[Prof. Umbridge] Chapter 41

"Come in," said Ingebjorg as Hrafn opened the door, letting the guests in. "Sit wherever you like. Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, thank you," replied Marina Nikolaevna, knowing that by "tea," the seer meant an aromatic and strong herbal brew that, with a drop of honey, was truly remarkable.

"No, thank you," Snape answered in unison with her, taking a seat in the free armchair.

"Serve them both, Hrafn," Ingebjorg ordered. "He’ll get curious and try it anyway, so might as well save us a second trip... Now, what brings you here?"

"You already know," Marina Nikolaevna smiled.

"I have my suspicions. But the details—those you’ll have to share yourselves."

"Severus, perhaps you should explain," Marina asked. "I know nothing about the curse, only that Dumbledore wore a cursed ring and doesn’t have much time left. You’ve seen his hand, haven’t you, Ingebjorg?"

"Oh, yes," she nodded. "And even before I saw it, I could sense it. You wouldn’t understand, you lack the gift, but trust me—it reeks like an old, cold ash pit. A terrifying smell..."

"I can only explain what I’ve discovered," Snape began, delving into terms that Marina Nikolaevna understood only partially.

Ingebjorg, however, listened intently and nodded. When he finished, she said:
"That’s what I thought. We call it something different here, but the essence is the same. So, you’ve locked the curse in his hand, have you?"

"Yes."

"And how long has it held?"

"Since July."

"You’re strong, I’ll give you that," she said, gazing at Snape. "How much longer does he have?"

"Less than a year. Dolores thinks that amputating the hand might..."

"Might," Ingybjörg nodded, her eyes clouding over.

"Then why hasn’t Dumbledore suggested such a solution himself?"

"Clearly, he knows that such things are not easily resolved," the seer replied.

"Removing the curse is possible, but the price isn’t just a piece of flesh..."

"And what else?" Marina Nikolaevna whispered.

"Oh, much more," Ingebjorg drew out, her voice heavy. "There must be repentance—not to others, but to his own conscience, if it still lives. And live it does, though deeply suppressed, but when the time comes, it will awaken and torment him so much that physical pain will seem like mercy... Not for a day, not two—but forever! And don’t avert your eyes, Severus," she added. 

"Your own insatiable beast is within you day and night, and instead of taming it, you keep feeding it. If you don’t stop, it’ll devour you, like the great wolf devours the sun at the end of times."

"I don’t quite understand..." he muttered, though his expression revealed that he understood perfectly. "Hmm. So, Dumbledore knows he could rid himself of the curse, but at such a price that death seems preferable?"

"Put bluntly, yes."

"Wonderful! So he gets posthumous honors, and I get branded a murderer?" Snape said bitterly, cutting himself off mid-sentence. "Madam Ingebjorg, I—"

"Do you think I don’t see the binding mark?" she interrupted. "And just now, you tossed yet another scrap to your beast, Severus. Stop it, or it’ll grow too large to chain!"

"Ingebjorg, could this be done without the headmaster’s consent?" Marina Nikolaevna asked. "I doubt he’d willingly confront his conscience..."

"It can," the seer nodded thoughtfully. "The autumn equinox is the best time. If not, then the winter solstice."

"The hand still needs to be removed?"

"Of course," Ingebjorg replied seriously. "Firstly, it’s practically dead already. Secondly, with the blood flow, much of the curse will be dispelled... There’s a potion..."

She snapped her fingers, and Hrafn brought her a casket inlaid with carved bone.

"I knew it would come in handy," Ingybjörg said, pulling out a vial filled with a shimmering emerald-green liquid, glowing like the northern lights. "Here it is. This potion acts on the soul like an emetic—it’ll turn it inside out!"

Marina Nikolaevna exchanged glances with Snape, remembering Kreacher’s tales about the horrors in the cave, the stone basin, and Regulus Black’s suffering before his death.

"Have you heard of such a thing?" the seer asked. Snape nodded.

