Dumbledore's Secret

Chapter 1

Charlotte Richardson stood on the front steps of her mother's house for the first time in over eight years. No, not just her mother's house - it had been her house, too. But as she stared out into the tidy front yard, Charlotte felt a strange sense of detachment, almost as if the years she had spent here as a child had been little more than a faint dream. She turned and looked at the neatly trimmed ivy crawling up the red brick façade and mused that even in her old age, Guinevere Richardson made sure the house was well kept. Not a speck of chipped paint on the shutters or a spot of dirt on the window panes. "Once a neat freak, always a neat freak," she murmured, smiling sadly. How long had it been since she had been able to banter like that with her mother? Yet, she could still hear Guinevere's tart response: "I am not a freak, neat or any other variety!" Suddenly eager to make amends, if possible, Charlotte turned quickly to the front door and mrmured, "I'm so glad to be home."

"Well, isn't that sweet," a soft voice hissed nearby.

She looked around for the face to match the sneering words, but she saw no one. Nervously, she wrapped her fingers around the wand inside the deep pocket of her cargo pants.

The voice laughed. "What have you got there, girl? Do you think any of your muggle weapons can harm me?"

Pinpointing the location of the voice, she quickly withdrew her wand and called out, "Stupefy!"

She heard a loud thump, and she winced when she saw a stocky arm appear out of nowhere and land on her mother's prized petunias. Walking slowly toward the disembodied arm, she glanced around to see if any of the neighbors were nearby. Luckily, it was a scorching June day, and most North Carolinians knew well and good to stay inside their air conditioned homes on these hot afternoons. Crouching over the arm, she pulled away the invisibility cloak to uncover a short, slightly fat man. She studied his balding head, his double chin, his plain black robes. There seemed nothing remarkable about him, aside the fact that he - a wizard in a place where few wizards ever came - was lying unconscious, half covered by an invisibility cloak, on her mother's flower bed after trying to attack her, a stranger he thought was a muggle.

Then she saw his hand and gasped. How had she not noticed before? It was not the hand that had appeared when he had first fallen. This hand, his right one, was not really a hand at all, but a shiny piece of silver molded into five short fingers connected to a smooth, round wrist. And then she saw that, on his left forearm, there was a faint tattoo of a skull and snakes. Charlotte shivered, suddenly frightened. What in God's name was a death eater doing outside her mother's house?

*

"Potter!" Severus Snape yelled the name, but without much conviction. He was too tired to care if Potter hexed the hell out of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the middle of the Hogwarts entrance hall. In fact, it would have been a rather entertaining show, watching four of his most hated students face off. If only Weasley and Granger could have been there, he would have been a happy man indeed.

As he walked toward the four of them, he was unsurprised by the look of loathing on Potter's face. Go right ahead, he thought savagely, blame me for that idiot Black's stupid, noble death. "What are you doing, Potter?" he asked the boy coldly.

"I'm trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir," said Harry fiercely.

Snape stared at him. He's becoming more and more like his arrogant father with each passing day.

"Put that wand away at once," he said curtly. "Ten points from Gryff -"

Snape looked toward the giant hourglasses on the wall and gave a sneering smile.

"Ah. I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hourglass to take away. In that case, Potter, we will simply have to -"

"Add some more?"

Snape looked over at the doorway in surprise. He almost sighed with relief at the sight of Minerva McGonagall.

"Professor McGonagall!" he said, striding toward her. "Out of St. Mungo's, I see!" Thank the gods.

"Yes, Professor Snape," said Minerva, and he thought he saw a hint of a smile as she shrugged off her traveling cloak. "I'm quite good as new. You two - Crabbe - Goyle -"

Snape watched with a mixture of affection and respect as she summoned the two oafs to her and gave them her belongings. He hadn't realized, until both she and Albus had been forced to leave Hogwarts, how much they were part of the very fabric of this place.

"What say you, Professor Snape?" Minerva was asking him.

