In the Cards

“How could he do this…”

Albus sighed and could only stare at the defeated young man seating opposite his desk. Remus was hunched over, head in his hands and despairing over the news he had just been given.

The Order meeting had gone just as expected. All remaining members had assembled, waiting for him to dispel doubts about the rumors that had scorched the country nearly since the tragedy in Godrics Hollow had taken place. Relieved clamor, joyful cheers and happy crying had replaced the hushed whispers and hopeful murmurs, everyone embracing each other, jumping and dancing. The end of Voldemort had dispelled the heavy clouds obscuring everyone’s lives since the beginning of his reign of terror, seemingly glossing over all the despair and deaths it left in its tracks in favor of rejoicing for a Dark-free future.

Maintaining order as people nervously waited for his declarations had been hopeless, and more than pointless afterwards. Albus had not seen the point in sharing more than necessary amidst the jubilations and elated exclamations. It meant withholding any news regarding the allegations against Sirius Black and the young man’s recent arrest, or Lily’s condition. He had not, however, been able to hide the fate of young Harry. People had asked how their feared enemy had met his demise and as much as he wished it wasn’t so, it could not be explained without mentioning the toddler. His statement was barely delivered before hails for the “Boy-Who-Lived” had resonated within the halls, to Albus’ great displeasure. Something would have to be done to protect the little boy’s childhood. Neither becoming an arrogant , pompous child or constantly harassed and approached for his fame sounded particularly appealing, and Albus vowed to himself that he would ensure Harry grew up without interference from both the too-well and ill-intentioned extremes of their wizarding communities.

Other matters required to be attended first however. Remus had come back from a particularly sensitive mission for the order that, considering the recent events, did not need any more attention and had missed on the meeting. It was just as well, mused Albus, in light of the news he had to share with the young man, who had obviously heard about the rumors, and had been eager to hear what had occurred. Before Albus could attempt to explain things however, he had received a patronus from Cornelius Fudge, keeping him updated on Sirius’ arrest. Remus had frozen on the spot, blood draining from his face as he seemed to piece things together. He had crumpled in on himself before Albus could answer the frantic questions – “Please tell me it isn’t true, please tell me Sirius did not betray James and Lily” – and had been muttering to himself for several minutes.

“I don’t understand… How could Sirius do something like this… I mean, he loved James and Lily; and oh Merlin, Harry…”

Albus could only share in the sentiment regarding Sirius’ fate, but had to frown at the misconceptions Remus had formed from the news he had received. He rose from his chair, and circled around the large desk to come and sit next to the distraught wizard, intent on dispelling the assumptions.

“Remus,” he said and came to rest his hand on the young man’s shoulder. Despite his soft voice, Remus flinched, and snapped his head up. His eyes were red and blown, a wild look in them. The loss was evident. Albus could almost see it screaming in agony behind the brown orbs. This was not going to be easy. Clearly Remus had assumed the whole family was dead, horror and pain mingled in his expression and swimming in the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. The survival of Lily and Harry was a marvelous turn of event, but Albus still had to inform the young man of the death of his best friend, presumably at the indirect hand of – who Albus suspected to be – his first love.

Despite his doubts regarding Sirius’ suspected betrayal, Albus could in no way share them with Remus insofar as they were just this: doubts. If his years on this earth and the wars he’d gone through had taught the old man anything, it was that appearances were nothing else but deceptions. One was easily fooled if they only thought with their eyes.

Never the boy had shown any inclinations to the dark side, despite his family history. If anything, he had perhaps been one of the most ardent defender of the light because of his family history. He had been particularly vocal at school in his divergence from his family’s traditional affiliations and quite intransigent regarding dubious allegiances. It had unfortunately meant shutting out any member of Slytherin house, including his own brother, but there was nothing for it. These flashy assertions may have all been an act on the young Black’s part, but Albus had trouble seeing sense in this hypothesis.

Regardless, and again, Albus needed to take care of dispelling Remus’ inaccurate assumptions before he could focus on delving deeper into his own theories around Sirius’ supposed betrayal. The old man held the wild look, pleading for any sort of reassurances, a fool’s hope that perhaps none of it was true. Albus sighed nearly inaudibly and attempted a small smile. His heart was not entirely in it, but he hoped it would not appear so to his old student.

“Harry is alive, Remus,” he started, his voice soft and leveled. “Lily, although currently in a magically induced coma, is as well.” He paused, unsure as to how cut short the fire of hope that would be sure to caught up with the wizard as soon as the shock wore off.

Remus stared, uncomprehending. And then he looked like he just swallowed something too big, chest seizing as he gasped in and out. The realization gained him all at once then… That his unofficial godson was alive, his childhood confident and friend too, while his best friend was not. This could not come closer a definition for bitter-sweet, and it showed in the way Remus chest heaved as his sobs regained fervor, his shoulder sagged as if delivered from a terrible weight. He fell forward, or at least it seemed so to Albus, until the old man realized that Remus had grabbed his robes and was now sobbing into his chest. The old wizard sighed once more, feeling the sadness emanating from the younger man and circled his arms around the thin shoulders, holding Remus as he poured his heart out, and drawing circles onto his back. He stayed silent, for no words could ever alleviate what Remus must have been feeling, so many emotions all at once, and crashing against each other. This was it. There was no more wild hope as the reality had finally clawed its way in the young man’s consciousness, hammered in by Albus’ words. It was perhaps not as tragic, as painful as his first understanding of the situation… And yet it was still piercing his heart again and again, wringing it mercilessly as the loss settled in.
And so Albus simply held him, rocking him gently and silently. He would accompany him to see Harry and Lily later, after he had calmed down and perhaps slept. Things never will be the same, but perhaps they will be alright. At least, Albus vowed to do everything in his power to ensure they would.

