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Scars, Part 20
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairings: Snape/Lupin, Ash/Tsubasa; also a little Theodore/Blaise, Dylan/Hermione, and Aric/Takeshi
Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts; [] indicates song lyrics.
Disclaimer: Based on the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling; song lyrics are from "Scars" by Papa Roach. No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
Warning: AU. This story contains a character from Half-Blood Prince, but does not follow the HBP storyline.
Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising, Aftermaths, The Revenant, Ash's Story, and Summer Vacation III.
Summary: Selima Snape schemes to keep the Minister of Magic--and incidentally, the Snape family--in power.
Part 19
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Selima Snape was only half-listening to Molly Weasley during their regular afternoon tea session. Due to years of practice honed at many tedious parties, she remained aware enough of the conversation that she could have repeated Molly's tearfully expressed worries about her husband nearly word-for-word, but most of her attention was focused on reexamining her alliance with the Weasley family, coldly weighing the risks and benefits in her mind while she murmured a sympathetic "yes, dear" or "I see" every now and then to give the impression that she was actually listening.
She wondered now if she had made a mistake by too hastily linking the Snape family's reputation to Arthur Weasley's rising star, which was now rapidly falling. She had run into Priscilla Parkinson the other day, and her old "friend" had asked with malicious sweetness, "And how is your dear friend Molly Weasley doing?" Priscilla had been offended when her place in Selima's inner circle had been supplanted by Molly, whom she regarded as a blood traitor and an upstart, and no one would gloat more than Priscilla if Selima were humiliated by having her new allies fall back into poverty and disgrace.
At the time, it had seemed wise, even necessary, to ally herself with the new Minister and war hero, Arthur Weasley. Severus had just returned to the family after making his relationship with the werewolf public, and the support and friendship of the liberal Minister of Magic had helped to counteract the scorn of the Slytherin purebloods, who in turn had been weakened by their association with the Death Eaters. And she had also needed the support of the Minister to restore her old friend's son, Cyril, back to his rightful place as the head of the Diggory family.
Selima had quickly seen that the way to Weasley's heart was through his family, and it had been easy enough to win the friendship of his wife, Molly. It helped that as a girl, pure of blood but too poor to be accepted into high society, Molly had been bedazzled by tales of the gala parties at Snape Manor, and even years later, she had been thrilled when Selima had finally invited the Weasleys to the Manor for a dinner party. And Molly had been struggling in her new role as the Minister's wife, trying to deal with all the sycophants and political enemies and allies, so she had been grateful when Selima had taken her under her wing and offered advice on how to navigate the twisted and perilous maze of pureblood politics.
But now Arthur Weasley's career was in jeopardy, and if he fell, the Snapes' reputation would fall along with him, after all Selima's efforts to restore her family to its previous glory. And now, as she calmly sipped her tea, her face showing no sign of her inner struggle, she wondered if she ought to begin severing ties to the Weasleys.
"...but I am so grateful to you, Selima," Molly said warmly, her words catching Selima's attention and bringing her focus back to the conversation. "I am so grateful that you have stood by us when everyone at the Ministry seems to be turning their backs on Arthur. I don't know what I would do without you!"
Tears welled in her eyes, and Selima automatically offered her a handkerchief and made soothing noises while she tried to identify a twinge of some strange emotion that Molly's words had evoked--an emotion so foreign that it took her a few moments to realize what it was...
Guilt.
There was no reason for her to feel guilty, of course. Her relationship with Molly was a political alliance, nothing more: the Snapes benefited from the Minister's goodwill, and Molly benefited from Selima's expertise in social matters. If Molly thought there was more to it than that, then it was her own fault for being a foolishly sentimental Gryffindor.
Still, feigning friendship with Molly was hardly a chore. It was a novel and rather pleasant experience to spend time with someone who always said what she meant, with no hidden agendas, unlike Selima's other acquaintances--Priscilla, for example--who disguised spite and jealousy with honeyed words. The Minister's wife was always warm and open, and while Selima sometimes regarded her naivety with amused condescension, there was a certain comfort in being able to relax in Molly's company without always having to be on guard and watch for a dagger hidden behind the other woman's back--figuratively speaking, mostly, but in Slytherin circles that could occasionally be quite literal.
And of course there was the fact that Molly Weasley was an incredible cook--even better than Vorcher, with all his house-elf magic. Even her worry for her husband had not affected her baking skills, Selima noted as she bit into one of the apple tarts Molly had brought for tea; the crust was light and flaky, and the filling had just the right combination of sweetness and tartness, with neither overpowering the other. Of course, pastry-making skills mattered little in the overall political scheme of things, but it was one point to be taken into consideration.
There was also loyalty to be considered. The Weasleys had never doubted Severus during his tenure as an Order member--Arthur, because he put supreme faith in Dumbledore's word, and the Headmaster had vouched for Severus, while Molly had seen Severus's concern for his Slytherin charges, and in her mind, anyone who was concerned about the welfare of a child could not be evil. This contradicted the fact that some of the Death Eaters had loved their children, but Selima did not disabuse Molly of her idealistic notions. And the Weasleys had continued to stand by Severus even after he had scandalously made his affair with the werewolf public.
It was true that loyalty mattered more to Gryffindors than Slytherins, but Slytherins had their own unique sense of honor, although the Gryffindors found it difficult to comprehend. Selima grudgingly acknowledged that the Snapes owed the Weasleys a debt of sorts for their loyalty, and besides, it helped to have at least one ally who was unswervingly loyal, who would not prove fickle when the winds of political change blew, as they inevitably would.
Whatever debts she owed the Weasleys, Selima would never sacrifice her own family to save them, especially if such an attempt would be futile--that indeed would be Gryffindor foolishness. However, if she could find a way to help salvage Arthur Weasley's career, that would satisfy the demands of honor--and incidentally, prevent the Snape family from being dragged down along with the Minister.
And with that thought, Selima decided on her course of action. Perhaps she had been hasty in allying with the Weasleys, but her family's fate was now inextricably bound with theirs, and it was too late to disentangle the two. Besides, her old allies would never willingly support a Lord who was not only openly homosexual, but the lover of a werewolf--the worst kind of non-human in the eyes of the pureblood elite, because it could so easily taint the blood of a human with a single bite. Selima had probably proved herself a traitor in their eyes long before now, when she had championed Cyril Diggory (formerly Lukas Bleddri) as the rightful heir of the Diggory family over Amos. That had been pure sentiment, as bad as any Gryffindor's, but she had always had a soft spot for Cyril's late mother Anya, her childhood companion and best friend, the one person she had loved and trusted without reservation.
Selima held most of the same ideals and prejudices as the rest of the purebloods; she did not precisely approve of werewolves in particular or non-humans in general--it was only that she made an exception for Cyril, because he was Anya's son, and she tolerated Lupin because he belonged to Severus. But the pureblood elite would not see it that way; they probably saw her as a blood traitor as bad as the Weasleys, and only her wealth and status had kept them from openly turning against her up until now. Cutting ties to the Weasleys would not change their minds; therefore, her only option was to make sure that Arthur Weasley remained in power. She had no idea how she was to achieve such a thing, but she felt better for having finally made a decision, for good or for ill.
"I was thinking that perhaps we should have Bill and Fleur postpone their wedding," Molly was saying tearfully, still dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. "Until this whole mess is resolved, one way or the other."
"No," Selima said firmly. "If you do, you will be admitting weakness in the eyes of the purebloods, and they will fall on you like..." She paused, smiling ironically. "Like wolves scenting blood on a wounded animal. Above all, Arthur must appear to remain strong and confident, and carry on as if nothing were wrong. He must not compromise himself."
"But isn't that why the other Ministry officials turned against him?" Molly asked doubtfully. "Because he wouldn't compromise?"
"Perhaps, but if he changes now only when his popularity is falling, that is another sign of weakness," Selima replied. "At worst, they will oust him because he has not the strength to oppose them, or at best, keep him on as a puppet Minister to do their bidding. Besides, do you really want Arthur to compromise himself? Would you want him to restore the Registry and the anti-werewolf laws, and remove Professor Lupin from his post at Hogwarts?"
"No, I suppose not," Molly sighed. "Although I admit there were times in the past when I wished Arthur would play politics a little better, and get himself out of the Muggle Artifacts office and into something more prestigious. He drove me to distraction at times, but I am proud of him for always standing by his beliefs." Although there were still lines of worry on her face, she laughed. "I used to wish he were more ambitious, and suddenly he became Minister of Magic without even seeking the position! But I wouldn't want him to remain Minister if that meant turning his back on his friends, like Remus and Mr. Randolf."
"We will see to it that he remains Minister while retaining his beliefs," Selima said adamantly. "Although it wouldn't hurt if he very discreetly cultivated a few alliances behind the scenes." She frowned. "I should have advised him to do so earlier, before things came to such a pass." That was definitely a mistake; she had known that Arthur Weasley lacked subtlety, and she should have acted to bolster her ally's position before it became so weakened. Well, there was no point in crying over spilt milk; now she would have to act to rectify those earlier mistakes.
"But you just said that Arthur shouldn't compromise," Molly protested.
"I don't mean that he should pacify his critics by reversing his policies," Selima explained. "But there are a few independents in the Ministry whose support he might cultivate--Amelia Bones, for one. She comes from an old pureblood family, but has little patience for the usual lot of toadies and sycophants. And the werewolves saved the life of Arnold Peasegood's little girl, so Arthur might remind him of the debt that he owes them. Also, Erika Dietrich, though new to the Ministry, is the heiress of a wealthy pureblood family, and might therefore have some clout with her peers. Her younger brother is a werewolf in Cyril's pack, and she still seems to care for him although her family has disowned him. I am sure she would not want to see her brother suffer if the Ministry resumes their persecution of werewolves. And of course Arthur is already friends with Sirius Black and Harry Potter. Despite his heritage, Black doesn't really carry much clout with the purebloods because of his estrangement from his family, but his wife comes from an old and respected clan." Never mind that the Blackmore "clan" currently consisted only of Lady Branwen and her unborn child, or that "respected" was a polite euphemism for "feared"; sometimes a little fear was necessary to command respect. "And Black's godson is the Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World. That will carry some weight with public opinion. Mr. Potter appears to be a modest young man, which is most commendable, but I am sure he can overcome his distaste for publicity if it will help a friend."
Molly began to look a little more hopeful. "I'll give Arthur your advice; I know that Harry and Sirius and Branwen will do whatever they can to help him. I'm not so sure of the others, but even if they do offer him their support, will that be enough to overcome his enemies?"
"Perhaps not in and of itself, but..." Selima's voice trailed off as she pursed her lips in thought, and then a smile slowly spread across her face as an idea occurred to her. "But if something should occur to distract your husband's enemies..." Her smile, smug and sleek, and her dark eyes, glinting with a hint of malice, caused Molly to smile back at her nervously. "Please leave everything to me, Molly dear," Selima purred.