"What?" he snapped, feeling stupid for being caught off guard, particularly since the stray thoughts had been so uncharacteristically sentimental. Having no clue what she had just said, he mumbled, "Oh - well- I suppose ..."

Minerva started giving Potter and his followers house points, and Snape watched with little interest as rubies filled up the Gryffindor hour glass. He put on a scowl for show's sake, but he really felt too weary to care about something as trivial as house points. What he wanted was to get these brats outside so he could ask Minerva what in hell's name was going on with Albus.

"Well, Potter, Malfoy," Minerva said, "I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this."

Snape watched the two boys skulk off before managing a half smile for the transfiguration professor. "Minerva, I think you read my mind just then."

"That's yours and Albus's specialty. Speaking of Albus ..."

"Yes, I was just about to ask you about him," he said as they headed up the marble staircase toward her office.

She looked sharply at him. "He didn't return last night?"

"He returned, but he was ... not himself. He locked himself in his office and wouldn't see a soul. I worried that something at St. Mungo's ..."

She smiled gently at him. "Ah Severus, you're soft deep down, aren't you?"

He scowled at her, and she laughed quietly. "Well," she continued, "as you can see, I'm perfectly fine. But he ..." she looked away. "He received some rather bad news last night, I'm afraid."

"The Order?" he asked urgently.

"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "Something rather more ... personal." She paused. "Actually, I don't even know ..."

He tried to hide his surprise. What could be so personal that Albus's wife of more than forty years wouldn't know?

"Well, if there's anything I can do ..." he said.

She nodded. "I think I'll go to his office now. I'll let you know."

He turned to leave when suddenly he felt his left arm burn insistently. Without thinking, he clutched it tightly. From the moment he'd heard the outcome of last night's events, he had dreaded the summons, but he'd expected at least a few days to pass before it came.

Minerva gasped. "So soon?"

He nodded and stared at the floor. Then he managed to say, "Tell ... tell Albus ... give him my regards." With that, he turned and fled the hall.

*

Fear pulsing through her, Charlotte jerked the invisibility cloak off the man and pulled it around her. She raced up to the front door and pushed it open, then realized that, if she wanted the invisibility cloak to do any good, she had better take things slowly and quietly. Stepping cautiously inside, she looked around the front hall of her mother's house. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary: there were no signs of struggle, and she could hear the TV on upstairs. "Mom?" she called out tentatively.

There was no response at first, but after a moment, the TV clicked off, and her mother called out, somewhat faintly, "Dear, come upstairs."

But Charlotte didn't move. Her mother never called her "dear," not even when they had been getting along. Her heart beating madly, Charlotte wanted to do nothing more than turn and run. Every sense in her body was screaming that something was very wrong. Damn! Why had she come in the first place? She should have known that her mother would never owl her out of the blue like that. Even if she had wanted to get in touch, she would have used a telephone or some other form of muggle communication. Had Charlotte ever seen her mother use an owl before? But she had hoped, when she saw that big grey owl fly to her little cottage in the mountains, that her mother was trying to tell her something, trying to meet her half way.

Charlotte started to turn away, then stopped. No, what if her mother was up there, hurt? She racked her brain. What on earth could death eaters want with them? And what could she, who knew only the most basic spells - most of them for household use, the rest defensive - what could she do to stop death eaters? Then she remembered the bald man lying on the front lawn and gained some confidence. She had a good ear. And she was quick on her feet. Most importantly, she couldn't just leave her mother stranded.

"Charlotte? Are you there, dear?"

Still paralyzed with fear and indecision, she could only listen as a set of heavy footsteps pounded across the upstairs hallway. Those were definitely not her mother's footsteps, Charlotte thought in a panic. She held her breath and gazed up at a figure in a dark robe and hood with a skull-like mask covering his face. The figure started to descend the stairs, and Charlotte was suddenly conscious of how close she was to the last step. Would he hear her when he reached the bottom?

But he passed by her without a glance, looking instead out one of the front windows. "Damn idiot!" she heard him mutter before turning and racing back up the stairs. She realized he had seen the man lying in the front yard. Then, upstairs, she heard a cold, high voice that sent shivers down her spine: "Find her, now!"

