Six
A Call to Arms
“I don’t want that man in my house!” Harry reiterated, the copper pots hanging from the rack above reverberating as he brought his fist down on the kitchen table.
“Be reasonable, Harry,” Remus returned in a even voice. “He’s still an official member of the Order. How would it look if he were purposely excluded?”
“We’re allowing Luna to bring her father as a guest. It’s not like we’re maintaining strict secrecy.”
“Don’t you think it would be useful to have The Quibbler on our side? You yourself used it to stand up to the slanted news in the Daily Prophet, or have you forgotten?”
The set of Harry’s jaw clearly showed he was not backing down. “Besides, the Order ceased to exist with Voldemort’s defeat.”
Remus sighed. “Consider it a social club, then, like the Veterans of Foreign Wars. The Minister specifically requested --”
“Have you forgotten the doubts I’ve had about Scrimgeour all along?” Harry pressed. “Surely Tonks relayed the man’s personal stance on werewolves…”
“Yes, but he publicly puts a different face on it. You can’t deride him for that.”
Only because Hermione and Percy cornered him, Harry thought darkly, prudently deciding it would not do to voice such sentiments aloud. After all, the presence of Mrs. Figg meant this was not just a family discussion.
“Did I do the wrong thing by bringing this to your attention?” Mrs. Figg implored as she looked at the two men standing on opposite ends of the long table.
“No, of course not, Arabella. Harry and I don’t always see eye to eye,” Remus offered genially.
“It’s always better to know the truth,” Harry echoed with an apologetic half-smile in the direction of his former neighbor.
“That’s just it,” Remus argued. “We only know a very small corner of the truth. You’re judging the man based on circumstantial evidence!”
“All of his suspicious actions just got put into context!” Harry shot back. “How can you deny that?”
“I know how it looks, Harry. But I can’t categorically condemn the man without hearing his side of it,” Remus insisted. “Just remember how they railroaded Sirius.”
“It is a similar situation,” Mrs. Figg ventured, her grey head bobbing up and down. “Not that I’m taking sides, mind you.”
“Wise decision,” Tonks agreed as she took the chair next to Mrs. Figg. “Don’t let their enthusiastic discussion put you off. Harry and Remus are bound to disagree every once in a while.”
A loud pop announced Dobby’s Apparition at Tonks’ side. “Were you able to put the children to bed, Mistress?”
“Yes, Dobby.” Tonks smiled at the concern in the house-elf’s protuberant eyes. “I diffused an Uninterrupted Sleep Potion directly into the air as well.” Leveling a no nonsense look at the men, she added, “I’m trusting the two of you to reach a viable compromise as adults.”
“I really didn’t mean to spark a confrontation…” Mrs. Figg remarked apologetically.
“Of course not, dear,” Tonks soothed as she patted Mrs. Figg’s papery hand in reassurance. “Just take it with a grain of salt. If Ginny were here, she’d already be lining up wagers for Harry’s temper versus Remus’ stubbornness.”
Mrs. Figg giggled nervously. “Do you approach everything with such irreverence?”
“Didn’t we fight a war for that very privilege?” Remus supplied with a smirk. “Besides, humor always diffuses the situation.”
“Thank you, Dobby,” Tonks whispered as she took the laden tray from the elf’s hands. “Won’t you help yourself to some tea, Arabella? I need to check on the children one last time. I think an Imperturbable Charm may be in order.”
“I’m still not backing down,” Harry pronounced. “Mrs. Figg, surely you remember how he abandoned his post just prior to the dementor attack in Little Whinging?”
“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Figg offered over a dainty sip of tea.
Harry nodded grimly before continuing, “And I stumbled upon him in Hogsmeade with a whole satchel of silver goblets from Grimmauld Pl--”
“You have no evidence they were stolen,” Remus interjected. “Sirius was prone to give things away with just a wave of his hand.”
“They were family heirlooms!” Harry volleyed back.
“From a family which had disowned him,” Remus countered.
“You always have an answer for everything,” Harry huffed as he sat down heavily at his end of the table.
“Alternate explanations can be just as valid,” Remus supplied diplomatically. “That’s why I maintain it’s all inconclusive.”
“But he’s related to that…pig!” Harry was clearly unconvinced.
“Did you forget that Sirius and Tonks were related to Bellatrix? Much more closely, in fact,” Remus pointed out. “You can’t condemn a man because of his family. It’s his own actions--”
“”that are particularly damning!” Harry finished. “I caught him with the pinched goods months after Sirius fell through the Veil. His guilty reaction--”
“”means nothing,” Remus cut across. “He could just as easily have obtained those goods months earlier. What makes you so certain he was raiding the townhouse while it was uninhabited?”
“Didn’t Dumbledore warn you not to go back there?” Harry posed rhetorically. “That is was unsafe.”
“Yes, he provided me with alternate living arrangements that summer,” Remus admitted. “But I suspect he did that to help ease my grief just as much as anything else.”
“He was searching for Hufflepuff’s Cup!” Harry proclaimed.
“Which Dolores Umbridge had already secreted at Hogwarts the previous year,” Tonks volunteered as she calmly reclaimed her seat at Mrs. Figg’s side. “Yet Dung didn’t know about that.”
“So she didn’t tell him everything,” Harry opined.
Lupin shook his head sharply. “So he wasn’t privy to her true intentions, Harry. You can’t assume they were accomplices in this.”
“I still don’t want him in my house!” Harry exclaimed as his cup rattled ominously in its saucer.
“That’s not your decision to make,” Remus answered.
“Half of it is,” Harry defended. “Are you weighing in on the other half? What about Tonks?”
Tonks threw up her hands in surrender. “I’m claiming Swiss citizenship on this one. Total neutrality.”
Remus repositioned his chair so he was closer to Harry. “Look, Harry,” he proffered gently, “I admit Mundungus Fletcher has always been a dodgy character, but we can’t be condemning others based on theory and not absolute fact. It’s not fair!”
Harry scowled. “And everyone has always been fair to you in life. Haven’t they, Remus?”
