Laid to Rest
Sirius Black had always been very proud to be different from the rest of his family. To have been loudly rejecting their fanaticism about the purity of magical blood since he’d been old enough to understand what it meant to be called pure-blood, half-blood, or muggle-born. He’d been a boy of strong and unrelenting principles; vehemently opposed when his cousin Andromeda had been disowned by the family for marrying muggle-born Ted Tonks, and extremely eager to separate from the rest of the Blacks and show the world how unlike them he truly was.
First by being sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin like the rest of them, and then by enthusiastically joining the resistance against Voldemort upon graduation. Sirius had known confidently all along that he was standing on the correct side of history, but it was something of a shock to realize that this enlightenment didn’t automatically make him a better person. If anything, it had made him arrogant and close-minded. Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to see the humanity in misguided people and their potential for growth, including that of his own brother.
“Those dress robes look really nice on you, Sirius,” Tonks commented, breaking into his thoughts as she and Lupin came over to take the seats on his left. Her own somber black dress contrasted interestingly with her bright pink hair and she was attracting a lot of stares from those already in attendance.
“Thanks,” Sirius forced a smile of acknowledgement. “Luckily, there were some old ones hanging around the house. I didn’t have anything appropriate to wear to a funeral.”
He smoothed his hands down the front of the black formal robes and then bunched the fabric in his fists. While the style was a little outdated, they were still in immaculate condition and he had felt very compelled to wear them after their discovery in the back of Regulus’s closet. He believed, but was not sure, that they were the robes he’d seen Regulus wearing in the photograph published in the Prophet of him leaving their father’s funeral. An event that Sirius had determinedly avoided, having already run away from home when Orion Black had died.
“Kreacher did a good job on the alterations,” Lupin said, giving Sirius an understanding look over his wife’s head. “He was obsessed with fitting them perfectly for you.”
Not having the context to understand the sudden dramatic shift in Sirius and Kreacher’s relationship, had not prevented every occupant of number twelve Grimmauld Place from noticing that there had been one. Sirius was now treating his house elf with far greater consideration and sensitivity than he certainly had in the past. No longer yelling at him to leave any room that he entered or even tossing him out by force, as he had done on occasion, when Kreacher had not moved quickly enough to satisfy him. The unlikely pair had instead spent the past few days sorting through Regulus’s belongings together. And upon finishing, it was at Sirius’s insistence that Kreacher had moved out from his sleeping space behind the boiler and made Regulus’s room into his own.
“He also cooked breakfast for everyone this morning,” Tonks added, squeezing Lupin’s knee affectionately. “Even Vernon admitted that his pancakes were good. And Kreacher never takes that locket off that you gave him - that was really nice of you, you know?”
“Yeah, well, I just figured it was time to try a new approach,” Sirius said vaguely, who thought he would be forever haunted by the uncomfortable image of Kreacher sobbing on the floor as he’d divulged the whole story about Regulus and the cave to himself and Harry.
That Kreacher had been victimized by Lord Voldemort in the past had been something of a shocking revelation to Sirius. He had never really looked at Kreacher before as a being with feelings and experiences as acute as a human’s, he’d simply regarded him as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. For despite being the progressive brother on the right side of the war from the start, it was Regulus who had always been the kinder and gentler of the two.
He had treated Kreacher well when Sirius never had, and Regulus had never bullied and tormented other kids in school like Sirius and James had. While everyone is ultimately responsible for their own choices, it pained Sirius now to think about his quiet, studious, and eager to please little brother being swept up into the culture of the Death Eaters. Propelled by the backing of his parents, while lacking the guidance of his older brother, who might have made all the difference in persuading him down a different direction, if he hadn’t been so quick to cancel him.
“He ordered - Kreacher to leave - without him,” Kreacher had cried, rocking on the floor in his filthy rags with his pale skin hanging off of him in folds. “And he told Kreacher - to go home - and never tell my mistress - what he had done - but to destroy - the first locket. And he drank - all the potion - and Kreacher swapped the lockets - and watched…as Master Regulus…was dragged beneath the water….and Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his mistress was mad with grief because Master Regulus had disappeared…..Kreacher failed in his orders!” (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows)
Gently taking the Horcrux that Kreacher had concealed for so long by himself and promising to finish what Regulus had started, had warmed the elf to Sirius in a way that he never had before. Kreacher’s deranged behaviour suddenly seemed tragic rather than hateful and it made Sirius feel positively ashamed of himself for the way he had treated him. Resolving to do better from now on and even humbling himself enough to offer an apology as he’d gifted Regulus’s locket to the elf, Sirius knew that the only real path to redemption was forward. When he had stabbed the Horcrux with the sword of Gryffindor, it had been as much for Regulus as it had been for himself.
