Memory of the Hearing

Chapter Thirteen

Memory of the Hearing

Harry sat before Dumbledore's desk, wondering once again why he'd been summoned here. He didn't recall doing anything against House rules; his schoolwork was coming along fine. He even had a glimmer of the beast his Animagus would be; a wolf. So why was he here?

Dumbledore had finished pouring tea for the two of them; he handed Harry his cup and offered a plate of what he assumed were biscuits, which Harry declined. Dumbledore's tendency toward sweets was too much, even for Harry.

"Harry," the old man began, "you remember, of course, the chat we had about the Prophecy?"

"Of course I do," said Harry. Was Dumbledore going to tell him the time was drawing near?

"It had been predicted," Dumbledore continued as if Harry hadn't spoken, "that you will have to kill Voldemort, or he would have to kill you."

"I remember."

"How superstitious are you?"

Harry was taken aback. "I don't think I'm superstitious at all," he replied. "What does that have to do with . . ."

"Simply that there are those who would believe that the only way to vanquish Voldemort is to wait for you to do it. If anyone else manages it, they'll live in fear that he will return."

"Are you suggesting that someone else will kill him?"

"It's a possibility."

"You're talking about Tanya, aren't you?"

"Yes. And no. I have no inkling that things are coming to a head. I just wondered where you stood with that Prophecy."

"I'd rather not believe in it, to tell the truth. I've never been able to accept the idea of my killing someone. Voldemort or not."

"I know what you've experienced in past times," Dumbledore went on. "I know that if you could have, you would have killed him already. In the heat of battle, your conscience doesn't always rule. The bigger problem would be to deal with it later, when you've had time to think from a safer harbor."

Harry digested this, and had to agree. When Voldemort killed Cedric, and then tried to kill him, Harry had been aiming to kill. He'd never thought of it in that way before. He had only known that he wanted to survive.

"Have you seen Tanya since her return?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, briefly."

"And how do you feel about her being here?"

"It's a free country." Harry couldn't hold his eyes up to Dumbledore's scrutiny, and looked down at his tea.

"That simple sentence speaks volumes," Dumbledore said. "As a fellow member of the Order, you'll be running into her from time to time. Perhaps even working together. Will that be a problem?"

"I'll make sure it's not," Harry said truthfully. Dumbledore had no more wish than he to keep the peace. Especially after Hermione had told him off. He hated being told how immature he was.

"Have you had this chat with Tanya as well?" he asked nonchalantly.

"No, I didn't see the need."

"So, I'm the only one handling this badly, then?" He felt the resentment burning in him again.

"I frankly don't know how she's handling it," Dumbledore disputed. "I have to admit I'm a little bit reluctant to approach her. She doesn't strike me as someone who would appreciate my insight." His eyes were twinkling, and Harry suspected the headmaster was partial to the fiery personality, and the independence Tanya had always displayed.

"What else are you not sure about?" Harry asked. "Is there any doubt in your mind that she'll put Order business before anything else? That she won't turn on any of us if we upset her? Cast a spell on whomever upsets her? Like Mr. Malfoy?" There. He'd said it.

"There is no doubt in my mind," he said simply. "I would trust her with my very life. And I can honestly say that anyone else in the fight for good against evil might say the same."

Harry said nothing; he just sat there, swirling his tea in his cup, wondering if he'd be able to discern anything in the leaves. Probably a grim. He wondered if his meeting with Dumbledore was over. He looked up at the Professor, waiting a dismissal.

Dumbledore sighed softly, apparently figuring he'd said all he could. He'd have to wait and see how the two worked together. And it was inevitable; they would be working together. How could they not? The two of them together would be a force beyond reckoning. But it would require trust. If they couldn't depend on each other, who knew what would happen? Unity. Just as the Sorting Hat had been preaching the last few years, there would have to be unity.

********************

Snape stood before his window, looking out at the black night. The fire behind him was just bright enough to show the most shadowy reflection of himself in the glass. He could see the stars easily enough, but had never been tempted to try to divine anything from them. Astrology was a Muggle hobby, he thought, not worthy of contemplation by any self-respecting wizard. Thus the Sybill Trelawney types.