Realizing that she was outnumbered, Charlotte finally decided on a plan of action. She would go out the back, run to a neighbor's, and contact the police. She didn't know what muggle police were going to be able to do in the face of what were probably powerful wizards, but she thought the distraction might at least give her time to figure something else out. She thought of all her wizarding friends - all four or five of them - and knew they would be no better equipped to deal with this situation. So calling the police, as poor a plan as it was, seemed to be her only logical option.

But as she hurried through the kitchen to the back door, the hood of the invisibility cloak slipped from her head. Before she could reach to pull it back, she heard a voice behind her say, "You're going to pay for humiliating me." She whipped around, but before she could pull out her wand, she felt the silver-handed death eater's stunner hit her chest, and she fell back, unconscious.

*

By the time he had apparated, Severus had managed to purge his mind of every thought and feeling save his fear. It wasn't difficult as, nowadays, there was very little room left in him for anything but fear. Despite what his students assumed, anger and cruelty were not the dominant emotions in his life; they were only brief, even pleasant, respites from the constant dread that gnawed at him. It was stupid really, the way that the fear had begun to take over. What, after all, did he have to be afraid of? If he were lucky, this would be the last summons, and he'd be found dead by some unsuspecting muggle. Death would be a welcome release, he told himself firmly. But no matter how much his brain wished for an end, his body couldn't help but shudder at the prospect of facing a furious Voldemort on the night after his failed strike at the Ministry of Magic.

"You're wise to be scared, Severus," the woman before him whispered menacingly. He looked up at Bellatrix Lestrange, who stood in the doorway of what appeared to be a typical suburban home. Suddenly wondering where in the hell he was, he glanced around and realized that, wherever this place was, it was quite different from the usual death eater haunts. For one thing, the apparation had been long and difficult, suggesting that he was now quite a distance from Hogwarts. The warm, humid climate that left his robes clinging to his skin and the rolling green mountains he saw in the distance made him certain he had left the British Isles altogether. For some reason, the most troubling aspect of the scenery was the brilliant sunshine; the meetings almost always took place at night, or at least in a very dark, dim place. There seemed something incredibly horrible about facing Voldemort in the bright light of day. He shuddered again.

"Nervous, darling?" Bellatrix cooed, this time laughing. She beckoned him inside the home and led him down a bright, sunny hallway to a set of stairs. As he ascended the steps, he looked with surprise at the photographs that lined the wall. They were muggle photographs, their still frames depicting typical, family scenes: a woman, a man, and their daughter by a Christmas tree; the woman and her daughter at the beach; the daughter, now older, wearing a cap and gown. Again, he wondered what in the gods' names Voldemort was doing here.

He tried to ignore the strangeness of this place and instead concentrated on keeping his fears at the forefront of his mind. Voldemort fed off fear, even gorged himself on it, which suited Severus just fine. He found that the Dark Lord was much easier to fool when feeling overconfident.

Bellatrix led him to a door at the top of the stairs but halted before going inside. She reached up and stroked his face with a long, cold finger. "The Dark Lord is not happy with you, Severus darling," she said, a mocking smile on her lips. He drew back sharply, and she laughed.

"I'm not the one who lost the prophecy last night, Bellatrix," he whispered silkily, grabbing her arm and squeezing it suddenly. She gasped and he said without a trace of sympathy, "Oh, I'm sorry, is that a bruise from his latest round of Crucio?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she shook his hand off her. "I may not have recovered the prophecy," she admitted softly, "but I know the Dark Lord would never question my loyalty to him."

His stomach twisted at her words. This was it then, he thought, his heart beating wildly now.

Bellatrix had opened the door and said quietly, "My Lord, he is here."

"Send him in," responded the high, cold voice from inside the sunlit room.

Bellatrix sneered at him as he passed. "Goodbye, Severus darling," she whispered as she shut the door. With a click, the door found its frame, and he was left staring at the back of Voldemort's scaly, white head.

