Chapter Text
Alma Dumbledore was viewed by the public as being both close to perfect and afraid of nothing, conceptions so off-target that they would have made her laugh if she hadn't been so painfully aware of her own flaws and fears. The only good thing for Alma about that knowledge was this: it had given her a deadly determination to never again fail a young person with whom she'd been trusted.
So, as a teacher and then headmistress of Hogwarts, she had done everything she could to avoid that particular mistake—and when she couldn't avoid errors, she obsessed over them. She obsessed over her failure to remove the curse from the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. She obsessed over her failure to keep Professor Amanda Dippet from expelling Ruby Hagrid—even giving Hagrid the gamekeeper position later couldn't make up for that. She obsessed over her failure to see Jane Marvolo Riddle for what she really was, while there might have been a chance of stopping her later atrocities.
Now, standing in the wreck of the Potter-Evans house, holding the sobbing orphaned child of two of her former students, Alma cried over her failure to convince Jasmine Potter and Luke Evans to let her be their Secret-Keeper, and her failure to arrive last night, instead of at dawn this morning, to return Jasmine's Invisibility Cloak. And she resolved that, though she knew more failures must still be ahead of her, that she would avoid as many of them as she possibly could.
Alma wiped away some tears and ran through options in her head—swiftly, as her mind usually ran. Obviously, the best place for Honesty Potter would be with her father's family, as that would allow her protection from her father's sacrifice. But Alma wasn't going to show up with a baby in her arms and seem to pressure Patrick Evans and his wife. And with the Lestranges, the Carrows, the Malfoys, and dozens like them all ready to attack this helpless child on Voldemort's orders, Alma was not going to let Honesty out of her sight until Honesty had some other protection. No, she would have to send somebody else to talk to the Dursley-Evans family. And although Alma would acknowledge that there were good people in the Ministry, she did not trust the government as a whole. No, she would have to go to Hogwarts for the help she need.
She turned on her heel and Disapparated.
Appearing in Hogsmeade, Alma decided that walking all the way to the castle, relatively unprotected and with a crying baby, was a bad idea. And Silencing Charms, though possible, were known to stunt the growth of a young child's brain. Having appeared outside the Hog's Head, she went around the back—no need to invite gossip among Abby's usual clientele—and knocked, loudly. She could have unlocked the door with Alohomora, but it would be very good to avoid alienating Abby upfront.
She heard stomping on the other side of the door, and Abigail Dumbledore, wearing her usual cross expression, shoved the door open. The crossness turned to bewilderment when she saw the baby in Alma's arms. "Looks a little young for Hogwarts."
"May I come in?" Alma said, trying to keep her voice polite but only succeeding in sounding tense. "For a few hours."
"My limit on you is fifteen minutes," Abby said grumpily. "But alright, come in and tell me who decided to trust you with a baby."
Alma stepped inside, Honesty sobbing so loudly that Alma's efforts at concealment from the Hog's Head patrons might be in vain. Luckily, forty years of visiting former students and their children had given Alma some knowledge of infants, and she knew how to check for the sources of crying and soothe them. That is, if the source wasn't the lightning scar on the baby's forehead, because Alma couldn't do anything about that.
Diaper—still dry. Likely hungry, then. Alma looked around for something Abby wouldn't miss, and spotted a bottle of Firewhiskey. With three flicks of her wand, she Vanished half the whiskey, Transfigured the rest into baby formula, and Transfigured the bottle into a baby bottle.
"You just had to pick my most expensive Firewhiskey, did you?" Abby groused.
Alma began feeding Honesty, still too grieved and worried to muster much concern for the cost of Abby's Firewhiskey. "Sorry," she said, not sounding as if she meant it.
"There's something going on," Abby said abruptly. "For the last two years I could set the clock by dementors floating by my window. Not to mention the Inferi. There were three of them outside my front door, maybe nine o'clock last night. I had out my wand, ready to set them on fire, and they dropped before I got the spell out. Just lay there, not an ounce of magic in them. And I haven't seen a dementor since then."