He was about to let the curtain drop back into place when a shadow flying past the moon caught his eye. A little late for owl delivery, but one couldn't hope to get an animal on a regular schedule, anyway. He opened his window, but as he neared, he realized it wasn't an owl with a message; it was a rather large blackbird. A raven. How perfect an Animagus for the average Dark Wizard.

His first instinct had been to shut the window before the raven could gain entry. But as the raven hovered briefly, preparing to land on the window ledge instead of flying directly inside, he vaguely remembered some comment from Minerva about Tanya doing so well in her Animagus lessons. He stood back from the window, giving the bird room to enter.

The raven crossed over the windowpane to perch on the back of the chair next to it. It looked at him for a moment, and he wondered if he was mistaken in his identification of the animal. But as he watched, the raven jumped off the chair, and before it reached the floor, it had transfigured into Tanya.

She was standing fully balanced, not having stumbled, as was usual when students were just learning to transfigure into and out of their Animagi. She must have been practicing hard, he noted. She was smiling, her entire face glowing, the sparkle back in her eyes full force. Clearly, she came here to show off. He smiled back, enjoying her pride, knowing she had the right to that pride. She'd accomplished in a short time what usually took years to master. And her year in prison hadn't hindered her new skill.

She spun around, laughing like the child she once was. "No feathers anywhere, right? No cawing, no looking for disgusting food that only birds eat! I did it!"

He took her in his arms and danced a few steps across the room, celebrating her happiness he'd been afraid he'd never see again. She was too excited for that, however, and threw her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, picking her up off her feet slightly. He breathed in essence of her; her jasmine scented shampoo, the light scent of an herbal perfume; he felt her heat through his robes.

Suddenly, he stood straight and pulled her arms from around his neck. With trembling hands, he held her arms and took a step backward, not looking in her eyes. It was getting increasingly difficult to think of her as someone young enough to be his daughter, someone whom he'd more or less thought of as his daughter. Or had he?

She held his eyes until he was forced to meet them, questioning him silently, and he knew she was asking herself if she had offended him somehow. He tried a smile, but knew she wouldn't be fooled. He turned away from her, willing his frozen brain to come up with something, anything that would make the last minute or two disappear.

Of course! He'd almost forgotten Dumbledore's last message for him. He heaved a silent sigh of relief and turned back to her.

"We have our field test assignment," he said, perhaps more heartily than was warranted. "I have the location coordinates; we'll be able to use a Portkey that Dumbledore is charming even as we speak. Is there anything going on here you can't reschedule?"

She brightened immediately. "No, nothing. Hagrid already knows I'll be popping in and out for this. And my studies are ahead of schedule, depending on how long we'll be. Where are we going?"

"All I know for certain is that it's out in the back of beyond up in the high country somewhere. Lots of wilderness, the headmaster assures us, and none of the ingredients I had been in the habit of using for this potion. A perfect chance to test your theory."

"Aye, we can brew the potion, but how will we test its performance?"

"Perhaps we can test it on each other. We know there would be no harm, at any rate. The only thing we'd be risking is our deepest, darkest secrets."

"Careful, now, Severus," she shot back, "you'll be wanting to leave something behind for your Pensieve, won't you?"

"As I already know you're an empath, it would do no good anyway. However, there are things in my past that wild centaurs wouldn't induce me to subject you to. We'll have to give the potion to you."

"Ah, but then I wouldn't retain the aura of mystery that surrounds me," she laughed. "You'll grow tired of having me hanging around."

Never. "You are an enigma, wrapped up in a riddle, and surrounded by a myth. No amount of Veritaserum would ever change that. And I'm only half-kidding. I've learned a little about gypsies the past year or two. And with each layer unpeeled, there is revealed only more layers."

She cocked an eyebrow at that. "What have you learned about gypsies?"

"I found all kinds of documentation at Muggle libraries, here and there." He pointed to his bookshelves. "Some of them were almost informative, enough to keep, rather than simply borrowing them from libraries and then try to find them again."