“Quite the contrary. Which is why I strive to rise above it,” he urged with quiet fervor.
“Over-compensation, if you ask me,” Harry scoffed.
“Intransient idealism,” Tonks mumbled to herself.
A long shadow fell across the table from the doorway leading to the drawing room. Tonks looked up expectantly, but was caught short by the dark figure of Severus Snape.
Leaning contemptuously against the doorframe, he sneered, “Well, well, well…I always thought the two of you got along so famously together.” His obsidian eyes bore into Harry and Remus in turn. “I’m frankly surprised I don’t see wands drawn.”
“Really, Severus…” Remus protested.
“Of course, how could I be so boorish? Domestic disputes call for more civilized methods. Luckily, I see you have all manner of sharp knives at your disposal.” At the disparaging lift of Snape’s eyebrow, metal implements throughout the kitchen rattled ominously in their holders.
“Very funny, Severus,” Remus remarked dryly. “I see you’ve just returned from a visit to Rasputin’s tailor.”
“Yes, well, the man is entitled to make a living. Besides, he’s a distant relation,” Snape allowed in an undertone.
Not to be left out, Harry dared, “What brings you here this evening? Isn’t it a little late for Halloween?”
Not missing a beat, Snape replied in a silken tone, “A Muggle custom the wizarding world has embraced wholeheartedly thanks to your lot.”
“Why, Severus,” Tonks interjected sweetly, “I would have thought you were a natural for fancy dress parties. So many villains to choose from…”
“Indeed,” he acknowledged her well-place barb. “If only I had Lupin’s innate abilities, I could deride the students in different languages, as well.”
“Glad to hear you’re in support of the new linguistics program, then,” Remus noted.
Mrs. Figg’s mouth was hanging half open at the rapid-fire word play, confusion dotting her brow as she looked from one to the other.
Knowing this group could go on for hours, Tonks redirected the conversation. “Opening pleasantries aside, I should explain that I took the liberty of soliciting another opinion.”
Ginny was really going to kick herself for choosing tonight to clear out her London flat once and for all, Harry thought to himself. He could just envision her licking the end of her quill in concentration as she quickly refigured the odds with the addition of Snape into the mix.
With vampiric panache, Snape swirled his black robes into the chair Tonks offered him. “An impartial arbiter, so to speak. Minerva sends her regrets, Tonks. Both the Heads were tied up with school duties, but I was free. Finished supervising all my detentions hours ago. Didn’t know I’d be called upon for a another round.” Nodding sharply in Mrs. Figg’s direction, he commented with a sardonic smile, “Good evening, Arabella. I see you got caught up with this band of reprobates.”
“Fell though the rabbit hole, more like,” Mrs. Figg admitted.
“See, you have a flair for the game already,” Snape returned glibly.
“Here, let me fill you in,” Tonks offered as she handed him the parchment sheets Mrs. Figg had brought to their attention. Snape furrowed his brow as his eyes scanned the words before him.
“5 April 1964,” the banner across the top of the page read. It was an instinctual reaction to ponder where his own life had been at that juncture. Too young for Hogwarts, too young even for the run-down Muggle schoolhouse perched like a vulture on the hill overlooking Spinner’s End. His mother must have already been toiling dawn to dusk at the textile mill; it would have been operating at full capacity then. Even his father had been gainfully employed, not having been sacked for drunkenness until Snape was older. Only then had the beatings of his mother begun in earnest...
Next Snape turned his attention to the outside world. Grindelwald had been long since banished by Dumbledore; young Tom Riddle would have left Hogwarts as well, but not yet resurfaced in the self-styled guise of Lord Voldemort. Nobby Leach had been Minister for Magic while the Muggle government had been entrenched in some minor skirmishes -- but that was hardly surprising. Nothing of world-wide import affecting wizards directly…
Having taken a moment to orient his mind, Snape scanned the headlines before him.
After nearly two years of negotiations with the Department for International Magical Cooperation, Caspar Mulroney, Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has finally realized a life-long dream. His school is hosting the first-ever History Symposium during the Easter holidays.
“Any Hogwarts student who wished to stay on as a spectator was welcome, of course,” Professor Mulroney commented. “But let’s face it: not everyone finds history to be a very fascinating subject.”
As Ancient Runes instructor, Professor Mulroney often finds himself digging into the past to unearth exciting tales of ancient intrigue and adventure. Trying to impart his passion to his students has often met with rather bored expressions. “But that’s all going to change this week,” he assures us. “We will be bringing history to life with re-enactments, debates, and finally an elimination tournament that will incorporate important events from the world of wizards and Muggles alike.”
In order to thoroughly challenge students, the combined expertise of Professor Jeremy Farquar, Muggle Studies, and Professor Cuthbert Binns, History of Magic, have been recruited to prepare quiz questions for the competition.
Events will culminate with the Antiquarian Ball (period costumes preferred, but not required) this coming Friday, 10 April, in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. This will allow foreign visitors to return home in time for classes to resume the following Monday…
Snape scanned the section detailing the make-up of the Hogwarts team, but recognized no one. A familiar name near the end of the column caught his eye.
“It is a fine testament to Professor Mulroney’s long tenure at Hogwarts that he had bestowed such an honor upon us,” current Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, confirmed. “I have full confidence the event will run smoothly under his able stewardship.”
Scheduled to retire at the end of the school year, Deputy Headmaster Mulroney is being allowed to take the helm of the symposium as a final honor while Professor Dumbledore spends the Easter break with his own family.
“It will be a rare treat for me as well,” the Headmaster confided as he double-checked last minute travel preparations. “I have longed to explore history on a more personal level among the classic ruins of Greece.”
Asked if he was tracing Hellenic roots of his own, the Headmaster’s vibrant blue eyes twinkled as he stated, “Not at all, I just like the climate.”
Wanting to provide international students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang Academies with the full Hogwarts experience, visitors were sorted into Houses and allowed to share dormitory rooms with those students who choose to remain on hand during the two-week event. Much to their delight, many students have discovered they share family ties with those who have been temporarily assigned to their Houses.