“Oh, there you all are!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, as she, Mr. Weasley, Bill, Fleur, Fred, and George came over to take chairs in the row in front of them. “We were nervous that we wouldn’t get here in time. Hogsmeade has been overtaken by portkeys and people apparating in from all over the country.”
“And it’s impossible to find a room anywhere,” Mr. Weasley added, shaking both Sirius and Lupin’s hands formally, while Tonks had stood up to kiss both his and Mrs. Weasley’s cheeks in greeting. “I hear congratulations are in order?”
“Yes, sorry you couldn’t be there,” Tonks smiled apologetically. “It was very quiet, just ourselves. My mum wasn’t too pleased but I think my Dad was a bit grateful that I didn’t want to go to all the fuss and expense of a wedding.”
But Fleur had just noticed the enormous form of her former headmistress, Madam Maxime, walking across the grass with her hand tucked into the crook of Hagrid’s arm and she tapped Bill excitedly on the shoulder. “I can invite ‘er to our wedding in person now,” she said happily.
“Fleur and Bill have agreed to get married here this summer, rather than in France,” Mrs. Weasley said, a slightly strained look on her face. “That gives us time to plan and for Charlie to get time off work….”
She sighed a bit wistfully as she caught sight of her third son, Percy, sitting a few rows away with his colleagues from the Ministry. He had rejected the rest of the family when Voldemort had just returned and most of the Wizarding World had been trying to ignore it. However, being proven wrong had not compelled him to return with apologies. He hadn’t spoken to any of his family in nearly two years. Dumbledore had said that people often find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right.
“How’s Harry been doing?” Mrs. Weasley asked.
“He’s fine, Molly,” Sirius said quickly.
She nodded, hesitating, but Sirius knew exactly where she was going next. He had been dodging questions, and trying his best to spare Harry any of it, from well-meaning Order members since the news had broken that Dumbledore had been killed at Severus’s hands. Everyone was confused and everyone was operating in a state of shock. They wanted information that Sirius, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Minerva were not in positions to give.
“Has Severus been heard from at all?” Mrs. Weasley asked awkwardly.
“Mum, shut up!” Ron groaned, appearing almost out of nowhere with Harry, Hermione, and Ginny at his side. “Just drop it, okay?”
“Fine,” Mrs. Weasley said resentfully, as her two youngest children and Hermione settled into chairs at the end of their row.
Harry, on the other hand, took the chair that had been saved for him next to Sirius. “If he comes over here, tell him that he’s not allowed to talk to me,” he begged, his bright green eyes flashing pleadingly.
“Tell who?” Sirius asked, craning his neck to look around at the large assembly of witches and wizards along the lake’s edge.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of mourners had come to pay their final respects to Albus Dumbledore. The school had remained open so that all the students would have the opportunity to attend the funeral, but the train was set to take them home immediately afterwards. Classes had been cancelled all week and examinations postponed. Foreign witches and wizards had been arriving for days, Hogwarts was housing many dignitaries from the Ministry, and it seemed like everyone from the village of Hogsmeade was there as well. Dumbledore had touched so many people from all different walks of life, that it was only fitting that he be honoured in such a way. Although deep in his grief for Regulus, Sirius couldn’t help but think that his brother should have received just as much in death.
“It’s Scrimgeour,” Harry said, speaking the name of the Minister for Magic. “He keeps trying to catch my eye and he even came over to say something when he saw me standing by the water with Aberforth a minute ago - you know, Dumbledore’s brother? Aberforth started having a go at him and I made a run for it.”
“Good boy,” Sirius praised. “Just stick close to me and he won’t come near.”
“That’s true,” Mr. Weasley said gently, smiling at them over his shoulder. “The Minister never quite recovered from that speech you gave to the press when he was trying to smooth everything over, Sirius.”
“We sell toss balls in the shop that play a recording of that speech when you squeeze them,” Fred informed them, motioning to himself and George with a grin.
“The Minister must be as panicked as everyone else if he’s trying to catch Harry alone,” Lupin said quietly to Sirius. “But in all fairness, with the loss of Dumbledore, I do think that the Ministry’s days are numbered.”
Nobody would disagree with that, for everything felt much more unsafe and dreary without Dumbledore. While the sun shone mockingly down upon them, it was seeming less and less likely that Hogwarts would be allowed to remain open come September. Already, fearful parents had been arriving to take their children home in droves and the safety of muggle-born students in particular was a serious concern. Many of them and their families were talking about going into hiding now that Voldemort was seizing more control, so that securing the Dursleys and the Grangers no longer seemed remotely an overreaction.