"Good. Since you brew the headmaster’s potions, you’ll give this to him. And you, Dolores, figure out how to handle the cursed remnants—there’s still time... Why so quiet? Thinking it might be better to leave things as they are? Let him die as he plans, painlessly, and let the blame fall on others?"

"Absolutely not!" Marina Nikolaevna burst out, thinking of the young ones—Potter, Malfoy—and many others, both living and dead.

"I knew you’d say that," Ingebjorg smiled, returning the vial to the casket. Hrafn bowed and carried it away. "Some crimes are too great for death to be a fitting punishment... And you, Severus, put a leash on your beast!"

"I would, if I knew how," he replied quietly.

"You know how; you just don’t want to. You’re not fifteen, Severus. At your age, reveling in such things is unbecoming. And dying for it—foolish. You’ve still got life ahead of you!" the seer snapped. "Enough of this. It’s late—time to sleep."

Ingebjorg rose to her full height, and the guests stood as well.

"Think carefully about how to carry this out if you truly intend to try," she said. "There’s still time. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Marina Nikolaevna nodded and exited, with Snape following her.

Descending a few flights in silence, Snape finally said:
"I can slip the potion in—that won’t be difficult."

"And I think I know someone who can help with... the amputation," Marina Nikolaevna replied seriously. "But we’ll need to plan everything carefully—maybe even set a trap. We’ll have to consult Ingebjorg for details, then talk to a specialist!"

"Why does this matter to you?" he asked.

"If I answered honestly, it would sound pompous and foolish," she admitted. "So I’ll just say: let him live and suffer! Oh, by the way, did you have a chance to examine the rat—its hand, I mean?"

"I did, but I can’t replicate it," Snape admitted. "At least not perfectly. To make a hand appear alive... that’ll take another ten years of practice!"

"Well, then you’ve got a goal," Marina Nikolaevna stopped and patted a suit of armor on the shoulder. "How about a steel hand like this?"

"Not bad. Just as long as it doesn’t crawl around the castle at night," he replied without a hint of a smile.

"And strangle its owner?" she asked, impressed by his knowledge.

"The rat’s would—it’ll strangle you if you stray even slightly," Snape explained.

"Seems the Dark Lord knows his old legends well..."

"By the way," Snape suddenly said, "some sources describe something similar to what Ingebjorg mentioned. They say a wizard can gather their Horcruxes and reunite with them. But they must sincerely repent and fully grasp the monstrosity of their deeds. No one would attempt it, though, because the power of such remorse would likely kill them."

"Indeed, it sounds familiar... Let’s hope the headmaster has a strong enough spirit," Marina Nikolaevna sighed, then tensed. "Did you hear that? I’m not imagining it, am I?"

"No, the alarm charms were triggered," Snape confirmed. "Let’s go!"

_____________________________________

The Aurors were the first to arrive, as was expected of them, and the three detainees were already lying on the floor.

"Well then," said Marina Nikolaevna. "So much for security measures!"

"Everything worked perfectly, Madam Umbridge," the shift leader assured her.

"There was no external breach. As soon as the intruders showed up in the corridors, the alarm triggered, and the boys intercepted them. We’re figuring out now where these intruders came from... Would you like to be present?"

"Absolutely. Severus?"

"If you don’t mind. There might be a need for Veritaserum, and I happen to have some on hand..."

"Oh, that’s good, Professor," the Auror said seriously, "because we have some too, but not much. Murphy, take them to that classroom over there—we're not interrogating them in the middle of the hallway!"

Murphy, a massive man with a shaved head, waved his wand, lifting all three detainees to their feet, and directed them toward a door.

Two more Aurors appeared around the corner, exchanged coded gestures with those present (clearly to confirm their identities), and joined the group.

"We caught an older student in another wing," one of them said. "But he was just sneaking off to meet a girl. We gave him a talking-to and let him go."

"Good. Madam Umbridge, Professor, please..."

"If possible, we’d like to observe without being seen," Marina Nikolaevna quickly said. "Letty, the cloak!"

"Nice piece," the nearest Auror approved. "Top quality! We could use one of those..."

The procession moved into the classroom.

"I’d like to know how the Marauders managed to fit under this blasted rag all four at once," Snape hissed, trying to adjust the cloak.

