The Answers You Seek
It was miraculous just how much a stolen life could be revived through the properties of a foul tasting, hard to swallow brew - but that was exactly what the Polyjuice Potion had done for Sirius. He and Harry had gone out together every single day of the Christmas holiday, relishing the inconspicuous manner in which they were able to navigate frosty trails and icicle gardens. Doing nothing much, and everything at the same time, as a precedent was set, and Harry knew that Sirius would never be anyone’s prisoner again.
“They speed on these over the snow?” Mr Weasley seemed perfectly delighted as he stood outside the Burrow in heavy robes tied over a pair of striped pajamas, looking quite like he’d done before, if a bit more on the tired side. He had been released from the hospital a few days ago and had been recuperating well at home ever since. He was hoping to be back at work in another couple of weeks.
“Wicked!” Fred and George exclaimed together as they ran out of the house to see what the commotion was about. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were close behind them.
“Imagine if we could enchant this to fly, Dad?” George said. “It would have nothing on your old Ford Anglia.”
“Your mother would have our heads, boys,” Mr Weasley chuckled. “But Sirius and Harry seem to have had more than enough fun still firmly on the ground.”
It was true. His face covered by a balaclava, nobody could see just how much Harry was smiling. He sat on the back of a shiny red snowmobile that he and Sirius had bought a couple hours ago from a muggle shop in the friendly village of Ottery St Catchpole, just because they’d wanted to. Sirius had been craving a bit of speed, and Harry had been the one to nudge him away from thoughts of his flying motorbike. He felt that riding an illegal, enchanted, muggle machine in the sky might fall into the category of what Snape considered to be unnecessarily foolish. They’d also agreed that Mr Weasley would be delighted to receive it for a Christmas present once they had finished with their own excursion.
“It’s for you, Arthur,” said a man with red hair tied back in a ponytail, who had taken the exact form of Bill Weasley - but who everyone at the Burrow already knew was really Sirius in disguise. “A welcome home gift - thank you for your service - get well soon so that you can have a go on it yourself present.”
Harry and Ron shared looks of glee at the stunned expression on Mr Weasley’s face. While Harry recognized it was quite out of the ordinary to splurge on something so spontaneous, expensive, and impractical, Sirius’s only concern had been to have a bit of fun and share that with someone he thought deserved it.
“I don’t even know what to say,” stammered Mr. Weasley, staring at the snowmobile with deepest affection. “It runs on fuel? Has an engine?”
“Yeah, it does,” Harry laughed, feeling an even greater surge of the happiness wave he’d been riding on for his whole Christmas holiday.
He knew that Mr Weasley loved absolutely everything to do with muggles. He had a shed behind his house that was filled with all kinds of things he’d collected on raids for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. A top of the line, sleek, brand new snowmobile would be the crown jewel of his collection, and it had given Sirius and Harry some fun for their final escapade before he returned to Hogwarts tomorrow for the new term.
“You just went in and bought it, just like that?” Hermione asked in amazement.
“Just like that,” Sirius replied, patting the handles fondly with a hand wrapped in a woolen mitten.
“We took turns driving it,” Harry told them. “We went all around the town, and out on the trails behind the farms.”
He climbed off of the snowmobile and went over to stand between Ron and Hermione. It had been a few days since he had seen them because when everyone had gone back to stay at the Burrow following Mr Weasley’s release from St. Mungo’s, Harry had chosen to remain behind with Sirius.
“That’s brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “Can I have a go too, Sirius?”
“Of course you can,” Sirius replied, immediately slipping off the seat and motioning for Ron to take his place. “Everyone can have a turn.”
“Ron, you’ve never driven anything like this before,” Hermione looked suddenly concerned.
“Neither did Harry,” Ron rolled his eyes, as he climbed onto the seat and gripped onto the handlebars.”
“Can’t be any more complicated than a broomstick,” Ginny added, as she rushed ahead to get on the back behind her brother. “Just don’t throw me off, Ron.”
“Don’t hit a tree,” Fred advised.
“Or a gnome,” George added. “You sure this is a good idea?”
“He’ll be fine,” Mr Weasley said excitedly, watching eagerly as Sirius explained how to give it the gas to make it run. “Now what about brakes?”
“I think you’re supposed to dive into the snowbank,” said Fred sarcastically, but Sirius explained how to let go of the gas and come to a gradual stop by applying the brake.