“It’s about to start,” Minerva McGonagall had paused by their row on her way to sit near the front. Her eyes were red and blotchy, as they had been consistently since it had happened and she kept twisting her handkerchief between her hands. “Are you alright, Potter?”
“Yes,” Harry said rather tersely, as Sirius put his arm over the back of his chair. He knew that Harry was tiring from being asked the same question over and over again, but it always came from a place of good intentions.
Harry and Dumbledore had meant a lot to one another, perhaps more than anyone but themselves had ever really understood. But Sirius also knew that Harry was struggling with a lot of resentment towards the headmaster right now that was complicating his grief. It was because of Dumbledore that Severus had been forced to flee and couldn’t be here. None of them had heard a word from Severus since and to say that they were worried was an understatement.
“Do you think any of them are even that sorry that Dumbledore died?” Harry asked Sirius quietly, as they watched Professor McGonagall taking a seat next to Rufus Scrimgeour himself in the first row, which was almost entirely filled up with important names that Sirius and Harry both sincerely doubted Dumbledore had even liked.
Sirius wasn’t sure how to answer. The assortment of people who had come together for his funeral was indeed divided between those who were mourning the loss of someone they knew and loved, compared to those attending a significant event to mark losing the only one that Voldemort had ever feared. But those spectators were easily forgotten minutes later, as Hagrid walked slowly down the aisle with eyes so swollen it was a wonder he could even see where he was going. Hagrid was carrying Dumbledore’s body in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars.
Quite unexpectedly, Sirius felt a sharp pain rise in his throat and the dreadful truth that Dumbledore was gone swept over him without warning. Hit with acknowledging that his son had now lost his greatest protector. Just like James and Lily, Dumbledore had gone to where he could no longer help Harry and he had forced Severus out at the same time. All that Dumbledore had taken from Harry when he’d died made it difficult to mourn him properly.
Sirius glanced at Lupin dabbing at his eyes to his left, to Hermione’s shaking shoulders in front of him, while the officiant’s start to the service was accompanied by the background noise of Hagrid howling like a wounded dog after he laid Dumbledore’s body on the waiting table at the front and rushed away. Slowly his retreating loud sobs were being overtaken by the sound of music beginning to emanate from the lake as a chorus of merpeople began to sing a song just a few inches below the surface. Harry had noticed them too and was watching the lake with tears spilling from his eyes. Just as the centaurs began to emerge from the forest and reminded Sirius that whether you liked him or not, the death of Albus Dumbledore was designed to hurt everyone.
“Never forget the distinction between the Albus Dumbledore fighting Voldemort and the Albus Dumbledore who loved you very much,” Sirius whispered, as he squeezed Harry’s shoulder tightly in support. “Differentiating between the man in command who ordered Severus to do what he did and the man who would never have put either of you in harm’s way if he could, will make it easier to accept what’s happened.”
For despite everything that had made him appear larger than life, Dumbledore had always been quite as imperfect as anyone else. There was strength in acknowledging the humanity and goodness of imperfect people, which Dumbledore had always done extremely well. In the examples of Regulus and Severus, even those who had gone too far and been permanently marked by evil, could still come back. It was never too late to change if there was still life inside your body. As Sirius began to feel something burn in the back of his own eyes and allowed his tears to freely fall with everyone else's.
XXX
Severus Snape had never been as desirable as he was within the Death Eater ranks in the days following Albus Dumbledore’s death. He had proven himself beyond all shadow of a doubt to his master and even Bellatrix would not dare to question any of his motives or decisions now. If he hadn’t been so absolutely broken inside, it might have amused Severus to see the way they all were suddenly so eager to clamour to him for favour and support in their dealings with the Dark Lord. For Severus had become his most prized advisor now, entrusted with his most crucial business during the long solitary hours they had spent closeted together within Malfoy Manor this past week.
“There’s going to be a raid tonight in Sussex,” Corban Yaxley said with the air of delivering someone a treat. “You should come. It will be fun.”
Severus glanced up at the taller man who had hurried to catch him down the long tree-lined driveway. The trees’ overhanging branches broke the moonlight and it was already quite late, with the Dark Lord only having just finally dismissed him. He had been with him since early that morning and as a consequence Severus’s brain felt fried from the constant pressure to Occlude every significant thought. He hadn’t been sleeping well at all either, plagued by nightmares he felt too drained to try and control on his own.