"No idea, but lower yourself—your legs are visible!"

"And how long do I have to stay half-crouched?"

"Well... sit on the desk like you usually do, and I’ll stand next to you," Marina Nikolaevna suggested. "Yes, like that. Quiet now..."

The detainees were already lined up against the wall: hands behind their heads, legs shoulder-width apart... And, of course, bound with immobilizing spells—just to be sure.

"Let’s begin," said the lead Auror. "Murphy, their wands, please."

"Here you go, chief," Murphy handed him the required items.

Marina Nikolaevna watched with undisguised curiosity as the Auror—his surname was Berkley—ran his wand along the others’ wands, barely moving his lips.

"Well then," he said. "Turn the detainee around, Murphy."

Murphy complied, and Marina Nikolaevna involuntarily gripped Snape's shoulder. Every inch of the stranger's skin was covered in scars, his mouth was just a crooked slash, and a large part of his nose was missing. But his eyes... One was small, dark, and shiny, while the other was large, round, and bright blue, constantly moving—up, down, side to side, sometimes flipping entirely inward, so only the whites were visible.

"Alastor Moody," Berkley said expressionlessly. "Retired Auror."

"Didn’t recognize me, boy?" Moody rasped, licking his lips.

"A Death Eater impersonated you two years ago, so I think I’ll wait a couple of hours before saying hello, Mr. Moody," Berkley replied. "Lion, keep an eye on him. Now, who’s this? Nymphadora Tonks, registered Metamorphmagus Auror... Which of you is Tonks?"

One of the men against the wall weakly moved a hand.

"Turn around, slowly, and assume your true form, Miss Tonks," Berkley ordered.

It was strange to watch as her features seemed to melt, her height, figure, and hair color changing... Finally, a pretty young woman with short, grayish-brown hair stood before them.

"Excellent. Now then..."

"Ahem!" came a loud voice from the doorway.

Berkley didn’t turn.

"Who’s there?" he asked, his eyes still fixed on Tonks.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, sir," another Auror replied.

"Good evening, Headmaster," Berkley said, still staring at the woman. "What brings you here?"

"You see, Mr. Berkley," Dumbledore began softly, "these people are my guests."

"Excellent, Headmaster," the Auror replied impassively. "Then, perhaps, you could explain why your guests are wandering the castle at night, one of them in disguise? I won’t ask how they got here—it's clear they used your fireplace."

"Apparently, they wished to reminisce about their youth..."

"And why in the middle of the night? What stopped them from reminiscing during the day?"

The Auror remained utterly calm, and Marina Nikolaevna knew why: Dumbledore wasn’t an authority figure for him. Berkley had never attended Hogwarts.

The Auror Office had not only a cadet academy but also a sort of preparatory corps where children as young as five or six were enrolled. Berkley, a hereditary Auror, had trained there.

At age eleven, cadets received invitations to Hogwarts like any other child, but they were free to stay and continue their training. Very few ever chose to leave for Hogwarts. Berkley’s father had once said that, throughout the corps’ history, only a handful had done so. This included Williamson, who, for unknown reasons, had transferred to Hogwarts, lasted one semester, and then requested to return to the corps.

Thus, McGonagall’s claim that the Auror ranks hadn’t seen new recruits for a long time was only partially true. Recruits existed, but they came directly from the corps, bypassing the wizarding school.

"Let’s continue," Berkley said, not waiting for the headmaster's reply. "Oh! Remus Lupin, werewolf... Fascinating!"

"It’s not a full moon," Dumbledore said softly.

"Doesn’t matter," the Auror replied, finally turning to the headmaster. "My orders are to ensure the students' safety. A werewolf wandering the school, full moon or not, is unacceptable. Murphy, call for a convoy to escort these three to headquarters for further questioning."

"Yes, sir," Murphy nodded and left.

"Miss Tonks, might you tell us who gave you the order?" Berkley asked casually. "You’re on duty, aren’t you? So? Who was it? Surely not Williamson. Then who? Kingsley Shacklebolt?"