"Ah...yes, Selima," Molly said obediently, if a little doubtfully. And foolish Gryffindor or not, she was wise enough not to ask for any details.
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Arthur took Selima's advice with a grain of salt, but had to admit that it was sound. He was not quite as naive as people thought he was, and he was familiar enough with Lady Selima's reputation to know that she never did anything unless it benefited the Snape family. Even her scheme to help Lukas become Lord of the Diggory family had indirectly aided the Snapes, as it made lycanthropy a little more acceptable to the public at large, and therefore made Snape and Remus a slightly less scandalous couple--though only slightly.
So Arthur had been aware from the beginning that Selima's newly-conceived friendship for his wife was not purely altruistic. Still, he was grateful that she was kind to Molly, because he knew that his wife would have been crushed if her girlhood idol had treated her as scornfully as most of the other wealthy pureblood women did. As long as Molly was happy, Arthur didn't mind too much if Selima occasionally dropped his name among her friends or requested his presence at a dinner party. Fortunately, unlike some of his colleagues, Lady Snape was subtle and would never do anything so crass as to openly ask him to pass a particular piece of legislation or offer a sinecure to some friend or relative. Nor would she ever offer him a cash bribe to do her a favor, or even worse, hint that she wanted a bribe in exchange for doing HIM a favor--again, as all too many of his colleagues had.
Edward Tierney, the Head of International Magical Cooperation, was one of them. He was a typical snobbish pureblood, but Arthur had promoted him to his current position after the war ended, and in exchange, Tierney had staunchly supported all of Arthur's reforms. Despite what Selima thought, Arthur did understand the need to play politics, although he wasn't very good at it, and avoided it as much as possible.
That little arrangement had worked well enough until Aric Dietrich, the fiance of Tierney's daughter, had been turned into a werewolf. Tierney, although no Death Eater, was still intent upon keeping his family's blood as pure as possible, and had immediately broken off the engagement. Privately, Arthur had thought that was a good thing, since neither of the young people had wished to wed each other in the first place, but Tierney was very upset that he'd lost a valuable marriage alliance. He hadn't blamed Arthur for that, but he was furious when Arthur failed to punish Lukas for biting Aric, even though the boy would have died if he hadn't. He grew even more resentful when Arthur gave Aric's sister Erika a position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He had been trying to smooth things over with the Dietrich family, who had originally been expecting Aric to enter the Ministry, but Tierney had seen this as unwanted interference, a usurpation of his position. He had been planning to give the Dietrich family a Ministry position in exchange for the marriage alliance, but now the Dietriches had the position even though Tierney had lost the alliance.
Tierney's daughter Miranda had eloped with her true love, a Healer named Augustus Pye--the same young man who had once treated Arthur for a snakebite wound a few years ago. The boy seemed intelligent and goodhearted, and moreover, shared Arthur's interest in the Muggle world, so Arthur attempted to mend things by offering Tierney's new son-in-law a job at the Ministry. However, Pye was a dedicated Healer with no interest in politics, and he politely declined the offer, so instead Arthur gave him a generous grant to pursue his research in what he called "complementary medicine," or the combining of Muggle and magical medical techniques. He had thought it quite a clever solution, but Tierney seemed to take this as an insult rather than a compliment, and had demanded to know why Arthur was helping his idiot son-in-law disgrace the Tierney name with all this Muggle foolishness. By this point, Arthur's considerable patience had finally snapped, and they had exchanged some heated words about pureblood politics and arranged marriages and desirable qualities in a son-in-law. Basically, he had told Tierney that he should be glad that his daughter was married to a kind man who made her happy, and that he should be proud to have a son-in-law who wanted to use his abilities to help others.
Things had gone downhill from there.
Now, as if summoned by his thoughts, Arthur's erstwhile ally appeared and flung a report down on his desk, with insolence bordering on rudeness.
"Here's the new trade agreement we negotiated with France," Tierney said curtly.
"Thank you, Edward," Arthur replied politely, trying to ignore the other man's tone of voice. "Good work."
"As if you appreciate it," Tierney sneered.
"Of course I do," Arthur protested, and he truly did. As little as he liked the man, he had to admit that Tierney was a good diplomat when he put his mind to it. He spoke several different languages, and had a sense of charm and sophistication that had ingratiated him with the French equivalent of the Ministry. "I made you Department Head, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," Tierney retorted. "And in return, I supported your little equal rights project."
"My 'little project'?" Arthur asked indignantly, bristling at the condescension in Tierney's words.
"But what have you done for me lately, Weasley?" Tierney continued, ignoring Arthur's brief outburst. "Other than to undermine and humiliate me?"
"If you're talking about Ms. Dietrich and Mr. Pye, I've told you many times--"
"Don't bother trying to justify yourself," Tierney interrupted impatiently. "It's too little, too late. You never did know how to play the game, Weasley. It was only a fluke that you got this job in the first place. In hindsight, I'm amazed that you've held onto it as long as you have."
"I'm amazed that the Ministry has lasted as long as it has," Arthur retorted in a cold voice. "You, and the others like you, seem to have forgotten its original purpose--to serve and protect the people of the wizarding world. Instead, you act as though it exists only to serve your own personal ambitions."
"And that attitude is exactly why you won't be Minister for much longer!" Tierney snapped. "I could've helped you if you'd been willing to listen to my advice, but now it's too late!"
"Advice like betraying a friend?" Arthur asked sharply. "Or locking up innocent people to soothe the public's fears and provide a false sense of safety?"
"Fine!" Tierney snarled. "Suit yourself, but don't come crying to me when the Wizengamot shows up asking for your head on a platter!"
He stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him, and Arthur sighed wearily. He supposed that it was time to follow Lady Selima's advice. Of course, all of her considerable cleverness had not prevented her husband from losing his position many years ago, but Severin Snape had been a proud and stubborn man--too stubborn, perhaps, to listen to his wife's advice when it conflicted with his pride. Arthur didn't have that luxury. If he were the only one affected, he would gladly give up this job in a heartbeat, but there were too many people who would suffer if the wrong person replaced him--someone like Edward Tierney, for example, who had supported the werewolves when it had benefited him to do so, but would just as easily abandon them now that they were of no use to him.
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Amelia Bones did not exactly pledge her support outright, but said that she would vote with her conscience, as always. She had backed his reforms in the past, and she agreed that most of the people competing for his position would do more harm than good as Minister, but she also said that the current chaotic situation could not be allowed to continue much longer.
"Someone must restore peace and stability to the wizarding world," she said gravely. "I hope it will be you, Arthur."
And with that, he had to be content. At least he could trust her to always be strict but fair, and to be immune to bribery and threats.
Arnold Peasegood had not forgotten the debt that he owed the werewolves, and was eager to do anything he could to help. He wasn't a Department Head, but he promised to exert whatever influence he had over his colleagues. He had already sent a few indignant letters to the editor to the Daily Prophet, and he also began badgering Rita Skeeter for an interview, urging her to present "a complete and unbiased story" to her readers.
Erika Dietrich was more cautious, but she agreed that the current policies regarding non-humans should remain intact. "I love my brother," she said quietly. "And of course I don't want to see the old anti-werewolf laws reinstated. But I am the most junior member in my department, and I doubt that my opinion would carry much weight with my colleagues."
"As a new employee, perhaps not," Arthur replied. "But as the Dietrich heiress..."
Erika smiled, regarding Arthur with an appraising look, one that seemed to convey a new degree of respect for him, although she had never been anything less than polite to him before. "Very well, Minister," she said. "I'll do what I can, although I must be subtle about it. My grandfather is still head of the family, and he still flies into a rage if anyone dares to utter the word 'werewolf' in his presence."
"I understand," Arthur said. "I am grateful for whatever assistance you can offer, Ms. Dietrich. I shall rely upon your discretion."
"Still, catching the killer will do far more good than any amount of political maneuvering," Erika said practically. She frowned for a moment, then mused out loud, "Hmm...perhaps I should pay Henry Bletchley a visit. It would only be polite to thank him for attending my party."
"Of course," Arthur agreed. "And I am sure that he would be flattered if you expressed an interest in his work."
Erika just smiled coquettishly in reply, but there was a determined and cunning glint in her dark eyes that reminded Arthur uncomfortably of Selima Snape. He was very glad that Erika was on his side, and he didn't envy Bletchley for being the object of that determination.
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Sirius and Harry instantly pledged their support, of course, and Arthur smiled at them gratefully, the tension in his face easing slightly. But later, over dinner, Harry questioned his godfather about the situation.
Branwen had been in contact with both Molly and Selima, and she had invited Kingsley, Tonks, Snape, and Lupin over to Grimmauld Place that night to "talk strategy".
"I do want to help Mr. Weasley," Harry said, a little uneasily. "But what exactly am I supposed to be doing?"
"Oh, really, Potter," Snape said with an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes. "You aren't a child anymore, so try not to act like one. Although I suppose one can't expect a Gryffindor of any age to act with a semblance of maturity."
"Severus," Branwen said sternly, but with a hint of a smile playing on her lips, while Harry ground his teeth together.
"Very well, I shall spell it out for you, then, Mr. Potter," Snape said, affecting an air of long-suffering resignation. "You are the Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World, the one who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." The Potions Master's face grew a little more sour than usual. "You are, in short, a hero. Or at least, you are regarded as one by people who do not know you as well as I do."
"Be nice, Sev," Lupin murmured.
Snape ignored him and continued in his customary abrasive manner, "What you should be doing is exerting your influence over the senior members of the Ministry, reminding them that you stand firmly behind Weasley as his supporter. You should also be countering the bad publicity in the Daily Prophet by giving Skeeter an interview of your own, reminding her of your and Weasley's heroism in the war, and assuring her that the Aurors will soon bring the killer to justice." He added sarcastically, "After all, catching a stray werewolf should be nothing compared to defeating the Dark Lord."
"Do I really have to talk to Skeeter?" Harry groaned.
Sirius patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "I hate to say it, but I think Snape's right, Harry."
"I am touched by your overwhelming support, Black."
"Oh, stuff it, Snape! I said I agreed, didn't I?"
"Children, children," Branwen scolded, and Lupin and Tonks snickered as Sirius and Snape shot a quick glare at their former teacher. Harry noted, with some amusement, that neither of them tried to talk back to her, though. Even though Sirius was now married to Branwen and liked to tease her on occasion, he could still be intimidated by his wife when she went into what he called "demonic Professor Blackmore mode".
Snape adjusted his robes slightly, as if he were gathering his dignity about him, and lectured in a cool voice, "However, Potter, you must remember that your glories and your accomplishments lie in the past." Sirius gave him an affronted look, and Snape said irritably, "Don't give me that look, Black; you know it's true! The people of the wizarding world have short memories for the most part. They needed you to be their savior, but now that Voldemort is dead, your usefulness to them is over. They will allow your past glories to beguile them for a time, but if the killings continue, they will begin to doubt and question."
Harry nodded, his irritation at Snape fading as he thought back to his fifth year at Hogwarts. "Like when the Ministry tried to convince everyone that I was crazy when I told them about Voldemort coming back. Being the Boy Who Lived didn't matter then." He smiled wryly. "I was just the Boy Who Was a Nutter."
"Exactly, Potter," Snape said with a very faint, cynical smile. "So by all means, go ahead and give interviews and use your influence while you can. But remember that you are only buying time. What will help Weasley more than anything is doing your jobs as Aurors--" His gaze flickered over towards Kingsley and Tonks, including them in his statement. "--and apprehending the killer."
Kingsley scowled, obviously taking Snape's words as an insult, although Tonks just smiled pleasantly and nodded in agreement. Snape seemed mollified by her response, or maybe he just enjoyed baiting Kingsley, because he added in an unusually civil tone of voice, "One of my contacts is sending me a few leads regarding illegal sanatoriums. I'll let you know if they result in something useful."
"If you have information, you should just give it directly to us rather than try to play amateur detective," Kingsley said disapprovingly.
"Amateur!" Snape scoffed. "I may not be a detective or an Auror, but I was a spy for two decades, and I believe that I am far more skilled than you at extracting information from people! Besides, these leads are in Europe, where you have no official jurisdiction."
"And if we try to go through official channels with the foreign governments, our suspects might get wind of it and fly the coop, so to speak," Tonks chimed in.
"Correct, Miss Tonks," Snape said, looking a little startled. "Surprisingly sensible, for a Gryffindor."
Kingsley sighed irritably and muttered, not quite under his breath, "Does everything that comes out of your mouth have to sound like an insult, Snape?"
Branwen broke into the conversation before an argument could break out. "Harry and Severus will do their part," she said briskly. "As will Sirius and myself."
"I'm persona non grata with most of the Slytherin families, war hero or not," Sirius said matter-of-factly. "But I have a few influential Gryffindor friends. I don't know how much they can help, but I'll do what I can."
"And the Blackmore name is well-respected among the old pureblood families," Branwen said pleasantly, but smiled in a very sinister manner that caused Harry to shudder a little. He had come to love his step-godmother, but he could never quite forget that she was also Professor Blackmore, who struck fear into the hearts of all Hogwarts students past and present, even Professor Snape.
Lupin saw the look on Harry's face and grinned. "Perhaps 'feared' would be a more accurate term than 'respected,'" he said cheerfully.
"Sometimes it's better to be feared than respected," Snape pointed out.
"Indeed," Branwen said smugly. "I shall let it be known that Arthur's enemies will also be making an enemy out of me." Her familiar, Bane, cawed emphatically, as if to voice his agreement.
Harry shuddered again and said fervently, "I can't believe that anyone would want to make an enemy of you, Prof...er, Branwen!"
The others all laughed, and Branwen said, "Not everyone is as wise as you are, Harry!" Snape let out a little snort of derision in response to hearing Harry described as "wise". Then Branwen's expression sobered and she said in a much more serious voice, "Although there is a certain danger in using fear to control people. For one thing, fear can command obedience, but not true loyalty. But more importantly, forcing one's will upon another person is a Dark act, even when no magic is involved."
Snape snorted again. "Says the woman who keeps her students in line by terrorizing them!"
"I admit that I am a strict teacher, although 'terrorizing' is a bit of an exaggeration," Branwen said sweetly; Sirius rolled his eyes behind her back. "But yes, it is true that Hogwarts uses the threat of punishments, such as detention and the taking of points, to keep the students in line."
"I don't think that it's detention and points that your students are afraid of," Snape muttered sarcastically.
"However," Branwen continued serenely, "while it may be slightly unethical, I believe that a bit of subtle intimidation is a lesser evil than allowing innocent people to be persecuted, which will likely happen if Arthur loses his job."
Harry ate in silence, mulling things over as he listened to the others plan further strategy, debating over which people should be flattered and which should be threatened, and how to best approach them. He sighed unhappily; this reminded him of the old days, before Voldemort had been defeated, when they'd had to work around the obstacles the Ministry threw in their path, whether it was Lucius Malfoy's scheming or Cornelius Fudge's stubborn refusal to believe in Voldemort's return. And then he frowned as that made him realize something...
"Branwen?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes, dear?" she replied with a smile.
"I realize that people are frightened by the murders," Harry said slowly, trying to work things out in his mind. "But why are they trying so hard to push Mr. Weasley out of the Ministry when Fudge never got fired even though he lied about Voldemort coming back and let the Death Eaters escape from Azkaban--twice?" He paused, then to be fair, reluctantly added, "Well, he didn't personally let them escape, but Professor Dumbledore warned him that the Dementors couldn't be trusted, and he wouldn't listen."
"And he let an alleged mass-murderer escape on his watch," Kingsley added. "Ah...no offense, Black."
Sirius winced at the memory of his imprisonment in Azkaban, but just said, "None taken."
"A good question, Harry," Branwen said approvingly, the way she might if a student said something clever during class.
"I should think it would be obvious," Snape said with a touch of scorn, obviously disagreeing. "The answer is simple, Potter: politics. Fudge was careful to cultivate powerful allies, while Weasley was not. To put it bluntly, he bribed his supporters, either outright with gold or with cushy Ministry positions. And when something went wrong, he always looked for others to take the blame."
"He turned on Dumbledore," Harry recalled. "After we tried to tell him that Voldemort had come back, he started spreading lies about us, that I was a liar and a showoff, and that Dumbledore was crazy."
"Exactly," Lupin said, nodding. "He had convinced himself that Dumbledore wanted to take his position, so he immediately went on the offensive and set about discrediting his rival. Despicable, but..."
"But practical," Snape finished. "Weasley could learn a thing or two from Fudge, even if he was a cowardly, toadying bastard. Sometimes you Gryffindors are too idealistic for your own good."
"Arthur isn't the type to resort to threats and blackmail," Lupin said gently.
"If he wants to be Minister, he needs to accept the necessity of getting his hands dirty once in awhile," Snape retorted impatiently. "My mother is always collecting gossip and secrets. She doesn't use all of them, but she says that it's important to have the information on hand in case you do need it someday. You never know when you might need to blackmail someone."
Harry was about to object that blackmail wasn't honorable, but then he remembered how Hermione had blackmailed Rita Skeeter in order to make her stop writing false stories, and he smiled a little. "Maybe not all Gryffindors are overly idealistic, Professor."
Snape gave him a puzzled look, then said, "Leave the blackmail to myself and Branwen, Potter. You go and make nice with the Daily Prophet, and dazzle the Ministry underlings with your shining reputation."
Lupin smiled apologetically at Harry, who sighed and swallowed the retort that was forming on his lips. "Yes, Professor," he said through gritted teeth. Helping Mr. Weasley was more important than fighting with Snape, and besides, if he was going to wait for Snape to be polite to him, he'd be waiting until hell froze over. Harry thought it was a pity, though, that Snape couldn't appreciate how much he'd matured since he'd first started at Hogwarts, and how much control it took to not just bark out an angry response, as he would have done a year or two earlier. But Lupin winked at him, and Sirius and Branwen smiled at him approvingly, so it seemed that others had noticed, even if Snape hadn't. In spite of his worries, Harry grinned, which caused Snape to stare at him suspiciously, which only made Harry's grin grow even broader.
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Meanwhile, Selima was busy putting her own plan into action, dropping bits of poisonous gossip into receptive ears. She had put together a list of Arthur's enemies, the chief of which was his former supporter, Edward Tierney. She couldn't speak to Tierney directly without arousing his suspicion, so she had lunch one afternoon with Elaine Baddock, who was friendly with Tierney's wife.
"I hear that Arthur Weasley's days are numbered, Selima," Elaine said smugly.
"Indeed, it seems that you are right," Selima said with false humility, and the other woman gloated. It only proved what an idiot Elaine was, because after all these years, she should have realized that Selima was never humble. "I hear that Edward Tierney is a candidate to take over his position when the time comes."
"I've heard that, too," Elaine said happily, still relishing her imagined triumph over Selima.
"But he'd best watch his step around Dirk Cresswell," Selima added in an offhand manner.
"Cresswell?" Elaine asked, looking confused. "Let's see, he's in which department...?"
"He's the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office."
"Oh yes, that's right. But does he really have enough backing to challenge Edward?"
"He has goblin gold," Selima replied in a hushed voice, as if sharing a secret. "That will buy him all the backing he needs."
"Oh, of course!" Elaine whispered, lowering her voice to match Selima's. "The goblins control all the gold in Gringotts, after all..."
"Exactly," Selima said. The goblins probably were passing bribes to Cresswell to gain favorable treatment, although she doubted that they were planning to make him Minister. Still, it would sound plausible enough to most people, since goblins had a reputation for being secretive and devious--and of course, wealthy.
"But it's a secret, so you must promise me that you won't tell anyone else about it," Selima whispered, knowing that one of the surest ways to spread gossip around the wizarding world was to tell a secret to Elaine.
"Oh, I promise, Selima," Elaine said, her eyes gleaming avidly.
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Selima dropped a few other tidbits of information--both true and false--to various people. However, it would arouse suspicion if too much of this kind of gossip could be traced back to her, so she enlisted the aid of a few allies.
"I think my Department Head, Bob Porter, might make a play for the Minister's position once Weasley is deposed," Erika confided in her mother over tea.
"Really?" Alison asked eagerly, pleased to have a bit of prime gossip to pass on to her friends. "What gall! He only just took over Amos Diggory's position this summer!" When a new Minister of Magic was selected, he or she was usually chosen from the ranks of the Department Heads, but it would be rare for someone with only a few months of experience as Head to be a candidate. There were always exceptions to that unwritten rule, though--Dumbledore had once been offered the job, even though he had never worked at the Ministry, and previous Ministers had bribed their way into the position with gold and political favors.
"Yes, but he was friends with Amos Diggory, and he has the backing of all Diggory's former supporters," Erika lied blithely. It was true that Porter had been a friend of Amos, but he wasn't considering a run at the Minister's position, and in fact, was actually backing Tierney as Weasley's replacement. But Tierney was a Slytherin, and as such, was always prepared for his allies to betray him. He wouldn't have any trouble believing that Porter meant to stab him in the back, either literally or figuratively, and the more Porter protested his innocence, the more Tierney would become convinced that he was lying. Sometimes, Erika thought with a smug little smile, Slytherin paranoia could be useful.
"Remember, you didn't hear this from me," Erika cautioned her mother. It was a calculated risk, spreading rumors about her supervisor, because she would probably be fired if he found out about it. However, she would have risked a great deal more in order to protect her brother. Besides, if this worked, then Lady Selima would owe her a favor, and a favor from the legendary dowager of the Snape family was more priceless than gold.
"Of course, darling," Alison said, sounding a little hurt. "I would never jeopardize your job. I shall be the soul of discretion."
Only if being the "soul of discretion" meant spreading the gossip among all her friends, but since that was what Erika wanted, she didn't object. Outsiders sometimes dismissed the pureblood wives as a gaggle of useless, gossiping women, but they would in turn share that gossip with their husbands--that was often how information was passed among the pureblood elite. Eventually, Tierney would hear the rumor, after it had been filtered through several different people and probably exaggerated with each telling, but that was all to the better, since that would make it harder to trace back to Erika.
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Selima also enlisted the help of her cousin Ali Bashir, who was currently back in England. It was Ali's idea to use his newest apprentice, Pansy Parkinson, to help pass on the rumors that Selima had concocted.
"An excellent idea!" Selima said approvingly. Her cousin liked to play the part of the clown, but at times like these, he proved that his mind was as keen and shrewd as any merchant's. Pansy was not directly related to the Snapes, so her words would not be viewed with the suspicion that Ali's and Selima's might be. And she was a member of a prominent pureblood family, so she was in a position to easily pass on information to the people who mattered.
Pansy had a certain degree of respect, and maybe even a little affection for her former Head of House, but it was mainly because of Professor Lupin that the girl was eager to help. "I wouldn't want the old anti-werewolf laws to come back," she said earnestly. "It would be horrible if Professor Lupin had to leave Hogwarts." Selima didn't know whether to be amused or insulted, but in the end, decided it didn't really matter why Pansy wanted to help so long as she did.
Ali got a little creative, though. In addition to the rumors that Selima had very carefully crafted about Tierney, Cresswell, Porter, and a few other prominent Ministry officials, Ali created one of his own about Frank Longbottom being considered as a replacement for Arthur.
"Who would elect a Minister who's been insane for the better part of two decades?" Selima asked scornfully, annoyed that Ali would dare to meddle with her plan.
"But he's sane now, dear cousin," Ali reminded her. "And he's a hero of the war; his suffering will only make him seem even more noble and heroic."
"True," Selima grudgingly conceded. "But even so, it's extremely unlikely that he would be elected."
"Then it will just add even more confusion to the fray, and that's what we want, isn't it?" Ali replied cheerfully. "The other candidates won't be able to dismiss Longbottom entirely out of hand because of his war hero status. And it will give them another Gryffindor to hate besides Weasley."
"That's true," Selima said, in a more thoughtful voice this time.
"And besides, Miss Parkinson has already started spreading the rumor. Her mother and grandmother are probably passing it on to their acquaintances even as we speak."
"Very well, Ali," Selima sighed. "But next time, stick to the script."
"Yes, dear cousin," Ali said meekly, but with a merry twinkle in his dark eyes, and Selima sighed again.
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Meanwhile, Erika was doing more than just spreading gossip. She also went to visit Henry Bletchley at the museum.
"What a pleasure to see you, Miss Die--" he started to say.
"It's Erika," she interrupted impatiently. "And this isn't a social call. I assume you know about the missing medallion?"
"Yes," Henry replied gravely, the polite smile fading from his lips. "Although I didn't know that you were aware of it."
"All the werewolves know, and my brother told me," Erika explained. "I also know that if the medallion and the rogue werewolf aren't found soon, mass panic will break out, and my brother and his friends will be in danger."
"I know," Henry said. "But I'm not sure what I can do to help. I might be able to disable the medallion, but only if I had it physically in hand."
"Isn't there some way that you can trace the magical signature of the artifact?" Erika demanded. "The Dark Prince must've had some way to control his pet werewolves and keep track of their whereabouts."
A look of keen interest and a touch of respect filled Henry's eyes. "A very sensible deduction, Miss Die...Erika. I suspect that the medallion was used to control the werewolf itself, as well as its transformation. He must have had some way to keep it from turning on him, after all. A control object of this sort is usually keyed to a master device--probably something he could easily keep on his person, such as another medallion, or possibly a ring, bracelet, or torc."
"Can you find this master device?" Erika asked eagerly.
"It's not that simple," Henry sighed. "Assuming that it actually exists, it's extremely unlikely that this device managed to survive the destruction of the tower. Even if it did, we would need to find a way to distinguish it from the other items that were found in the ruins. And even if by some miracle we could find and identify it, we would still need to figure out how to properly use it. Many of the Prince's artifacts are enspelled to injure or kill anyone who tries to use them without authorization."
"But your specialty is Dark artifacts!" Erika snapped. "If anyone can find a way to do it, surely you can!"
"I appreciate your confidence in my skills, Erika, but I think you may be overestimating them a little," Henry said with a rueful smile. "It's true that I've worked with similar artifacts in the past, but it can take years of research to learn how to use them."
"We don't have years!" Erika exclaimed in frustration. "We have only weeks at most before Weasley is deposed and the werewolves lose his protection!" She paused to take a deep breath to calm herself. Henry Bletchley was a kind man, but he had little personal incentive to help the werewolves, so she would give him some. In fact, she had already decided upon this course of action before she came to the museum.
"If you can find a way to track down the stolen medallion before the Ministry starts imposing anti-werewolf sanctions, then I will marry you and arrange an alliance between the Bletchley and Dietrich families," Erika declared in a firm voice.
"Ex...excuse me?" Henry stammered, his eyes going wide with shock and dismay.
"Oh dear," Erika said, torn between chagrin and amusement. "You don't want to marry me, do you?"
"It's not that I don't want to," Henry protested, his face turning red. "I mean, it's nothing personal--I just don't particularly want to marry anyone."
"Then why did you bother to attend my party?" Erika asked, a bit accusingly, but with genuine curiosity. "I'm sure you must have realized that its sole purpose was for prospective suitors to present themselves."
"My family made me go," Henry admitted sheepishly. "They have delusions of grandeur, and it was easier to go along with their plans than to argue with them about it. I honestly never thought that you would seriously consider me as a potential groom. You're a very beautiful and wealthy young woman, and you could have your pick of the eligible pureblood men--someone much younger and handsomer than me, surely."
"You are neither decrepit nor a mountain troll," Erika pointed out in a dry voice. "You overestimate your shortcomings, Professor Bletchley. Besides, I would rather choose a mature and intelligent man to be my husband and the father of my children than some handsome young idiot. Truthfully, you impressed me more than any of the other men at the party." She smiled slightly. "Certainly more than Marcus Flint or Phillip Bole."
Henry laughed, relaxing a little. "I am flattered, Erika, but I would make a poor husband for the heiress of a prominent family. I'm devoted to my work, which often takes me out of the country, and I have no aptitude for politics and no clue how to run an estate."
"Oh, that's not a problem," Erika assured him. "I am perfectly capable of running the estate myself--that is my duty as heir, after all. If we were to be wed, your presence would be required occasionally at certain important parties and gatherings, but other than that, I would not interfere with your work or ask you to stop traveling. But this is all hypothetical, of course. Since you do not wish to marry, an offer of my hand would be a poor incentive for your cooperation." She frowned, trying to think of what else she could offer that might tempt him--a grant to pursue some scholarly research, perhaps? She had no control over such things, but if Henry helped to save the Minister's job, she could probably persuade Weasley to authorize it. Of course, Henry might not believe that she had that much control over the Minister. But perhaps she could persuade Lady Selima to fund it personally...?
"You must love your brother very much, if you are willing to marry a total stranger in order to help him," Henry said quietly, with an odd expression on his face that Erika could not quite read. Puzzlement, perhaps, with a touch of wistfulness?
"Well, of course," Erika replied matter-of-factly. "He is my brother, after all."
"I am sure that my brother would not do the same for me," Henry said with a slightly bitter smile. "At least, not unless it would benefit him in some way. But to be fair, I would not make such a sacrifice for him, either."
"Well, who can blame you?" Erika said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "He did turn you into a toad once before, after all. Actually, Aric and I used to fight like cats and dogs." She grinned. "I gave him a black eye when he broke my favorite doll when we were children. But no matter what, he's still my little brother. No one but me is allowed to hurt him." Henry chuckled, and Erika added, "But I think you're being a little over-dramatic. It's not as if marrying you is a fate worse than death."
"No, I suppose not," Henry said, still chuckling. He paused for a moment, then said, "All right, then."
"Excuse me?"
"I'll help you," Henry said.
"You will?" Erika asked, staring at him in surprise.
Henry nodded. "I can't promise anything," he warned, "but I'll reexamine all the artifacts and ask the Aurors to give me access to the confiscated ones, and I'll go through all the notes that the archaeological team took. I still think the chances of success are pretty slim, but I'll try my best."
"Thank you, Henry," Erika said warmly, grateful but a little bewildered. "But...what can I do for you in return?"
Henry hesitated, then smiled and said, "There isn't anything that I need right now. Why don't we just say that you'll owe me a favor?"
Then it was Erika's turn to hesitate, torn between the desire to help her brother and the innate suspicion that was practically bred into members of the pureblood elite. Committing to a vague, open-ended favor could be dangerous when you didn't know what the person might ask for.
"I won't ask you to do anything that would cause harm or dishonor to you or your family," Henry promised, apparently sensing her misgivings. "I give you my word."
"Then we have a bargain," Erika said, extending her hand, and Henry smiled and shook it.
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Unbeknownst to Erika, Henry had only asked for the favor because he knew that she would be suspicious if he asked for nothing in exchange for his help, and also because he was enough of a Slytherin to be a little embarrassed about doing something altruistic. But the truth was that he was moved by Erika's love for her brother, especially since he wasn't very close to his own family. His mother, perhaps, felt some vague affection for her children, but his brother had enjoyed making his life miserable ever since they were children, and his father's greatest love was his own ambition. Henry's uncle, the head of the Bletchley family, had been childless for many years, so Henry's father had assumed that someday he or his sons would inherit the estate. But unexpectedly, an heir--Miles--had been born.
Henry hadn't minded, but his father became bitter and resentful, and ever since, had been constantly scheming to acquire wealth and power. His latest scheme was to marry Henry off to the Dietrich heiress, even though Henry hadn't the slightest desire to be married to anyone, heiress or not.
Although being married to Erika might not be so bad, after all. He wondered, a little wistfully, what it might be like to be part of a loving family, to have a wife who was as loyal and devoted to him as Erika was to her brother.
Then Henry shook his head and silently chided himself for thinking like a naive, idealistic Gryffindor; it wasn't as if he would gain some sort of fairy-tale family by marrying Erika. By all accounts, the elder Dietriches were no better than his father. They had disinherited the previous heir, Erika's brother, for being bitten by a werewolf, and they were essentially auctioning off the new heir to the highest bidder. As for Erika, it was true that she loved Aric, but that didn't necessarily mean that she would regard her husband with the same depth of affection, especially if her husband was a stranger to her, or at best, a casual acquaintance.
No, Henry told himself firmly, he was not getting roped into an arranged marriage by a few romantic fancies. He would stick to their bargain, do his research, and help track down the medallion if he could. And once it was over, one way or the other, he would leave England and return to his research in Egypt, regardless of what his father wanted. Maybe he would be disowned, but that would be more of a relief than a punishment, because it meant that he would never have to come back home to visit his family again.
Part 21
Selima Snape was only half-listening to Molly Weasley during their regular afternoon tea session. Due to years of practice honed at many tedious parties, she remained aware enough of the conversation that she could have repeated Molly's tearfully expressed worries about her husband nearly word-for-word, but most of her attention was focused on reexamining her alliance with the Weasley family, coldly weighing the risks and benefits in her mind while she murmured a sympathetic "yes, dear" or "I see" every now and then to give the impression that she was actually listening.
She wondered now if she had made a mistake by too hastily linking the Snape family's reputation to Arthur Weasley's rising star, which was now rapidly falling. She had run into Priscilla Parkinson the other day, and her old "friend" had asked with malicious sweetness, "And how is your dear friend Molly Weasley doing?" Priscilla had been offended when her place in Selima's inner circle had been supplanted by Molly, whom she regarded as a blood traitor and an upstart, and no one would gloat more than Priscilla if Selima were humiliated by having her new allies fall back into poverty and disgrace.
At the time, it had seemed wise, even necessary, to ally herself with the new Minister and war hero, Arthur Weasley. Severus had just returned to the family after making his relationship with the werewolf public, and the support and friendship of the liberal Minister of Magic had helped to counteract the scorn of the Slytherin purebloods, who in turn had been weakened by their association with the Death Eaters. And she had also needed the support of the Minister to restore her old friend's son, Cyril, back to his rightful place as the head of the Diggory family.
Selima had quickly seen that the way to Weasley's heart was through his family, and it had been easy enough to win the friendship of his wife, Molly. It helped that as a girl, pure of blood but too poor to be accepted into high society, Molly had been bedazzled by tales of the gala parties at Snape Manor, and even years later, she had been thrilled when Selima had finally invited the Weasleys to the Manor for a dinner party. And Molly had been struggling in her new role as the Minister's wife, trying to deal with all the sycophants and political enemies and allies, so she had been grateful when Selima had taken her under her wing and offered advice on how to navigate the twisted and perilous maze of pureblood politics.
But now Arthur Weasley's career was in jeopardy, and if he fell, the Snapes' reputation would fall along with him, after all Selima's efforts to restore her family to its previous glory. And now, as she calmly sipped her tea, her face showing no sign of her inner struggle, she wondered if she ought to begin severing ties to the Weasleys.
"...but I am so grateful to you, Selima," Molly said warmly, her words catching Selima's attention and bringing her focus back to the conversation. "I am so grateful that you have stood by us when everyone at the Ministry seems to be turning their backs on Arthur. I don't know what I would do without you!"
Tears welled in her eyes, and Selima automatically offered her a handkerchief and made soothing noises while she tried to identify a twinge of some strange emotion that Molly's words had evoked--an emotion so foreign that it took her a few moments to realize what it was...
Guilt.
There was no reason for her to feel guilty, of course. Her relationship with Molly was a political alliance, nothing more: the Snapes benefited from the Minister's goodwill, and Molly benefited from Selima's expertise in social matters. If Molly thought there was more to it than that, then it was her own fault for being a foolishly sentimental Gryffindor.
Still, feigning friendship with Molly was hardly a chore. It was a novel and rather pleasant experience to spend time with someone who always said what she meant, with no hidden agendas, unlike Selima's other acquaintances--Priscilla, for example--who disguised spite and jealousy with honeyed words. The Minister's wife was always warm and open, and while Selima sometimes regarded her naivety with amused condescension, there was a certain comfort in being able to relax in Molly's company without always having to be on guard and watch for a dagger hidden behind the other woman's back--figuratively speaking, mostly, but in Slytherin circles that could occasionally be quite literal.
And of course there was the fact that Molly Weasley was an incredible cook--even better than Vorcher, with all his house-elf magic. Even her worry for her husband had not affected her baking skills, Selima noted as she bit into one of the apple tarts Molly had brought for tea; the crust was light and flaky, and the filling had just the right combination of sweetness and tartness, with neither overpowering the other. Of course, pastry-making skills mattered little in the overall political scheme of things, but it was one point to be taken into consideration.
There was also loyalty to be considered. The Weasleys had never doubted Severus during his tenure as an Order member--Arthur, because he put supreme faith in Dumbledore's word, and the Headmaster had vouched for Severus, while Molly had seen Severus's concern for his Slytherin charges, and in her mind, anyone who was concerned about the welfare of a child could not be evil. This contradicted the fact that some of the Death Eaters had loved their children, but Selima did not disabuse Molly of her idealistic notions. And the Weasleys had continued to stand by Severus even after he had scandalously made his affair with the werewolf public.
It was true that loyalty mattered more to Gryffindors than Slytherins, but Slytherins had their own unique sense of honor, although the Gryffindors found it difficult to comprehend. Selima grudgingly acknowledged that the Snapes owed the Weasleys a debt of sorts for their loyalty, and besides, it helped to have at least one ally who was unswervingly loyal, who would not prove fickle when the winds of political change blew, as they inevitably would.
Whatever debts she owed the Weasleys, Selima would never sacrifice her own family to save them, especially if such an attempt would be futile--that indeed would be Gryffindor foolishness. However, if she could find a way to help salvage Arthur Weasley's career, that would satisfy the demands of honor--and incidentally, prevent the Snape family from being dragged down along with the Minister.
And with that thought, Selima decided on her course of action. Perhaps she had been hasty in allying with the Weasleys, but her family's fate was now inextricably bound with theirs, and it was too late to disentangle the two. Besides, her old allies would never willingly support a Lord who was not only openly homosexual, but the lover of a werewolf--the worst kind of non-human in the eyes of the pureblood elite, because it could so easily taint the blood of a human with a single bite. Selima had probably proved herself a traitor in their eyes long before now, when she had championed Cyril Diggory (formerly Lukas Bleddri) as the rightful heir of the Diggory family over Amos. That had been pure sentiment, as bad as any Gryffindor's, but she had always had a soft spot for Cyril's late mother Anya, her childhood companion and best friend, the one person she had loved and trusted without reservation.
Selima held most of the same ideals and prejudices as the rest of the purebloods; she did not precisely approve of werewolves in particular or non-humans in general--it was only that she made an exception for Cyril, because he was Anya's son, and she tolerated Lupin because he belonged to Severus. But the pureblood elite would not see it that way; they probably saw her as a blood traitor as bad as the Weasleys, and only her wealth and status had kept them from openly turning against her up until now. Cutting ties to the Weasleys would not change their minds; therefore, her only option was to make sure that Arthur Weasley remained in power. She had no idea how she was to achieve such a thing, but she felt better for having finally made a decision, for good or for ill.
"I was thinking that perhaps we should have Bill and Fleur postpone their wedding," Molly was saying tearfully, still dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. "Until this whole mess is resolved, one way or the other."
"No," Selima said firmly. "If you do, you will be admitting weakness in the eyes of the purebloods, and they will fall on you like..." She paused, smiling ironically. "Like wolves scenting blood on a wounded animal. Above all, Arthur must appear to remain strong and confident, and carry on as if nothing were wrong. He must not compromise himself."
"But isn't that why the other Ministry officials turned against him?" Molly asked doubtfully. "Because he wouldn't compromise?"
"Perhaps, but if he changes now only when his popularity is falling, that is another sign of weakness," Selima replied. "At worst, they will oust him because he has not the strength to oppose them, or at best, keep him on as a puppet Minister to do their bidding. Besides, do you really want Arthur to compromise himself? Would you want him to restore the Registry and the anti-werewolf laws, and remove Professor Lupin from his post at Hogwarts?"
"No, I suppose not," Molly sighed. "Although I admit there were times in the past when I wished Arthur would play politics a little better, and get himself out of the Muggle Artifacts office and into something more prestigious. He drove me to distraction at times, but I am proud of him for always standing by his beliefs." Although there were still lines of worry on her face, she laughed. "I used to wish he were more ambitious, and suddenly he became Minister of Magic without even seeking the position! But I wouldn't want him to remain Minister if that meant turning his back on his friends, like Remus and Mr. Randolf."
"We will see to it that he remains Minister while retaining his beliefs," Selima said adamantly. "Although it wouldn't hurt if he very discreetly cultivated a few alliances behind the scenes." She frowned. "I should have advised him to do so earlier, before things came to such a pass." That was definitely a mistake; she had known that Arthur Weasley lacked subtlety, and she should have acted to bolster her ally's position before it became so weakened. Well, there was no point in crying over spilt milk; now she would have to act to rectify those earlier mistakes.
"But you just said that Arthur shouldn't compromise," Molly protested.
"I don't mean that he should pacify his critics by reversing his policies," Selima explained. "But there are a few independents in the Ministry whose support he might cultivate--Amelia Bones, for one. She comes from an old pureblood family, but has little patience for the usual lot of toadies and sycophants. And the werewolves saved the life of Arnold Peasegood's little girl, so Arthur might remind him of the debt that he owes them. Also, Erika Dietrich, though new to the Ministry, is the heiress of a wealthy pureblood family, and might therefore have some clout with her peers. Her younger brother is a werewolf in Cyril's pack, and she still seems to care for him although her family has disowned him. I am sure she would not want to see her brother suffer if the Ministry resumes their persecution of werewolves. And of course Arthur is already friends with Sirius Black and Harry Potter. Despite his heritage, Black doesn't really carry much clout with the purebloods because of his estrangement from his family, but his wife comes from an old and respected clan." Never mind that the Blackmore "clan" currently consisted only of Lady Branwen and her unborn child, or that "respected" was a polite euphemism for "feared"; sometimes a little fear was necessary to command respect. "And Black's godson is the Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World. That will carry some weight with public opinion. Mr. Potter appears to be a modest young man, which is most commendable, but I am sure he can overcome his distaste for publicity if it will help a friend."
Molly began to look a little more hopeful. "I'll give Arthur your advice; I know that Harry and Sirius and Branwen will do whatever they can to help him. I'm not so sure of the others, but even if they do offer him their support, will that be enough to overcome his enemies?"
"Perhaps not in and of itself, but..." Selima's voice trailed off as she pursed her lips in thought, and then a smile slowly spread across her face as an idea occurred to her. "But if something should occur to distract your husband's enemies..." Her smile, smug and sleek, and her dark eyes, glinting with a hint of malice, caused Molly to smile back at her nervously. "Please leave everything to me, Molly dear," Selima purred.
"Ah...yes, Selima," Molly said obediently, if a little doubtfully. And foolish Gryffindor or not, she was wise enough not to ask for any details.
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Arthur took Selima's advice with a grain of salt, but had to admit that it was sound. He was not quite as naive as people thought he was, and he was familiar enough with Lady Selima's reputation to know that she never did anything unless it benefited the Snape family. Even her scheme to help Lukas become Lord of the Diggory family had indirectly aided the Snapes, as it made lycanthropy a little more acceptable to the public at large, and therefore made Snape and Remus a slightly less scandalous couple--though only slightly.
So Arthur had been aware from the beginning that Selima's newly-conceived friendship for his wife was not purely altruistic. Still, he was grateful that she was kind to Molly, because he knew that his wife would have been crushed if her girlhood idol had treated her as scornfully as most of the other wealthy pureblood women did. As long as Molly was happy, Arthur didn't mind too much if Selima occasionally dropped his name among her friends or requested his presence at a dinner party. Fortunately, unlike some of his colleagues, Lady Snape was subtle and would never do anything so crass as to openly ask him to pass a particular piece of legislation or offer a sinecure to some friend or relative. Nor would she ever offer him a cash bribe to do her a favor, or even worse, hint that she wanted a bribe in exchange for doing HIM a favor--again, as all too many of his colleagues had.
Edward Tierney, the Head of International Magical Cooperation, was one of them. He was a typical snobbish pureblood, but Arthur had promoted him to his current position after the war ended, and in exchange, Tierney had staunchly supported all of Arthur's reforms. Despite what Selima thought, Arthur did understand the need to play politics, although he wasn't very good at it, and avoided it as much as possible.
That little arrangement had worked well enough until Aric Dietrich, the fiance of Tierney's daughter, had been turned into a werewolf. Tierney, although no Death Eater, was still intent upon keeping his family's blood as pure as possible, and had immediately broken off the engagement. Privately, Arthur had thought that was a good thing, since neither of the young people had wished to wed each other in the first place, but Tierney was very upset that he'd lost a valuable marriage alliance. He hadn't blamed Arthur for that, but he was furious when Arthur failed to punish Lukas for biting Aric, even though the boy would have died if he hadn't. He grew even more resentful when Arthur gave Aric's sister Erika a position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He had been trying to smooth things over with the Dietrich family, who had originally been expecting Aric to enter the Ministry, but Tierney had seen this as unwanted interference, a usurpation of his position. He had been planning to give the Dietrich family a Ministry position in exchange for the marriage alliance, but now the Dietriches had the position even though Tierney had lost the alliance.
Tierney's daughter Miranda had eloped with her true love, a Healer named Augustus Pye--the same young man who had once treated Arthur for a snakebite wound a few years ago. The boy seemed intelligent and goodhearted, and moreover, shared Arthur's interest in the Muggle world, so Arthur attempted to mend things by offering Tierney's new son-in-law a job at the Ministry. However, Pye was a dedicated Healer with no interest in politics, and he politely declined the offer, so instead Arthur gave him a generous grant to pursue his research in what he called "complementary medicine," or the combining of Muggle and magical medical techniques. He had thought it quite a clever solution, but Tierney seemed to take this as an insult rather than a compliment, and had demanded to know why Arthur was helping his idiot son-in-law disgrace the Tierney name with all this Muggle foolishness. By this point, Arthur's considerable patience had finally snapped, and they had exchanged some heated words about pureblood politics and arranged marriages and desirable qualities in a son-in-law. Basically, he had told Tierney that he should be glad that his daughter was married to a kind man who made her happy, and that he should be proud to have a son-in-law who wanted to use his abilities to help others.
Things had gone downhill from there.
Now, as if summoned by his thoughts, Arthur's erstwhile ally appeared and flung a report down on his desk, with insolence bordering on rudeness.
"Here's the new trade agreement we negotiated with France," Tierney said curtly.
"Thank you, Edward," Arthur replied politely, trying to ignore the other man's tone of voice. "Good work."
"As if you appreciate it," Tierney sneered.
"Of course I do," Arthur protested, and he truly did. As little as he liked the man, he had to admit that Tierney was a good diplomat when he put his mind to it. He spoke several different languages, and had a sense of charm and sophistication that had ingratiated him with the French equivalent of the Ministry. "I made you Department Head, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," Tierney retorted. "And in return, I supported your little equal rights project."
"My 'little project'?" Arthur asked indignantly, bristling at the condescension in Tierney's words.
"But what have you done for me lately, Weasley?" Tierney continued, ignoring Arthur's brief outburst. "Other than to undermine and humiliate me?"
"If you're talking about Ms. Dietrich and Mr. Pye, I've told you many times--"
"Don't bother trying to justify yourself," Tierney interrupted impatiently. "It's too little, too late. You never did know how to play the game, Weasley. It was only a fluke that you got this job in the first place. In hindsight, I'm amazed that you've held onto it as long as you have."
"I'm amazed that the Ministry has lasted as long as it has," Arthur retorted in a cold voice. "You, and the others like you, seem to have forgotten its original purpose--to serve and protect the people of the wizarding world. Instead, you act as though it exists only to serve your own personal ambitions."
"And that attitude is exactly why you won't be Minister for much longer!" Tierney snapped. "I could've helped you if you'd been willing to listen to my advice, but now it's too late!"
"Advice like betraying a friend?" Arthur asked sharply. "Or locking up innocent people to soothe the public's fears and provide a false sense of safety?"
"Fine!" Tierney snarled. "Suit yourself, but don't come crying to me when the Wizengamot shows up asking for your head on a platter!"
He stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him, and Arthur sighed wearily. He supposed that it was time to follow Lady Selima's advice. Of course, all of her considerable cleverness had not prevented her husband from losing his position many years ago, but Severin Snape had been a proud and stubborn man--too stubborn, perhaps, to listen to his wife's advice when it conflicted with his pride. Arthur didn't have that luxury. If he were the only one affected, he would gladly give up this job in a heartbeat, but there were too many people who would suffer if the wrong person replaced him--someone like Edward Tierney, for example, who had supported the werewolves when it had benefited him to do so, but would just as easily abandon them now that they were of no use to him.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Amelia Bones did not exactly pledge her support outright, but said that she would vote with her conscience, as always. She had backed his reforms in the past, and she agreed that most of the people competing for his position would do more harm than good as Minister, but she also said that the current chaotic situation could not be allowed to continue much longer.
"Someone must restore peace and stability to the wizarding world," she said gravely. "I hope it will be you, Arthur."
And with that, he had to be content. At least he could trust her to always be strict but fair, and to be immune to bribery and threats.
Arnold Peasegood had not forgotten the debt that he owed the werewolves, and was eager to do anything he could to help. He wasn't a Department Head, but he promised to exert whatever influence he had over his colleagues. He had already sent a few indignant letters to the editor to the Daily Prophet, and he also began badgering Rita Skeeter for an interview, urging her to present "a complete and unbiased story" to her readers.
Erika Dietrich was more cautious, but she agreed that the current policies regarding non-humans should remain intact. "I love my brother," she said quietly. "And of course I don't want to see the old anti-werewolf laws reinstated. But I am the most junior member in my department, and I doubt that my opinion would carry much weight with my colleagues."
"As a new employee, perhaps not," Arthur replied. "But as the Dietrich heiress..."
Erika smiled, regarding Arthur with an appraising look, one that seemed to convey a new degree of respect for him, although she had never been anything less than polite to him before. "Very well, Minister," she said. "I'll do what I can, although I must be subtle about it. My grandfather is still head of the family, and he still flies into a rage if anyone dares to utter the word 'werewolf' in his presence."
"I understand," Arthur said. "I am grateful for whatever assistance you can offer, Ms. Dietrich. I shall rely upon your discretion."
"Still, catching the killer will do far more good than any amount of political maneuvering," Erika said practically. She frowned for a moment, then mused out loud, "Hmm...perhaps I should pay Henry Bletchley a visit. It would only be polite to thank him for attending my party."
"Of course," Arthur agreed. "And I am sure that he would be flattered if you expressed an interest in his work."
Erika just smiled coquettishly in reply, but there was a determined and cunning glint in her dark eyes that reminded Arthur uncomfortably of Selima Snape. He was very glad that Erika was on his side, and he didn't envy Bletchley for being the object of that determination.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Sirius and Harry instantly pledged their support, of course, and Arthur smiled at them gratefully, the tension in his face easing slightly. But later, over dinner, Harry questioned his godfather about the situation.
Branwen had been in contact with both Molly and Selima, and she had invited Kingsley, Tonks, Snape, and Lupin over to Grimmauld Place that night to "talk strategy".
"I do want to help Mr. Weasley," Harry said, a little uneasily. "But what exactly am I supposed to be doing?"
"Oh, really, Potter," Snape said with an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes. "You aren't a child anymore, so try not to act like one. Although I suppose one can't expect a Gryffindor of any age to act with a semblance of maturity."
"Severus," Branwen said sternly, but with a hint of a smile playing on her lips, while Harry ground his teeth together.
"Very well, I shall spell it out for you, then, Mr. Potter," Snape said, affecting an air of long-suffering resignation. "You are the Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World, the one who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." The Potions Master's face grew a little more sour than usual. "You are, in short, a hero. Or at least, you are regarded as one by people who do not know you as well as I do."
"Be nice, Sev," Lupin murmured.
Snape ignored him and continued in his customary abrasive manner, "What you should be doing is exerting your influence over the senior members of the Ministry, reminding them that you stand firmly behind Weasley as his supporter. You should also be countering the bad publicity in the Daily Prophet by giving Skeeter an interview of your own, reminding her of your and Weasley's heroism in the war, and assuring her that the Aurors will soon bring the killer to justice." He added sarcastically, "After all, catching a stray werewolf should be nothing compared to defeating the Dark Lord."
"Do I really have to talk to Skeeter?" Harry groaned.
Sirius patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "I hate to say it, but I think Snape's right, Harry."
"I am touched by your overwhelming support, Black."
"Oh, stuff it, Snape! I said I agreed, didn't I?"
"Children, children," Branwen scolded, and Lupin and Tonks snickered as Sirius and Snape shot a quick glare at their former teacher. Harry noted, with some amusement, that neither of them tried to talk back to her, though. Even though Sirius was now married to Branwen and liked to tease her on occasion, he could still be intimidated by his wife when she went into what he called "demonic Professor Blackmore mode".
Snape adjusted his robes slightly, as if he were gathering his dignity about him, and lectured in a cool voice, "However, Potter, you must remember that your glories and your accomplishments lie in the past." Sirius gave him an affronted look, and Snape said irritably, "Don't give me that look, Black; you know it's true! The people of the wizarding world have short memories for the most part. They needed you to be their savior, but now that Voldemort is dead, your usefulness to them is over. They will allow your past glories to beguile them for a time, but if the killings continue, they will begin to doubt and question."
Harry nodded, his irritation at Snape fading as he thought back to his fifth year at Hogwarts. "Like when the Ministry tried to convince everyone that I was crazy when I told them about Voldemort coming back. Being the Boy Who Lived didn't matter then." He smiled wryly. "I was just the Boy Who Was a Nutter."
"Exactly, Potter," Snape said with a very faint, cynical smile. "So by all means, go ahead and give interviews and use your influence while you can. But remember that you are only buying time. What will help Weasley more than anything is doing your jobs as Aurors--" His gaze flickered over towards Kingsley and Tonks, including them in his statement. "--and apprehending the killer."
Kingsley scowled, obviously taking Snape's words as an insult, although Tonks just smiled pleasantly and nodded in agreement. Snape seemed mollified by her response, or maybe he just enjoyed baiting Kingsley, because he added in an unusually civil tone of voice, "One of my contacts is sending me a few leads regarding illegal sanatoriums. I'll let you know if they result in something useful."
"If you have information, you should just give it directly to us rather than try to play amateur detective," Kingsley said disapprovingly.
"Amateur!" Snape scoffed. "I may not be a detective or an Auror, but I was a spy for two decades, and I believe that I am far more skilled than you at extracting information from people! Besides, these leads are in Europe, where you have no official jurisdiction."
"And if we try to go through official channels with the foreign governments, our suspects might get wind of it and fly the coop, so to speak," Tonks chimed in.
"Correct, Miss Tonks," Snape said, looking a little startled. "Surprisingly sensible, for a Gryffindor."
Kingsley sighed irritably and muttered, not quite under his breath, "Does everything that comes out of your mouth have to sound like an insult, Snape?"
Branwen broke into the conversation before an argument could break out. "Harry and Severus will do their part," she said briskly. "As will Sirius and myself."
"I'm persona non grata with most of the Slytherin families, war hero or not," Sirius said matter-of-factly. "But I have a few influential Gryffindor friends. I don't know how much they can help, but I'll do what I can."
"And the Blackmore name is well-respected among the old pureblood families," Branwen said pleasantly, but smiled in a very sinister manner that caused Harry to shudder a little. He had come to love his step-godmother, but he could never quite forget that she was also Professor Blackmore, who struck fear into the hearts of all Hogwarts students past and present, even Professor Snape.
Lupin saw the look on Harry's face and grinned. "Perhaps 'feared' would be a more accurate term than 'respected,'" he said cheerfully.
"Sometimes it's better to be feared than respected," Snape pointed out.
"Indeed," Branwen said smugly. "I shall let it be known that Arthur's enemies will also be making an enemy out of me." Her familiar, Bane, cawed emphatically, as if to voice his agreement.
Harry shuddered again and said fervently, "I can't believe that anyone would want to make an enemy of you, Prof...er, Branwen!"
The others all laughed, and Branwen said, "Not everyone is as wise as you are, Harry!" Snape let out a little snort of derision in response to hearing Harry described as "wise". Then Branwen's expression sobered and she said in a much more serious voice, "Although there is a certain danger in using fear to control people. For one thing, fear can command obedience, but not true loyalty. But more importantly, forcing one's will upon another person is a Dark act, even when no magic is involved."
Snape snorted again. "Says the woman who keeps her students in line by terrorizing them!"
"I admit that I am a strict teacher, although 'terrorizing' is a bit of an exaggeration," Branwen said sweetly; Sirius rolled his eyes behind her back. "But yes, it is true that Hogwarts uses the threat of punishments, such as detention and the taking of points, to keep the students in line."
"I don't think that it's detention and points that your students are afraid of," Snape muttered sarcastically.
"However," Branwen continued serenely, "while it may be slightly unethical, I believe that a bit of subtle intimidation is a lesser evil than allowing innocent people to be persecuted, which will likely happen if Arthur loses his job."
Harry ate in silence, mulling things over as he listened to the others plan further strategy, debating over which people should be flattered and which should be threatened, and how to best approach them. He sighed unhappily; this reminded him of the old days, before Voldemort had been defeated, when they'd had to work around the obstacles the Ministry threw in their path, whether it was Lucius Malfoy's scheming or Cornelius Fudge's stubborn refusal to believe in Voldemort's return. And then he frowned as that made him realize something...
"Branwen?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes, dear?" she replied with a smile.
"I realize that people are frightened by the murders," Harry said slowly, trying to work things out in his mind. "But why are they trying so hard to push Mr. Weasley out of the Ministry when Fudge never got fired even though he lied about Voldemort coming back and let the Death Eaters escape from Azkaban--twice?" He paused, then to be fair, reluctantly added, "Well, he didn't personally let them escape, but Professor Dumbledore warned him that the Dementors couldn't be trusted, and he wouldn't listen."
"And he let an alleged mass-murderer escape on his watch," Kingsley added. "Ah...no offense, Black."
Sirius winced at the memory of his imprisonment in Azkaban, but just said, "None taken."
"A good question, Harry," Branwen said approvingly, the way she might if a student said something clever during class.
"I should think it would be obvious," Snape said with a touch of scorn, obviously disagreeing. "The answer is simple, Potter: politics. Fudge was careful to cultivate powerful allies, while Weasley was not. To put it bluntly, he bribed his supporters, either outright with gold or with cushy Ministry positions. And when something went wrong, he always looked for others to take the blame."
"He turned on Dumbledore," Harry recalled. "After we tried to tell him that Voldemort had come back, he started spreading lies about us, that I was a liar and a showoff, and that Dumbledore was crazy."
"Exactly," Lupin said, nodding. "He had convinced himself that Dumbledore wanted to take his position, so he immediately went on the offensive and set about discrediting his rival. Despicable, but..."
"But practical," Snape finished. "Weasley could learn a thing or two from Fudge, even if he was a cowardly, toadying bastard. Sometimes you Gryffindors are too idealistic for your own good."
"Arthur isn't the type to resort to threats and blackmail," Lupin said gently.
"If he wants to be Minister, he needs to accept the necessity of getting his hands dirty once in awhile," Snape retorted impatiently. "My mother is always collecting gossip and secrets. She doesn't use all of them, but she says that it's important to have the information on hand in case you do need it someday. You never know when you might need to blackmail someone."
Harry was about to object that blackmail wasn't honorable, but then he remembered how Hermione had blackmailed Rita Skeeter in order to make her stop writing false stories, and he smiled a little. "Maybe not all Gryffindors are overly idealistic, Professor."
Snape gave him a puzzled look, then said, "Leave the blackmail to myself and Branwen, Potter. You go and make nice with the Daily Prophet, and dazzle the Ministry underlings with your shining reputation."
Lupin smiled apologetically at Harry, who sighed and swallowed the retort that was forming on his lips. "Yes, Professor," he said through gritted teeth. Helping Mr. Weasley was more important than fighting with Snape, and besides, if he was going to wait for Snape to be polite to him, he'd be waiting until hell froze over. Harry thought it was a pity, though, that Snape couldn't appreciate how much he'd matured since he'd first started at Hogwarts, and how much control it took to not just bark out an angry response, as he would have done a year or two earlier. But Lupin winked at him, and Sirius and Branwen smiled at him approvingly, so it seemed that others had noticed, even if Snape hadn't. In spite of his worries, Harry grinned, which caused Snape to stare at him suspiciously, which only made Harry's grin grow even broader.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile, Selima was busy putting her own plan into action, dropping bits of poisonous gossip into receptive ears. She had put together a list of Arthur's enemies, the chief of which was his former supporter, Edward Tierney. She couldn't speak to Tierney directly without arousing his suspicion, so she had lunch one afternoon with Elaine Baddock, who was friendly with Tierney's wife.
"I hear that Arthur Weasley's days are numbered, Selima," Elaine said smugly.
"Indeed, it seems that you are right," Selima said with false humility, and the other woman gloated. It only proved what an idiot Elaine was, because after all these years, she should have realized that Selima was never humble. "I hear that Edward Tierney is a candidate to take over his position when the time comes."
"I've heard that, too," Elaine said happily, still relishing her imagined triumph over Selima.
"But he'd best watch his step around Dirk Cresswell," Selima added in an offhand manner.
"Cresswell?" Elaine asked, looking confused. "Let's see, he's in which department...?"
"He's the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office."
"Oh yes, that's right. But does he really have enough backing to challenge Edward?"
"He has goblin gold," Selima replied in a hushed voice, as if sharing a secret. "That will buy him all the backing he needs."
"Oh, of course!" Elaine whispered, lowering her voice to match Selima's. "The goblins control all the gold in Gringotts, after all..."
"Exactly," Selima said. The goblins probably were passing bribes to Cresswell to gain favorable treatment, although she doubted that they were planning to make him Minister. Still, it would sound plausible enough to most people, since goblins had a reputation for being secretive and devious--and of course, wealthy.
"But it's a secret, so you must promise me that you won't tell anyone else about it," Selima whispered, knowing that one of the surest ways to spread gossip around the wizarding world was to tell a secret to Elaine.
"Oh, I promise, Selima," Elaine said, her eyes gleaming avidly.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Selima dropped a few other tidbits of information--both true and false--to various people. However, it would arouse suspicion if too much of this kind of gossip could be traced back to her, so she enlisted the aid of a few allies.
"I think my Department Head, Bob Porter, might make a play for the Minister's position once Weasley is deposed," Erika confided in her mother over tea.
"Really?" Alison asked eagerly, pleased to have a bit of prime gossip to pass on to her friends. "What gall! He only just took over Amos Diggory's position this summer!" When a new Minister of Magic was selected, he or she was usually chosen from the ranks of the Department Heads, but it would be rare for someone with only a few months of experience as Head to be a candidate. There were always exceptions to that unwritten rule, though--Dumbledore had once been offered the job, even though he had never worked at the Ministry, and previous Ministers had bribed their way into the position with gold and political favors.
"Yes, but he was friends with Amos Diggory, and he has the backing of all Diggory's former supporters," Erika lied blithely. It was true that Porter had been a friend of Amos, but he wasn't considering a run at the Minister's position, and in fact, was actually backing Tierney as Weasley's replacement. But Tierney was a Slytherin, and as such, was always prepared for his allies to betray him. He wouldn't have any trouble believing that Porter meant to stab him in the back, either literally or figuratively, and the more Porter protested his innocence, the more Tierney would become convinced that he was lying. Sometimes, Erika thought with a smug little smile, Slytherin paranoia could be useful.
"Remember, you didn't hear this from me," Erika cautioned her mother. It was a calculated risk, spreading rumors about her supervisor, because she would probably be fired if he found out about it. However, she would have risked a great deal more in order to protect her brother. Besides, if this worked, then Lady Selima would owe her a favor, and a favor from the legendary dowager of the Snape family was more priceless than gold.
"Of course, darling," Alison said, sounding a little hurt. "I would never jeopardize your job. I shall be the soul of discretion."