"Approach!" he barked.

Severus took a deep breath and made his way to the front of the throne-like chair in which the Dark Lord sat. Surrounding Voldemort, there were several death eaters, their robes and masks on, and in the corner, beside a small, quilt-covered bed, there were two women - the women from the pictures, he realized suddenly - the woman now old, the daughter a young woman, magically bound to chairs. Both women stared at him with wide, frightened eyes, and he could see tears running down older one's slightly wrinkled face.

Severus bowed low and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes. "My lord," he murmured shakily, allowing the tiniest bit of fear into his voice.

Voldemort said nothing for a moment, leaving Severus bent on the ground in front of him. Then, with an unexpected suddenness, the Dark Lord reached down and pulled Severus's pale face close to his. "You are terrified."

Severus said nothing, only breathed raggedly.

"Yes," Voldemort said, the smallest of smiles curling onto his thin lips. "And well you should be. I do not suffer traitors!" he said, his voice rising in pitch. The other death eaters murmured appreciatively.

Severus breathed in sharply. "I do ... do not know what you mean ..."

"Really, Severus!" Voldemort laughed sinisterly. He squeezed Severus's face tightly then pushed him away so forcefully that he tumbled backward. He barely caught himself before hitting his head on a bookshelf.

"You disappoint me," Voldemort said, standing and walking toward the cowering man. "I thought that perhaps, in all these years of service, you would have at least learned some courage." Then he chuckled. The others followed suit. "Don't I sound rather sentimental! Courage!" he spit out, his voice suddenly angry. "Normally, I say that cleverness and ambition are far more worthy characteristics. But there's no doubt that you have those very Slytherin qualities." He reached down and grabbed the collar of Severus's robes. "But such a coward!" he whispered close to Severus's face.

Then Voldemort glared into Severus's eyes, and he could feel the Dark Lord reaching inside his head, flipping through his memories. "Such a coward," Voldemort repeated, this time louder. "Too afraid to stand up to your father, even for the sake of your defenseless mother and sister." He paused, then, more loudly still, "Too afraid to stand up to those worthless Gryffindors, even for the sake of your pride and honor!" Then, nearly screaming, "Too afraid to stand up to that Old Fool, even as he allows mudbloods to pollute our world!" Finally, softly, barely audible, "Too afraid to stand up to me, are you?"

Severus's entire body was shaking as he fought to keep his eyes focused on Voldemort's glowing red ones.

"The perfect spy," Voldemort whispered, releasing Severus again. "Skulking in the shadows, too afraid to come out and fight like a real man!"

As Voldemort turned and walked back to his chair, Severus quickly picked himself up off the ground and stood tall.

Voldemort laughed loudly. "Ah, now trying to show courage, are we! To go down with dignity, is that it?" When Severus said nothing, Voldemort murmured, "This show of bravery doesn't fool me."

With a sharp wave of his wand, Voldemort called out, "Crucio!"

Severus's limbs twisted madly, and he fell moaning to the ground.

"Ah, good, back to your natural position," Voldemort murmured with a smile. The death eaters laughed enthusiastically as Voldemort sent several more rounds of the Unforgivable at Severus.

Finally, he managed, "Please, my lord ..."

"Oh! Begging now? I do like this."

"Please, my lord," Severus repeated, hoping that the whimper in his voice would keep Voldemort from throwing another curse his way.

"Tell me, coward, just when did you become a traitor?"

Severus immediately whispered, "Never, my lord, never."

"Really? Then tell me this: why did you not come to my aid yesterday? Why did you alert the Old Fool? Hmm?"

"My lord, I tried to give Malfoy and his band enough time to do their job before alerting the Order, but it would have been suspicious had I not ..."

"I tire of this!" Voldemort stood up suddenly. "That's always your excuse, is it? Your cover! And what do I get for your poor attempts at espionage? A few tidbits? Knowledge I already know, or could guess, at any rate? You have outgrown your usefulness to me, Severus Snape."

"No, my lord, tell me what I can do," Severus muttered, wondering if Voldemort could hear the apathy that had crept into his voice. Kill me, he thought, his eyes downcast and away from Voldemort's prying mind.

But still, Severus's body shook at the prospect of dying, and Voldemort seemed pleased with the physical show of fear. "The coward will stoop to anything to save his life, will he? I have a test for you Severus. A final exam, shall we say, Professor?" Voldemort laughed at his little joke, then continued, "All men have secrets, did you know that, my coward?"

Severus, unsure of how to respond, said nothing.

"Well, I asked you a question."

"What secrets can I tell you, my Lord? I have no secrets from you."

Voldemort laughed dismissively. "You still think this is about you? Your dear headmaster, Severus, what secrets does he have?"

Shaking his head, he said, "I have told you everything ..."

"Oh, I doubt that, but we shall see about your honesty later. No, let me tell you of a secret that I learned, hmm? What do you know about the Old Fool's family?"

Severus swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. "He's married to Minerva McGonagall."

"Yes, yes, that's well known enough. But he hasn't always been; he's quite an old man, you know, but still a thorn in my side."

Severus waited, his heart beating faster.

"When I was at Hogwarts - ah, my youthful days - he was married to someone else. Very few people know much about the old man's past before Grindelwald."

"I did not know, my lord."

"No, obviously you didn't. The fool had a daughter, too. Quite tragic, really," Voldemort said with a laugh. "Grindelwald killed the wife. And the daughter later died in the war. Or so we were led to believe." Voldemort stood and walked over to the two women in the corner. He pulled out his wand and stroked it across the older woman's face. "Guinevere Dumbledore, isn't that your name?" he whispered.

Severus's eyes widened.

Then Voldemort turned and grinned at him. "It was really quite brilliant, the way this all worked out. It almost makes up for the debacle that was last night!" His voice had risen to a near-scream. The other death eaters in the room shuddered, but Severus could only stare with horror at the crying woman. The tears made her eyes look incredibly blue - the same eyes, he thought with dismay, she has Albus's eyes.

"Do you want to know how I discovered this jewel of a secret?" Without waiting for an answer, Voldemort returned to his chair and continued, "Lucius - now there's a loyal and brave servant - Lucius came across a man named Radu not too long ago."

Severus felt his mouth open slightly in surprise.

"Yes," the Dark Lord said, catching the look of astonishment, "the Romanian potions master. Tell me, Severus, what is it about potions and cowardice? He was an incredibly easy man to break."

"Any potion that he was working on, I can complete, my lord."

Voldemort snorted. "Potions! Spying! Always in the background, aren't you? Lucius tells me he never sees at any of his little gatherings. Too good for a little torture and rape, are we?"

Severus looked directly at Voldemort. "It distracts from the greater purpose, my lord."

Voldemort laughed. "Such principle! Such discipline! You can't fool me. Principles are merely a coward's way of covering up his weakness. I do not want you to complete any of Radu's useless potions. Radu was the secret keeper for our dear Guinevere. She did not die in the war, but instead left the magical world altogether. Even raised her half-blood brat over there ..." He pointed his wand at the younger woman, whose eyes were also bright with tears. "Raised her practically as a muggle!" Then he snorted. "Though, the dirty half blood did best our little rat," he said, his red eyes glowing brightly as he looked at one of the death eaters surrounding him. "Peter, Peter, what am I to do with you, hmmm?"

The short man trembled violently. "My lord!" he squeaked. "She seemed to see right through the invisibility cloak!"

"Really?" Voldemort pondered this, then flicked his wand toward Peter and whispered, "Crucio!"

When the man was finished twitching on the ground, Voldemort turned his wand to the young woman. "Tell me, Dumbledore's heir, what do you have to say for yourself?" He rose up out of his chair once again and walked over to her. As Voldemort pointed his wand directly at her face, Severus felt the urge to wretch. But Voldemort did not cast an unforgivable. He only waved it like a manic child before her face.