“Not that we shouldn’t have expected it,” Professor Minerva McGonagall remarked. Currently Head of Gryffindor House, the professor is expected to assume the post of Deputy Headmistress in time for next fall’s crop of students. “Siblings end up in the same house more often than not; why should it surprise us that the tie holds true if relatives are separated by land and sea?”
Current seventh year student, Rodolphus Lestrange, found a great-great-grandmother still living in Dijon. Evan Rosier has relatives in the foothills of Alsace. Herbert Chang discovered he hails from a long line of Tartars with current roots in Vladivostok. The Malfoy family of Wiltshire traced distant cousins to the Loire Valley of France.
But no one was as surprised as Gilbert Goyle to find that his family shared a common ancestry with renowned wand manufacturer, Yuri Gregorovitch. “Blimey, my genes must not react properly with this poor excuse of a domestic wand I’ve been carrying,” Goyle scoffed as Charms instructor, Filius Flitwick was overheard muttering, “No more excuses from you, lad.”
Not to be outdone, Professor Mulroney himself discovered a Muscovite branch to his family tree.
“It’s international brotherhood at it’s very best,” Bartemius Crouch of the Department for International Cooperation announced with pride…
Lots of familiar names, Snape concluded, but surely there was nothing here to alarm Mrs. Figg. Despite her appearance, he knew her to be a grizzled veteran who was not so easily rattled.
Feeling she should attend to her other guest while Snape’s concentration was elsewhere, Tonks whispered to Mrs. Figg, “You must forgive the boys, Arabella. It’s just a little recognition ritual they follow. Making sure that no one is disguised with Polyjuice and the like.”
“Isn’t that why we do a Patronus check?” Mrs. Figg returned in confusion.
“Yes, but Severus once claimed that Remus’ presence was enough to put him off pleasant memories entirely.”
“So we found another method that suited him better,” Remus concluded under his breath.
Snape’s particular brand of biting baritone would be difficult to duplicate, Mrs. Figg allowed silently. It wasn’t so terribly different than the protocols the Ministry’s pamphlets had outlined -- once it had finally admitted to Voldemort’s return. Who could blame them for reworking the rules in a time of peace?
Ignoring the conversations around him, Snape unfurled the next parchment page, finding a small, related bit shoved into the lower left corner.
A famous Hogsmeade landmark was dealt a heavy blow earlier this week when Ministry inspectors announced that the Hog’s Head would be temporarily closed due to health code violations.
“It’s nothing that a thorough cleaning and airing out won’t cure,” officials assured us. “We want to make sure everything is in tip-top shape when our children return to Hogwarts after their spring break.”
Reached for comment, proprietor Aberforth Dumbledore had this to say, “I’m goin’ ta make the best of it, I am. Can’t say I’ve taken a right holiday since I opened my doors. And don’t ya be askin’ me who sat on the Muggle throne when that was, neither!”
The recent influx of international attendees to the History Symposium will just have to make do with other famed eating establishments such at the Three Broomsticks and Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop which promise us they will remain open during the Easter school holidays.
Snape was in the midst of considering who Dumbledore had paid off to grant Aberforth such a perfectly-timed subterfuge when he was drawn to the vivid moving pictures gracing the right hand side of the page.
A photo of three smiling girls had a caption which read: Marlene McKinnon, third year, had always known that Dorcas Meadows, first year, was her fourth cousin. What neither of them foresaw was that they would be sharing sleeping quarters with Dominq Fobeus, another cousin, whose family resides in a coastal village in Poland. Both local girls had joined the Order and fallen victim to Voldemort’s cruelty long before he had joined the ranks, Snape recollected.
The following photo showed Goyle the elder with his arm around a bulky man who could easily have been his evolutionary precursor, Snape sneered to himself.
Next came a vibrant Augusta Longbottom with a foppishly dressed little boy. Could that really be Frank under all those curls? He couldn’t have been more than four or five at the time. ‘I just couldn’t let the opportunity slip by for Frankie to meet some of his relations,’ Augusta Longbottom declared as she found her seat among the spectator stands. ‘We’re related to the Longineaus from Zurich, you know.’ Chloe and Gertie Longineau are both alternates on the Beauxbatons junior and senior squads, respectively. No doubt about it, Frank had the same cherubic face which had plagued Neville until his final year. As for Augusta, her attire was spinsterish even as a young woman. Merlin, how he detested that woman’s taste in fashion!
But it was the next one that caught him by surprise. ‘Mum always said I had loads of third and fourth cousins,’ second-year Dottie Umbridge chirped. ‘Didn’t have to go much further than Lancastershire to find ‘em, though.’ Sixth-year Mundungus Fletcher was pleased to stumble upon family right in his own Hufflepuff Common Room. Caught off guard, ‘Dung’ commented joyfully, ‘And ta think I almost didn’t come back for N.E.W.T.s!’
There was no mistaking the faces, either, Snape considered. Even in her girlish Alice band and frilly socks, Umbridge’s round face was already taking on a toadish look. As for Fletcher, he looked as unkempt as ever, his sixteen-year-old features looking just as haggard as if he’d come off a three-day drunk. So this was the viper in their midst, Snape concluded with absolute certainty.
Harry refilled his cup impatiently as he waited for Snape to reach the end of the document. Had the man ever read any of his essays in such careful detail before scrawling disparaging remarks across the face of them?
Snape looked up to find Harry’s emerald eyes boring into him with a coldness worthy of a Slytherin.
“Surprising, isn’t it?” Harry goaded.
“Absolutely,” Snape drawled, turning slightly to better address him. “I would never have suspected Mundungus Fletcher was not the blackest sheep in his family. I take it you’re arguing whether to paint them both with the same tar brush?”
“I don’t want that man in my house!” Harry repeated.
“Nor his cousin, I warrant,” Snape returned with cold precision. “Why do you take a different view, Lupin?”
“The evidence is all circumstantial.” Remus sighed wearily. “We can’t allow ourselves to use the same tactics as the Ministry when they sentenced Sirius after Pettigrew set him up.”