Only if being the "soul of discretion" meant spreading the gossip among all her friends, but since that was what Erika wanted, she didn't object. Outsiders sometimes dismissed the pureblood wives as a gaggle of useless, gossiping women, but they would in turn share that gossip with their husbands--that was often how information was passed among the pureblood elite. Eventually, Tierney would hear the rumor, after it had been filtered through several different people and probably exaggerated with each telling, but that was all to the better, since that would make it harder to trace back to Erika.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Selima also enlisted the help of her cousin Ali Bashir, who was currently back in England. It was Ali's idea to use his newest apprentice, Pansy Parkinson, to help pass on the rumors that Selima had concocted.
"An excellent idea!" Selima said approvingly. Her cousin liked to play the part of the clown, but at times like these, he proved that his mind was as keen and shrewd as any merchant's. Pansy was not directly related to the Snapes, so her words would not be viewed with the suspicion that Ali's and Selima's might be. And she was a member of a prominent pureblood family, so she was in a position to easily pass on information to the people who mattered.
Pansy had a certain degree of respect, and maybe even a little affection for her former Head of House, but it was mainly because of Professor Lupin that the girl was eager to help. "I wouldn't want the old anti-werewolf laws to come back," she said earnestly. "It would be horrible if Professor Lupin had to leave Hogwarts." Selima didn't know whether to be amused or insulted, but in the end, decided it didn't really matter why Pansy wanted to help so long as she did.
Ali got a little creative, though. In addition to the rumors that Selima had very carefully crafted about Tierney, Cresswell, Porter, and a few other prominent Ministry officials, Ali created one of his own about Frank Longbottom being considered as a replacement for Arthur.
"Who would elect a Minister who's been insane for the better part of two decades?" Selima asked scornfully, annoyed that Ali would dare to meddle with her plan.
"But he's sane now, dear cousin," Ali reminded her. "And he's a hero of the war; his suffering will only make him seem even more noble and heroic."
"True," Selima grudgingly conceded. "But even so, it's extremely unlikely that he would be elected."
"Then it will just add even more confusion to the fray, and that's what we want, isn't it?" Ali replied cheerfully. "The other candidates won't be able to dismiss Longbottom entirely out of hand because of his war hero status. And it will give them another Gryffindor to hate besides Weasley."
"That's true," Selima said, in a more thoughtful voice this time.
"And besides, Miss Parkinson has already started spreading the rumor. Her mother and grandmother are probably passing it on to their acquaintances even as we speak."
"Very well, Ali," Selima sighed. "But next time, stick to the script."
"Yes, dear cousin," Ali said meekly, but with a merry twinkle in his dark eyes, and Selima sighed again.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile, Erika was doing more than just spreading gossip. She also went to visit Henry Bletchley at the museum.
"What a pleasure to see you, Miss Die--" he started to say.
"It's Erika," she interrupted impatiently. "And this isn't a social call. I assume you know about the missing medallion?"
"Yes," Henry replied gravely, the polite smile fading from his lips. "Although I didn't know that you were aware of it."
"All the werewolves know, and my brother told me," Erika explained. "I also know that if the medallion and the rogue werewolf aren't found soon, mass panic will break out, and my brother and his friends will be in danger."
"I know," Henry said. "But I'm not sure what I can do to help. I might be able to disable the medallion, but only if I had it physically in hand."
"Isn't there some way that you can trace the magical signature of the artifact?" Erika demanded. "The Dark Prince must've had some way to control his pet werewolves and keep track of their whereabouts."
A look of keen interest and a touch of respect filled Henry's eyes. "A very sensible deduction, Miss Die...Erika. I suspect that the medallion was used to control the werewolf itself, as well as its transformation. He must have had some way to keep it from turning on him, after all. A control object of this sort is usually keyed to a master device--probably something he could easily keep on his person, such as another medallion, or possibly a ring, bracelet, or torc."
"Can you find this master device?" Erika asked eagerly.
"It's not that simple," Henry sighed. "Assuming that it actually exists, it's extremely unlikely that this device managed to survive the destruction of the tower. Even if it did, we would need to find a way to distinguish it from the other items that were found in the ruins. And even if by some miracle we could find and identify it, we would still need to figure out how to properly use it. Many of the Prince's artifacts are enspelled to injure or kill anyone who tries to use them without authorization."
"But your specialty is Dark artifacts!" Erika snapped. "If anyone can find a way to do it, surely you can!"
"I appreciate your confidence in my skills, Erika, but I think you may be overestimating them a little," Henry said with a rueful smile. "It's true that I've worked with similar artifacts in the past, but it can take years of research to learn how to use them."
"We don't have years!" Erika exclaimed in frustration. "We have only weeks at most before Weasley is deposed and the werewolves lose his protection!" She paused to take a deep breath to calm herself. Henry Bletchley was a kind man, but he had little personal incentive to help the werewolves, so she would give him some. In fact, she had already decided upon this course of action before she came to the museum.
"If you can find a way to track down the stolen medallion before the Ministry starts imposing anti-werewolf sanctions, then I will marry you and arrange an alliance between the Bletchley and Dietrich families," Erika declared in a firm voice.
"Ex...excuse me?" Henry stammered, his eyes going wide with shock and dismay.
"Oh dear," Erika said, torn between chagrin and amusement. "You don't want to marry me, do you?"
"It's not that I don't want to," Henry protested, his face turning red. "I mean, it's nothing personal--I just don't particularly want to marry anyone."
"Then why did you bother to attend my party?" Erika asked, a bit accusingly, but with genuine curiosity. "I'm sure you must have realized that its sole purpose was for prospective suitors to present themselves."
"My family made me go," Henry admitted sheepishly. "They have delusions of grandeur, and it was easier to go along with their plans than to argue with them about it. I honestly never thought that you would seriously consider me as a potential groom. You're a very beautiful and wealthy young woman, and you could have your pick of the eligible pureblood men--someone much younger and handsomer than me, surely."
"You are neither decrepit nor a mountain troll," Erika pointed out in a dry voice. "You overestimate your shortcomings, Professor Bletchley. Besides, I would rather choose a mature and intelligent man to be my husband and the father of my children than some handsome young idiot. Truthfully, you impressed me more than any of the other men at the party." She smiled slightly. "Certainly more than Marcus Flint or Phillip Bole."
Henry laughed, relaxing a little. "I am flattered, Erika, but I would make a poor husband for the heiress of a prominent family. I'm devoted to my work, which often takes me out of the country, and I have no aptitude for politics and no clue how to run an estate."
"Oh, that's not a problem," Erika assured him. "I am perfectly capable of running the estate myself--that is my duty as heir, after all. If we were to be wed, your presence would be required occasionally at certain important parties and gatherings, but other than that, I would not interfere with your work or ask you to stop traveling. But this is all hypothetical, of course. Since you do not wish to marry, an offer of my hand would be a poor incentive for your cooperation." She frowned, trying to think of what else she could offer that might tempt him--a grant to pursue some scholarly research, perhaps? She had no control over such things, but if Henry helped to save the Minister's job, she could probably persuade Weasley to authorize it. Of course, Henry might not believe that she had that much control over the Minister. But perhaps she could persuade Lady Selima to fund it personally...?
"You must love your brother very much, if you are willing to marry a total stranger in order to help him," Henry said quietly, with an odd expression on his face that Erika could not quite read. Puzzlement, perhaps, with a touch of wistfulness?
"Well, of course," Erika replied matter-of-factly. "He is my brother, after all."
"I am sure that my brother would not do the same for me," Henry said with a slightly bitter smile. "At least, not unless it would benefit him in some way. But to be fair, I would not make such a sacrifice for him, either."
"Well, who can blame you?" Erika said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "He did turn you into a toad once before, after all. Actually, Aric and I used to fight like cats and dogs." She grinned. "I gave him a black eye when he broke my favorite doll when we were children. But no matter what, he's still my little brother. No one but me is allowed to hurt him." Henry chuckled, and Erika added, "But I think you're being a little over-dramatic. It's not as if marrying you is a fate worse than death."
"No, I suppose not," Henry said, still chuckling. He paused for a moment, then said, "All right, then."
"Excuse me?"
"I'll help you," Henry said.
"You will?" Erika asked, staring at him in surprise.
Henry nodded. "I can't promise anything," he warned, "but I'll reexamine all the artifacts and ask the Aurors to give me access to the confiscated ones, and I'll go through all the notes that the archaeological team took. I still think the chances of success are pretty slim, but I'll try my best."
"Thank you, Henry," Erika said warmly, grateful but a little bewildered. "But...what can I do for you in return?"
Henry hesitated, then smiled and said, "There isn't anything that I need right now. Why don't we just say that you'll owe me a favor?"
Then it was Erika's turn to hesitate, torn between the desire to help her brother and the innate suspicion that was practically bred into members of the pureblood elite. Committing to a vague, open-ended favor could be dangerous when you didn't know what the person might ask for.
"I won't ask you to do anything that would cause harm or dishonor to you or your family," Henry promised, apparently sensing her misgivings. "I give you my word."
"Then we have a bargain," Erika said, extending her hand, and Henry smiled and shook it.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Unbeknownst to Erika, Henry had only asked for the favor because he knew that she would be suspicious if he asked for nothing in exchange for his help, and also because he was enough of a Slytherin to be a little embarrassed about doing something altruistic. But the truth was that he was moved by Erika's love for her brother, especially since he wasn't very close to his own family. His mother, perhaps, felt some vague affection for her children, but his brother had enjoyed making his life miserable ever since they were children, and his father's greatest love was his own ambition. Henry's uncle, the head of the Bletchley family, had been childless for many years, so Henry's father had assumed that someday he or his sons would inherit the estate. But unexpectedly, an heir--Miles--had been born.
Henry hadn't minded, but his father became bitter and resentful, and ever since, had been constantly scheming to acquire wealth and power. His latest scheme was to marry Henry off to the Dietrich heiress, even though Henry hadn't the slightest desire to be married to anyone, heiress or not.
Although being married to Erika might not be so bad, after all. He wondered, a little wistfully, what it might be like to be part of a loving family, to have a wife who was as loyal and devoted to him as Erika was to her brother.
Then Henry shook his head and silently chided himself for thinking like a naive, idealistic Gryffindor; it wasn't as if he would gain some sort of fairy-tale family by marrying Erika. By all accounts, the elder Dietriches were no better than his father. They had disinherited the previous heir, Erika's brother, for being bitten by a werewolf, and they were essentially auctioning off the new heir to the highest bidder. As for Erika, it was true that she loved Aric, but that didn't necessarily mean that she would regard her husband with the same depth of affection, especially if her husband was a stranger to her, or at best, a casual acquaintance.
No, Henry told himself firmly, he was not getting roped into an arranged marriage by a few romantic fancies. He would stick to their bargain, do his research, and help track down the medallion if he could. And once it was over, one way or the other, he would leave England and return to his research in Egypt, regardless of what his father wanted. Maybe he would be disowned, but that would be more of a relief than a punishment, because it meant that he would never have to come back home to visit his family again.
Part 21
Yay!
(Anonymous) 2007-05-07 10:50 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Yay!
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