“A galleon to say Ickle Ronniekins is on the ground with his face buried before he clears the orchard,” George bet, and the twins broke into a roar of maniacal laughter together that ended abruptly when they saw their mother hurrying out into the cold, looking frazzled and wearing nothing but a night dress and apron.
“Arthur, you really shouldn’t be out in this weather,” she implored her husband breathlessly, as Fred and George both raised their wands and cried “Accio Broomstick” at the same time behind her. “The healer at St. Mungo’s made you promise to take it easy.”
“Molly, I’m fine,” Mr Weasley smiled, as Fred’s summoned broomstick whooshed past his left ear. “I’m just admiring my new snowmobile from Sirius and Harry and then I’m going to go inside and have my hot cocoa while the kids all have a chance to enjoy it.”
“Your - “ Mrs Weasley stared at the snowmobile that her son and daughter were sitting atop, as though she’d only just noticed this. “But -” she started to say more, but Ron gave it the gas at that precise forward and it jerked forward rather abruptly.
“Just try to relax and let it do the work,” Sirius coached, while Ginny muttered some choice words as she stood up from the ground, having been thrown off by the jerky departure.
“Is this safe?” Mrs Weasley asked skeptically.
“Definitely not, Mum,” George said happily, as he mounted his broom. “At least not when Ron’s operating it.”
“Shut up,” Ron snapped, before he tried again and this time managed to keep his hand steady on the gas. It glided over the snow, with Ginny cheering from the back as she held onto her brother’s waist. Fred had climbed onto his own broom now, and both he and George took to the sky to follow their progress, like large aggravating birds. Sirius ran alongside them for a couple paces, shouting words of encouragement, before Ron picked up the speed and he could no longer keep up.
“Simply ingenious how these muggles have learned to manage without magic,” Mr Weasley exclaimed brightly. “Don’t you think, Molly dear?”
“What? Oh, I suppose,” Mrs Weasley said distractedly. “But you really shouldn’t stay out here too long….”
“I won’t,” Mr Weasley promised, sharing a knowing look with Sirius who had trudged back to where they stood, his pants coated in a layer of fresh powdered snow that had been kicked back on him by the snowmobile. “Thank you for this, Sirius, I really can’t think of anything more delightful.”
“We’re just happy to have you back, Arthur,” Sirius said kindly, as he brushed himself off. “It didn’t look too good there for a minute.”
“Not at all,” Mr Weasley agreed. “But it’s all's well, that end’s well. So, what do you say, Hermione? Do you want the next turn?”
But Mrs Weasley, who seemed to have temporarily forgotten her purpose in coming outside in the first place, suddenly remembered as she turned to Harry in alarm, before Hermione even
had a chance to reply. “Harry, Professor Snape just floo called a minute ago to see if you were here.”
“He did?” said Harry distractedly, who was concentrating on keeping the glowing light of the snowmobile across the black field in view. Despite his brothers' mocking, Ron had managed to drive it successfully over the property at a high and steady speed so far. “What did he want?”
He hadn’t had any contact with Snape for a couple of days, but he wasn’t really worried. While Snape had celebrated Christmas with them, and been back and forth a few times to see him since, this was Harry’s time with Sirius. If Snape had been to Voldemort, or if anything bad had happened, Headquarters would have been bustling with business and it hadn't been. Once the Weasleys and Hermione had left back to the Burrow, Harry and Sirius had really just had the place to themselves.
“Actually, dear, I’m afraid that he wants you and Sirius to come back to Grimmauld Place straight away,” said Mrs Weasley apologetically.
“Why?” Harry frowned, because he was positive that this was not something that Snape would request without good reason - and Sirius had taken the Polyjuice Potion responsibly and neither of them had taken any unnecessary risks.
He glanced up at Sirius who seemed to be thinking along the same lines as him. “Something must have happened….”
“I think so, but I couldn’t bear to ask right now,” Mrs Wealsey admitted, looking rather strained. “I’m sure we’ll all find out soon enough, but right now Severus just asked that you both come back as quickly as you can. I believe Dumbledore was on his way there also.”
“Then it must be serious,” Mr Weasley looked a bit concerned, while Harry and Hermione shared a look with one another. “Molly, don’t you think-”
“No, Arthur, you’re supposed to be resting,” Mrs Weasley said sternly. “Whatever is happening at Headquarters right now isn’t either of our concern at the moment. You need to heal and let someone else handle things right now.”