She eyed Alma. "And then you turn up at dawn with a baby." She walked around and peered at Honesty. "I know those eyes. I thought Luke and Jasmine went into hiding…" Abby trailed off, shock on her face.
"I have to talk to Minato and Fairuz," Alma said. "Would you send a Patronus asking them to come down here?"
"Are you going to leave me out of this conversation?" Abby said suspiciously. "Because I don't think much of that."
"No, I'm not going to leave you out," Alma said wearily. The prospect of breaking the news to her fellow teachers and her sister was making the situation feel agonizingly real, and she blinked back more tears. She'd lost more people these eleven years than she cared to think, but she'd never gotten used to it—and these two had been so very young.
Abby looked almost torn for a moment, as if she felt she should be offering comfort. Alma was almost glad when she turned away instead; neither of them knew how to navigate such situations with the other. Abby raised her wand, and her goat Patronus bloomed from the tip of it, vanishing out the window.
Honesty finished the bottle of formula, but still seemed discontented. Alma knew her arms were at best a poor substitute for those of the mother and father who would never hold her again. If giving babies potions to calm them wasn't known to interfere with brain growth even more than Silencing Charms, Alma would have gotten Sylvia to—
Alma's stomach jolted as she remembered that Sylvia probably didn't know. And—all hells—Rose probably didn't know. If there were two people on this earth that Alma was least looking forward to telling about the Potter-Evans family's deaths, they were Sylvia Snape and Rose Lupin. Ironic, given that Sylvia hated Rose, no matter how many times Alma pointed out to her that Rose had not been part of her best friend's "joke."
The sun was all the way up, and Honesty truly fussy, by the time Minato McGonagall and Fairuz Flitwick got to the Hog's Head. "Ms. Dumbledore said you were here with Honesty Potter," Minato said without preamble. "And we've been getting owls and Floo calls for the last two hours about dementors vanishing and Inferi collapsing and people suddenly throwing off the Imperius Curse—"
"The Death Eaters are panicking," Fairuz said, her tiny face holding a kind of agonized hope. "Snape and a couple of your other spies turned up right after you left. They told us that You-Know-Who is—that she's not…"
"Anywhere," Minato finished, his voice unusually tentative. "That she's just…gone."
Alma drew a breath. Nothing but a parent's sacrifice could have repelled Voldemort, and from where she'd found Luke's body, she'd guessed he'd been the one to stand between his daughter and her would-be killer. But though that sacrifice had obviously protected Honesty, Alma had not expected Voldemort to be gone.
And yet, if what Minato and Fairuz were saying were true, then the breaking of Voldemort's power had almost certainly happened because of her attempt to kill Honesty.
The next day would likely show more of the truth. Alma tried to be sensible and keep her hopes tempered. But even if Voldemort were gone, it didn't change what Alma had to do. Voldemort's supporters were nearly as dangerous as she, and panic would make them even more monstrous than usual. Alma still needed to find a safe home for Honesty.
Which meant finding out if the Dursley-Evans house could be such a home.
"Why do you have Honesty with you?" Minato said, his voice now on the edge of fearful. "Luke and Jasmine—they're not…"
"I'm afraid they're dead," Alma said, low.
Pain stabbed at her chest when she saw the looks on her friends' faces—they'd taught Luke and Jasmine too. She made herself keep talking. "Luke had a brother. Patrick Evans. He wrote to me once." She remembered the careful handwriting of the boy who'd desperately wanted to attend Hogwarts along with his brother, and the thought she'd put into the reply. Muggle or wizard, every child deserved respect. "Luke told me he's married now, to a Veronica Dursley, and that they have a daughter Honesty's age."
Fairuz nodded. "And you want to know if they'd be willing to adopt Honesty."
"Exactly," Alma said. "But it seemed wrong to tell Patrick his brother is dead and ask him to adopt his niece in the same breath. And I want to stay with Honesty for now. I thought perhaps you two—"
"—could go tell Luke's brother?" Minato finished. "Of course, if you think we're best."
"If you judge it's right, you could mention Honesty, but don't push," Alma said. "Another child is a big commitment, especially if they already have one."