“True,” Snape allowed grimly. “But you had a good measure of Sirius’ character after all those years of friendship. Can anyone speak for Mundungus?” Seeing that he had no takers, Snape prodded, “How about you, Arabella?”
Mrs. Figg shrugged self-consciously. “He was always friendly enough,” she volunteered tentatively. “Never said anything nasty about my cats when he swept them off the sofa before seating himself. Used to commiserate that ‘Dottie never used to be like that.’”
“See…” Harry urged.
Mrs. Figg continued, “He claimed that Cornelius Fudge had poisoned her with promises of power. I always took that to refer to her appointment to Hogwarts, but I suppose he could have been referring to other things. I don’t rightly know…”
“He wasn’t there for the final confrontation with Voldemort,” Harry interjected venomously. “Nor part of the reinforcements or the first-aid detail, either.”
“I believe he was doing a stint in Azkaban for a botched burglary at the time,” Mrs. Figg clarified softly.
“Hardly a sterling recommendation,” Snape remarked. “Might I add that Dumbledore was of the opinion that Fletcher had been framed. A simple way to get one of the Order members out of the way… Or was it an old man’s paranoia in the face of this own dwindling health? What have you to say on the matter, Tonks?”
“I never really knew the man,” Tonks stammered, her eyes glued to her teacup.
“Oh, come,” Snape cajoled darkly. “He showed enough of his backside at the Burrow that one time. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
Discomfited, Tonks shook her head. “It seems so inconsequential, Severus. We were all so stressed at the time, myself included. Perhaps I was too touchy…”
Catching the haunted look in Tonk’s eye, Remus leaned over and entwined his fingers with hers. “You never told me this, cherub.”
“No, I didn’t,” Tonks admitted hollowly. “You had enough on your plate once they dug you out of a snowbank. Truly, Sevenus, we were all at our wit’s end that night.”
“When?” Remus urged in a whisper.
Tonks sighed before capitulating. “The night of the first full moon after you escaped from the werewolf compound.”
Harry held his breath, hoping the rest of the details would be forthcoming. Remus didn’t speak much of those episodes in his life, if ever. The few snippets he’d been able to piece together indicated Remus’ undercover assignment had proven to be more harrowing than Dumbledore expected.
In answer to Tonks’ look of supplication, Snape elaborated, “If you’ll allow me. We had an emergency conclave to appraise one another of how we were leading the Ministry in a merry chase over Will Overstreet’s escape. Dumbledore was doing his best to convince Tonks that nothing would be achieved by launching a one-woman rescue mission. Fletcher made an offhand remark to Tonks about how we were just making much ado over nothing.”
With downcast eyes, Tonks clarified in a tiny voice, “He said not to worry; that Remus was like a bad penny, always showing up.”
“Precisely,” Snape concurred. “Well, Minerva turned on him like a lioness and growled, ‘I would expect such disparaging remarks from Severus; but what did Remus ever do to you?’ Caught in the crosshairs, Fletcher just shook his head. The man never had enough backbone to stand up to that woman’s temper.”
“Very few do,” Remus attested.
As Snape spun out the story in dispassionate terms, Tonks felt she was reliving those agonizing moments once again. She clearly recalled Dung shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot as he scratched his unshaven chin. “Nothing,” Dung muttered, avoiding the sparks in Minerva’s eyes. “Forget I said anything, ‘right?”
She’d raised her tear-streaked face from Minerva’s shoulder and tried to stare the man down. “I think you’d best elaborate, Dung,” she demanded, her wet voice robbing her words of their impact.
Trapped, Dung had replied, “ ‘e’s not the sort you’d take ‘ome to meet yer folks, if ya catch my meaning.”
Tonks’ jaw had dropped, too overcome with shock to respond. Dung was one of them, she wailed inwardly, how could he harbor such narrow-mindedness?
Minerva had come to her aid. “I suspect Remus cleans up a lot better than you do!” she hissed before ushering Tonks into the other room.
Remus’ sarcasm brought her back to the present. “And you happened to witness this entire exchange?” he threw at Snape. “Convenient.”
Snape shrugged disdainfully. “Once Minerva mentioned my name, I was obliged to be on hand to defend my status as the resident curmudgeon.”
“Really, Remus, it was nothing,” Tonks implored as she squeezed his hand.
Remus turned to look at Harry directly. “I can’t actually say I like the man, mind you, but if we allow personal feelings --”
“Then you would have never included me in any of the Order’s activities,” Snape finished with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Severus, please…” Remus interceded.
“It’s hardly a secret, Lupin. Don’t insult me.” Snape’s smugness was beginning to wear on Harry. “The difference is I don’t go around hoping everyone will like me.”
Unable to resist, Harry quipped, “That does explain a lot.”
Unperturbed, Snape replied, “Not that you lot --” He motioned to Harry and Remus. “”aren’t known for your own brand of gallows humor, mind you.”
“So neither of you trusts Mundungus,” Mrs. Figg summarized adroitly. “What now?”
Without hesitation, Remus intoned, “We need real evidence. No more suppositions.”
“Set a trap,” Snape suggested. “You want to know if he’s a spy in our camp, right? Feed him some false bit of fluff and see if Umbridge repeats it.”
“That still requires we let him in the door,” Harry protested.
“Unless you know how to feed him the information otherwise.” Snape shrugged. “You have to make it sound like it’s the official stance of the Order, you know.”
“And what’s to keep him from helping himself to our possessions?” Harry cried. “He must restock his secondhand goods store somehow!”
“Harry, are you really that suspicious?” Tonks posed.
Lupin’s piercing look seemed to imply: are you really that materialistic?
“Begging your pardon, Sirs,” Dobby interjected with pleading eyes, “but if that’s what’s worrying Master Harry, Dobby can help. Dobby was not always a kitchen elf, oh no. When he was younger, he often worked security detail. Dobby knows just how to shadow suspicious characters to protect Master’s valuables, yes indeed. Dobby will follow this Dung fellow.”
