Chapitre 87: Why?
Being Albus Dumbledore was hard.
Not only because of his unbearably tight schedule.
Not only because of his multiple, intense duties.
Not only because he had at least three cataclysmic threats on his mind on any given day.
'No, these I can deal with.' He thought, running a hand through his wonderful beard. Forget alchemy and the slaying of dark lords, people should be more amazed by his capillary achievements! That was his pride and joy, along with the Albus-flavored jelly bean.
The single most dreadful opponent he knew was one he faced every day, an ever-growing, always changing beast that raises again and again while slowly chipping away at his sanity.
'Curse you, Paperwork.' He thought, even in his well-organized mind, the word sounded like the vilest of insults.
Yet this was something he couldn't just delegate to Minerva, like his Hogwarts duties.
No, too much was at stake.
The headmaster stood in his chair, wishing Fawkes would sing him a tune to make this bleak evening somewhat bearable.
He was not in luck, instead of his fiery companion appearing in a burst of flame, his doors opened, making way for the billowing robes and scowling face of one Severus Snape.
Albus trusted his potion master, in both character and ability. Few could manage to deceive a dark lord, fewer still had the bravery to do so.
Yes, Severus Snape was an admirable wizard.
'But does he have to be so unpleasant?' He repressed his feelings and offered him another of his grandfatherly smiles.
"Severus, I hope you had a nicer day than me." He said, sighing when he looked at yet another letter he had to compose.
Formal yet familiar, urgent yet encouraging, alarming without rousing terror. Sending letters was an art of its own.
Pity he only had the grimest news to share, and the most unfair of requests to make.
"The dunderheads I am supposed to teach appear to be getting more foolish every day." He sneered.
"Ah yes, you did have two classes with the Gryffindor." Albus nodded, not at all bothered by the teacher's antics.
How could he? It served his purpose so well, the greasy-haired man's cruel ways would teach Harry the value of fairness and justice, while also curbing some of his independence and already fickle self-worth.
Nothing time couldn't fix, but a useful influence on poor Harry if he failed to find a solution for the soul that latched onto him.
All for the Greater Good.
"I presume your allies have been less forthcoming than expected." He said, taking a seat on his stool, a place from which he often glared at visiting students with wicked enthusiasm.
How much of his behavior was faked for the sake of his cover, Dumbledore knew not. Snape always did have a vicious streak.
"Our allies, Severus." He corrected, "And yes, few bothered to answer my letters, fewer still took me seriously."
His reputation was not enough to convince most people, unfortunately. Not when they wished with all their hearts for peace to continue, even when the truth was standing right in front of them.
The shadow of Grindelwald still remained, putting the fear of conflict in the heart of all wizards who stood in the light.
As for Lord Voldemort, his deeds were still an open wound for wizarding Britain. The rest of the world knew little about the upstart and cared even less for the regional threat.
The world thought him dead, and only a small minority knew enough to even entertain the possibility of his return.
Except for those marked by him, people who committed acts of the foulest kind yet still roamed the land, in no small part because of his own ideals and unwillingness to compromise them.
This made his efforts to recruit wizards for his cause that much harder, while the dark faction was in turmoil.
The novice politician would think it was good, unrest among the opposition could only work in his favor, giving him time to prepare while weakening their forces.
But he was old, old and tired and wise to the ways of the dark.
Darkness relished in turmoil, it was the most fertile ground for evil to plant its roots and grow stronger. Someone would rise to the occasion, devour the other heads in an act of collective cannibalism, unify what remains, and use it to strike.
That's how Grindelwald grew in power.
That's how Voldemort grew in power.
Despite his best wishes, the image of two golden eyes on a cold face appeared in front of him, and he struggled to break free from it.
"You did have some success," Snape picked up a few favorable answers, "It seems you did achieve something as supreme mugwump; the Irish, French, and Bulgarian ministries didn't outright call you mad."
The tournament did help with that too, otherwise, he would've never accepted the return of such a barbarous, deadly competition.
'Thank Merlin nothing wrong happened, I know not what I would have done if this glorified bloodsport had been restored in vain.' He thought.
Dumbledore might be somewhat out of touch, but he would never endanger innocents…without a good enough reason.
"Yes, though it is no small part to spite our dear ministry." He said, "For once, Cornelius Fudge has done the right thing."
Snape almost smiled.
When someone had the reputation of a highly volatile bumbling buffoon, their mere disagreement and vehement denial of the troubles ahead were enough to sway foreign ministries in their favor.
"You have changed strategies since the last war." He said, putting down the envelope.
Dumbledore looked at him and saw the Occlumency clearing the man's face of all emotions.