"There were no orders..." she muttered. "We just... came to visit Harry..."

"So, you were visiting Harry Potter in the middle of the night?" Berkley squinted. With his scar, which ran from his brow to his chin, the expression looked especially menacing. (When Marina Nikolaevna had asked why he didn’t remove the scar, Berkley had admitted that his ordinary appearance garnered no attention, but with the scar, women wouldn’t leave him alone!) "In such an unusual group? Right..."

"Sir, the convoy has arrived," Murphy reported, as several imposing Aurors entered the room, forcing Dumbledore to step aside.

"Take the detainees, one at a time. For the werewolf—condition prim-two. For the Metamorphmagus—special-prim. Moody—enhanced surveillance."

"Understood, sir!"

"The rest of you, continue patrolling. There might be more lurking about. Stanton, check fireplace activity—there could be another group sneaking in..."

"Yes, sir," a tall, thin Auror nodded and left.

"Mr. Berkley," Dumbledore said as a swearing Moody was led past him, doubled over with his arms twisted behind his back. "I assure you, this is a misunderstanding. None of these people posed a threat to Hogwarts, let alone its students. I vouch for them!"

"I have the information, Director," Berkley responded coldly. "According to it, the werewolf Lupin present here has already endangered the lives of children and colleagues. His presence at Hogwarts is absolutely unacceptable."

"Mr. Berkley, you must understand, Remus—"

"Outside of school, you can kiss your pet werewolf for all I care," the Auror interrupted, standing up. "But I have orders: no outsiders in Hogwarts. This is not up for discussion, Director. Or rather, you may discuss my orders with the Minister, the Board of Governors, the Head of the Auror Office, or even Her Majesty, but until I receive direct instructions from Mr. Williamson, I will follow my orders at any cost. Take the werewolf away," he nodded to the returning Aurors.

"First base or second, sir?" one of them asked.

"Let's go with the second; it's free right now. Quickly now."

The Aurors escorted Lupin, who did not resist; his face showed a strange sense of relief. Almost immediately, two more appeared—likely using pre-configured Portkeys—and took away a crying Tonks (clearly out of frustration).

"That's all. Stanton?" Berkley addressed a subordinate. "The fireplaces?"

"All clear, sir. These three came through the Headmaster's office," Stanton replied. "I can't seal it off; I lack the necessary access."

"Understood. I'll notify Williamson to completely block the school's external Floo network," Berkley nodded. "I suggested doing that from the start... Well, Director, you may return to bed. Your friends will spend the rest of the night in cozy, comfortable solitary cells, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will deal with them in the morning."

"Well, I suppose I should contact the Minister," Dumbledore said after a pause.

"By all means."

Snape squeezed Marina Nikolaevna's hand briefly; she responded in kind, signaling her understanding.

"Goodnight, Mr. Berkley," said the Headmaster.

"And to you as well."

Once Dumbledore left, Berkley asked, "So, how was the performance?"

"Was it a performance?" Marina Nikolaevna asked, removing her cloak.

"Almost not at all," he replied calmly. "I nearly faltered at one moment."

"Which one?" Snape asked, surprised.

"You see..." Berkley looked directly at them. "I learned from childhood: see a werewolf, kill it. But I held back. Not in a school, after all..."

"Thank you," Marina Nikolaevna said sincerely. "And who was that girl?"

"A relative of Sirius Black," Snape explained. "A strange, flighty young woman. I still can’t believe she not only passed Potions but also got into Auror training!"

"They admitted her for her Metamorphmagus abilities; she scored the highest in stealth and disguise, as you can imagine," Berkley said. "But she had to retake infiltration and tracking exams several times."

"Right—she can disguise herself as a tree and stand perfectly still to observe, but follow someone without tripping on the first obstacle? Not so much," Murphy smirked. "I heard Moody took a liking to her, but she was never assigned serious missions, just tagging along as his apprentice. And no, Chief, I’m not suggesting anything! Sure, girls like scars, but not that much… Besides, Tonks is young enough to be Moody’s granddaughter."

"And she’s in a relationship with Lupin," Snape added.