Dobby had so seamlessly become a part of their extended family Harry often forgot he had once belonged to the Malfoys before obtaining his freedom. No doubt Lucius had just cause to keep extra eyes on the dodgy characters who had frequented Malfoy Manor during Voldemort’s reign. Characters who would make Mundungus Fletcher look like Peter Pan in comparison.
Making an immediate decision, Harry smiled into the elf’s upturned face. “Do you promise to let someone else help with the refreshments, Dobby? I don’t want you to overtax yourself and Ginny’s mum is always offering to lend a hand.”
Looking hesitantly in Remus’ direction only to receive a reassuring nod, Dobby agreed to the compromise. “Grandmother Molly would not be as successful at tailing guests as Dobby would,” he affirmed solemnly.
Hiding her smirk as best she could, Tonks turned gratefully in Snape’s direction. “Please don’t think I’ve neglected your needs, Severus. Can we offer you some brandy or Firewhiskey perhaps? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take tea…”
“That’s because those Hogwarts elves have no concept of how I prefer it,” he drawled with a sinister smile. As he deftly filled a china cup with a lazy flick of his wand, Snape held out his other hand expectantly. With a sharp pop, Dobby reappeared with a bottle of honey mead. “However, this delightful elf has a fine memory,” he noted as he fortified the beverage to his liking.
With a deep courteous bow, Dobby Disapparated leaving the bottle at Snape’s elbow. There was little doubt Snape had once been a frequent visitor to Malfoy Manor as well.
The warm glow of the candle sconces embracing the disused ballroom belied the wintry chill which had fallen over Godric’s Hollow. As the familiar faces of the Order members lined the room before her, Tonks couldn’t help thinking that even in death, the old man had been prophetic. How keenly she recalled the inspirational conversation she’d had with her Headmaster at her graduation festivities so many years ago. He’d likened evil to a dark phoenix, hadn’t he? It had echoed in her mind as she endured her Auror training. Months which alternated between frustration and exhaustion and euphoria. She would never accept the inevitability of evil; she would eradicate it. Poison its very roots so it could not rise again.
Had he been recruiting her for the Order even then? She had graduated during a period of relative peace, yet even then Dumbledore had known they would be drawn into another facedown with Voldemort. Only the manner of the maniac’s return was uncertain.
Now with Voldemort vanquished once and for all and Dumbledore’s presence relegated to a portrait in the Headmistress’ office, Tonks had forsaken the outer trappings of an Auror for the life of an educator; following in the great man’s footsteps without even realizing it. Not to mention deriving great satisfaction in preparing her avid students for whatever tribulations the future might hold.
She had not considered she herself would be called upon to confront petty tyrants intent upon making their unique dark mark. Bugs which should be crushed under the Ministry’s boots, if she had her way. Surely, that was the most expeditious handling of such issues. But hadn’t the Ministry demonstrated its power-hungry tendrils often knew no bounds?
Kingsley’s summons had only to remind them that the Minister had chosen to recognize the victors with Orders of Merlin for them to conclude they owed it to come to his aid. The problem was no one was exactly sure how to counter Umbridge’s unfounded aspersions. It was a situation no one had anticipated. After all, as Tonks had reminded her husband the night before, they were a group trained to meet their enemies head-on. Standing up to Dolores’ lies was a public relations nightmare, but hardly something they could attack at wandpoint.
Taking her words to heart, Remus had invited Luna to join them while Neville was still abroad. In the current crisis, Luna’s finesse with pleasing opposing factions would come in handier than battle skills.
Tonks reminded herself that appearances could be deceiving as she watched Luna’s blonde head swivel dreamily about the room much as Phoebe’s would have done. Remember this was the same woman who single-handedly kept Harry’s wedding from become a media nightmare, she intoned silently. Had it not been for Luna’s innovative ideas for the Fidelius Charm, the ceremony could have become as much a carnival as Kingsley Shacklebolt’s had been the year before. Kingsley had only managed to save the day by obtaining an emergency Portkey at the eleventh hour and transporting the entire assemblage to a private Caribbean island. An undertaking which had cost him a pretty penny, one might add.
A commotion near the entrance brought Tonks immediately to her feet although she could see Remus had already gone on ahead of her. She could hear Hagrid’s booming voice as he checked Patronuses at the door.
“It’s probably Father,” Luna whispered as she fell in with Tonks.
Fumbling poltergeists, what sort of a problematic Patronus could Luna’s father have? Based on the far-fetched stories which often ran in The Quibbler, should they be expecting an army of Heliopaths? One Heliopath would be bad enough, Tonks reasoned snidely. Surely not, that would mean the creatures really existed, wouldn’t it?
“It’s a coelacanthe!” Xenopilius Lovegood maintained. “Can’t you read, you ruddy oaf?”
“Don’t rightly say what tha’ is, do it?” Hagrid’s oversized finger pointed at the long list of Patronuses before him as he puffed out his mighty chest in offense. “Not much o’ an infallible identifier if all you’s have ta know is how ta pronounce it!”
“It’s my fault,” Luna chimed in as she eased her way between Hagrid and Remus. “I should have included some literature, perhaps a picture.”
“Why The Quibbler devoted a full issue to coelacanthes on the fiftieth anniversary of their discovery,” Xenophilius asserted with pride.
“Would there be a source other than The Quibbler?” Remus urged diplomatically. “Something that I might have in my own library?” He graciously swept an arm in the direction of the large room situated just off the entrance foyer to emphasize that he was not doubting the integrity of Mr. Lovegood’s tabloid, even though Tonks knew that, inwardly, he did.
Luna’s watery blue eyes lit up immediately. “Do you have any books about fossils, prehistoric ones? Even a Muggle volume will do.”
“Follow me,” Remus allowed as he ushered Luna into the next room, raising the lights in the wall brackets as he did so.
“It won’t just be a minute,” Tonks remarked as she graciously offered Xenophilius her hand. “We met at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, I’m Tonks.”
“Of course,” Xenophilius wagged his head eagerly. “You’re the Metamorphmagus.”
“You have a fine memory.” Tonks flashed him a wide smile.