'Ah, another memory for Voldemort.' He thought.
They had not agreed that a blank face meant he was currently fulfilling his duties as a double agent. So he was not lying to cover Severus's back once the dark lord inevitably summoned him.
"I have learned much." He said, "Though some of my failings still linger, I'm afraid."
The headmaster couldn't help but remember that day a few years ago, an echo of his past mistakes culminating in yet another potentially disastrous error.
The ghost of the young Tom Riddle still haunted him, so each bright mind full of potential always seemed to walk the dark and lonesome path paved by the worst dark lord in Britain's history.
It haunted him so much, he had no choice but to violate the mind of a student when he was at his lowest, most vulnerable state.
'Liar, you always have a choice.' He chided himself, yet the voice sounded like dear brother Aberforth.
The guilt stung that day, doubly so when his worries did not disappear to this day.
It was a dangerous mix, of guilt and suspicion.
'Was it wise to nurture him now? The boy is not like Tom, he has a family of blood and choice, friends who care for him, and not an ounce of the bigotry taken up by Lord Voldemort for the sake of power.' He furrowed his brow, 'But he might be just as dangerous, if not more if he lost sight of what is truly important.'
For the first time in years, Dumbledore reconsidered his loathing of Horace Slughorn.
"Lord Voldemort is a mighty foe, but not as dangerous as Grindelwald, the world would not unite to fend him off." He said his piece, which would doubtlessly be witnessed by the dark lord one day.
Truly, Albus often felt he was just as bad as his youthful self.
His goals had been curbed, his hatreds undone, but his deeds could be as dreadful as Gellert's.
'Let us hope this boy will make better choices than we did.' He sighed once more, only then noticing Severus had left.
He was old and tired, so tired.
Why is he doomed to care for this bothersome world?
. . .
"Bloody fagots," Sirius mumbled under his breath, giving the stink eyes to the horde of prissy little shites that composed his nation's highest court and parliament.
They were a sight to behold, grown men alternating between the stoic class befitting of pureblood lords and fighting like schoolgirls when their interests were threatened.
'That's what I do with my life? Debating the merits of higher taxes for Pegasi manure?' He wondered, looking at the paper detailing the new law in an absolutely not biased way.
Not that it mattered, as soon as the papers were done being distributed, the endless shouting began.
"This is madness! This is absolute madness! How could you expect the good citizens of Britain to sacrifice their livelihood in such a way?" A rotund, red-faced man in purple robes that made him look like Tinkywinky's little cousin with a drinking problem.
Lord Robinson, the mind arts allowed him to put a name to this disgraceful face.
"You are exaggerating, Pegasi manure is a luxury item for those who think themselves above the lower priced, general manure." Another wizard, a good head taller than himself, all bones and sharp features with a nose long enough to hang his coat on. "It will only impact a small minority of people, most wizarding stables already switched to general manure."
"Oh shut it Jellkershire, we all know you own a fifth of British General Manure's stock." Another equally unfit, yet somehow even more sleazy-looking wizard joined the fray, nodding in the fat fuck Robinson's direction.
"Are you saying I'm biased? This is a stain on my and my house's honor, I demand compensation!"
Sirius looked around, and it was all the same.
Lesser conflicts between the little groups and small alliances, all working together to some extent in a hierarchy.
When he was young, his parents…Well his mother, the old man just stood next to her with all the enthusiasm of a dead fish, had told him of his duties as lord of house Black, a banner lord for the noble pureblood cause against those mud lovers and blood traitors.
"Is it a blood feud you desire Jellkershire? House Bertram would be happy to provide!"
"You dare!"
When he was older, and strong enough to escape that bloody harpy's grasp, he was told the heads of named households would struggle in a fight between light and dark.
"I stand witness to the justice of your cause, Lord Bertram, know that House Robinson will assist you if magic wills it."
Nowadays, he was older, not that much wiser, but no longer blind to the ways of the world.
Light, dark, it was all talk for young children and single-minded lunatics. Politics were no place for the good-hearted, benevolent masses; people with kind hearts should rather become aurors or healers.
'No, it's just a wild mess of conniving bastards hungry for more power, shades of gray and obscure loyalties that only go as far as their interest permits.' Sirius gritted his teeth.
He could count on one hand the number of people who actually bothered reading the proposition, everyone else was just in for the influence and power plays.
In the end, he voted against the law, House Black was not in the manure or Pegasi breeding business, so he just refused it because those passing it looked rather cozy with Malfoy's flock.
The session ended some time later, too much time was spent there in his humble opinion.
In any case, he was a happy man as long as he could get the fuck away from these people. Another hour and he would challenge someone to an honor duel, and he wasn't one to settle between closed doors to avoid spilling their pure blood.
