The Book Of Jude

Chapter Fourteen: All That You Build, All That You Break

'And if the darkness is to keep us apart

And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off

And if your glass heart should crack

And for a second you turn back

Oh no, be strong

Walk on'

U2, Walk On

"I feared I might be too late."

"You nearly were. I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer--"

"Not the Stone, boy, you--the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

He passed a weary hand over his eyes. This tedious tete-a-tete was giving him a headache and he didn't know how much more he could take before he'd have no choice but to turn Madam Pomfrey on them. The Headmaster had been explaining what had happened to Harry for the last fifteen minutes.

"After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all--the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

"Spoken like a true philosopher," Professor Snape grumbled moodily. He had no idea how the old man put up with such annoying questions from such an overly curious child. And he thought Jude had a special knack for trying his patience when she was nearly his age! He unconsciously closed his fingers tighter around the cold hand that lay in his.

As much money and life as one could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all. The professor shook his head at these words as the conversation turned to Jude. She wouldn't know what to do with wealth if she had it. And why would a girl who'd tried to end her life twice want immortality? The thought seemed ridiculous to him and he couldn't hold in a sardonic smile at Potter's ill-founded accusation that Jude was helping Quirrell get the Stone. The boy who owed his life to her had maintained to Dumbledore that Jude was trying to get the Stone for Voldemort, but in the end had tried to help him escape and had nearly died for it. The boy believed that she was guilty, but had turned honorable in the end.

He was dead wrong and didn't even know it--she'd been honorable the entire time.

Professor Snape was thankful that a curtain separated them from the rest of the room--the anger that seethed behind his black eyes was enough to frighten any child. His rage was assuaged only minimally as Dumbledore explained to the boy Jude's loyalties (not the full story of course, this was not the time). The last thing she'd ever want would be to hand Voldemort back his terrible powers and allow him to begin a new reign of terror. He knew that and Dumbledore knew that. But Jude would forever be proving herself, her loyalty to people like Potter.

"How is she?" Madam Pomfrey poked her head around the curtain.

Snape sighed heavily and replied dully, "the same." From the corner of his eye he could discern the stout nurse shake her head minutely before she left. He forced his gaze from the hospital wing floor to look on his beloved student. She was still pale, still cold and still unconscious. The only color offered by her pallid complexion was the deep blues and purples of the bruises on her face and hands and the dull gray of the circles under her eyes. And red. The angry red gashes and scratches from the glass of the mirror. Most of the cuts were bandaged with thick white gauze, which along with the white of the sheets on the beds, the white of the walls and floors and the white of the curtains, made the uncovered cuts stand out on her pale skin like flame etched in snow.

"You can't die, you know." He spoke to her as if she caught his every word. "You've tried to leave before and have failed every time." He hoped she would realize this fact and come back, but even he had a tough time believing she would survive this as she had countless other trials she had been faced with before. She'd broken the Mirror of Erised. A curse now demanded her life in payment for its destruction. But, then, why hadn't she died immediately? She certainly could have--she'd lost a lot of blood by the time McGonagall, Dumbledore and himself had discovered the scene. The only answer he could contrive was that she had not broken the mirror, but Quirrell had. He had died and the mirror's curse had been satisfied. Was it a flimsy theory? Snape tried to reason that it was a strong possibility, but felt his mind clouded by the false hopes it offered.

It had been three days already. He wondered how many more days he would wait to see if his theory would be proved correct. However long it took, he would wait--he hated being proved wrong.

***

"Thank you for coming, Severus. I know that there are other places you would rather be at the moment." Dumbledore waived him to a chair in front of his desk. In the chair next to him sat the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Professor Snape nodded in greeting to the Minister and promptly took his seat.

"Cornelius has asked that you be present since it was, in fact, you who first successfully cracked the case. The Minister, in light of how events have played out, is paying us this visit to find out what happened and I thought that you would be able to clear a few things up for him."

Dumbledore finished, his fingers steepled under a serious and grim frown. Snape knew that by the look on the Headmaster's face, the Minister was here to find someone to blame for the botched plan. Voldemort was supposed to be captured, but instead, he was still on the loose, one person was dead and two almost died.

"I understand that a former student of yours," Fudge began, looking significantly at Professor Dumbledore as he spoke, "Miss Elliot, was involved in the ah...altercation."

So, he'd found who he wanted to pin this one on. Professor Snape could hardly be impressed--Fudge always did pick the easy and obvious answer.

"She was allowed by the Department of the Mysteries to relocate here without penalty as long as she aided our cause in the capacity of looking after the safety of our little celebrity." Fudge almost beamed as if Potter was his own child. Snape continued to listen, growing impatient. "However, we have had word that she was involved--shall we say 'questionably' in the events of last week."