She looked at the books he indicated. "The People", "Strangers In Our Midst", and "The Society of Kalderash". She smiled at him. "You do realize, don't you, that I'm not Kalderash? I'm of the Rom gypsies. These books aren't likely to tell you anything about my people."

"They wouldn't even if you were Kalderash," he said. "I've never read anything like these books. The more I read, the less I learned. It seems as if all the different gypsies are determined to maintain their secrets."

She shrugged, looking over the rest of his titles. "You're missing some of the works of Shakespeare," she noted. "Have you lost them?"

"I never had them," he admitted. "I stole those books from primary school, many, many years ago. I couldn't steal them all."

She laughed. "I have the missing plays. You can borrow them anytime."

At last. Someone who shared his tastes in literature. "I'll take you up on that. As a matter of fact, bring them with you on our trip. I'll have to find a way to keep busy, as you'll be doing most of the work."

"Are we to be camping out, or is there shelter waiting for us?"

"We'll have to rough it, unless we happen to find shelter. I do have access to a fairly comfortable tent, wizard style. But it depends upon whether or not there are any meddlesome Muggles nearby. If so, then I'm afraid things will be much more difficult."

"Oh, we'll manage. It's like riding a bike." Snape, who'd never camped out, nor ridden a bike, decided that the practicalities of a camping trip were better left to her. He would concentrate on making sure they had all the supplies they'd need for the actual potion making and storage of samples.

They began to discuss the more pedestrian details of the research, and planned to leave at first light.

*****

Another Hogsmeade weekend. Harry just couldn't get enthused about them anymore. He wasn't bored enough to actually hit the books for some extra studying time, but since Ron and Hermione had begun dating openly, he'd been to feel like a fifth wheel. So, when he saw Ginny sitting morosely in the common room, he asked her to join him for a couple of butterbeers. She accepted eagerly, and they walked down the road to Hogsmeade, dodging the third-years, who were still enthusiastic about these weekends.

They sat in the Three Broomsticks, and as Ginny brought him up-to-date on what all the Weasleys were doing, students came and went with distracting regularity. Ron and Hermione eventually came in, joining them just as Ginny was beginning to become upset at Harry's lack of attention. He couldn't help it; his eyes were drawn to the door each time it opened.

"If you're looking for Tanya to come in," she said snidely, "forget it. She and Snape went off on some sort of research expedition."

"What research?"

"Some sort of Potions field test," Hermione put in. "Don't you keep up with anything? They have to field test something Tanya came up with."

"I thought she was apprenticing with Hagrid?" Harry wasn't sure what either field involved, but the idea that Tanya wasn't even in the area deflated his desire to be sitting here in the crowded pub, watching the door constantly. He didn't want to admit to himself that she factored into his actions at all.

"Both, I guess," Ron said. "Or maybe she needs to keep up her Potions skills to recuperate from whatever injuries she sustains from working with Hagrid."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Look, if you're just going to ignore me, I may as well go off with someone who actually appreciates my company." She got up and headed over to a table full of sixth-years. Harry didn't blame her. He wasn't the best of company lately.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione voiced, "why don't you just make it up with her? You're being way too hard on her, you know. You're only making the both of you more miserable."

"She's miserable, is she?" Harry was ashamed to realize how good those words felt. He didn't want to be the only one.

"Well, she doesn't say much these days, although you can see she's trying to be friendly. I mean, I know she's especially busy lately, but she used to be quick with a conversation, at least. The last few times I've talked to her, it's almost as though she forgot how to use words. Do you think that's because of Azkaban? She talked to no one for more than a year. Does one fall out of practice?"

