Black, Dalia

Severus Snape was rather confused, and that was not a common occurrence. Here he stood in the ministry, accompanying Dumbledore and Minerva to meet Shaklebolt, Scrimgeour and Alastor Moody to discuss the fate of a prisoner. Albus had said they were not a Death Eater, there was no connection with this matter to the Dark Lord at all. So why was Severus here instead preparing his classes for the end of the year? Surely the Aurors could handle their own prisoner.

They arrived, the small group of aurors seeming particularly preoccupied and uneasy. Severus racked his brains but could not think what could have possibly happened. No one said a word until Moody cleared his throat.

“Right, she’s through here.” He said, bashing his cane down on the floor as he led the group through yet another door.

“We’ve taken precautions to make sure that the Minister doesn’t hear of this incident, I fear he would not handle it well.” Shaklebolt said stopping Dumbledore before he went through the door. “I’ve never not known what to do before.” He whispered, almost to himself as he dropped his hold on Albus’ arm.

Albus nodded, though looked extremely nervous, which made the potions master even more concerned. He strode through the door behind the others only to stop dead in his tracks. It couldn’t be. In the interrogation room sat a young girl. She looked no more than 17, in fact he knew she was 17.

Dalia Evans Black.

“You said she was safe.” The man whispered; completely unaware he had even voiced the thought out loud until the group turned to him, Dumbledore looking utterly defeated.

“I thought she was.” He replied, threading his fingers through the length of his beard. “I thought she was.” He repeated turning to look again in wonder through the window to the girl.

Severus stepped closer to the glass to get a better look at the girl, even as the others congregated behind him. He was transfixed. She wasn’t dead, they had managed to save her, he had helped save her. Lily’s daughter was alive. He watched the girl as she stared blankly at the wall ahead of her, both her arms and legs covered in dried dirt, her hands stained with blood. Old tear tracks still stained her sunken cheeks, one of which was adorned with a long jagged scar, other scars poked through her collar and every tear on her clothes. She looked like she’d been through hell, but what worried him most was the absence in her stare. It was as though she wasn’t really there.

It wasn’t until Azkaban was muttered behind him that he was broken from his trance, swirling around to the others,

“Azkaban?!” He shouted, stepping forward to join the group, “What could that girl have possibly done to deserve Azkaban?” Scrimgeour looked sidelong at Snape, annoyance colouring his every feature.

“If you had been listening, you’d know that her last burst of accidental magic killed four muggles, and that she killed a further three before that.”

He turned back to look at the girl his mind puzzling over “Why?”

“That is why we’re here Severus,” Dumbledore said laying a hand on Snapes shoulder, “it appears as though these muggles were trying to imprison, if not kill her. It could be argued that this was self-defence.”

“Self-defence!?” Minerva shrieked, looking down at the report. “One of these men had every bone in his body broken. His limbs were on backwards!”

“You didn’t see her.” Shaklebolt said, slipping the report from McGonagall’s fingers and reading it over once again himself. “When I found her, she was frantic, wailing, and cradling the body of another younger girl to her chest.”

“And then there’s the scars.” Moody said, dropping yet another file on the desk. “When she arrived I had a Medi-wizard, one I trust, look her over. Damn difficult to do but we managed the basics. Seems almost thirty-five percent of her body is scar tissue and the history report of her injuries is longer than mine. She’s been being abused if not outright tortured since she was five years old.”

Snape turned around, completely enraged, “How did this happen?” He screamed turning to face Dumbledore, “You were supposed to protect her, protect all of them. The boy is fine, sitting at Hogwarts right now surrounded by his idiotic little fan club, stuffing food down his throat, with a family to go home to and acquiesce to his every demand. How did his sister end up like this?”

Dumbledore backed away, as Snape grew to be the embodiment of righteous anger. He raised his hands in front of himself, the entire room in stunned silence staring at the two. “I don’t know.” He whispered.

“You. Don’t. Know.” Every word was perfectly enunciated, each syllable dripping with disgust. The man prowled forward, wand in hand. “I find it hard to believe the Mighty Albus Dumbledore simply. Didn’t. Know.” He hissed, stopping mere inches away from the man he leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “If I ever find that you did know, and didn’t stop this, there is no force on this planet strong enough to stop what I will do to you.”

“Careful now Severus,” Dumbledore replied, backing away and looking the man in the eye. “I’m the only thing standing between you and Azkaban.” He whispered, low enough so the others didn’t hear. Severus stepped back, shocked, but all the more suspicious. Dumbledore turned back to the group, who were still staring on unabashedly, Alastor’s synthetic eye flicking between the two men curiously.

“I think we can all agree that this girl has been through enough, Azkaban is not the answer.”

The room all stood and nodded their heads, none of them wanting such a fate for the girl.

“But she has no magical education,” McGonagall whispered, “No O.W.L’s, she should be taking her NEWT’s next year. We can’t just send her out into the world like this. She is clearly not stable.” The woman continued her Scottish accent shining through more fiercely as she became more resolute.

The group fell into debate, trying to decide what to do with the girl but Severus walked away, knowing the Old Coot would for sure get whatever he wanted. He stared through the window at the girl again. Tortured… For almost twelve years.

He couldn’t help himself, throwing his cloak behind himself, he turned and strode through the door separating them from the girl. She looked up, clearly surprised by his sudden entrance. Her hands gripped the underside of the table, as though ready to flip it over at him and make a run for it.

“Miss Black,” He said, his voice unusually soft, “I’m not here to hurt you.” She gave him a disbelieving look, eyes still flicking to the door behind him. “I’m a professor from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he continued but stopped as this seemed to catch her attention. She focused solely on him for some time, accessing, before reaching up her sleeve and pulling out a worn and crumpled piece or parchment and handing it over to him.

He reached out slowly taking the paper from her grasp and looking at it, it was her Hogwarts letter. Fury filled him but he was careful to temper it down, unwilling to lose the trust he seemed to have just earned. He looked back up to her.

“Is it too late to attend?” She asked, she was seemingly trying to appear less afraid, her back had straightened and her face almost conveying irritated boredom, it was an impressive mask, but Snape knew that trick well. He knew she was terrified.

The others stood on the other side of the glass watching the duo in awe.

“You are indeed right Minerva,” Dumbledore whispered, “we will need to call a staff meeting, but I believe I have a solution.” Dumbledore spun, clapping his hands together and jolly as ever. “I thank you all for bringing this matter to my attention but now we shall be taking Miss Black off your hands and back to Hogwarts with us.” The man grinned, a mischievous glint to his eyes as he watched the pair.