Dumbledore's Secret

Chapter 19

As soon as his face touched the Pensieve, Charlotte wanted to grab Severus by the shoulders and pull him out of her memory. Instead, she stood rooted to the ground, guilt flooding her. How selfish can you be? How selfish can you be? The question bounced around her head until she was whispering it like a mantra. She squeezed her eyes shut. Where was he in the memory now? Of course, she had no idea. It was odd, not being able to access the memory. She knew her mother was dead, and she knew Voldemort had killed her; it wasn't as if she had forgotten that. But she was completely unable to picture the scene. She only remembered that it was horrible and that Severus was now reliving it.

She'd been so tempted, when practicing Legilimency on him, to find out why he'd become a Death Eater. Of course, he'd probably put that memory in the Pensieve, but still, she'd almost looked for something, anything that would explain his role in Voldemort's service. Last night, as they'd sat on the roof, he'd been so adamant about his inability to change ... but change from what? Had he killed? Had he tortured? And did she really want to know?

Telling herself she was only protecting his privacy, she'd gone for the mild memories, pushing only a little when she'd looked for his thoughts about Harry. But she knew, deep down, that she'd been too afraid to find the darker parts of him.

Part of her was content to accept him as he presently was: intelligent, dedicated, honorable, but also sarcastic, conflicted and even emotionally stunted. These were things she could understand. But what pushed someone to serve a monster?

Thinking of Voldemort, her thoughts circled back to the scene in the Pensieve. She opened her eyes and saw that Severus was still in the memory. Turning away, she wondered if he'd forgive her for putting him through this again.

"Well," he said quietly, and she spun around. His face was pale, but his eyes were clear as he said, "Another fucking prophecy."

She blinked. "What?"

He waved a hand at her chair, and she sat. Sinking into his own chair, he said, "Oraculum sanguis. One in one shall triumph. Those were his words. Do you know what the first two words mean?"

She shook her head. "They're Latin, I think ... oracle ... blood?"

"Blood prophecy."

"Do you have any idea ..."

"I've never heard of it," he said. "I have no idea what that bastard was talking about."

"But," she said quietly, "you said another prophecy?"

He sighed. "I hate prophecies. I hate Divination. It's imprecise, unreliable ... usually a bunch of fool's nonsense."

"Then, there's nothing to worry about, is there?"

He scoffed. "I wish that were always the case. Just before Potter was born, there was a prophecy made about him, a prophecy that foretold his birth and promised that he, and he alone, had the power to defeat the Dark Lord."

Charlotte felt her mouth fall open. "My God ... you mean no one else, not even Granddad ..."

"If the prophecy is to be believed, then yes, only Potter." Severus then let out a strangled, bitter laugh. "Our lives, our entire world, in the hands of a sixteen year-old brat!"

"Does he know?" she whispered.

"Who, Potter? Yes, Albus told him in June, just after ..." Severus stopped.

"Just after what?"

She listened with horror as Severus told her about Voldemort luring Harry to the Department of Mysteries and the subsequent death of Harry's godfather, Sirius Black.

"After Black died, your grandfather finally told Potter about the prophecy. He had no choice at that point," Severus muttered.

"You disagree with his decision?" she asked, watching his face closely.

"What I disagree with," he said, his voice becoming harsh, " is that Albus didn't tell Potter the moment he walked through the doors of Hogwarts." Getting up and pacing angrily, he said, " 'Let the boy have his childhood, let the boy enjoy himself' ... indeed! Never mind that everything rides on him, bloody Harry Potter."

"You hate not having control," she said quietly.

He glared at her. "What are you, my therapist? Yes, I hate not having control! That boy has no idea what he's up against. We're talking about the darkest, most powerful wizard in Merlin knows how long, and the only one who can destroy him is playing bloody fucking Quidditch!"

"Does Voldemort know that Harry is the only one ..."

"No, and that's our one saving grace. If the Dark Lord had gotten hold of that prophecy, he'd have killed the boy in a second, and it'd all be over. He knows part of prophecy, he knows that Potter represents some sort of threat. But as it stands, he thinks your grandfather is the real foe, and as long as we can keep him believing that, the more time Potter has to prepare."

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the chair. Her chest ached, just thinking about the entire situation: the burden Harry and her grandfather carried, the helplessness just below the surface of Severus's angry voice, and the uncertain role she had to play in this mess.

"The potion," she said suddenly, her eyes flying open. "The potion you're working on. Does it have anything to do with this blood prophecy? Is that why Voldemort went after Radu?"

Severus glanced at her in surprise. "I don't know. We don't even know what this blood prophecy is. Until tonight, I've never heard of it, and I doubt anyone else in the Order has, either. So, whether it has any connection to the Power Potion ... I don't know. Indeed, no one really knows the purpose of the Power Potion." He sighed bitterly. "We have nothing. And as we no longer have a spy in Voldemort's camp, we will continue to have nothing."

Guilt washed over her again. She wondered, momentarily, if things wouldn't have been better if Severus had killed her, as Voldemort had ordered. He could have remained a spy, then; after all, what good was she doing here?