"I think she's harboring a grudge against every one of us who didn't go to prison with her," he said snidely. "Like it's our fault she couldn't hold on to her temper with Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione bristled. She apparently still considered Tanya her friend, and as such, leaped to her defense. "Like you could ever hold on to your temper!" she spat. "Who is it that blew up his aunt when she insulted your mother? Who kept getting all those detentions with Umbridge because you played right into her hands while she pushed your buttons? Who threatened to kill Sirius Black when you thought he betrayed your parents? What makes you think you're any different than Tanya?" She stood up so violently that her chair flew back and almost caused Rosemerta to lose the tray of beers she was carrying. As she left the pub, Ron looked at Harry, clearly unable to decide whether to follow Hermione, or commiserate with Harry.

"You'd better go," Harry said, "or she'll give you the silent treatment for days."

Ron appeared to think it over. "It might not be a bad idea at that, you know. She's running out of causes to support, and she's been threatening to start up with house-elf rights. We just now got them to clean the common room again. I'm not sure I'm up to getting dragged into her campaigns."

"No, go on," Harry said, smiling. "I'm about to go back anyway."

"Don't take her so seriously, okay? You know Hermione. She just blows hot or cold, probably as some form of exercise. You know she's not really mad at you."

Harry smiled his thanks and they both headed out the door; Harry turning right to return to Hogwarts, Ron turning left to follow Hermione.

Harry wanted nothing more than to return to the common room, and start his studying while he had half the mind to do so. But Dumbledore cornered him on the stairway, and requested his presence in ten minutes in his office. Harry couldn't think of any good reason why not, so he dragged himself to the gargoyle.

Dumbledore eventually returned, levitating a tray with an assortment of biscuits and sweets, as well as the perpetual teapot, on it. After pouring and settling himself down on the armchair opposite Harry, he asked how his schoolwork was going.

"I'm keeping up," Harry said suspiciously. Had it really been necessary to call this meeting simply to ask about his work? Of course not, he realized at Dumbledore's next words.

"I've been thinking about the distance between you and Tanya," he said. "I still worry that ill feelings will eventually get in the way of the trust that is needed in order for any sort of teamwork effort that may be required in the future.

"Therefore, I think I should point certain things out to you. And the easiest way to do that is to show you. I believe we can start with her hearing, last December. You remember how to use the Pensieve?"

Harry looked up with a start. Again, he was being invited to jump into Dumbledore's memory. Why was that hearing so important to how Harry felt now?

"I've already been through this with Professor Snape," the old man continued. "I felt that as he was working closely with her, and seems closer to her than anyone else, that he should know what she cannot bring herself to reveal to him. I don't believe she really minded; she just couldn't force herself to relive those particular times."

With that, he stood, and reaching into the cabinet behind him, brought out the heavy grey bowl, already swirling with a silvery mist that Harry knew must be his memory of the hearing.

With a tremulous look at Dumbledore, who was swirling his wand in the silver vapor of the Pensieve, Harry fixed his attention on the memory, peering closer and closer until he felt the draw he had become so familiar with, especially after all the time he'd spent entering the novels Tanya had given him for his birthday, seemingly so long ago.

When it pulled him in, he wasn't surprised to find himself in the murky dungeon's hearing chamber he was becoming all too familiar with. There, in the middle of the floor on the lowest level, was the dreaded chair, complete with chains loosely hanging by the legs and arms of the chair.

Looking around, he saw that a panel of dour-looking wizards and witches was already seated, waiting. Off to the side, in an armchair that was ridiculously out of place in this chamber, was Dumbledore himself, also waiting.

Two Dementors entered from a door at the back of the chamber, escorting Tanya. Harry stared. Her hair was hanging down around her face, looking like she hadn't combed it for weeks. Her clothes were draped loosely on her, her weight loss apparent; clearly the cooking at Azkaban wasn't handled by house-elves. She sat in the chair, and Harry willed the chains not to engage. But after a brief moment, they wrapped themselves around Tanya's arms and legs.

Tanya looked down at them in surprise, gave an unladylike snort, and moved her fingers. The chains burst apart, some links flying toward the Panel. He saw the few that were still attached to the chair give off a thin tendril of smoke. Defiantly, Tanya sat back, crossed one leg over the other, and folded her hands in her lap. He looked up at the Panel.