"What?!" the Aurors exclaimed.

"Information from a reliable source," Snape said with a hint of malice. Marina Nikolaevna realized he was alluding to Black. Well, Black would have noticed—or sniffed out—something like that.

"Unbelievable," Berkley muttered. "In that case, Tonks will be out of the Auror Office in no time."

"Do you also consider werewolves to be subhuman?" Marina Nikolaevna asked out of curiosity.

"I consider them dangerous creatures, as per the protocol," he replied. "The fact that they look, act, and even teach like humans most of the time doesn’t—rather, no longer—means anything. It’s a death sentence, Madam Umbridge, as you know. Whatever a person was before infection, during the full moon, they lose control. And Wolfsbane Potion isn’t a panacea: it can be poorly brewed, or the werewolf might forget to take it. So," Berkley concluded, "I’m afraid this Lupin will have to be isolated from society—at least temporarily. Now, you should get some rest, Professors. You have classes in the morning, and I have a report to write..."

"And I need to send a letter to the Minister," Marina Nikolaevna suddenly remembered. "Thank you, Berkley, and your team acted remarkably quickly!"

"Just doing my job, Madam," he replied without a hint of a smile.

Outside the classroom, Marina Nikolaevna called, "Letty! I need parchment and a quill..."

"Minister," she wrote. "Three members of Dumbledore’s group were just apprehended in the school. He tried to persuade the Aurors to release them, but failed. I hasten to inform you that he will undoubtedly contact you and attempt to have them freed (do note: this includes two Aurors, one retired, and a werewolf). Please remain vigilant, Minister! Mr. Williamson will provide further details; his subordinates are already preparing a report for him. Yours sincerely, Dolores Umbridge."

"Letty, deliver this to the Minister," she instructed. "Wake him if necessary."

The elf nodded and disappeared with a soft pop.

"If someone had told me I’d be glad to have Aurors around..." Snape muttered.

"What’s wrong with them? They’re professional, polite, don’t harass the senior students, don’t publicly mock your dark past—they just do their job, and do it well," she shrugged.

"Exactly. And that’s... odd," he mused. "Could it be I’ve only encountered the worst of them before?"

"That happens," Marina Nikolaevna sighed, recalling her youth. She had dealt with both corrupt cops and truly admirable officers in identical uniforms. Later, nothing changed—except that the police were renamed. People stayed the same.

Another pop—Letty returned.

"Madam, the Minister asked me to give you this!" she squeaked.

"Thank you, Dolores!" the note read. "Your elf woke me just in time—Dumbledore’s owl arrived shortly after. According to his letter, the villainous Aurors brutally attacked peaceful visitors, nearly tortured them on the spot, and then threw them into monstrous dungeons for further abuse. And who are these victims? A harmless retiree, a young girl, and a gravely ill man… If not for your warning, I might have believed him!

I’ve referred him to Williamson. After all, if I’m not informed of staffing changes at Hogwarts, why should I deal with the Headmaster’s guests?

Speaking of staffing changes: I find Dumbledore’s actions outrageous! Good thing you managed to take control of the situation... Sometimes I think Dumbledore deliberately rocks the boat. Just as things settle down, he pulls another stunt! Pity he forgets that he might fall overboard himself.

Keep me updated; I’m available day or night!

Sincerely, Cornelius Fudge, Minister."

"Well," Marina Nikolaevna said with satisfaction. "Williamson will have a field day. He has a horrible sense of humor and no reverence for the ‘greatest light wizard of our time,’ so Dumbledore won’t see his allies anytime soon. Why are you looking at me like that, Severus?"

"I’m just thinking," he replied thoughtfully, "is it possible I’ve finally found myself among normal people? Not those obsessed with saving the world, but simply professionals doing their job? I was convinced such people no longer existed."

"Maybe you should look around more often?" she suggested without irony. "We really should get some sleep. Goodnight, Severus."

"Goodnight," he nodded and disappeared into the dark corridor, his cloak swirling behind him.

"Let’s go, Letty," Marina Nikolaevna said. "It’s been quite a night..."