The Staff of Orkney

Chapter V

Neville’s Plight

 
Harry couldn’t help but feel slightly proud of being the new captain for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. However, it was not all rewards. He suddenly found himself with a new load of responsibility. Coupled with the O.W.L.s. exams in the spring, the year looked like it would be a very difficult one.

The first problem he encountered was finding a new player to take Wood’s place before the next game. So that evening after practice, he made a poster and hung it in the Gryffindor common room asking for anyone who wished to try out, to come to the field on Saturday. Naturally, it caused a great stir and many interrupted Harry while he attempted to finish his homework.

“You’ve never really seen me fly, have you Harry?” Ron broke out on Thursday evening. “I’m going to try. D’you think I should?”

Harry looked up from a textbook on ancient runes. Ron had been asking him the same questions all week. “If you want to try, go ahead,” Harry replied, pushing the boring book away from him with a yawn. “I’m going to go out on the field on Saturday and see who plays Quidditch best as a keeper. That’s what we need right now, and when I saw you playing back in the field behind your house, you seemed to be better as a beater. You may want to wait and try out for a beater position next year.”

“But do you think I should try anyway?”

Hermione let out an irritable sigh. She was tired of hearing the same thing over again as well. “Oh, Ron. For Pete’s sake! Just go and try on Saturday.”

“But I don’t know. I don’t have a good broom. What if I make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t make a fool of yourself. And if you do, at least you can say that you tried and we can all stop hearing about it.” Hermione stood her book up on end to discourage any more conversation.

Ron frowned and looked down at his own books.

“Hermione…”

Hermione slammed the book down. “What? I’ve been trying to study!” she exclaimed but quickly became red in the face when she realized that the meek voice had not been Ron trying to be silly. “Oh, Neville. I’m so sorry. It’s just these two have been bothering me all evening.”

“Well, I’ll ask you another time…”

“Oh no. Go ahead. Tell me what you need.”

Neville paused and stared down at some books that he carried. “Well…” he started. “I…um…I need help doing some research.”

Hermione smiled. “For what class?”

It seemed to Harry and Ron that Neville was slightly shaking.

“It’s not for a class,” he replied. “I need to know about one of the professors,” and he set the books he carried down on the table.

“What professor?” asked Hermione as she flipped through the various books on history and one on mages’ staffs.

“P…P…Professor LeSal. Salazar Snape.”

Both Ron and Harry gawked at him.

“What for?” Harry wanted to know. “He’s not that bad. He’s nothing like Old Snape.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool,” Ron added. “What d’you need to know about him?”

Neville suddenly looked pale like he did the first day of school. “It’s his staff,” he said firmly.

“What about it?” Ron demanded to know.

Neville grabbed the book on the staffs. “It says, and Hermione said, that there’s not many wizards left who use a mage’s staff.”

“Soooo,” said Ron when Neville paused.

Neville threw the book down, “Well, I heard that You-Know—that Voldemort had a close follower who used one…and that he…and he…” He sat down into the chair next to Hermione. “I never told you, but my…my mum and dad were…were put in St. Mungo’s by some…some of his followers.”

Harry was shocked to finally hear this from Neville, and Hermione and Ron just stared.

“So you’re connecting LeSal having a staff with a follower of Voldemort?” Harry said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence.

Neville bit his lip and slammed his fist down on the table as he nodded.

Never had they seen him in such a mood and Harry couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He wanted to tell Neville that his parents had been tortured after Voldemort’s downfall, after the Snapes had already been working for the Ministry but that would let on that he had found out about the truth of Neville’s parents. That he knew that they were in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies, completely insane from torture, and he didn’t wish Neville to know how much he already had found out.

“Surely not Professor LeSal,” Ron finally said. “Now perhaps Old Snape…”

Harry found an opening. “No,” he broke in. Then he stopped himself. He thought back to the discussion Dumbledore had had with Snape at the end of last year and about what he had heard over the weekend. Letting out the truth about the Snapes could cause it to fall upon the wrong ears. “I don’t think LeSal could do a thing like that. Besides, Dumbledore trusts him.”

“He trusts him because Snape does,” Hermione pointed out. “And how good of a judge on someone’s character do you think Snape is? Plus, he’s been hiding over at Durmstrang all these years. And what Hagrid told us…” They all exchanged glances before Hermione said, “Alright, Neville, I’ll help you. I’m sure we can dig up something on his past. Especially if he’s an animagi as Malfoy said. I believe I ran across something on a dragon when I was researching about Rita Skeeter.”

“I’d like to help too,” Harry found himself saying. The things that Hermione pointed out were beginning to make him doubt his initial feelings. “I’d like to find out.”

* * * * *

The following day after classes, Hermione and Ron went to the library to help Neville while Harry decided to visit Sirius and Lupin. He had been eager to see Sirius ever since he saw him briefly in Dumbledore’s office. It was also his feeling that he would be able to settle the question about LeSal.

He felt somewhat jittery upon stepping through the mirror in the front hall that led into the staff’s quarters. For a long time he just stared at the mirror. Stared at his own reflection, but finally gathered his courage and lifting one leg up over the bottom of the frame, stuck it into the mirror. It felt like dipping his leg into water only the other side was not wet. He plunged all the way through.

Even though he had permission to be there, he felt as if he were breaking into someplace where he shouldn’t be. However, he soon stopped worrying and looked around in awe. It was as if he had just walked through the great doors at the entrance of Hogwarts. The Great Hall was ahead, there were stairs to his left and right with suits of armor standing guard. The staff quarters were the mirror image of the school.

So far, he didn’t see anyone and he decided to find the Snapes’ apartment as quickly as possible before he ran into anyone. Then he realized he didn’t know where it was. Perhaps, since Professor Snape was head of Slytherin House, his apartment would be close to where the Slytherin Common Room and dorms were. He shuddered at the thought and started to walk slowly toward the Great Hall.

It was decorated like a common room with sitting chairs around the fireplace and tables where papers and books were strewn out. Professor Binns was taking a quill madly to some student papers, dipping it every-so-often in red ink. He was too busy to take notice of Harry, but then someone did spy him.

“Harry?” came Trelawney’s voice from one of the armchairs at the fireside. Harry stopped and cringed. “Oh, yes. I remember now. The headmaster told me that you might be seen here. I am dearly sorry about your cousin,” Trelawney said in her deep, wispy voice. “Of course, I saw it coming, but after all that happened last year, I didn’t want to upset you further, dear.”

“My cousin?” Harry said, puzzled.

“Yes my dear, that is why you are here, is it not? Dumbledore said that with your troubles with your family at home, especially your ill cousin, that you seek the support of some of us.”

“Oh,” said Harry, catching on. “Right.” He looked down at the floor and stuck his hands into the pockets of his robes. “I do appreciate the staff here for trying to help.”

“Ah, it is nothing. Now who is it you wish to see? Hmm?”

“Uh…” Harry wanted to laugh at whom he had to name. “The Snapes, Professor.”

Trelawney raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure, Potter? Perhaps I can help you instead. Severus is hardly the most understanding…”

“I actually wish to see LeSal,” interrupted Harry.

“Oh, yes, well, he’s somewhat better, but… frankly, I don’t…”

“It’s a guy thing,” Harry said quickly. This, as he supposed it would, cut Trelawney short.

Trelawney’s face fell and she said blandly. “Then perhaps you do need to see him. But I can’t help you. I don’t know what dark bat cave Severus hangs around in. I know they’re somewhere downstairs, but as if I ever set foot down there. Not a good place for the flow of positive…”

“For Heaven’s sake!” Professor Sinistra had been sitting over by the fire as well and she had gotten out of her chair. “I know where they live. I’ll take the boy.” She seemed slightly irritated with Trelawney.

“Are you sure?” Trelawney began.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Sinistra snapped.

“Are you certain, Harry?” Trelawney continued, “Perhaps you can speak with Professor Flitwick…”

“No thank you,” Harry assured. “I do need to speak with Professor LeSal, but thanks anyway,” and he suddenly found himself being pulled along by Professor Sinistra.

“So who told you that you could come into the staff’s quarters?” Sinistra demanded to know after they had left Trelawney far behind. They were heading down a flight of stairs exactly like the ones that he and Ron had gone down following Draco Malfoy three years earlier while under the disguise of Polyjuice. Harry wished to ask how it could be that there could be an exact copy of the school within itself but Professor Sinistra did not seem very open to conversation.