Cornelius Fudge was sputtering. "Miss Relke, your behavior is being closely scrutinized. Such a blatant display of disrespect for policy is not working in your favor!" She merely waited, watching him, not answering.

Dolores Umbridge was scribbling frantically; no surprise there. Percy Weasley was also there, at the end of the row of Panelists. He was gawking at Tanya, apparently too surprised to take his customary notes. He seemed to suddenly collect himself, and his quill was now keeping pace with Umbridge's. Through all this, Dumbledore sat patiently, as if he knew all along that she would allow no chains to hold her.

The Dementors had left the room as soon as the chains had burst. This surprised Harry, as he would have expected them to stand closer to where she sat, in the event she'd need to be removed from the chamber.

"May we begin, please?" The first words uttered from Dumbledore.

Fudge nervously ruffled some parchment before him. "Miss Relke," he began, glancing suspiciously at her from time to time. "You are being charged with using an Unforgivable Curse on Lucius Malfoy. This curse has proven so far to be irrevocable, and thus you have destroyed his life for all intents and purposes. You are accused of doing this crime without provocation, and with more than the required two witnesses. How do you plead?"

Tanya sat silent for what seemed, to Harry, like an eternity. But it couldn't have been long in reality, for only Harry seemed to be afraid that she wouldn't answer at all. The others were watching her calmly, waiting her out.

"I will enter no plea," she finally said. "It will make no difference to my case."

At this, Dumbledore stood, asking to be heard. Tanya looked at him as if noticing for the first time he was there.

Fudge bowed acquiescence to the request. Dumbledore approached Tanya's chair to face the panel.

"The charges aren't accurate," he began. "as there are three Unforgivable Curses recognized by the Panel, and this isn't Imperio, Crucio, or Avada Kedavra. Therefore, what Tanya did to Lucius is not an Unforgivable Curse and should not be tried as one. As to her committing this curse without provocation, that is patently false. Your investigators have information that points to nothing but provocation, from any angle. Malfoy destroyed her family, her friends, relatives; everyone and anyone she knew, leaving her orphaned and alone at only seven years old.

"As for the witnesses, they have all given depositions that they saw what provoked Miss Relke into attacking Malfoy. A good 79% of these witnesses also testified that, were they in her situation, they also would have attacked Malfoy. The other 21% polled swore that even without Malfoy's destruction of her family, they would have attacked him on the grounds that he was trying to succeed Voldemort and his Dark Ways.

"All things considered, she should not have been brought to hearing. It should have been dealt with at ordinary Ministry level. She should not have been stuck in a prison cell for all these months waiting for a hearing that could have taken place within a week of the incident."

Dumbledore stood quietly, waiting for his words to sink in. Harry glanced at Tanya, and found her staring, open-mouthed, at Dumbledore. She looked for all the world as if she'd expected quite something else come out of Dumbledore's mouth.

"Hem, hem," Harry recognized the awful woman's prelude to interruption immediately. The toad strikes again, he thought. "Hem . . . I wonder if I might be permitted a few words, Minister?" Harry had hoped he'd never have to hear the sugary-sweet voice again.

"Certainly. The Panel recognizes Madam Dolores Umbridge."

"Thank you, Minister. Professor Dumbledore, are you suggesting that these heinous crimes go unpunished? She paralyzed Mr. Malfoy, who had been a respected governor in good standing for many years. Head of one of the finest wizarding families our world has ever known. And now he can't even put himself in his wheelchair. He can't do anything. And it's because of her. How can you wish to excuse all that?"

"Malfoy is hardly a respected governor, Madam Umbridge," Dumbledore rejoined. "Need I remind you that he's been found guilty of supporting Voldemort in his efforts to conquer all that is good in this world? He was an escaped prisoner whom the Ministry had been searching for at the time of his appearance at Hogwarts. And his fine family is not on trial here today, nor are they here to offer any testimony. One would wonder why you chose to bring them up."

Umbridge's face began to look bloated in her indignation. Clearly, she had reverted to form, and Harry wondered if she would remain so smug if she heard the clopping of centaurs' hoofbeats again.