“She’s right, Arthur, I’ll keep you posted though,” said Sirius. “Fortunately, the potion was going to run out very soon anyway or I’d be more annoyed. Tell Bill, thanks for his hair.”
“He was happy to help,” Mrs Weasley smiled. “Perhaps you could take more and come by for dinner next week.”
“Thanks, Molly,” Sirius said graciously, clapping Harry on the back. “You ready?”
“Yes,” Harry agreed, who felt high on alert right now, wondering exactly what was wrong. He looked at Hermione. “I’ll tell you and Ron everything on the train tomorrow.”
“I hope it’s nothing too serious,” said Hermione, looking very concerned that something could have both Snape and Dumbledore so alarmed at this late hour.
“Tell Ron I couldn’t wait,” Harry said, as he said goodbye to Mr and Mrs Weasley and then trudged through the snow with Sirius until they reached the spot just outside the garden gate where they’d be able to apparate. Harry clung onto Sirius’s arm and they vanished as one, reappearing in front of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place almost instantly.
The lights were shining through the windows and the glittering tree was still aglow. From the outside, it looked exactly as they had left it, but Harry wasted no time in walking up the stone steps to the door and letting himself inside.
He could make out the sounds of raised voices coming from down the hall, but he waited for Sirius to catch up before he went - noticing how Bill’s red hair was darkening when he did. His round face, so freckled that it looked tanned, had begun to lose its fullness. It paled and hardened. His eyes sunk deeper into his face and changed colour, his lips were thinning, and he shrunk half an inch. Harry watched Sirius metamorph back into himself and then they went down the hallway together.
“What would you propose to do differently if given the chance?” Dumbledore was saying.
“Everything,” Snape shot back at him angrily. “We could have done everything different.”
Snape was pacing around the drawing room with an expression on his face that made him look rife with pain - though he froze when he saw Harry and Sirius enter the room and relief seemed to wash over him. Dumbledore also smiled in a strained way at the sight of them. He was sitting at the table with his fingertips pressed together.
“Thank you for responding so quickly,” he said quietly, “good evening to you both.”
“What’s going on?” asked Sirius, coming over to the table and standing across from Dumbledore, his hands squeezing the back of the chair in front of him. “Is somebody else hurt?”
“Not at the moment,” Dumbledore replied calmly, “but Severus just learned something rather unfortunate - if not unforeseen. We needed to get you both back safely when so much is uncertain.”
“There’s been a mass breakout from Azkaban,” Snape explained, and automatically resumed his pacing.
Harry watched him tracing his finger across his mouth and remembered how weary Snape had been the night he’d returned from visiting the prison last summer. Snape had spent days in the North Sea negotiating this deal for Voldemort and despite knowing it to be successful, he still appeared to be in a state of shock over it now. His face was extremely pale and he looked livid.
“Who escaped?” Sirius asked concernedly.
“Both the Lestranges, Rookwood, Dolohov…” Snape began counting names off on his fingers. “He is ecstatic. I haven’t seen him this thrilled since the last time he was in power.”
Harry felt a sinking feeling in his chest at the first name Snape had spoken. He had seen the image of Bellatrix Lestrange hanging on the Black family tree tapestry that Sirius had tried unsuccessfully to remove from the wall last summer. Harry knew why Bellatrix had been sentenced to life in Azkaban. He had also run into Neville visiting his parents at St. Mungo’s on Christmas Day, who happened to be the victims that Bellatrix had tortured into insanity.
“It will be on the front page of the Daily Prophet tomorrow,” said Dumbledore, “and I am most curious to see how they will try to explain this. I am not overly optimistic that this will be enough persuasion for Cornelius to acknowledge the truth of Lord Voldemort’s return, however it may raise more heads when he fails to give moderately satisfactory answers.”
“It’s what I made happen,” Snape said frustratingly, his voice shaking with guilt. “I bribed the Dementors in exchange for their freedom. It’s on me. We could have prevented this, Dumbledore.”
“It’s not on you,” Sirius said sharply, as Snape paused in his pacing to look around at him in surprise. “You convince him you're his and you do it brilliantly. If you didn’t maintain your cover, our side would cease to have a spy, but Voldemort would have still gotten the Dementors to open up Azkaban.”
“Couldn’t say it any better myself,” Dumbledore said, smiling as he caught Harry’s eye. “Thank you, Sirius.”