She was tall and thin, and she wore her dark hair straight, down the middle of her back. Harry didn’t know much about Professor Sinistra other than no one ever spoke ill of her—yet he had never heard anyone say anything good either. He soon found it suspicious that she knew the way down to the Slytherin dungeon so well.

After they had made their way down several dark, dimly torch lit corridors, Professor Sinistra stopped at an old wooden door. She lifted the silver knocker several times and waited.

There was a rustling sound and after a moment. Professor LeSal’s voice yelled through the door. “Who is it?” He sounded unusually grouchy. He seemed to be cursing and scolding someone or something.

“It’s me, Florence,” Sinistra replied.

The door opened a crack. “Scuse me, but you’ll haveta wait a minute. Pixy problem. Can’t have them getting out now,” and he slammed the door shut. There was soon a great deal of thumping.

“You’ve got that right,” Harry heard Sinistra say under her breath.

Harry was reminded of Professor Lockhart, but it was only a minute or two before the curses in the room ended and the door opened again.

A very disheveled LeSal stood in the doorway, his hair down and wild about his face. He was wearing large baggy trousers with a sash and a full-sleeved shirt that seemed to Harry to have a distinct Russian flavor. “Sorry ‘bout that. Got them for my second year students. Terrible little creatures. What can I do for you Florence? If you’ve come to see Severus, he’s not here right now.”

“I’m not here to speak with Severus,” she sounded rather offended. “There’s a student that I found wandering around the staff quarters looking for you.”

“A student?” LeSal said in bewilderment. “What in the name of Merlin’s beard would a student want to see me here…” He opened the door slightly wider and spotted Harry. “Oh! Harry—yes, sorry. Why don’t you come in?”

“LeSal,” Sinistra demanded to know, “what’s the meaning of this? Students aren’t allowed…”

“He is,” LeSal interrupted. “Special permission from the headmaster.”

“Dumbledore’s allowing this?” said Sinistra in disbelief.

“Yup,” replied LeSal simply, and then he yawned. It was obvious that he had been napping before the pixie incident. His clothes were wrinkled and he had a sleepy tear hanging in the corner of an eye. “Thank you very much for bringing him,” he added before ushering Harry in and closing the door on Sinistra.

“You shouldn’t have come down here like this,” Professor LeSal immediately scolded.

“I thought it would be all right,” Harry began.

LeSal frowned. “Next time, come to me and I’ll take you down here.” He kicked aside some papers as he made his way across the room.

The front room they were in was interesting enough. One side was a complete disaster. There were books and parchment littered everywhere. Several large stacks of papers had toppled over and appeared to be oozing toward the other side of the room that was by far neater. The shelves were orderly; the books were even in alphabetical order. Then there were jars. Jars filled with hideous things like Harry had seen only unpleasantly before in Old Snape’s office. The jars were on both sides of the room, only there were fewer on the messy side. One was tipped over and the lid had fallen off. Harry hoped that it was supposed to be empty. Nearby was a desk buried beneath what looked to be a recent assignment that Harry’s class in Defense Against the Dark Arts had just completed. On the wall, there was a poster that Harry had to smile at. It was of the Bulgarian Quidditch Team. He inspected it closer and realized that it was signed by all of the players.

“Most of the team are former students of mine,” LeSal pointed out, seeing what Harry was staring at. “They went to the World Cup last year.”

“I know,” Harry said, excited to be speaking about Quidditch to a professor. “I got to go.”

“Really? I wish I could have gone, but…” LeSal’s voice faltered before he said, “Did you get to see Krum? You’re a seeker, right? How about his Wronskei Feint?”

“I got to see it. It was spectacular! I’ve been waiting over a year to try…” Harry stopped, for he remembered that Professor LeSal would be refereeing the game and no matter how friendly he seemed right now, he undoubtedly favored the Slytherins.

LeSal had begun to search through the mess for something and Harry wondered whether he had heard or not until he said over his shoulder, “It’s all right, Harry. I won’t tell Draco, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Harry sighed with relief, then he ventured to say, “A lot of us have been worried about the games this year.”

“Why is that?” LeSal asked as he leaned over a box full of magazines.

“Well…” Harry tried to decide upon the best way to say it. He had to wait, though, for LeSal suddenly jumped up and ran out of the room. He came back carrying his staff. He pointed it at the box, there was a flash of blue light, and he reached over and plucked a limp pixie from the box. Carefully, he placed it in an aquarium where other pixies rushed to its side. It shortly got up and began making angry gestures through the glass.

“Well, that’s what you get when you get into my Quidditch Quarterlies,” said LeSal firmly before leaning back over the box and pulling out a magazine. He flipped through it then bent back the cover. “Here you go, Harry. I thought you might like to see this.”

Harry looked down at the article and read: “Spotlight: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Does Potter Have Potential? Gryffindor House seeker, James Potter reviewed for place on the National Team, England.”

“Wow,” Harry said softly. “Where’d you get this?”

“I’ve been collecting copies of Quidditch Quarterly for years,” LeSal explained. “You can keep that one if you want.”

“Can I?” Harry asked in disbelief. He stared at a picture of a young man in red Quidditch robes attempting to smooth out untidy hair.

“Sure,” LeSal replied offhandedly. He waited until Harry had finished reading the article before adding, “Severus keeps threatening to destroy that copy anyway, so it’s yours to keep.”

“Because of this?” asked Harry, looking up.

“Not just that.” LeSal reached over and turned a page. “Because of this as well.”

Harry read: “Slytherins Sunk Once Again: Foul Play leads to Forfeit.”

“Oh,” said Harry, “I can see…”

“Read on,” LeSal prompted.

“The Slytherin team was forced to forfeit to the Gryffindors in the final match after the disgraceful behavior of the Slytherin beaters that led to the injury of two players. ‘Draco just suddenly turned into a dragon,’ said Lily Evans, friend to one of the injured players about one of the Slytherin beaters. ‘Then he viciously attacked James just as he was about to catch the snitch.’”

Harry looked up at LeSal who was busy studying his staff. Harry continued: “After Mr. Salazar ‘Draco’ Snape, (the Slytherin beater), transfigured into a wyvern and attacked the Gryffindor seeker, the other beater, (allegedly his cousin, Severus Snape), took the opportunity to violently direct a bludger at another player’s head. ‘These two have been playing dirty long enough,’ said Minerva McGonagall, assistant headmistress at Hogwarts. ‘And they will be properly dealt with.’ She also informed us that the boy who turned himself into a wyvern has done so once before and was threatened with expulsion if he did so again. Both Gryffindor players were treated for their injuries and are swiftly recovering.”

Harry couldn’t believe what he just read. LeSal attacked his father? Professor Snape played Quidditch? He had to read it again.

“So perhaps that’s why you’ve worried about Quidditch this year?” LeSal prompted.

“Huh?” said Harry.

“You said that a lot of the students are worried about the games. It’s because of me, right?”

Harry looked a little sheepish. “Well, you did play on the Slytherin team—and your name. I have to tell you that a name like Salazar Snape makes the other house teams nervous.”

“I suppose it would,” LeSal agreed, leaning comfortably against his desk with his arms crossed. “But, Harry. People change. I’ve had a lot happen to me. I’m not that person anymore,” and he pointed to the magazine Harry held. “And as for my name. I had absolutely no decision in that matter.”

They stared at each other for a while before Harry commented, “You could change it.”

“Ah, that I could,” LeSal nodded. “But then again, sometimes it’s good to keep things around that remind us of our past so that we don’t repeat our mistakes.” He suddenly looked away from Harry over to the doorway. “Sirius! Just in time. Mr. Potter’s come to visit you.”

Harry whirled around to see Sirius looking carefully around.

“Is Severus around?”

“Severus? No,” LeSal replied cheerfully. “He’s off playing with his little potions kit right now. You’re safe.”

Sirius frowned deeply. “I needed to talk with him.”

LeSal put a hand to his head. “Would you mind waiting? I’m enjoying the relative peace and quiet this afternoon. Don’t go and ruin it, I’m still suffering from a headache.”

Sirius did not look amused. “It’s about Remus.”

“Oh,” LeSal suddenly looked more serious. “He needs his potion?”

Sirius nodded.

“Right then. That might be what Severus is doing. I’ll go check. If he’s not and can’t be interrupted, I can make it.”

“Are you certain?” Sirius sounded skeptical.