“An eye for the unusual, one would say,” he confided.
“Here we go,” Remus proclaimed as returned with a large tome. Placing it where Hagrid could see the photo clearly, he bade their guest to invoke his Patronus once more.
Within moments, a smoky version of the pre-historic sea creature could be seen swishing its mighty fins as it made its way up the staircase leading to the upper story.
“Notice the peculiar way its fins move,” Xenophilius pointed out. “Not in tandem like most fish, but in opposition like the legs of land beasts.”
“Many believe the coelacanthe is the missing link between the creatures of the land and those of the sea,” Luna elaborated.
“I always envisioned it as being a precursor to Thor’s multi-legged stallion,” Xenophilius added with a large wink.
A quick review of the book before him had Remus shaking Xenophilius’ hand vigorously and apologizing for the inconvenience.
“Too many instances of Polyjuice at Hogwarts even.” Xenophilius chuckled amicably. “Can’t say I would’ve reacted any differently myself. What did you expect my Patronus to be, a Crumbled-Horn Snorkack?”
The Patronus must have alerted those upstairs as Victoire and Yvette could be seen dangling from the short expanse of railing above. Their cheery voices cried, “Uncle Xeno! Uncle Xeno!” as they tumbled down the stairs in greeting.
“I did tell you he’s been my neighbor for nigh on thirty years,” the quiet voice of Arthur Weasley offered from where he had joined them. Catching Fleur’s face peeking around the corner, he reminded her, “The meeting is about to start, dear. I’m sure the children will be just fine with Tonks’ folks.”
Tonks nodded encouragingly to Fleur as she urged the girls to return to the playroom above after getting quick hugs from their Uncle Xeno.
“How are they holding out “ honestly?” she implored as she guided Fleur down the short hallway that led back towards the meeting.
“Zey are ‘olding on,” Fleur confided. “Your maman eez remembering zee French words of ‘er youth.”
“And Dad?” Tonks giggled.
“’e eez much ze same as you!” Fleur laughed gaily. “’e finds zee seriousness of zee conversation to be much cause for laughter. Teddy and Victoire together, zey eez accomplices.”
“Teddy is so much like his father in that way.”
“I theenk not,” Fleur opined with a Gallic wag of her finger. “If ‘e was truly like Remus, ‘e would be dissecting if Camus was truly zee existentialist or zee nihilist. Or per’aps, zee folly of zee antics of Voltaire.”
“He does like to practice his vocabulary now that he’s officially teaching French at Hogwarts,” Tonks commiserated with a laugh.
“’e apparently theenks Beauxbatons eez a training ground for zee philosophers, much as ‘ogwarts eez.”
“I see your point,” Tonks allowed. “I can only imagine what he’ll require of his N.E.W.T. level students when the time comes.”
As they found their seats among the mismatched sofas, chairs, and even garden furniture that had been levitated onto the polished wood floors, Tonks caught sight of Ron and Hermione who must have arrived in the meanwhile. Ginny was already chattering away as she hoisted her niece over her shoulder for burping.
“It’s really not necessary,” Hermione protested with a weak smile. “We took care of that at home.”
“Unless you feel a need to practice, Sis,” Ron teased with a dig of his elbow. “Now that you’re a married woman and all.”
“It was hardly a shotgun wedding, if that’s what you’re implying,” Ginny scoffed.
“I suspect not,” Ron quipped. “As long as the two of you were engaged, it must have actually taken a landmine to get you before the magistrate.”
“Now, Ron,” Hermione soothed. “Harry and Ginny just wanted to take their time, establish careers. Consider it a backlash for all those years which were consumed with Harry’s destiny to defeat Voldemort.” Hermione thought it wise to keep silent about Ginny’s confession that she did not want to be supervising a gaggle of children by the time she was twenty-five as her own mother had.
“My folks are upstairs taking care of the other children,” Tonks interjected. “I’m sure they wouldn’t find young Eleanor a burden.”
Ron expertly peeled the sleeping infant from Ginny’s shoulder and repositioned her in his own arms. With a wide grin suffusing his face, he replied, “Thanks, Tonks, put we have her well in hand.”
“If she wakes up, you may wish to reconsider,” Tonks allowed generously.
“I’ll make sure your parents get a chance to meet her before the night is out,” Hermione promised in an undertone.
Standing beneath the main staircase, Harry directed the last of their guests towards the meeting. Mundungus Fletcher had been among them, looking just as creased and rumpled as always, but thankfully minus the stale beer smell which often pre-announced his presence. Feeling a sharp tug on his sleeve, Harry found himself staring into the saucer-like eyes of Dobby.
“The varlet is in that last group, no?” the house-elf whispered eagerly.
“Yes, Dobby, the gentleman in question is wearing a rather wrinkled khaki overcoat.”
“Dobby spotted him instantly, sir. He will not be out of Dobby’s sight all evening.”
“I don’t need to remind you to not draw any attention to yourself, though,” Harry cautioned gently.
“Dobby is an expert at tailing suspects, sir,” the elf announced proudly as he Disapparated with a hollow snap of his long fingers.
With a whispered thanks to Hagrid for assisting with the arriving guests, Harry replaced the magical locks and wards on the front door. Remus had issued very careful instructions in advance: any late-comers would need to Floo ahead to be admitted, no exceptions.
Hagrid located a seat near the rear table where Molly Weasley hovered protectively over the refreshments. She smiled broadly in Harry’s direction as he eased himself soundlessly into the chair next to Ginny and exchanged a few quick words with Ron and Hermione to the other side.
Clearing his throat for attention, Remus addressed the assemblage from the front of the room, “Welcome to my home.”
“Harry’s home, too,” was heard from the back of the room.