Tanya was standing now. "I would alike to address the Panel," she said. Without waiting for Fudge to permit it, she began to speak.

"I cursed Malfoy because he deserved it. I paralyzed him instead of killing him because I wanted him to live long enough to regret destroying my life. I wanted him to have plenty of time to think, sitting in that wheelchair, or lying in his bed, to wish he could turn back the clock and avoid our campsite all those years ago. I wanted him to be powerless to feel of any value to Voldemort, or even his own family. I wanted him destroyed. And so I destroyed him.

"If you're waiting for me to show any remorse, then you have a long wait coming. I'm no more sorry that I did this terrible thing than I am to be alive. But before you decide upon my sentence, I want to show you something."

She turned to Umbridge, raising her arm, and as Harry watched in fascinated horror, Umbridge began to melt, her skin falling off her face like candle wax dripping to the floor under her feet. Her hair began sliding off her skull, and the glob of . . . the mass of . . . well, it must be Umbridge . . . at her feet was growing larger.

Her vocal cords still worked, and Harry covered his ears at the screaming coming from Umbridge. But it wasn't pain, he could tell; she was terrified. As wizards and witches began scrambling to get away from Umbridge, Tanya lowered her arm and looked at the Panel, now spread farther around the chamber.

She once more raised her hand to Umbridge, and within seconds, Umbridge was as she was before, no worse for wear. She stopped screaming, and meekly stood, watching Tanya.

Tanya turned to another wizard, and he began floating up toward the ceiling. She kept him there, even as she turned back to Fudge. Other wizards began calling out breaking spells, trying to get their fellow wizard back to the floor. Nothing seemed to be working. A few of them tried sending Stupefying Curses her way, only to have them deflected back onto themselves. Her reflexes were amazing.

Tanya lifted her arms to the podium in front of Fudge, and the podium became a snorting, pawing dragon. As they all scurried out of harm's way, she turned it back into a podium, smoke still wafting upward.

The gypsy began slowly turning around in place, and there was light everywhere, so bright that Harry, and everyone else began yelling and covering their eyes. As the light dimmed somewhat, there was an explosion, and the wall opposite the Dementors' entrance was blown away, and a stairway and part of a corridor could be seen through the gaping maw.

Tanya stood silently, waiting for the rest to calm down. When they did, all at a loss for words, Tanya once again addressed them.

"As you can see, your powers are useless against mine. I can walk out of here any time I choose, and none of you can stop me. Even your Dementors fear me. That's why I didn't enter a plea. It can make no difference. And if you decide I'm to be sent back to Azkaban, you have to realize I will not be going. You will only lose some of your Dementors, if they'll even attempt to apprehend me, and possibly some of your more worthy wizards and witches.

"All that's left is for you to decide if I'm to be banished from your world. However, it will do no good to banish me unless you can physically remove me. Do you think you can do that?"

Harry's head was reeling. She was worse than Voldemort! How could anyone entertain the idea of allowing her to stay? How could Dumbledore still profess his faith in her loyalties?

He couldn't take anymore. He forced himself backwards, until he felt the draw that propelled him back into Dumbledore's office. He was thrown back into the armchair, panting heavily and trembling from head to toe.

Dumbledore sat patiently in the chair across from him, waiting for him to collect himself. Harry briefly wondered if this came anywhere near Snape's reaction when he witnessed this memory.

"I couldn't finish," Harry admitted humbly. "What happened?"

"She was acquitted," Dumbledore said simply. "They knew they could do nothing. Fudge decided that since we had brought her into our world, we were stuck with her. There was really no choice; better to hope she's on our side than most assuredly make an enemy of her by trying to banish her."

Harry looked closely at Dumbledore, who met his gaze unflinchingly. "Why is it you're so sure of her?"

"Because she has a good soul. You saw for yourself what she's capable of. Yet even when she cursed Malfoy, she did it as painlessly as possible. Even while carrying out the attack she'd thought of so constantly for eight years, she couldn't bring herself to cause any more pain than was necessary. He got off easy, Malfoy did."