"Not going to answer me, are you?"

She opened her mouth, perhaps to scream, but nothing came out. She, like her mother, had obviously been silenced, one of Voldemort's favorite, yet more subtle techniques of torture. There was nothing like wanting to scream and having no power to do so. The woman squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, and a few tears leaked over the edges of her eyelids. The Death Eaters began to laugh loudly, and Voldemort bent over the young woman and whispered something. Then, to Severus's complete surprise, the woman spit directly into Voldemort's face.

For a moment, the entire room was still and silent. Then, Voldemort raised his wand and screamed, "Crucio!" The young woman's body, bound and silenced, could not respond to the curse; it was only in her face and eyes that Severus could see the intense agony she was undergoing.

Severus was certain that Voldemort was going to kill her, but the Dark Lord stopped before she lost consciousness, and surprisingly, he didn't throw the killing curse at her. Instead, he looked at her and whispered, "You will pay for that, and so will she," Aiming his wand at the older woman, he shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

The younger woman's mouth opened in a silent scream as she stared into the lifeless eyes of her mother.

Whipping around toward Severus, Voldemort asked, "You say you are loyal to me and not to the old fool?"

"Yes, my lord."

"You will do anything to prove it?"

The dread almost strangled him, but he managed, "Yes, my lord."

"Then this," Voldemort said, pointing at the young woman, "this is your test. I want you to break every bone in this insolent bitch's body. I want you to tear her every muscle. I want you to rape her, torture her, and make her wish she had never been born. Then, you will take these two dead, battered bodies back to Hogwarts and present them to their dear progenitor." Voldemort paused, then smiled grimly. "Consider it a rather personal way to tender your resignation."

After a moment's stillness, Voldemort stepped away from her and said with a laugh, "Go on then, loyal, brave, Severus! Prove yourself."

Taking a tentative step toward Albus Dumbledore's weeping granddaughter, Severus murmured, "Yes, my lord."

He found himself staring into the eyes of the younger woman who, miraculously, was still conscious. Then, he turned to the Dark Lord and bowed deeply. One way or another, he thought with a burst of determination, this would be the last time he would ever bend for Voldemort.

*

Harry Potter woke with a thin layer of cold sweat covering skin. Clutching his scar with one hand, reaching out for his glasses with the other, he tried to sit up, but a hand on his shoulder kept him from rising.

"Harry? Are ... are you okay?" a tentative voice asked.

Harry tried to focus. "Neville? Where am I?" he muttered stupidly.

"You're still at Hogwarts. Did you have another ... another dream?"

Harry nodded, then looked around. Twilight dimly lit the room, but he couldn't see anything without his glasses. "Did I wake Seamus and Dean up? Where's Ron?"

"He's still in the hospital wing, remember? No one else has come to bed yet. When you came up rather early, I thought I should check... you seemed ..." Neville stopped. Then, after a moment, he whispered "Did you see anything important?"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't care about any of it anymore. Still, an image flashed before his eyes. His fingers were skeleton-like, and they were clutching a man's face. "I do not suffer traitors!" he heard his voice - no, Voldemort's voice - say.

"Snape," he whispered suddenly.

"What did you say?" Neville asked with a shaky voice.

Snape, Harry thought, saying nothing. Voldemort had Snape, and he knew the professor was a spy. Half rising in his bed, Harry almost told Neville that he had to talk to Professor Dumbledore, but then he stopped. Could he really trust these visions anymore? And anyway, so what if Voldemort did have Snape? Snape had let Sirius go to his death. Snape had had it out for Sirius all along. And Dumbledore ... Dumbledore had told him nothing, had kept everything hidden from him, and now he was supposed to tell the headmaster everything? He was supposed to be their spy, as well as their weapon?

Harry rolled over onto his side. "Nothing," he said to Neville. "I'm fine."

Neville shrugged and muttered goodnight, but Harry did not fall asleep, his stomach twisted into knots as guilt and hatred warred inside his tired head.