Snape just shook his head. He went over to the window and stared out onto the street for a long moment, while they all processed this new development silently. “I’ll have much more competition for his favour now,” he said softly, when he finally turned back around to face Dumbledore. “He might not confide in me as much now that he has the ones who braved Azkaban for him back.”
“Voldemort’s appreciation for their gesture of loyalty won’t keep them safe from him for very long,” Dumbledore replied. “They’re still going to have to prove their worth to him, which you’ve already accomplished.”
“Perhaps,” Snape said wearily.
Dumbledore turned to Harry. “I want you to return to Hogwarts tonight. Severus will take you.”
"Yes, sir," Harry said, glancing up at Sirius who nodded his consent, apparently not too ruffled about having his time with Harry cut short by a day. This grand and latest achievement for Voldemort’s side had him as shaken as everyone else appeared to be, even if they had all known it was coming.
Dumbledore had picked up his wand and a coaster had flown across the room at him. Dumbledore pointed his wand at it, his eyes were focused for a few seconds and then the item seemed to sparkle in his hand. Harry recognized the sight of him creating a portkey, just like he had a few weeks ago after Mr Weasley’s attack.
“You need your bag,” Sirius remembered suddenly. “I’ll get it.”
He could have used his wand but walked out of the room instead, perhaps needing a minute to collect himself from the disturbing news that would surely soon be announced to the public. Harry didn’t say anything to the other two but followed after Sirius, who paused halfway up the stairs to wait for him.
“This is it - everyone will know the truth soon,” Harry said breathlessly, looking for a sliver of hope in the face of such terrifying prospects. “It’ll prove you’re not one of them.”
“Let us hope,” said Sirius, brushing Harry’s hair out of his eyes and allowing his hand to linger on his cheek for a moment.
They went into the bedroom together to collect Harry’s things.
“These are the worst of the worst though,” Sirius said, his arm around Harry’s shoulder as they walked back downstairs to the Drawing Room. “Don’t take them getting caught and captured as proof that they’re not as clever and cunning as the ones who managed to escape Azkaban. Many of these escapees were simply too devoted to ever denounce him, even to save their own skin or they’d committed such evil atrocities that there was no chance of covering them up - Severus is right to be worried. Things are about to get a lot worse.”
The portkey was nearly ready. Harry barely had time to hug Sirius goodbye before he had to take hold of it with Snape and be spun away from Sirius, Dumbledore, and Grimmauld Place. They were brought directly to Snape’s quarters down in the Hogwarts dungeons - the force of their descent, combined with Harry’s lack of concentration, actually caused him to lose his balance.
“I didn’t intend to take you from Sirius a day early, Harry,” Snape said, as he pulled off his outer cloak and walked over to hang it up on the hook. “I would have come to collect you tomorrow but we’re worried I might be summoned to welcome back the Death Eaters and Professor Dumbledore didn’t want you taking the train in any case.”
“It’s fine,” Harry said quickly. “I understand.”
He could tell Snape was very unnerved about the mass escape and what it would mean. His hands were shaking as he put the kettle on. Harry went into his bedroom to strip off his winter coat and change out of his damp clothing. When he reemerged he discovered that Professor Snape had already dressed in pajamas and was climbing into his bed with a cup of tea to conclude this terrible night.
“You don’t really feel guilty for helping them escape, do you?” Harry asked bluntly, boldly coming over to sit at the foot of Snape’s bed, knowing confidently that there wouldn’t be any objection. “What Sirius said was true - if you didn’t do some work for him, then he wouldn’t buy that you’re really his man.”
“That’s a complicated question,” Snape replied, the hand holding his cup of tea still trembling. “Does the end justify the means? Sometimes, I’m not so sure. I’ve done terrible things to convince the Dark Lord that I’m a faithful Death Eater. Does acting for the greater good cancel all of that out? Well, who am I to decide? I certainly don’t feel good about myself though.”
“You’re the bravest man I know,” Harry said honestly, tucking his legs underneath him.
“Thank you for saying that, Harry,” Snape said, looking down at his hands. “That means a lot coming from you - even if I don’t deserve it.”
“It’s the truth,” Harry replied. “I’ll never forget seeing him torture you and the state you were in when you finally got away. If that’s not courage, I don’t know what is.”
“Well, I’m afraid that things are only going to get more challenging from here on out,” Snape said quietly. “I'm not so sure you should be visiting Hogsmeade anymore either. Some of the Death Eaters who escaped tonight are just as bad as he is, and Azkaban won’t have improved them. They don’t care about anything but pleasing him. They didn’t even mind going to Azkaban for him.”