'Why did I quit drinking again?' He didn't mope, he was much too cool for that, 'Ah yes, responsibility.'
It wasn't at all because his son, single tolerable cousin and former head of house ripped him a new arsehole as soon as he recovered from his last drunken stupor in St. Mungo.
He really needed a drink, though.
"Siri?" He heard a voice, and he didn't want to turn around, not one bit. "Could I talk to you please?"
'No, I'd rather French kiss a dementor.'
He was about to leave, but that abomination just had to exploit his Gryfindor bleeding heart and chauvinistic tendencies; one of the few things he passed down to his feathery pub.
"It won't take long, Sirius." She said, and he could hear the desperation in her voice. "Please."
'Oh fuck me sideways.' He cursed but turned around all the same.
Here she stood, not looking a day older than the time he last saw her. He'd be impressed, but there was something innately gross about this slimy blonde woman.
That, and the fact that she might've done a couple of rituals involving large amounts of virgin blood to stay young and beautiful.
She wore a long black dress, with some blue and gray frills that complimented her eyes. She smelled like lemons and fresh rain, an enchantment, obviously, Purebloods weren't big on baths most of the time.
Her dirty blonde hair reached all the way down to her waist, one of the few things that had changed in this old acquaintance of his.
"What do you want, Narcissa?" He said, his voice so cold and biting his own son would not recognize it. "Or is it Miss Malfoy Now?"
She flinched, and he almost regretted it. Almost, until he remembered who she was, what she did, whom she married.
Then he wanted to be even crueler.
"Lady Malfoy." She said coolly, as if on habit, with that insufferable voice of hers, it was enough to drive him away. "No, wait!"
"Look, Lady Malfoy," He spat the words as if they were the vilest insults he could muster, which they might just be. "I don't know what it is you're hoping to achieve, what angle you're trying to use this time, but the answer is No."
Narcissa reeled back as if he struck her, and for an instant, he wondered if his actions were not limited to his imagination.
Oh, he did want to strike her down, choke her while she struggled to live until the light fades away from those disgusting inbred eyes of hers, show her mutilated cold body to that her snake of a husband and that disgusting spawn of theirs.
Sirius wanted all that and much more, but he was strong enough to stay in control, he had to be.
'Can't be the wild dog no more, I have a family that counts on me.'
Is this how James had felt?
"I want to make things right." She said, her voice soft as a whisper.
That made him freeze.
"You want to make things right." He repeated, "You want to make things right."
Tried as he did, he could not find another meaning for that particular sentence.
"You want to make things right?" He grited his teeth so hard he might just lose some of them. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
It sounded like a joke, one big fuckin' joke, but he was not laughing.
"I am serious Siri," She pleaded, "I know I haven't been fair to you, or Andy…"
"Don't you say her name!" He hissed, if glares could kill then she would've gone through all seven Horcruxes by now, "What was it you used to call her in the good old days? That muggle-sucking skank? Or the worthless shame of a blood traitor? No, that one's dear little me."
Narscica winced but stood her ground.
"I know and…I apologize." She said looking down, her teeth reaching down to bite her lips before stopping, that habit had been beaten out of her a long time ago. "I know it doesn't mean anything to you, it won't make up for all I've done, but I am sorry."
His eyes softened, remembering that little blonde girl that always had a smile for everyone. She didn't smile nearly as much when they started turning her into the perfect pureblood lady.
'Damn right it doesn't mean anything, just empty words from an empty person.' He steeled himself, that little girl was gone, all that was left was Lady Malfoy, he wouldn't be surprised if his son hunted her down that night in the world cup.
"If that slimy fucktard thinks sending his wife will make me help him pass another useless law, he should seriously consider quitting pleasure potions."
"Lucius doesn't know I'm here."
Now, that was surprising.
"You didn't deny him being a slimy fuck, maybe there's some hope left for you." He said, eying her curiously.
"Sirius." She said, rubbing the bridge of her nose almost…fondly.
He wasn't sure what exactly was happening here, but he did know one thing, he needed a drink.
'Seriously, why did I quit drinking again?'
. . .
Hey guys! It's Uncle Sheo!
As promised, another chapter for my mad lads! It's long, plot-heavy and so dense I had to remove so parts and leave them for a later chapter.
I tried my hand at creating other characters, writing from multiple povs is rather new for me and I tell you it's helluva fun!
The Plot thickens, and the real big business will soon start, I wonder if Magnus is as prepared as he thinks for the dangers to come.
Hope you enjoyed it
Peace and Cheese!
Word Count: 2815 words
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone