reminded of just how high her esteem for Cedric Diggory had been. "If you were to do so people might observe that all of the Deatheaters involved in the Ministry affair were Slytherins - including Bellatrix and of course .... Tom Riddle."

Severus looks like he has been slapped. "Are you implying that I am speaking for House prejudice?"

"I don't think she is saying that at all, Severus." Flitwick's voice is uncharacteristically hard. His eyes glitter like marbles. "She is only reviewing the facts. And the fact is, Severus, that allowing this decision to go forward without the Slytherin House seal would not look very good. No it would not look very good at all."

Et tu Flitwick? Snape's expression says.

Severus looks at me with poison in his glare. I simply return his gaze steadily. He opens his mouth.

Don't do it, Severus.

He closes it with an audible snap. Finally he picks up a quill and scrawls his signature on the bottom of the closest copy of the decree, affixing the Slytherin seal next to his name.

Within a few minutes all of the Heads of House have signed and sealed the documents. I draw the Great Seal of Hogwarts from an inner pocket and slap it forcefully onto each of the twelve copies. The seal magically imprints itself onto the parchment next to my name.

And it is done.

I hand each of he Heads a copy (Severus looks like his burns his fingers) and pass the remainder over to Iris, who secrets them in her briefcase. The staff rises. It is late, and there is much to do still to bring the school year to a complete close.

As he leaves Severus turns to look at me and once again seems about to speak. Once again he finally closes his jaws forcefully.

I am so very sorry Severus. But if you will not be reasonable, I must draw your fangs.

Severus finally spins on his heel and stalks out.

Minerva remains for a few moments more, looking at me wordlessly, plainly offering to talk if I need to. I consider it, but then smile at her sadly and shake my head. Her face shows she understands. Sometimes there is just little to say.

Finally it is just Iris and myself.

"That is not going so well, is it Master Albus?" Iris looks at the door and sighs.

"No, it did not Iris. But I could not hope that it would."

But I had hoped that it would. I had hoped that Severus would finally back down short of more humiliation.

Severus, I do care for you, I really do.

That does not mean, however, that I am prepared to allow him to threaten Harry.

"Is anything I can do for you, Master Albus?"

Yes. Get Harry another childhood and Severus another life.

"No, Iris, oh wait," I hold up one finger as she prepares to go, "do leave a note for me on my desk, would you?"

"Of course, Master Albus, about what?"

"I need to send a message to America. I want to know when Jefferson Begay would be available to give some lectures on wizarding law."