"I have explained those circumstances to you, Cornelius--Miss Elliot was never aiding Voldemort," Snape was amused to see Fudge blanch at the name, but Dumbledore pressed boldly onward, "and Quirrell. She was there to prevent the Stone from falling into Voldemort's hands. And I believe that if it hadn't been for her, Quirrell would have been successful in retrieving the Stone for his master." Dumbledore's voice was becoming hard and tense but still held a great deal of patience.

"Yes, but that is hearsay as far as the Ministry is concerned. She was supposed to be looking after the boy only. It was not in the deal that she be involved in any way related to the Stone. And there were no witnesses to prove that she was not subverting our cause..."

"And there are likewise no witnesses to the contrary, Minister," Snape interrupted Fudge coldly.

"Yes, well...there is the boy's testimony..." Fudge looked hopefully at Dumbledore.

"The students have already been sent home for the summer holidays, Cornelius. There is no way you could question Harry now. Besides, his story is consistent with ours." Dumbledore's expression was immovable.

"Well, then I'll need to speak to Miss Elliot."

"No." Snape's voice was flat and cold and as equally immovable as Dumbledore's.

"Miss Elliot has been unconscious for over a week. She was injured, according to Harry, while she was trying to protect him...and the Stone." The Headmaster's eyes gleamed in triumph, but Fudge would not be easily swayed.

"Yes, she is rather famous for...switching loyalties. She betrayed You-Know-Who, what makes you think she would never betray you, Albus?" Cornelius smiled an oily politician's smile. It was the last straw.

In one stealth movement, Professor Snape had gotten to his feet and half way to the door before Fudge could register the reaction to his insult. Reaching for the doorknob, Snape ripped the door open with little concealed fury. With his black robes billowing behind him, he realized what a melodramatic scene he must be making but didn't care to analyze his clichéd actions. He just wanted to get out. Over the groan of the protesting hinges of the abused door, the professor, in his haste, almost stumbled over a small house elf that was about to knock when the surface was pulled away from its tiny hand, not hearing the small squeak of surprise it emitted.

"Sorry, Sir," the elf apologized for being in the way of Snape's quick getaway. "But I was sent by Madam Pomfrey to fetch you, Sir. She's awake, Sir."

Professor Snape did not look back to note the profoundly relieved expression on the Headmaster's face--or the extremely interested and impertinent look on the Minister's--at the overheard news. Quickly side-stepping the elf, he walked swiftly down the corridors that led to the Hospital Wing.

***

Throwing open the door to the infirmary, he was by Madam Pomfrey's side in an instant. The cheery nurse held one of Jude's limp arms in a tentative grasp, checking her pulse. She was still as ghastly pale as she'd been when he'd left her earlier. The only difference in her appearance was that her gray eyes were now open. A drowsy, unfocused stare was fixed on nothing at all. This worried the professor, but he noted that Madam Pomfrey seemed delighted.

"Is she alright, Poppy?" he asked, confusedly.

"Of course she is. She's just tired. Go ahead and talk to her if you like, she'll know it's you."

Moving to the opposite side of the bed, so to stay out of Poppy's way, he placed a hand over her battered and bandaged one laying next to his favored student. "Jude?"

Her gaze moved slowly to the professor's face and he smiled. His theory was correct and she would be fine. In time.

"How do you feel?"

"Best nap I've had in a while." The reply was barely above a whisper. Her pale lips pressed together to form a weak smile. A little worse for the wear, but she was still there, no mistake.

"Glad to hear that. You were looking like hell there, for a while..."

At that moment the doors creaking on their ancient hinges announced a visitor. Or two. Fudge, followed closely by a weary and hassled-looking Dumbledore, waltzed into the room with all the arrogant confidence of his office.

"So happy to see that you are awake, Miss Elliot." The Minister ignored Dumbledore's hand on his arm as a warning to be cautious. "There are a few questions I would like you to clarify for me, if you don't mind."

"I mind, Sir. She is in no state to be questioned by you or anyone else." Madam Pomfrey had come to stand directly in front of the Minister, blocking his view of her patient.

"Please, Madam. This should take no longer than a few minutes." He held both hands up, palms out, as to show that he meant no harm. He sidestepped the stout and threatening witch so that he faced Jude. "Miss Elliot, did you or did you not attempt to aid You-Know-Who in acquiring the Stone?"

Jude looked frantically at Dumbledore. "He got the Stone?" she managed to whisper hoarsely. The recollections came flooding back as if some levy in her mind had broken. Harry had the Stone. Where was he? Was he all right?

Dumbledore recognized the pleading look and answered her every question as if he could read her mind. "Relax, my dear. Harry is fine. He went home with the other students two days ago. Voldemort did not succeed in obtaining his prize. The Minister simply chose his words poorly." Fudge didn't even seem to register the insult.

"Very well. Did you aid You-Know-Who in the attempt to acquire the Stone?"

Jude simply stared. Was he patronizing her or was he really that daft?

"That's quite enough, Minister." Professor Snape would not listen to any more accusations. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey may have the patience to deal with this ridiculous character, but his idiot tolerance was running low at the moment.

"Honestly, Cornelius, is this really necessary? Yes Voldemort managed to slip your trap, but I will vouch for Miss Elliot. She has served our cause most loyally and any betrayal from her will be on my head. Are you satisfied with this?" Dumbledore turned a questioning glare on the Minister, who looked as if he had no intention of budging on this matter. "Come, Cornelius. Madam Pomfrey is looking rather dangerous at the moment and I do not wish to try her patience further."

"Oh, very well." Fudge threw his hands at his sides like a spoiled child not getting its way. "But," he raised an accusing finger at Jude, "I will have people watching you like a hawk. One foot out of line and there will be consequences. People like you don't stick to one side too long. We'll see where your true loyalties lie soon enough." He shoved his garish bowler hat onto his head and strode importantly out of the door, followed by Dumbledore shaking his head in disbelief at the Minister's behavior.

"Hmmm." Madam Pomfrey began her usual hustle and bustle around her patient. "Well, I deem that enough excitement for one day, dear. You need rest." Jude didn't feel that she could argue even if she wanted to.

Professor Snape settled into a chair at Jude's side, watching Madam Pomfrey flutter around like an industrious bee. "Oh, I almost forgot." He reached into a pocket, Jude's attention reclaimed for the moment. "You dropped this." From his fingers dangled the familiar silver chain, mended as if it had never been broken at all. He placed the charm in her hand. "I thought you might want it back."

She smiled faintly as she clasped the silver star to her chest before falling back into a deep sleep.

***

She sat up in the pristine, white sheets. Poppy's insisting that Jude remain in bed while she play the mother hen was grating on her nerves. It had been two days since she'd been awake and she was already going stir crazy. She had to get out of this bed, out of this room, but she was still too dizzy to even make it to the window--not that she'd let on to that, of course.

The light spilling in through the window made it not so unpleasant to be stuck there, she supposed. The crumpled parchment in her hand had been the only entertainment for the past hour. Professor Snape had been good enough to spend every spare moment with her, but she refused to be such a monopoly on his time. She read and reread the lines on the page. It was the letter Rhys had sent her during Christmas--she'd used a Summoning Charm to get it the day before. What she would give if only she could be where he was right now. She missed him more than she could recall ever missing a person before. When she'd felt the blood and strength draining from her body, all she could remember thinking was that she regretted that she had left Rhys that way and would never see him again. She remembered promising herself that if she made it out of that mess alive, she would go back and make things right.

After all, she hadn't done many good deeds before. Surely this one could buy her some happiness now, right?

No, she didn't deserve a thing. She'd failed in her mission--Harry nearly died for the third time and it was all her fault. Only by some miracle or a sick twist of fate had everything turned out okay--it was not by her doing.

But she didn't care. She was determined to leave this place behind her for good. She wanted that life--her happy paradise--more than anything else in the world. And if a near-death experience was good for anything, it was for putting things in perspective. None of this mattered to her--sure she had friends here, but her enemies here by far outnumbered them. And those she cared for seemed to see her as merely a debtor--someone who owed something. Dumbledore had used her. He may not have intended to do so, but it was just the same. The Ministry had used her. Everyone had.

She was tired of proving herself over and over to people who would never believe a word she said no matter what she did, no matter who she tried to save. She was done trying. Adda had always trusted her. Rhys had always loved her, no matter what. And she was no longer sure that even her dark little secret would keep him away from her. He loved her. It said so, right there in the letter. Her past was nothing to her any longer. Rhys was all that mattered to her now.

She flung her legs over the side of the bed and tested her weight on her feet. A little shaky but they would hold. Steadying herself with her wrapped and bandaged hands on the sheets, she pushed off from the support and headed for the door. She prayed that she could make it all the way back to her room and pack her things before Madam Pomfrey or anyone else realized she was gone--or before she passed out in the halls. She didn't notice when the faded parchment she'd carried around for months fell to the floor by the deserted hospital bed.

***

Poppy's frantic words had been a bit frightening at first--until he learned what the alarm was all about. He'd hurried quickly down to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey was waiting for him. They were the only two people standing in the deserted infirmary. So Jude had left. It merited only mild surprise--he figured something like this would happen.

"She's not strong enough for this yet," the nurse protested.

"Jude knows what she can handle and what she can't, Poppy." He hoped his reassurance would be enough for the old witch.

"And my opinion means nothing? I didn't serve ten years at St. Mungo's for nothing. My professional judgment shouldn't be just written off like this. I'm not some crackpot old hag selling cures in an alley, you know." Madam Pomfrey continued to fume as she busied herself.

"I know, Poppy. But I'm sure she'll be fine." His reply was half-hearted. Something on the floor by the bed had caught his attention and pulled it away from the conversation. It was a piece of gray parchment. A letter. As he read the fading lines of writing, he smiled. Jude would kill him if she knew he was reading this.

"Good luck, then, Jude." Folding the parchment and placing it in his pocket, he turned to leave the empty infirmary.