*

“How do you explain the destruction and the muggles, Dumbledore? Not mentioning the state we found Pettigrew in! All we could find was a finger!”

Cornelius Fudge had been raging for the past half hour against the perfectly reasonably sound argument Albus had been filling against arresting an innocent. The claim of innocence was probably what had pushed the younger wizard off the rail, and he had gone a surprising shade of purple, in his attempt to contain the verbal assault that was sure to ensue. Or perhaps not, as it seemed Fudge had needed several seconds of sputtering and incoherent mumbles before he regained full reign on his verbal capabilities.

“INNOCENCE?” he had eventually bawled, incensed. “THE MAN MURDERED THIRTEEN MUGGLES AND HIS BEST FRIENDS! HE WAS LAUGHING LIKE A MANIAC OVER WHAT WAS LEFT OF PETTIGREW! LAUGHING you hear?! He had bloodstains on his robes! He sided with You-Know-Who and betrayed us all, that’s what happened! Pettigrew was saying as much before he was pulverized to death! How can you even presume calling this innocence?”

As per usual, Albus had remained seated, perfectly calm with his fingers steepled in front of him. He had thought particularly hard on the matter, and discovering that Sirius’ wand had been about to be snapped in two before any form of trial was conducted had only increased his suspicions. Condemning a wizard to Azkaban and snapping his wand without a trial was far from unheard of especially in recent times, when war had been in full swing. Bartemius Crouch Sr. was particularly ruthless in his means of dealing with suspected Death Eaters, combatting fire with fire, and going as far as authorizing unforgivables against suspects. Considering what had been said about Sirius’ behavior at the crime scene, Albus had to admit the case was compelling.

Be that as it may, the war was over, and the crushing evidence against the young Black being what they were, a trial should have been nothing but a mere formality, a way of returning to some sort of normalcy. That Crouch was circumventing around this basic principle of justice did not surprise Albus in the least, but it did flare up some alarm signs in his mind telling him to follow up with the proceedings.

“Yourself admitted to suspect a traitor amongst your midst,” Fudge had eventually mentioned, once he was finally calmer. Albus had looked up at that, giving the man a piercing look despite his unreadable expression. Fudge had winced slightly and color flushed his cheeks, instantly looking vaguely abashed. “I heard you speak with Minerva once before one visit,” he mumbled under his breath, not looking apologetic enough in Albus’ opinion. The old man lifted an eyebrow minutely, further cowering his interlocutor who looked away with a huff.

“Be that as it may, I never suspected Sirius,” he lied smoothly after a few moments. He had, in fact, suspected Sirius for a short time. He had suspected every single one of them for some time. No one jumped to his mind as he had considered the possibilities, but a good spy never would have. Despite not agreeing with the method, Albus had unapologetically fell back on using Legilimency on Order members unannounced to try and single out the one that might have been passing on information to the opposite side. He had managed to eliminate quite a number of individuals, namely those he knew had never learned any sort of mind defensive magic. For all of Sirius’ skills and training in occlumency however, the young man had never been particularly focused and keeping his shields up in at ease situations had never been either his forte nor his priority. Albus had quickly assessed Sirius allegiances, and moved on to other members. He was not naïve enough to solely base his conclusions on his skills in legilimency however, and just as the rest of his assumptions and knowledge regarding the young man, it could all be a deception.

Or a set up.

Regardless of his past suspicions and own investigations on the matter, Albus would not let the matter rest before he could examine himself the evidence. And that meant having access to Sirius’ wand, as Peter’s had mysteriously disappeared. “Likely blown up like the rest of him,” had said a particularly unhelpful Fudge.
Fugde paled. “You didn’t…?” he said quaintly, before visibly shaking himself up and adding more strongly. “It doesn’t matter, Bartemius Crouch has already sentenced him to Azkaban and he’s being sent there as we speak.” Albus’ expression hardened minutely at the words. “His wand should be snapped any moment…”

Fudge trailed off and seemed to shrink as Albus slowly stood up and stared down at him for a full minute before turning away and approaching his floo.

“What- what are you doing, Dumbledore?”

“Flooing Bartemius myself as it seems you cannot relay a simple message my dear Cornelius,” Albus declared with steel in his voice. If it was possible, Fudge paled even further and blabbered once more. Really, it seemed to be the default answer with this man.

Albus paid him no mind and stepped into the Floo, fully intent on clearing things up. He gave one last nod to the man still standing aghast in the middle of his office as the green flames flared up; and if the hint of red now coloring his cheeks were anything to go by, the mockery hadn’t been lost in translation.