“Like Bellatrix Lestrange,” Harry said, a bad taste in his mouth forming just from speaking her name. “Sir, I saw her trial in the pensieve last year and she said she would sit in Azkaban and wait for him to rise again. She’s the one who used the Cruciatus Curse on Neville’s parents.”
Harry recalled how Bellatrix had sat in the shackled chair as though it were a throne. The dementors hadn’t seemed to scare her at all.
“An understatement,” Snape said shortly. “She tortured them so savagely that it drove the Longbottoms completely insane. That case was particularly disturbing to the public because it happened after they thought he was gone and it was safe - wishful thinking.”
“Did you believe he was gone for good?” asked Harry.
“No, I knew he was out there,” Snape replied. “I told the Dark Lord that I thought he was finished and that’s why I never went to find him like the others, but Dumbledore always knew that he’d return someday. On that subject, did Professor Dumbledore ever tell you why you were sent to live with Petunia?”
“She’s my only living relative,” Harry said matter-of-factly.
“Yes, but that’s only part of it, as I recently learned,” Snape replied. “I spoke to Professor Dumbledore about wanting to make our situation more permanent, but he explained to me about the ancient magic he’d called upon that required you to call your aunt’s house home.”
“I sort of thought it already was permanent,” Harry admitted, leaning his back against the post of Snape’s bed.
Snape’s mouth twitched before he answered. “You know that your mother died to save you,” he said finally. “That love runs through your veins, even now, and it is transferred to her sister, who shares Lily’s blood. It’s the best protection that Dumbledore could have given you.”
Harry was suddenly reminded of something he and Sirius had discussed over Christmas. About how Mr Weasley had been attacked while guarding something Voldemort desperately wanted. Sirius had said it had to do with why Voldemort had attacked the Potters in the first place and the reason it had all gone wrong for him that night. Dumbledore had told Harry before that he’d survived because of his mother’s love, but that still brought about more questions than answers.
“Sir, the thing Mr. Weasley was guarding…” Harry began hesitantly. “The reason why he was attacked…”
“Yes,” Snape said curtly.
Harry took a deep breath. “I believe it is about me.”
Snape stared at him. “Not everything is about you,” he finally said coolly, bringing his cup of tea to his lips with a still shaking hand.
“Then what exactly is the Order guarding?” asked Harry.
“Something that you don’t really need to know about,” Snape replied. “I don’t see a point in this discussion. Do you really need another thing to worry about? It should just be enough for you to know that the thing being guarded is safe from the Dark Lord, which is all that really matters right now.”
“But if it’s about me, I should know,” Harry insisted. “I saw him come back - I fought him - I’ve proven myself capable of handling just about -”
“And I hate that you had to do that,” Snape cut in. “I let you down before….if I had taken a more active involvement in your life from the moment you stepped foot in this castle, I believe a lot of what you’ve been through could have been prevented. You don’t have to handle everything on your own.”
“I don’t want to handle it on my own anymore,” Harry replied. “I want to do it together. He killed Cedric, he killed my Mum and Dad, he tortured you, and I was in that graveyard with him. I’ve been hunted by him my entire life and I want to finish it.”
“Well said,” Snape said softly, looking both mildly impressed and worried simultaneously. “You remind me of your mother sometimes, you know? A dog with a bone. She never dropped anything once she got it in her head and she always stood up for what she believed to be right.”
“I bet she wouldn’t let you get away with keeping important secrets from her either,” Harry replied.
Snape diverted his gaze for a moment. He stared out the window into the green lake bottom. The cup in his hand was shaking slightly still. He hadn’t drunk more than a sip of it and the tea was probably cold now.
“I won’t keep things about you or your family from you, Harry, even if that goes against my better judgement,” he said finally. “If you ask me a question, I will answer it truthfully to the best of my ability.”
“Then do you know why he went after me and my parents?” asked Harry.
“Yes, I do,” Snape said after a long pause. “However, I must warn you that you aren’t going to feel better after knowing. It will change the way you feel about a lot of things right now and I wish it didn’t have to. So, are you really sure that you want me to answer you, Harry?”
“Yes,” Harry whispered, without hesitation. He needed to know.
Snape looked at him with deep resolve in his eyes before he spoke. “Then I shall tell you everything I know.”