“I have work to do,” Severus said softly, who knew his lack of enthusiasm would not garner him that same level of scrutiny as it would have in the past.
He wasn’t sure if Yaxley was testing him or trying to bring him more deeply into the fold, as Severus’s disinterest in raids and other barbaric forms of Death Eater entertainment had been commonly known and an object of suspicion for those who had doubted his true allegiance. Severus thought that this might have meant that even in his youth he had known that a Death Eater was not what really wanted to be, but that might have been giving himself too much credit. In any case, he had nothing to prove to any of them anymore. He had killed Albus Dumbledore. Anything the others did would always be secondary to that.
“Aww c’mon,” Yaxley persisted. “You don’t have to stay back in hiding anymore. In any case, it’s because of you that we’re celebrating.”
“I don’t think so,” Severus said coolly, as something in the back of his throat burned sharply at the mere suggestion that he would be indirectly responsible for however many casualties there would be before the night’s end.
He disapparated before Yaxley had a chance to argue his point any further and it was with both relief and dread that he landed in front of his old house on Spinner’s End. A place that he had always hated but which now distressed him differently when he thought about where he might have been instead if he hadn’t agreed to Dumbledore’s request. He could have just let Dumbledore succumb to his natural death and continued to be there for Harry in ways that it saddened him greatly to not be now. It had been a challenge to not think about him all day, wondering how he had sat through Dumbledore’s funeral that morning and if he really was doing alright. Severus hadn’t been in touch with any of them since he’d fled the school. He didn’t know how closely he was being watched and it was certainly not worth the risk of discovery now that they had already gone this far.
Which was why the appearance of a grey tabby cat crawling out from behind a dustbin left leaning against the wall filled Severus with a great deal of apprehension. He didn’t think for a moment that this was just an ordinary stray, for he would recognize the distinctive square markings on the face of Minerva McGonagall’s animagus form anywhere. But it concerned him to wonder how long she had been there and if anyone might have taken notice, in spite of all the additional security enchantments he had added to the house to protect him from both the Death Eaters and the aurors who were still trying to find him.
“Do not change back whatever you do,” Severus muttered, as he unlocked the front door to his house and allowed her inside.
The tabby cat was mewing lightly as she wrapped herself in and around his legs affectionately. While his annoyance at this unnecessary arrival was still quite prominent, Severus had to admit to himself that it was something of a relief to see her. Knowing that Minerva knew exactly who he really was but that she would keep his secrets safe was a comfort that he hadn’t known during one of the worst weeks of his life.
“What do you have there?” Severus asked curiously.
They had gone into the living room together. The air was stuffy inside with the closed windows and the trapped summer heat. The cat had jumped up onto the coffee table and spit out what appeared to be a square folded-up piece of parchment. Minerva must have written a note and carried it in her mouth all the way here, knowing that it would be far too dangerous for her to transform back into her human self in his presence, before he had even said anything.
Severus sat down on the couch facing the cat and picked up the note to unfold. Not surprised at all to see that the message was short, only three words, written in Minerva McGonagall’s neat hand with her favourite emerald green ink.
“Only one left,” Severus read aloud, looking at the cat whose sharp eyes had narrowed and whose tail had flicked suddenly as if she’d spotted her prey and was preparing to pounce.
They had destroyed it then - the locket. Severus had presumed that they had but he had had no confirmation until now - without which, he couldn’t comfortably go after the snake if the opportunity would soon strike. Though he’d kept a careful eye on Nagini whenever she was near. Looking for signs that she was the final Horcrux, but the Dark Lord being a parselmouth was rare enough that any unique behaviour between himself and his snake could easily have been attributed to that in the past. Now Severus was aware of just how much deeper their connection went.
“Thanks for coming, Minerva,” Severus said quietly, reaching out to stroke the cat behind the ear in gratitude. She purred against his hand and for the first time since he had left the school, Severus thought that he could properly breathe again. She reminded him who he truly was and exactly why he was continuing on.
“Is Harry alright?” he asked, accepting that he couldn’t receive a verbal response but yearning for reassurance in some capacity. Unable to escape his guilt at leaving him behind even though Dumbledore had pushed him into accepting that this was the only way forward.
“Meow,” the cat sang as she stretched her front paws forward to crawl onto his lap. Her soft grey fur brushed against his cheek as she nuzzled her head against him in a very cat-like embrace. Severus hadn’t noticed his tears until she’d wiped them away for him. He hadn’t felt safe enough to permit himself any form of release until right now when he felt a brief reprieve from having to be so strong. She had come all this way to check on him and deliver a message of hope that this might not be his life forever. How good it felt to be reminded that you were cared about.