"The Weasley-Prewett family has six and seems fine," said Fairuz with a small chuckle. "And with Arlene being pregnant again..."
"Maybe a boy this time, finally," Abby said dryly.
Minato and Fairuz Disapparated shortly afterwards, hoping to catch the Dursley-Evans family before anyone left for work. Honesty finally wriggled out of Alma's arms and began running around the back room. As it was decidedly not childproof, Alma kept close behind her, hoping to keep her away from any sharp table corners.
Honesty indeed had her father's green eyes, but in other ways more resembled her mother—she had Jasmine's tight black curls instead of Luke's red hair, and Jasmine's brown skin as well, though Honesty's was a shade lighter. The lightning scar on Honesty's forehead predictably did not respond to any of the healing spells Alma tried on it during Honesty's few moments of stillness, but at least it wasn't bleeding anymore.
Abby soon went into the bar of the Hog's Head to take care of morning customers, rejoining Alma once or twice during the first hour to relate the gossip. Some of it was obviously out of proportion to the facts, but it was growing clearer than ever that something had happened to Voldemort. Alma doubted it was death. Her theory about the Horcruxes was as of yet unconfirmed, but she was fairly sure Voldemort had tried at least one way of cheating mortality. Only time would tell, much as she longed for the facts now.
Honesty finally grew tired of running about and fell asleep on Abby's dingy sofa. Alma sat beside her, and was just wondering if she could persuade Abby to get her some food—and a Butterbeer really did sound nice—when the door flew open with a bang. Alma's wand was out before she registered the identity of her surprise caller.
Sylvia Snape, with tears pouring down her face.
Alma put her wand away. "Sylvia—" she began softly.
"Don't you try and—and comfort me!" Sylvia yelled. "I told the Dark Lord; I told her about the prophecy—" Her voice cracked. "This is all my fault."
Honesty, perhaps disturbed by Sylvia's shouting, stirred but didn't wake up. Sylvia's eyes snapped to her. "That's…"
"Luke's daughter, yes." Alma sat beside Honesty. "She lived."
Sylvia cringed back. "She looks like Potter."
Alma sighed. "And she will never have either of her parents again. She deserves better than to have you hate her because she looks like your school nemesis. Would you rather have no relationship with the daughter of the man you loved?"
"I—I still—" Sylvia began to cry again, her breath coming faster. "I can't believe he's—it's not fair. He didn't deserve to die."
Instead of pointing out, as she might have, that Sylvia had watched her Death Eater friends kill quite a few people who didn't deserve to die, Alma got up and steered Sylvia to an armchair. Firewhiskey didn't seem the thing, but luckily Abby poked her head into the back room at that moment and glared. "Alma, you can't just bring Death Eaters into my—"
"She was a spy," Alma interrupted. "And she's just had a shock. Do you have any chocolate around?"
"I don't want chocolate," Sylvia wailed. "I want to wake up from this nightmare!"
Abby sighed and stomped over to a nearby cupboard. "You're lucky Honeydukes foisted a bunch of free samples on me; I don't usually keep this stuff around." She slapped a bar of Honeydukes chocolate into Alma's hand and slouched out again.
Alma tore open the chocolate and broke off a substantial piece. "Eat this."
"I don't want—"
"Eat it," Alma said, in the tone she usually reserved for particularly recalcitrant Gryffindors.
Sylvia slowly took the chocolate and began to eat it. Alma broke off a piece for herself. She needed it.
Barely had she gotten the chocolate in her mouth than Honesty woke up and started to scream. Swallowing, and grateful for the calm and warmth the chocolate provided, Alma rushed to Honesty and put her on her lap, rocking her back and forth. The screams sounded horribly like "Ma-ma!" and then "Da-da!" They made Alma's chest twist.
But there was nothing she could do. Alma always did her best not to give into hate, since that was what made her different from Voldemort and her followers, but it was hard not to be overcome by that emotion right now. There were an awful lot of things Alma Dumbledore could do if she put her mind and magic to them, but she couldn't bring this little girl's parents back.