LeSal stood up straight and gripped his staff. He said, sounding offended, “If I said I can, I can.”

“It’s a dangerous potion to make…”

“I’ve made it. I lived in Canada and the States where they’ve got problems with werewolves more than we do here.” He then lightened up a bit. “As much as I like Remus,” and he didn’t say it too convincingly, “after all this is over, he should try teaching at Nadenboush or St. Cuthbert’s. They’re much more accepting over there of his type.”

“I’ll tell him,” Sirius said blandly as LeSal finally left.

Right as he left, Harry suddenly realized who LeSal had reminded him of. As he stood that moment by Sirius with his hair down, Harry thought back to the picture that he had of his parents’ wedding that showed Sirius, a much younger Sirius.

“Let me tell you, Harry. These living quarters have become more and more cramped lately…” Sirius stopped himself and looked down at Harry. “Well, anyway, it’s good to see you.”

Harry smiled and looked around. “How is living with the Snapes?”

Sirius glowered. “That’s not funny. I know part of the reason Dumbledore is making us stay in this bat cave is just so we’ll learn to work together better, but I think it’s making things worse.”

“I’d think I’d rather room with a dragon or a huge spider than Professor Snape, but LeSal doesn’t seem so bad,” Harry commented.

“It’s Salazar I’m worried about,” and Sirius looked over at a birdcage on Professor Snape’s side of the room where a black bird sat, and he led Harry out of the room and down a hall to the back room of the apartment. “Harry, I don’t trust him. For right now, I’d like you to stay away from him as much as possible.”

“What?” Harry was completely taken aback by this. “But he’s my professor—hired by Dumbledore.”

“I know…but…just watch him. I don’t know what he’s playing at right now but…just keep your distance.”

Harry found this disturbing. “What’s so wrong with him?” There were times when he had to admit that Sirius had spent far too much time in Azkaban to have a good sense of a situation. A lot of things had changed those twelve years he spent there.

“I knew him as a child, Harry. And he was dangerous. Not the bullying type, like Severus, Wilkes, and Rosier, who took every chance they got to be loud and convince us they were dangerous. No, he was the type who hid in the shadows waiting for you to come to him.”

They stepped into a small room, somewhat brighter than the others but sparsely furnished. A tall chair stood over by the window where Lupin sat, fast asleep with a book on his lap. They closed the door and spoke a little lower.

“What did he do that was terrible besides turning into a dragon?” Harry had to ask. He opened up the magazine that he had just received to the part pertaining to LeSal. Sirius looked it over.

“Ah, I remember that. Couldn’t forget it. James—your father got some terrible burns from that monster and then Frank Longbottom was the one whom Severus clobbered.”

“I never knew Severus, Professor Snape, played Quidditch,” Harry had to find out about this. He was also reminded of one of the reasons he had come to see Sirius: to help Hermione and Neville find information.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“But then how come he hated my father so much if he could play Quidditch himself? Was he good?”

“Yes. Severus and his cousin were very good players. Gave them all the more reason to hate your father. Felt he stole all the attention. Who would hate a good Quidditch player more than another player? But those two played dirty.”

Lupin stirred and they both looked over and once again lowered their voices.

“McGonagall even said that they cheated,” Harry informed.

They sat down on a couch on the opposite side of the room. Sirius began flipping through the copy of Quidditch Quarterly that he still held. He stopped and smiled when he came to the picture of James.

“Do you think my father might have played Quidditch for England?” Harry asked, looking back over that article yet again.

Sirius let out a sigh. “No. I remember when this happened—he was asked, but your father wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Sirius explained. “James was a very good man, too good to be a professional Quidditch player. He played here at Hogwarts because it was fun. He had no intention of making a career out of a sport. It wasn’t what he wanted. No, he preferred to go work for the Ministry.”

“The Ministry?” It suddenly came to Harry that no one had ever spoken of his father’s occupation. “What did he do for the Ministry?”

Sirius ran a hand over his face and was about to say something when Lupin finally awoke.

“Harry?” Lupin forced himself out of his chair and the book in his lap fell to the floor. “Why didn’t you wake me, Sirius?”

Sirius didn’t answer.

“So how are you?” Lupin said while stretching. “Hope everything’s going all right.”

“Just fine,” Harry replied, “or at least I believe so.”