Remus’ eyes crinkled with amusement as he shared a private smile with Tonks in the front row. Raising his gaze towards the back of the room, he added, “As those of you who were kind enough to attend Ginny and Harry’s wedding a few weeks ago are already aware, this is their home also. Currently, the Lupin clan occupies the far wing, with the upper story of the main structure allotted to the Potters. True, the common areas are often taken over by my exuberant children, but I suspect that will not always be the case.” He waited for the chuckles to die down before continuing, “As you know, the Order of the Phoenix was disbanded once and for all following Voldemort’s defeat on this very estate. Although the roundup of renegade Death Eaters continued for months after, we felt this was a job best left to the Ministry’s Auror Division. Having achieved our objective, we unanimously decided to return to our private lives. This has not changed despite recent troubles. Since I am no longer the titular head of this band of ruffians, I will now turn this meeting over to Kingsley Shacklebolt.”
Remus took the seat next to Tonks which Kingsley had just vacated. All eyes were turned to Kingsley’s dark features as his deep voice poured forth, “Friends, guests, and former insurgents, welcome all. I have been asked to convene this unofficial meeting at the personal request of Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic, to address the recent falsehoods presented by one Dolores Umbridge, recently retired from her Ministry post. Although many of us felt that, without substantiation, such blatant lies would quickly fade, this has not been the case. Alas, the public consciousness is fickle, as I have been repeatedly reminded.”
“The public is an arse!” Hagrid boomed from the back to much laughter.
“I have no quarrel with that,” Kingsley acknowledged with a broad smile. “There isn’t anyone in public office who has not felt the same way at one time or another. Nevertheless, Umbridge’s lies are a slap in our faces -- and by extension, cast a shadow of doubt on Scrimgeour himself as he recognized so many of us with official commendations for our heroic efforts.
“Although the Minister’s office has a well-established public relations arm, currently headed by our own Percy Weasley…” A smattering of polite applause was directed towards Percy who was seated next to Arthur. “… it was suggested that perhaps this situation called for a more creative approach.”
“Haven’t found a way to shut that toad up, have you, Perce?” sounded forth.
“Not legally, no,” Percy admitted without chagrin.
“How about Reverse Veritaserum?” Fred suggested as he brazenly took to his feet.
“Pour it down her throat and she’ll accept the truth,” George finished with a devilish grin.
“What would keep the enemy from using such a thing to validate their twisted ideals?” challenged Mad-Eye Moody with a growl.
“Regrettably, such a potion might have the potential to be abused,” Minerva McGonagall added with concern. “Assuming such a thing was even possible. What do you say, Severus?”
Unfazed, Snape returned the stares all around him with the unblinking gaze of a poisonous spider in their midst. “It is not something I have researched, yet I can think of many beneficial applications.” With a curt nod towards Fred and George, he added, “If you gentlemen are successful in producing such a substance, let me be the first to tender a standing order. It would be ideally suited to my uphill battle against ignorance in the classroom.”
McGonagall pursed her lips in recrimination as Snape’s level glance dared her to ask for his input again.
Kingsley barely managed to mask a smirk as he took over the reins once more. “Perhaps something a tad less imaginative is called for. How can we counteract the wretched lies Ms. Umbridge has been spewing forth?”
Ron leaned across the back of Ginny’s chair to better whisper to Harry, “Did anyone suggest the simplest solution of all? Get the bloody cow before us in this room and dare her to deny the truth to our faces!”
“And such tactics worked so well for me,” Harry hissed with pointed sarcasm. “Don’t you remember the delightful detentions she set me in fifth year? Regular tattoo parlor, it was.”
“She can’t foist her dastardly quill upon anyone if we shackle her hands,” Ron suggested in return.
As Eleanor slept blissfully in her father’s arms, Hermione flashed them a reproachful look. Then speaking up loudly enough for the entire room to hear, she volunteered, “We need to put our tale before the public. Dare her to refute the truth, fact by painful fact.”
“The Minister attempted to do that,” Percy attested as he took to his feet. “Arranged for an interview with the Daily Prophet and everything. The story never ran. My requests for an explanation were ignored.”
Hermione nodded grimly; how well she remembered Rita Skeeter’s assertion that the Prophet’s main goal was to sell itself. “They’ve interviewed the Minister too many times,” she extrapolated. “They need a fresh voice to capture their readers’ attention.”
“Are you volunteering?” Kingsley posed.
With a slight blush, Hermione demurred, “Someone with a more interesting tale, perhaps. Someone who is not currently employed by the Ministry might be more appealing. Sorry, Harry.”
Amid tittering laughter, Harry commented in return, “None taken. Although my personal experience has demonstrated that the Prophet is particularly adept at twisting words into pretzels.”
“Run the interview in The Quibbler like we did before,” Luna put forth as her father echoed her sentiments.
“I can guarantee you full approval before publication,” Xenophilius promised.
“Not a bad idea,” Kingsley concurred. “Certainly worked before…”
“Begging your pardon,” McGonagall interjected. “The tactic you described worked well to re-establish Harry’s credibility among the Hogwarts’ students. It is not a model that should necessarily be applied to wizardkind as a whole.”
“All we have to do is capture the imagination of the adult community,” Xenophilius expounded. “They are the central core of The Quibbler’s readership. Harry was already a household name, guaranteed to sell copies. What we need is someone whose story is novel and engaging.” Luna whispered urgently into his ear. “Luna suggests that Remus’ facility with words makes him a natural choice.”
The air seemed to stand still in the entire room. Surely, Luna hadn’t meant it that way, Harry’s mind worked feverishly. But in her naiveté, she had not stopped to think that publishing a werewolf’s account in The Quibbler might have quite the opposite effect “ even though it unquestionably would appeal to their loyal readership.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, Remus slowly stood and turned to face everyone from his place on the front row. Smiling benignly in the Lovegoods’ direction, he attested in a diplomatic manner, “Despite your kind words, I have no desire to be in the public spotlight. I am…unsuited…to it.”
In the uncomfortable silence which followed, Tonks came to her husband’s rescue. “Say, Mad-Eye, haven’t you been threatening to unleash your memoirs for years?”
“Well, Moody certainly has a charismatic enough face for their cover,” Harry breathed to Ginny as she struggled to control her giggles.
“That’s true, lass,” Moody concurred as his magical eye swirled in all directions. “But I had hoped to parlay my adventures into a longer tale. Something with a more permanent shelf life.”