Of course, that thought only brought on thoughts of the Resurrection Stone, the Hallow she'd craved in her youth. Still craved, and longed for so deeply in this moment, so she could bring her friends back, and so Honesty Potter could be a carefree toddler again, and not join the countless emotional casualties of Voldemort's reign.
But even if she'd had the Resurrection Stone, Alma had the sense to know by now that it didn't work that way. She couldn't restore Honesty's parents. She could, however…
"Sylvia, have you ever Transfigured anything into baby food?"
"What?" Sylvia said blankly.
Alma let out an impatient huff. "Get something moderately edible from Abby and bring it back here. Go."
Sylvia slowly got up and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a plate of cold corned beef and stewed cabbage. Alma Transfigured the food into mashed sweet potatoes and bananas, the accompanying fork into a spoon, and her handkerchief into a bib. Honesty had subsided from screaming into quiet crying, and must have been hungry, because she allowed Alma to feed her, though she predictably got at least a third of the food all over her face and bib.
"She has Luke's eyes," Sylvia said, her voice croaky.
Feeding Honesty another bite of sweet potato, Alma pondered her way forward. For both of their good, she didn't want Sylvia to hate Honesty, the last remainder of Luke, simply for being her mother's daughter. That would likely cause Sylvia to sink into bitterness and spread her misery everywhere.
If Alma had to manipulate Sylvia a little bit to give her a better life, and give Honesty a better chance, she would do it. It wasn't strictly upright, and Alma knew it. But it was better than letting Sylvia waste her life.
"You really loved him," she said quietly.
"I still do," Sylvia said, her eyes on Honesty, who was now smearing banana on her cheek. "I always will. Always."
"You have a chance here," Alma said. "Honesty is going to need you."
"Need me?" Sylvia, voice incredulous, looked at Alma. "What use could I possibly be to her?"
"Voldemort will return," Alma said flatly. Sylvia did not flinch at the name, but instead pressed her lips together. "She will return, and Honesty will be in terrible danger when she does."
Sylvia looked down at her hands. "You want me to help protect her. For his sake."
"I do," Alma said gently, "but I don't ask that of you and expect nothing in return. Luke was your friend, and if he'd lived through this war, and knew you'd changed your mind about Voldemort, I think you might have been friends again."
"Not while he was married to Potter."
"And would that have been his doing, or yours? Jasmine wouldn't have kept her husband away from a friend, but would you have forgiven Luke for marrying somebody else?"
Sylvia did flinch then. Alma continued. "I think Luke would like you to know Honesty, especially since he's gone. I think he would like his childhood friend and his daughter to have some kind of relationship. If Honesty goes to live with her father's family, I'm willing to talk with them and try to find a way for that to happen."
"Patrick never liked me," Sylvia said stiffly. "He didn't like Luke much either, in the end."
"I'm still willing to try. If you want. If you're interested in starting to build a life that's not about being a double agent for me."
"Of course I want…" Sylvia trailed off. "I just don't know if I'm—if I can."
"You can think about it," Alma said, feeding Honesty some more banana. "But I want the best for you, just as much as for Honesty."
"Because I murdered on the Dark Lord's orders?" Sylvia said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Murdered and cursed and watched people lose their souls? Why should you want the best for me? Why should I deserve that?"
"It's not about deserving," Alma said. "I want the best for everyone; it's just that some people do too much harm to ever fulfill that. I don't think you're one of them. Don't prove me wrong."
Sylvia opened her mouth, but before she could reply, the door opened and Minato and Fairuz came back in, Minato with a scowl and Fairuz with a grim look. Sylvia rose to her feet, tucking her greasy hair behind her ears. "I'm going," she said, eyes on the floor. "So you know, I think Lucia and Narcissus Malfoy are going to claim they were under the Imperius Curse. Don't believe a word of it." Not giving anyone a chance to reply, she Disapparated.
"If You-Know-Who is really gone, Snape's going to be put on trial," Fairuz said, looking at the spot where Sylvia had vanished. "What are you going to do?"
"Tell the truth," Alma said. "That she spied for us." Well, she wouldn't tell the whole truth. She doubted Sylvia wanted anyone to know about the motivation behind her spying. "But we'll worry about that later. Tell me how it went with Patrick and his wife."
Minato's scowl deepened, and he pushed his square spectacles up on his nose. "Well, they let us through the door. That was the first and last good thing about that interview."
"I don't know if they were more appalled by us being a witch and wizard, or by my hijab," Fairuz said. The Flitwick family were Muslim, and Fairuz led a group at Hogwarts for Muslim students. "They called out both."
Very bad sign. "I'm sorry, Fairuz," Alma said. "I didn't know they would do that."
"There's apparently a lot none of us knew," Minato said. "Or could have known."
"Patrick seemed pretty shaken up by Luke's death," Fairuz went on, her voice full of repressed anger, "but his wife—Veronica—didn't seem to care at all. She said, and I quote, you get mixed up with these wizarding types, of course you'll come to a sticky end."
"We probably should have walked out then," Minato said, "but we thought we'd give them one more chance. I brought up Honesty, and asked if they wanted to take some time and consider adopting her. Veronica said, Patrick's told me those kids do magic and can't even control it. Not a chance."
"I told them accidental magic is almost always as harmless as the child is," Fairuz said. "And then I tried to ask Patrick what he thought—maybe he had a different opinion. He thought about it for a few minutes, and then he said, we'll take her if there's nowhere else for her to go, but we won't let her grow up to be a witch. We can't have Doris growing up with a child like that."
"I lost my temper some then," Minato said. That didn't surprise Alma—Minato McGonagall's righteous anger was feared by Hogwarts students left and right. "But they just stared at me as if they had no idea they'd said anything wrong."
"So we left," Fairuz said, voice disgusted. "I can guess you wanted Honesty to go there for the protection of Luke's sacrifice, but it's not going to work. Even if they took her, in the end, they'd probably shame her every time she did accidental magic, and you know how bad that is for a child."
Alma did, and she also knew, from bitter personal experience, how bad it was for a dependent person to be given care by a guardian who didn't want them. Fifty years had passed, but she remembered her own neglect of her brother as if it were yesterday, and she inwardly cringed at the idea of leaving her friends' daughter in the care of people who seemed to want her even less than Alma had wanted Arian.
She looked at Honesty, who was smearing sweet potato on Abby's sofa cushion. Unless the Dursley-Evans family had a major change of heart, there could be no question of Honesty going to live with them. Common sense alone said that much. Who, then, would care for her?
But Alma hadn't gotten beyond asking herself that question when the door to the Hog's Head bar flew open so hard that the door handle chipped the wall. Minato and Fairuz both whipped around, and Honesty started at the sound.
Skinny, in shabby robes, and with a face far too lined, Rose Lupin flew through the door, her eyes going straight to Honesty. "You're alive," she gasped, and was across the room in a moment, dropping to her knees in front of the sofa where Honesty was sitting. "Oh, you're alive. I didn't know if it was true."
Honesty, upon seeing Rose, began to gurgle with appreciation—Alma knew Rose had been a frequent visitor at the Potter-Evans house. Rose picked Honesty up at once, hugging her tight, then sat on the sofa and began to bounce her up and down, tears welling up in her eyes. For several moments, the only sound in the room was Honesty's giggles. Then Rose seemed to realize there were other people in the room, and looked up. "I've been looking everywhere, all night. I saw the house; I saw their—their bodies…and then I went to Order headquarters, and then I went to the Weasley-Prewett house, and—Merlin, I don't even remember everywhere I went…"
Guilt pinched Alma. She should have sent a Patronus to Rose, telling her Honesty was alive, telling her what had happened to her friends, so she could have been spared the sight of Jasmine and Luke lying dead in the ruins of their house, so she wouldn't have needed to panic about their daughter. No one, not even Petra Pettigrew, had loved that family more than Rose. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you she was safe."
Rose shook her head. "I know now. That's what matters." She hugged Honesty again. "Whatever happens, please—tell me what I can do to help her, to take care of her. To make her feel loved. I would give my life to keep her safe. You'll tell me, if there's anything I can do?"
"Of course." Alma felt a pang. Rose should be a primary candidate for taking care of Honesty long-term. She knew as much about the Dark Arts and defense against them as just about anyone, she'd known Honesty's parents, and she was the kind of caring person who could raise a child well. And the wizarding world had left behind enough prejudice that her being a trans woman would not be an issue. But the Ministry would never allow a werewolf to adopt a child—they'd even been known, occasionally, to take away birth children of werewolves—and Alma couldn't guarantee that kind of secret could be kept.
Still, they had to be able to find a parent who would allow Rose a part in Honesty's life.
"There's something else." Rose stood up, shifting Honesty to her hip. "It's about Padfoot—I mean, Cass."
Alma tried to push down the betrayal. Cassiopeia Black was named after her relative, but had been determined to drop all traces of pure-blood scorn practically since she arrived at Hogwarts, and had thus renamed herself as Cass amongst her three best friends. Jasmine had been so sure—so absolutely sure—that Cass would never betray her, that the godmother of her daughter would not give in to anything, even the Cruciatus Curse, and so had made Cass her family's Secret-Keeper against Alma's better judgment. And now…
"What about Cass?" Alma said evenly.
"She wouldn't betray Jasmine," Rose said, her voice full of absolute conviction. "Not ever. And she would never blow up a street and kill a crowd of people—"
"Wait, wait," Fairuz interrupted. "Blow up a street and kill a crowd of people?"
"Wormtail—Petra—thought Cass betrayed—" Rose swallowed. "Petra said to me, we'll track down Cass and bring her to the Aurors. I agreed to go with her, so I could get Cass's side of the story. But then it all went wrong." She untangled Honesty's sticky fingers from her hair as she talked. "We met up with Cass. She'd been looking for us, and I had to keep her from cursing Petra into dozens of tiny pieces. Grief must have driven her out of her mind—"
"You can't keep making excuses for her," Alma said, unable to keep her mouth shut. "I know she was your best friend—"
"Will you let me finish?" Rose snapped.
Alma couldn't remember the last time that Rose Lupin had snarled like that at anyone, at least as a human. "My apologies."
Rose shifted Honesty to her other hip, and Honesty immediately tangled her hands in Rose's hair again. "Petra was crying, and she shouted that Cass had betrayed Luke and Jasmine. The whole street must have heard. I got between them yelled at them both to stop right now, that if they didn't both put their wands away so we could figure this out, I would never forgive them."
She pulled her hair free of Honesty's fingers and bounced her up and down a bit as she continued, her voice hoarse with distress. "Alma, I saw Cass. She stopped, and she put her wand away. And then I turned around, and I saw Petra with a bloody hand, and the next thing I knew, the street was destroyed, there were bodies everywhere, and Petra was gone."
"Merlin…" Fairuz whispered.
Alma thought quickly. "Where is Cass now?"
"Still on the street, unless the Aurors have already gotten there," Rose said roughly. "I knew I had to get you, and I tried to get Cass to come with me, but she wouldn't go. She told me…she told me if somebody had to take the fall for this, it couldn't be me. She said they'd never believe a werewolf was innocent, but maybe she had a chance. She just kept yelling at me to go, so I did. I came to Hogsmeade, and I was going to send a Patronus to you, but you were already here. Professor Dumbledore, you know Cass. If you're not convinced she's innocent, fine. But I'm begging you, make sure she gets a trial. You know what Ms. Crouch is like."
Oh, Alma did know. If it had been up to her, she wouldn't have trusted Bethany Crouch with a possibly-innocent alleged Death Eater any more than she would have trusted an acromantula with a hapless passerby. But that was the problem with deliberately keeping power out of your own hands. You didn't have access to it when you would have really liked it. However…
It wasn't as if Alma had no power. She did sit on the Wizengamot, and although she could not force Ms. Crouch to given Cass a trial, certain kinds of pressure could be brought to bear. And Rose's story had introduced the possibility, small as it was, that there was something Alma did not know about the situation. And if that were the case, it was her duty to at least try to find out the truth.
Because Cassiopeia Black and Rose Lupin—alias Padfoot and Moony—were two other young people she needed to avoid failing.