"Don't think that," he said quietly as their eyes met. "I didn't mean it that way."

Glancing away, she said, "You said the Department of Mysteries has all known prophecies ..."

"Yes, but there were no other prophecies in that room dealing with Voldemort. Still, it's worth a try to do some research on what prophesies are in that room, I suppose. If the Ministry will let us near them."

She sighed. "This makes no sense. Why would Voldemort tell me this, anyway? Why whisper those words to me?"

They were silent for a moment, then Severus said, "When he spoke those words to you, he sounded triumphant, as if he were declaring victory. He's a megalomaniac if I ever saw one, and I think, by uttering part of the prophecy, he felt he was sealing your fate somehow. Killing you and your mother must play into this blood prophecy."

"How could two witches, one who'd stopped practicing magic over fifty years earlier, the other barely trained, prove any sort of threat to him?"

"You're a threat because you're a descendent of Albus Dumbledore. And, by extension, Godric Gryffindor. Voldemort is the heir of Salazar Slytherin."

"You think this goes back the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry?"

Severus shook his head angrily. "I don't know. I just don't fucking know what any of this means."

Charlotte stared down at her hands, a feeling of helplessness rushing through her. She wanted desperately to be doing something, to be actively working against Voldemort. To sit in this house, hidden and protected - it felt so cowardly, so wrong. Then she realized that her thoughts of guilt and uselessness could be nothing compared to his. Impulsively, she grabbed his hand, her fingers grasping awkwardly at the back his hand, her thumb sliding into the warm flesh of his palm. He inhaled sharply, and she winced. But instead of jerking away, he wrapped his fingers around her thumb. Then he quickly let go.

"We'd better work on Occlumency," he said abruptly, his voice harsh. "You've got a lot of work to do before you're ready to teach Potter."

She looked at him, expecting to see his angry tone of voice reflected in his face. But his black eyes were surprisingly warm. After the volatile afternoon she'd put him through, she hardly expect compassion from him. And yet it was there, in his eyes, if not in his voice. "You're a strange man, do you know that?"

"I suppose that's better than fucked up," he said, referring to her earlier comment with a twist of his thin lips.

"Not really," she replied, smiling. "Come on, then, Occlumency it is."

But before they could begin, the door to the drawing room slammed open.

"All right you two, enough snogging!" cried Ginny Weasley, her face red and laughing.

Harry stood beside her, his grin abruptly disappearing when he met Charlotte's eyes. "Miss Richardson ..." he began, then he saw Severus, whose face had hardened into an angry scowl. "You!" Harry said, his jaw dropping.

Ginny's mouth formed a wide O. "We thought ..." she whispered.

Severus got up and moved with predatory quickness toward the door. "Tell me, Miss Weasley," his voice low, "just what did you think?"

Harry stepped in front of her. "We thought," he said with a belligerent lift of his chin, "that Ron and Hermione were in here. But apparently we were wrong."

"Apparently," Severus said, glaring.

"Well," Ginny whispered, grabbing Harry's arm and backing out of the room. "We'll just be going ..."

"Filthy abomination! Half-blood beast! Blood traitors! Twin spawns of Satan!"

At the screeching sound of old Mrs. Black's voice, Charlotte hurried to the door of the drawing room.

"Fantastic," Severus muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The two of you have set off the portrait."

But as she stared into the hall, Charlotte realized that Mrs. Black wasn't screaming at Harry or Ginny. She gaped at the sight of Remus Lupin being held up on either side by the Weasely twins.

"Ah, Severus!" Remus cried, apparently unperturbed by Mrs. Black's insults. He pushed Fred and George away from him, then wobbled over to Severus. "You really are an ugly bastard, did you that know that?" he asked with a silly grin on his face.

Charlotte blinked. Mild-mannered Remus Lupin was utterly and completely drunk.

"Of course," Remus slurred, "I'm ugly too, an ugly, ugly werewolf."

Harry and Ginny, who were now standing on the staircase, gaped at the sight of their former and future professor swaying on his feet. Fred and George looked equally stunned; they didn't even laugh as Remus insulted their hated former potions professor.

Only Severus looked unsurprised by this turn of events. With a blank face, he said, "A bit pissed up, are you, Lupin?"

"Pissed? What a good term for drinking, don' ya think? I'm pissed, and I've got to piss, all at the same time!" He swayed again, then grabbed onto Charlotte's shoulders. "Ah, pretty girl, come with me."

"Umm..." she murmured. She could barely hear herself think, as Mrs. Black was now shouting curses at everyone in the hall. Shaking her head, Charlotte said, "Remus, I think you need..."

"What I need," he said, running a hand down her arm, "is ..." He didn't finish but instead rested his hand on her hip and grinned.

Looking beyond Remus, she caught a glimpse of the horror on Harry's face. "Remus," she said quietly, "think of Harry, okay?"

The boy's name was almost as effective as a sober-up potion. His eyes cleared immediately, and he shook his head. "Harry?" he asked, his voice gravelly. Turning and seeing the boy, Remus closed his eyes. "Harry ... I..." Then, looking sick, he passed out on the ground.

For a moment, everyone seemed frozen in place. Then, with a quick shake of her head, Charlotte said, "Okay, Fred, George, get Remus upstairs, will you? Harry and Ginny, shut that portrait up. And Severus, can you get him something ... a potion, anything..."

Severus scowled.

"Please," she said meeting his eyes.

With a sigh, he nodded and headed down to the kitchen. As Harry and Ginny struggled with Mrs. Black, the twins levitated Remus upstairs.

"Do you think he's going to be okay?" Ginny whispered once they'd forced Mrs. Black into silence.

Glancing worriedly at Harry, Charlotte said, "Sure, he's just a little drunk, that's all."

"I've never seen him like that before," Harry whispered. "He must be really upset about the branding."

Charlotte nodded.

"Well, we'll just head up to our rooms ..." Ginny said.

"Oh no you don't," Charlotte whispered, causing both of them to stop and glance guiltily at her. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Uh..." Harry began. "I guess, not in there?"

Charlotte closed her eyes, suddenly remembering the sound she'd heard when she'd first entered the drawing room. Turning and looking into the room, she could see nothing out of the ordinary. But then she looked more closely at the sofa, and she saw the corner of a book poking out from beneath ... nothing. "Neither of you," she asked Ginny and Harry, "own an invisibility cloak, do you now?"

Ginny and Harry exchanged glances. "A cloak?" Harry asked, his voice cracking.

Charlotte sighed. She didn't need Legilimency to know this kid was lying. Taking out her wand, she turned toward the old sofa and said, "Accio invisibility cloak!"

The cloak flew into her hands, leaving Ron and Hermione huddled on the couch with looks of dismay on their faces.

"Oh shit," Charlotte heard Ginny mutter behind her.

Oh shit indeed, Charlotte thought, meeting Hermione's wide eyes. Both kids had heard everything, everything about Harry and the prophecy ...

Turning quickly toward Harry and Ginny, Charlotte said, "You two, downstairs in the kitchen, and I don't want you to move a finger until I come get you, is that clear?"

They stared at her. "But ..." Harry began.

"I said, downstairs. And where's your mother?" she demanded of Ginny.

"Miss Richardson, please you can't tell Mum ..." Ron said from the couch. "We didn't mean ..."

Ignoring him, Charlotte asked Ginny again, "Where's your mother?"

"She left a few hours ago, with Bill, to run errands," Ginny said brokenly. "Please, Miss Richardson, I'm sure they didn't mean ..."

"If you don't get downstairs now," Charlotte said, pointing toward the kitchen stairwell, "I will turn this matter over to Professor Snape, and I'm sure you don't want that."

Harry and Ginny raced to the stairwell.

Charlotte shut the drawing room door, then turned and stared at Ron and Hermione.

"Miss Richardson," Ron said, breaking the tense silence, "you have to listen, we were in here before you and we didn't mean to listen in, but ..."

"You realize," Charlotte cut in quietly, "that you've probably put yourselves and Harry in great danger by hearing what you did. If the Death Eaters, or God forbid, Voldemort, come to believe that you can give them information, you will be hunted down, you realize that?"

Ron hung his head, but Hermione lifted her chin. "What about you?" she demanded. "You know, too. If he found you ..."

Charlotte felt a sudden surge of anger pulse through her body. "Why do you think I've been stuck in this god-forsaken house all summer? And I'll continue to be stuck here until my grandfather returns. And then I'll be stuck at Hogwarts until this war is over. I can't move without looking over my shoulder!"

"Well neither can we!" Hermione shouted, standing up. "You all think that just because you're adults and we're not that we have any less to worry about? Harry's our best friend! We've had to face Death Eaters, too! Don't act like we don't know about war!"

Charlotte met Hermione's fierce glare with a sigh. "Forgive me, Hermione, of course you're under just as much pressure, if not more pressure, than I am."

At the kind words, Hermione's defiance crumbled. "I'm sorry, Miss Richardson, I never should have ..."

Charlotte raised a hand. "Shhh. There's no need for that. Now," she said, sitting down, "will one of you please explain why you didn't let us know you were in here?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. "Well ..." Hermione began, blushing. She looked at Ron again.

"Uh, we were just doing some work," Ron mumbled, not meeting Charlotte's eyes.

"Under an invisibility cloak?" Charlotte asked, eyebrow raised.

"Well, we were also messing around a bit," he admitted.

"And you were too embarrassed to let me know you were in here?" Charlotte asked. "You should have spoken up."

"We were about to!" Ron said. "I told Hermione that you'd understand, and we were just about to take off the cloak when Snape walked in. I knew you'd be reasonable, but Snape is anything but ...He'd have killed us!"

"And what do you think he'd do if he found out that you heard ... what you did?" Charlotte asked, giving both of them a hard stare.

"You're not going to tell him, are you?" Ron asked desperately.

Not yet sure what she was going to do, she ignored his question and said, "This is the second time I've caught you listening in on things that aren't meant for your ears."

"But we didn't mean anything by this!" Hermione cut in. "We didn't want to listen, to find out that Harry ..." her voice trailed off.

"Do you think it's really true, that prophecy?" Ron asked quietly.

"Professor Snape seems to think it is, and I get the feeling that he's not one for Divination normally," Charlotte said, grimacing.

"Harry said he had something to tell us," Hermione said sadly. "It must have been this. To find out about this prophecy... and after everything else that's happened to him... he must be miserable!"

"We shouldn't tell him we overheard this," Ron said wisely. "Let him tell us when he's ready."

"You shouldn't tell anyone you heard this!" Charlotte interjected. Then she shook her head. "What am I going to do with the two of you?"

"Please don't tell Professor Snape," Hermione pleaded. "We have to study potions with him for two more years, and we can't afford to have him angry with us, not any more than he already is!"

"And please don't tell Mum," Ron added. "She'll lock us up in our rooms for the rest of the summer."

"That doesn't sound like such a bad plan to me," Charlotte said. At the crestfallen look on their faces, she softened. "Listen," she said quietly, "believe me when I say that I know how frustrating it is to be powerless when you and those you love are in danger." Unthinking, she glanced at the Pensieve.

"Miss Richardson," Ron said, his voice fully of sympathy. "I ..."

She held up a hand. "But," she continued with a firmer voice. "I also know there must be a very good reason for the Order to keep certain things secret. Therefore, I'll make a deal with you. First, I will not tell Professor Snape or your mother that you were in here this afternoon." The two teens smiled brightly, and Charlotte wondered if she was really making the best decision. "However," she continued, "I will tell my grandfather about this."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione squeaked. "I, uh, oh, please Miss Richardson, we won't say anything, please! What if he expels us? Could he expel us? We weren't technically breaking Hogwarts rules, but, oh, and this summer, the hospital wing...he'll think I'm horrible!" Hermione babbled.

"I don't think," Charlotte said with a kind smile, "that you have anything to fear from my grandfather. You've known him longer than I have; nonetheless, I get the feeling that he would not be angry with you. But he will be concerned, and as he's head of the Order, I think it's for the best that he knows about this. Wouldn't you agree?"

Both nodded glumly.

"Good. Now, the second condition..."

"There's more!" Ron interjected.

"The second condition," Charlotte continued, unperturbed, "is this: I will keep this cloak until you turn in those ears that I heard you and Ginny discussing in June, Ron."

"But that cloak's not ours, it's Harry's," Ron said.

"Then you can tell Harry that he won't get his cloak back until I get those ears."

Ron sighed. "Okay, I guess I have no choice."

Charlotte smiled. "No, you really don't. Third condition..."

The teens groaned.

"If I catch either of you in this sort of situation again, I will not hesitate to you're your mother, Professor Snape, Professor Lupin ... anyone. Is that clear?" At their nods, Charlotte added, "And if I hear you discussing this with anyone when we get to Hogwarts..."

"We'd never discuss it with anyone outside the Order!" Hermione interjected angrily.

Charlotte nodded. "Good, then I'm sure you'll have no trouble with that condition, will you?"

"So, you're going to be living at Hogwarts?" Ron asked in a feeble attempt to turn the conversation away from any more conditions.

With a smile, Charlotte said, "Yes, you will not be able to escape me, it seems."

"And I suppose you'll be bringing Lupa with you?" Hermione asked, her voice slightly belligerent.

Charlotte sighed. "Yes, I suppose I will." Then she winked at the younger woman. "After all, I have to have someone to clean up after me." As Hermione's face reddened, Charlotte burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I couldn't resist. I promise to treat Lupa with all the kindness I possibly can."

"Then you'll let her go!"

"Hermione ..." Ron muttered. "Don't push it, okay?"

"I want to know," Hermione said, glaring at Charlotte and ignoring her boyfriend's advice, "why you insist on keeping Lupa enslaved when she obviously wants to be free! And I don't care if you punish me for asking that, either!" Her voice wobbled only slightly when she declared this.

With a serene smile, Charlotte said, "Good for you, Hermione. Though, I'm sorry to see that you think so little of me."

Again disarmed by the unexpected kindness, Hermione stammered, "Well, I don't mean to say ... I only mean that ..."

"Believe me, Hermione, when I say that I would free Lupa if I thought it was for the best. But, apparently, Lupa has some information that the Order needs. Until they get that information, I'm afraid she'll be stuck with me."

"But maybe she'd me more likely to give that information to you if she were free."

"No, Lupa has refused to tell me, even for her freedom."

"Then, what difference does it make if she's free or not?" Ron asked, brow furrowed. "Not that I think she should be free, unnatural, if you ask me."

Hermione glared at Ron.

"Well it is!" Ron said defensively. "House elves have always been servants! That's what they're meant for! It's like asking you to stop reading or something. It's in their nature."

"Be careful," Charlotte advised, "of assuming that something's 'always been' one way or another. History often teaches us otherwise. As for keeping Lupa, I'm hoping that perhaps over time she'll come to trust me. Until then ..." she shrugged. "So, are we clear on the conditions?"

Ron and Hermione nodded solemnly.

"Good, then let's go down to the kitchen and get Ginny and Harry."

Before Charlotte could rise, however, Ron said, "Miss Richardson, you're going to make sure Harry really learns Occlumency this year, aren't you? Last year, Snape threw him out of his office and ..."

"I'm going to try," Charlotte said, cutting him off. Though incredibly curious about just what had happened between Harry and Severus, she had no desire to gossip about it.

Hermione sighed. "That will help him defend himself against V-Voldemort." She cringed, then added, "But how is he supposed to beat him? How can he be the only one?"

"I don't know," Charlotte admitted softly.

"Well, I will not let him kill Harry," Ron said with a fierceness that Charlotte found touching. He then took a deep breath and continued, "Voldemort will have to go through me, first."

Hermione gasped. "Ron, you said his name ..."

"Yeah, well, if Harry has to kill him, I guess I should at least be able to say his name."

"I wish," Hermione said, "there was something more we could do help him."

Charlotte smiled sadly. "From what I've seen, you're both very good friends to him."

"Yeah," Ron said glumly, "but will that, in the end, be enough?"

Charlotte had no answer for him, so she stood up, reached out and ruffled his hair. Then she smiled at Hermione and said, "Come on, let's get down to the kitchen before Harry and Ginny wonder what's happened to you. And," she added with a grimace, "before Professor Snape finds out you've been in here."

*

Looking up from Bludger This! A Comparative Study of Quidditch and Adolescence (a rather odd but interesting birthday gift from Tonks), Harry watched Ron and Hermione shuffle into the kitchen, their faces solemn.

"About time you two got down here," he said. "Did Miss Richardson punish you? What did you overhear? Anything good?"

Both his friends shook their heads fiercely, and neither would meet his eye. He glanced at Ginny, wondering if she noticed their odd behavior, when Miss Richardson came in behind Ron and Hermione.

"Uh, let's go outside and play some more Quidditch," Harry suggested, hoping that once his two best friends were alone away from adult supervision, they'd tell him what they'd heard.

"I think we should all stay in the kitchen until Molly gets back," Miss Richardson said, her voice quiet but firm. Harry watched the older woman as she moved to the icebox and pulled out a pitcher of pumpkin juice. As she turned to put the pitcher on the table, their eyes met. He felt strangely vulnerable as her eyes met his, and it was only once he looked away that he realized where he'd seen those piercing blue eyes before.

"Are you a lot like your grandfather?" he asked suddenly. Ginny, Ron and Hermione looked surprised at his question, but Miss Richardson only smiled.

"I'm not sure, really. I haven't known him for that long." She poured five glasses of juice and set them on the table. "Why do you ask?"

"Uh, just wondering," he muttered, not really sure himself why he'd asked that question. Then he said, "Listen, Miss Richardson, don't be upset with Ron and Hermione, I'm sure they weren't doing anything ..."

"That's been dealt with already, Harry," she said. Then she took a sip of her pumpkin juice and smiled. "You know, I can't believe I've lived for 30 years without pumpkin juice. Amazing stuff!"

Ginny giggled. "Let me guess, you love lemon drops, too."

Miss Richardson raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I am rather fond of them. How did you know?"

Harry and Ginny both laughed. Then, quite suddenly, he felt a sharp stab of pain in his forehead. Before he could stop himself, he gasped and rubbed a hand against his scar.

"Harry!" both Ron and Hermione cried, leaning forward in their seats.

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he muttered. "It wasn't that bad, just unexpected. He's been quiet lately." Or, relatively so. The scar always prickled now, but the jabs of pain were not very frequent. And the visions had all but disappeared. He didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried by this development.

"Is there anything I can get for you, Harry?" Miss Richardson asked kindly.

He looked at her in surprise, forgetting that she didn't know about his scar. "Uh, no, it's nothing really."

"Nothing!" Hermione cried. "Nothing?"

Harry bristled at her tone. He was really in no mood to explain himself to Miss Richardson, or to talk to Hermione about what he was feeling. He was about snap at Hermione when he realized that her eyes were full of tears.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. He then glanced at Ron, whose face was paler than normal. "Ron? What's going on?"

Ron only grabbed his goblet of juice and gulped it down.

"Remind me," Fred said, coming into the kitchen and flopping into a chair, "never to challenge Remus to a drinking contest."

George plopped down beside his twin and snorted. "Yeah, I'd always guessed Moody was the hard drinker of this crew, but I bet Remus could drink him under the table!"

"Is Professor Lupin all right?" Harry asked anxiously, pushing his worries about Ron, Hermione and his scar to the back of his mind.

"He'll have a hell of a headache," George admitted. "But Snape's given him some stuff that should keep him from getting too sick."

Harry scowled. "I think we should go check on him. I wouldn't put it past Snape to poison him."

Miss Richardson frowned and looked as if she wanted to say something. But before she could speak, Professor Snape came into the kitchen and said, "Believe me, Potter, if I'd wanted to poison him, I'd have done it already."

Harry's face reddened and he clutched at the goblet in his hands. He imagined himself throwing the juice at the potions master and watching the orange liquid drip down his ugly, hooked nose. Snape's cold, black eyes met his, and the older man smiled grimly, almost as if he knew what Harry was thinking.

"Uh, how did you two happen on Remus, anyway?" Miss Richardson asked the twins, breaking the tense silence.

Snape spun around and headed to the lab, apparently uninterested in their answer. Harry felt his chest loosen as he watched Snape leave.

"We went to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch," Fred said.

"Yeah, and imagine our surprise when we saw Remus sitting at the bar, seven empty shot glasses in front of him."

Miss Richardson whistled.

"He was somewhere between laughing hysterically and blubbering like a baby," Fred said, shaking his head. "I've never seen him like that before. I mean, he got pretty bad when Sirius died, but nothing like this."

Harry felt his stomach clench. Staring down at a burn mark on the old wooden table, he realized that he'd never really thought about how bad it must have been for Professor Lupin. To have grown up with Sirius, to have gotten him back after all those years in Azkaban ...

"Fred!" Ginny hissed. "Shut up."

Fred winced. "Bloody hell, Harry, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking ..."

Before Harry could tell him not to worry about it, he heard Professor Snape yell, "What do you think you're doing?"

Harry's face hardened into a scowl before he realized that Snape wasn't talking to him. In fact, Snape wasn't even in the room.

"What's going on?" George asked, shooting a curious glance toward the lab.

"Maybe he's gotten tired at yelling at all of us and has started yelling at himself for a change," Ron mumbled with a roll of his eyes. Harry glanced at his friend and smiled, relieved that Ron seemed back to normal.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash in the lab. Miss Richardson, followed closely by Hermione and the twins, rushed over to the doorway.

"Give me room!" Snape cried, pushing his way out of the lab.

With smoke streaming out behind him, the potions master stumbled into the kitchen holding a house elf by the collar of her old, yellowing dress. Snape dropped the elf unceremoniously on the ground before slamming the lab door shut. He then leaned against the closed door and said through clenched teeth, "Weeks of work, ruined ..."

The house elf stared up at Snape, her eyes wide. Harry could have sworn he saw a trace of a smile flash across her thin little lips just before she burst into noisy tears. "Lupa is so sorry!" she cried, banging her head on the floor. "Lupa only wanted to help!"

Miss Richardson rushed over to the elf. "Lupa, shush now, don't cry," she soothed.

"Don't cry?" Snape muttered. Then, in a near scream, "Don't cry? The potion is ruined!"

Lupa's wailing grew louder, and now Hermione, too, was trying to quiet the elf.

"I want to know," Snape demanded, towering over the elf, "what you were doing in my lab!"

Lupa only shook her head frantically, blubbering so hard that snot bubbles popped out of her nose.

Miss Richardson glared at Snape. "You're not helping any," she muttered.

"Lupa only wanted to do good things!" the elf moaned. "Lupa heard Mistress say she had a head pain, so Lupa wanted to get some potion to make Mistress feel better. Lupa has nothing to do, Lupa's Mistress won't let Lupa do anything, no cooking, no cleaning, no helping, what is Lupa supposed to do?"

"Lupa, I'm sorry," Miss Richardson said, shaking her head. "It's just that I'm not used to this."

"If," Snape growled at Lupa, "if you wanted to help your dear Mistress so badly, why not just ask for a potion, hmmm? And just how does getting a potion turn into toppling all the cauldrons in my lab?"

"Lupa is clumsy, so clumsy, Lupa is sorry," the house elf babbled. Then she looked up at her Mistress. "And Lupa likes not that bad man, Lupa cannot ask that bad man. Lupa does not trust," she said, glaring over at Snape.

"Lupa," Miss Richardson said, her voice full of distress, "you mustn't do that anymore, okay? And, uh, I promise to give you more work..."Hermione yelped, and Miss Richardson shot her an exasperated glance before continuing, "if that's what you want, but if not ..."

"Oh yes, Lupa wants to work hard for Mistress." The elf hopped up off the ground. "What can Lupa do?"

Miss Richardson sighed. "Uh, how about some ..." she looked helplessly around the kitchen. "Why don't you make us some..."

"Cookies," Ron supplied.

"With chocolate chips," Ginny added.

"And raisins," Harry put in.

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "In his only," she muttered.

Lupa jumped up and down, clapping her wrinkly little hands. "Oh, Lupa loves to bake, Lupa will do so immediately!" The elf ran over to the cupboards and set to work.

"Learn to keep your house elf out of the way, will you?" Snape said, glowering at Miss Richardson.

She glared right back at him. "Look, it was an accident!"

Snape stalked toward her, a scowl plastered on his gaunt face. "It wasn't an accident. That ... thing ... was messing around in my lab, and she's put the Order back several months by her meddling. If you had better control of your property ..."

Fred leaned across the table and whispered, "A galleon says that she backs down first."

"Lupa is not a thing, and she is not my property!" Miss Richardson exclaimed. Then, waving a hand toward the lab, she demanded, "You're blaming this on me now, are you?"

"Two galleons says she wins," George murmured, a smile on his lips.

Moving so that he was toe to toe with his adversary, Snape sneered and said, "Why yes, I am blaming it on you."

"You're the one who told me I had to keep her," Miss Richardson retorted, not budging an inch.

"I told you to keep her," Snape said, his voice rising, "because she has information. Information you're too incompetent to get from her."

"Incompetent?" Miss Richardson shrieked. "She was trying to knock her own head off when I asked her to tell me what was going on! I'm not going to torture a house elf for information."

"You tell him," Hermione muttered, and Harry had to bite back a laugh. As much as he hated being in the same room with Snape, watching him get into a shouting match with someone else was rather cathartic.

Snape turned and glared at Hermione. "Keep out of this." Then he waved a hand toward the table. "Why don't you all go ... play."

"Fine with us," Ron muttered, getting up.

"No, stay right where you are," Miss Richardson said.

"I don't want them in here," Snape growled.

"Well I do!" she shot back.

"What in Circe's name is going on down here!"

Harry watched Mrs. Weasley bustle into the kitchen with a mixture of disappointment (he really was enjoying the sight of someone standing up to Snape) and relief (he had no desire to see Miss Richardson get hexed).

Miss Richardson stepped away from Snape and said in a slightly calmer voice, "We were just ..."

Mrs. Weasley cut her off. "Is anyone hurt? Anyone in trouble?"

"No," Snape muttered. "But someone should be ..."

"Well then, all of you, keep your mouths shut," Mrs. Weasley said, pulling out her wand.

Fred said, "Mum, what are you doing?"

Harry exchanged glances with Ginny. The youngest Weasley just shrugged and muttered, "It's a nut house around here."

"I said, shush!" Mrs. Weasley muttered, pointing her wand toward the kitchen counter. For a moment, Harry had the strange idea that Ron's mum was going to hex Lupa for invading her kitchen, but he quickly realized she was only turning on the Wizard's Wireless Network.

"And there he is," a male announcer said, his low, rich voice echoing through the kitchen. "He's walking up to the podium as we speak ..."

"Yes, quite a surprising candidate," a female commentator said with a trilling laugh that grated on Harry's nerves. "He certainly looks less polished than Minister Odgen ... those robes and that bald patch ... a little ragged around the edges, don't you think, Ken?"

The male chuckled. "Yes, Deidre, you've got him pegged, though perhaps when we hear him speak, we'll find out if he's a diamond in the rough ... or just rough." Both announcers laughed heartily.

"The nerve of those ..." Mrs. Weasley muttered, unable to finish her sentence.

"Uh..." A hesitant voice sounded on the wireless. "Uh, ladies and gentlemen of the press, uh, thank you for coming here today."

"That's Dad!" Ron cried.

"Brilliant deduction," Snape muttered.

"Shhh!" Mrs. Weasley and Miss Richardson hissed at the same time.

"I wanted to officially announce," Mr. Weasley said, his voice slightly more even now, "my candidacy for Minister of Magic." He paused, as if waiting for questions or some sort of comment, but Harry heard only what sounded like the click and flash of cameras. Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I, uh, thought, given that you don't know me very well, that, uh, you might like to ask me some questions."

Suddenly, there was a roar of, "Mr. Weasley! Mr. Weasley!"

"Uh, yes, you, in the purple robe, no, not you, you, yes."

"Mr. Weasley, Brenda Hottlemeyer from the Shropshire Standard. Is it true that you're only a staff-level employee in the muggle relations department? And if so, what qualifications do you have to be Minister of Magic?"

"Uh, well, I actually run the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. And, uh, although I'm, well, not as deeply involved in the ministry as, uh, Interim Minister Odgen, I do think that, uh, like most of you, I'm a concerned parent who wants to keep his family safe from, uh, V-Voldemort."

There was an audible gasp, both across the wireless and in the kitchen, as Mr. Weasley said Voldemort's name.

"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Weasley!"

"Uh, yes, you over there."

"Basil Babcock of WWIZ. You seem rather unconcerned about You-Know-Who, to speak his name so boldly. Do you think, like our previous minister, that he's not really a threat?"

"On the contrary," Mr. Weasley shot back. "I think, uh, Voldemort-" Again, there was a gasp - "is the gravest threat we face, which is why I think it's time we stopped tiptoeing around the issue and confront it head on."

"Then," another reporter yelled out, "do you think Minister Odgen isn't doing what needs to be done? As a former member of Law Enforcement, don't you think the Minister knows what steps to take?"

"The Interim Minister no doubt has a great deal of experience, but currently, he's focusing on things that are less important to the security of our community."

"Mr. Weasley!" a shrill, feminine voice called out. "Rita Skeeter, The Daily Prophet."

Nearly everyone in the kitchen let out a groan.

"Mr. Weasely, are you saying, then, that you're against the Minister's executive order to control dangerous dark creatures? After all, the Minister has said that..."

"No, Ms. Skeeter," Mr. Weasley interrupted, his voice taking on an edge Harry had never heard from the mild mannered wizard. "What I'm saying is that these current regulations are a waste of our time and energy. Before Odgen signed his executive order, we had perfectly good regulations on the books. The Interim Minister is diverting Aurors and other law enforcement personnel away from the all important task of neutralizing the death eaters."

"But don't you think," Skeeter retorted, her strident voice penetrating the shouts of the other reporters, "that these dark creatures are likely to being working in tandem with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"We've seen no evidence to support that claim, Ms. Skeeter. Next question."

"But," Skeeter demanded, "does this mean you support the werewolves and vampires?"

"Next question," Mr. Weasley said, obviously exasperated.

"Mr. Weasely, I'd like a straight answer," Skeeter demanded.

"The nerve of that woman!" Mrs. Weasley muttered.

"A straight answer on what, Ms. Skeeter?" Mr. Weasley said. "I've already said, I think we need to be applying all of our resources to the Death Eater threat."

"So does this mean," Skeeter continued, now facing no opposition from the other reporters, who seemed intrigued by this one-on-one Skeeter had initiated, "that you support Headmaster Dumbledore's decision to appoint a known werewolf to the staff of Hogwarts?"

"How does she know that?" Hermione demanded.

"Shush, I'll explain later," Mrs. Weasley said.

"I'm sure there are many parents," Skeeter continued, "who are very concerned about what this will mean for their children, to have a dangerous beast roaming the halls of their school."

"Uh, I, uh ..." Mr. Weasley seemed baffled. Then, taking a deep breath that Harry could hear clearly across the wireless, Mr. Weasley said, "Remus Lupin is a good man and a good teacher. I wholeheartedly support Dumbledore's decision. That's all the questions I have time for. Good day."

"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Weasley! Just one more question!"

"Is it true that your wife is addicted to pain-killer potions?"

"What?" Mrs. Weasley roared.

"Are your sons really Hogwarts drop-outs?"

Fred and George hung their heads.

"Is it true that your daughter tried to help You-Know-Who return to power?"

Harry's eyes flashed to Ginny. Pale and trembling, she looked away, but he reached across the table and grabbed her hand. "Don't listen to them..."

"Utter nonsense! Rubbish!" Mrs. Weasley cried, pulling out her wand and pointing it violently at the wireless. The wireless not only stopped making any sound; it also began smoking.

Mrs. Weasley fell into a chair and put her head in her hands. Sitting beside her, Miss Richardson put an arm around the older woman's shoulders and said, "There now, he did fine. Reporters are trained to be nasty, Molly. Try to take it with a grain of salt."

And then, to Harry's utter surprise, Snape sat down at the table as well. "Arthur held his own, Molly. He did well."

Mrs. Weasley must have been equally shocked by Snape's praise because she looked up at him and stuttered, "Thank ... thank you. I, uh, oh, it's just they're so cruel! Oh, and Ginny, after what you went through ..." she said, looking across the table at her daughter.

Ginny, who had regained her color, shrugged. "Forget it, Mum."

"Uh, Mrs. Weasely," Hermione cut in hesitantly, "how did Skeeter know about Professor Lupin..."

She shot Harry and Ron a worried look. He knew she was thinking about Skeeter's attempt to "bug" Hogwarts for information about Harry during his fourth year.

"She knew because of these," Mrs. Weasley said, holding up several thick envelopes. "I stopped by the Burrow this afternoon and picked up our mail. Your Hogwarts letters have arrived. Harry, yours is here as well. The headmaster has included a letter to all the parents, informing them of his decision to hire Remus ... I only hope there aren't too many objections."

"There better not be," Harry muttered. "He's the best defense instructor we've ever had, by far." He glanced at Snape, wondering if the potions master would contradict him, but he remained silent.

"Oh, what a day!" Mrs. Weasley sighed. Then she reached for Harry's hands. "And on your birthday, no less, poor boy."

"Today is Harry Potter's birthday?" squeaked a voice nearby. Harry blinked in surprise at Lupa, who was suddenly at his side with a plate full of cookies. He'd completely forgotten about the elf.

"Uh, yeah, today's my birthday."

Lupa looked at him with big eyes. "Lupa has heard great things about Harry Potter."

Harry tried to ignore Snape's snort from across the table.

"You don't happen to know Dobby, do you?" Ron asked, laughing.

Lupa shook her head. "Lupa knows no Dobby, but Lupa knows of Harry Potter." The house elf slid the plate of cookies onto the table. Then, with a quick nod of her head, Lupa levitated a cookie off the plate and toward Harry. As he stared at the cookie, he saw that, in tiny chocolate chips and raisins, there was a message: Hape Burthda Hare Poter!

"Uh, thanks Lupa!" he said, taking the cookie. As Ginny, Ron, and Hermione grabbed cookies of their own, and Mrs. Weasley, Miss Richardson, and Snape spoke quietly about the press conference, Harry tried to imagine how he'd be celebrating his birthday if he were still stuck at Privet Drive. And he realized that even with nasty Snape sitting across from him, even with Professor Lupin passed out upstairs, even with the dull ache he still felt at every thought of Sirius, even with the prickle of heat that raced through his forehead - even with all of this, he was happy. For this moment, at least, he was happy.