“Like a book,” Kingsley supplied with aplomb. “Such a strategy is not without merit. It all depends upon how soon such a thing can be published. Do you have an agent already lined up, Alastor?”
“Gave it up,” Moody rumbled. “Already had my hopes dashed. You can thank that pillock, Gilderoy Lockhart. Publishers aren’t so keen to accept factual accounts anymore. Can’t spare the personnel and expense needed to authenticate the tales, they say. More than happy to categorize it as fiction and provide a disclaimer, though. Makes all my hard work and risks seem meaningless.”
“Perhaps a tale full of redemption?” Xenophilius prompted. “Those are always popular. Someone made stronger by the adversity they’ve endured.”
Wordlessly, faces turned to look at Snape once again, although no one dared to voice their thoughts. Finally, Bill Weasley ventured softly, “Severus… yours is a heroic tale like no other, full of danger and inspiration.”
Without looking at anyone directly, Snape pronounced his verdict, “No.”
“Everyone loves an underdog,” Hermione issued with gentle persuasion.
Snape’s head shot up immediately, the anger blazing in his eyes tempered only by the unfaltering compassion in Hermione's. “For the first time in your life, you are quite mistaken, Miss Granger,” he asserted in his most formal tones. “Muggles like to root for the anti-hero; that is the only way they can glorify the small acts of valor in their own pathetic lives. I have found wizards are much more self-righteous.”
“Present company excluded?” Kingsley urged good-naturedly.
“That goes without saying,:” Snape supplied with silken disdain as he recalled the difficulties he’d endured getting his colleagues to accept his loyalty. “Find another sacrificial lamb. After eighteen years of my life donated to Dumbledore’s vision, it’s surprising I still have a personal life to reclaim.”
“Forgive me for stating the obvious,” Molly spoke up from her station at the back of the room. “But is not the purpose of the War Museum to present a factual account of our path to victory? Harry here sacrificed a major chink of his childhood as well as a townhouse to promote our actions and somehow it’s not enough?”
“Sentence Umbridge to a personal tour,” suggested an anonymous voice.
“With Percy as her personal guide!” Harry was fairly certain that came from one of the twins.
“In perpetuity!” provided Dedalus Diggle with a wry snigger.
“Very worthwhile suggestions “ without a legal precedent,” Percy proclaimed solemnly.
“What about the museum, though?” Arthur took up in his wife’s support. “I thought the Minister was behind the idea one hundred percent.”
“He is,” Kingsley confirmed. “We in the Order decided we wished to preserve our modesty and have it open quietly and without fanfare.”
“Perhaps we should reconsider!” Hestia Jones cried. “Umbridge will just make it look like we’re ashamed of our actions.”
There were enough murmurs of assent in the room to convince Kingsley this might just be a popular alternative. “The Ministry has a budget for such ceremonial events. Perhaps Percy could give us a bit more information.”
At Kingsley’s expansive gesture, Percy took to his feet and adjusted his glasses self-importantly. “I have staff who can put such an event together. At rather short notice, even. But it would be ideal if some of the former Order members agreed to make personal appearances. Something that would generate public interest. Regretfully, the Minister is hardly the most compelling speaker.” Percy seemed to relax noticeably in response to the appreciative chuckles.
“The Auror Department will provide security detail to the Minister as well as any other participants,” Kingsley reminded them. “No one need fear for their well being.”
“Just their privacy,” Remus muttered to no one in particular.
“Any volunteers?” Percy urged as he withdrew his ubiquitous notepad and self-inking quill.
“I think the youngest heroes would create the largest draw,” Mrs. Figg announced with a self-conscious smile.
Waiting for it, Harry caught the almost imperceptible signal that passed between Remus and Kingsley. This was it then: the hook by which they would measure Mundungus’ loyalty. Not needing another cue, Harry rose to his feet and proclaimed with an incandescent smile, “I’m willing to do my part, provided we schedule the event at the weekend.”
Hermione and Ron echoed their willingness to participate, followed in quick succession by Ginny.
“We’ll have to contact Neville somehow; he’s still combing the jungles of Thailand,” Luna remarked. “Can he even be persuaded to make such a long trip?”
“Perhaps if I couched it as a special request from his employer,” Snape volunteered. “He could hardly turn it down then.”
“Are you still that poor lad’s boggart, Severus?” Elphias Doge had the temerity to suggest loudly enough that the whole room was riveted.
“At least I’m not my wife’s,” Shape shot back without turning his head.
The absolute silence in the room was broken by a single loud chortle from Fred as George leaned over and patted Severus’ shoulder appreciatively and whispered, “Good one!”
Snape did his best to hide the persistent curl of his lip as the room broke out in laughter around him.
“You never told me your professor had such a rapier wit,” Xenophilius whispered to Luna. “ ‘His countenance is always as black as his frock coat,’ you always said.”
“Ssssh, Father! He was never like that in class.”
“We were always certain he would hex us before the year was out,” Harry whispered to appease Luna’s worried look.
“Don’t forget the persistent rumor that he would hasten our mastery of antidotes--” Hermione began.
“”by poisoning one of us to act as the control,” Ron finished with an avid nod.
“I understood we would be racing against the clock to prepare antidotes to our own individual poisons,” Ginny supplied.
Luna nodded sagely. “He said that way we would all be self-motivated but couldn’t cheat!”
Xenophilius looked at each of them in turn as if they might be taking the mickey out of him.
“That interchange you just witnessed would have gotten any of us a one-way ticket to Azkaban,” Harry assured Luna’s father. “After he’d hexed us within an inch of our lives and given us six weeks’ detention.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered that he out-cheeked the student, either,” Hermione attested solemnly.
By the time the meeting broke up, it had been decided that Tonks, Mad-Eye and Kingsley would also make personal appearances at the museum opening to represent the solidarity of the Anrors’ commitment in trying times. Harry thought it somewhat ironic as the Minister would never have tolerated their extra-curricular activities had he known about them at the time, but kept that wisely to himself. No need to tip Mundungus that the trap was being baited.