“That’s good to hear,” and he moved across the room to a table covered with different bottles. He picked up several before deciding on one that was almost empty. “I need to ask Severus about making some more of my medicine,” he mumbled.

“It should already be taken care of,” Sirius informed. “I told Salazar and he went to go ask, or make it himself.”

Lupin turned around and knotted his brow. “He offered to make it, LeSal did?”

Sirius shrugged.

Lupin suddenly seemed very unhappy.

“Hey, if Salazar wants to get himself killed trying it, that’s his own fault and so much the better,” pointed out Sirius. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and he’ll take out Severus with him.”

“Sirius, please,” Lupin scolded. “Dumbledore is upset that we still can’t work together—and I know, I dislike them as well. But there’s times where you’re just as much a part of the problem as they are.”

“I doubt that,” Sirius said blandly. “Harry was just asking what was so bad about Salazar. Why don’t you tell him?”

For a while, Lupin appeared hesitant to say anything. Then he simply said, “He followed Severus around. You know Sirius, your father, and I clashed with the Slytherins. Of course we don’t like him much.”

“But he was still different,” Sirius said scornfully. “A whole lot worse than the others. Didn’t realize just how bad he was until we got out of school. He was too smart to get caught while we were students.”

“Sirius, please stop,” Lupin said heavily, “I’m tired of your grudges. You are as bad as Severus at times. Whether you wish to admit it or not.”

Sirius scowled but it seemed that the argument was over.

“I do have one question,” Harry finally managed to say. “It concerns the Longbottoms.”

All of a sudden, Sirius looked extremely dark, darker than usual, while Lupin rested his mouth on his fist.

“What about the Longbottoms?” Sirius demanded.

Harry thought at how best to phrase his question. “Neville, he believes that one of those who attacked his parents had a mage’s staff.”

At once, Lupin and Sirius turned and stared at one another.

“Neville said this?” Lupin looked very concerned.

Harry nodded. “Hermione and Ron are in the library right now trying to figure out if he could have been there that night,” he looked to Sirius for answers.

“I wouldn’t know, Harry,” Sirius admitted. “I was already in prison by then.”

“But I know,” Lupin said softly. He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. “I am sorry that you had to ask this.”

By the tone of Lupin’s voice, Harry became very worried. Professor LeSal possibly couldn’t have been one to torture the Longbottoms. He was already working for Dumbledore. And surely if he had, he wouldn’t be here teaching now. “But I thought the LeStranges and Crouch’s son were the ones who did that. And how could Dumbledore let LeSal work here if was guilty?”

“I’m not saying that he did,” said Lupin quickly. “I’m only going to tell you what I know.” He paused. He looked extremely tired. “The night the Longbottoms were attacked,” he began, “I was with Dumbledore, Moody, and Professor Snape, Severus Snape. As you know, it was shortly after Voldemort’s fall and we were concerned with rounding up the Death Eaters—and keeping an eye out for Voldemort. We were still uncertain as to exactly what happened. Well that night, it was Severus who informed us that something was wrong. LeSal was out, we didn’t know quite where, but the two Snapes had known each other long enough that they had what is known as a sympathetic magical link between them. One always had a good idea of the spells the other was using,” Lupin explained. “He realized something was wrong—but never said exactly what spells Salazar was casting to make him believe so. We followed him to the Longbottoms where it was of course too late. The Death Eaters had already escaped. Severus found Salazar while we attended to the Longbottoms.” Lupin seemed to have to stop here. Harry could only imagine how difficult of an event that would have been to force oneself to recall. “Salazar was found in Death Eater robes. He was unconscious and his staff lay on the other side of the room. Now we know he was still working as a spy but under the circumstances, the right thing for him to have done would have been for him to turn against Crouch and the Lestranges to save Frank and his wife.”

Harry though quickly. “But if he had, the Death Eaters would have killed him, not left him unconscious.”

“And so that night is still a sore spot between the Snapes and Dumbledore,” Lupin added.

“Which is yet another reason that leads me to believe that those two can’t be trusted,” Sirius growled. “They’ve got a whole slew of dirty secrets their hiding. I wouldn’t be surprised if that Salazar did torture the Longbottoms. And I wouldn’t put it past Severus to cover it up.”