A Promise Kept - Chapter 33 - A New Dusk

A New Dusk

With the shocked and inconsolable students having been moved into the castle, away from where Dumbledore’s body remained, it did not take long for the journalists to flee the grounds to begin writing their stories, nor for the Aurors to arrive.

Unsurprisingly, shortly afterwards, Fudge appeared, along with Lucius Malfoy, neither appearing to be truly upset by what had happened.

For the remaining few journalists, they put on quite the show of bring distraught, but their performances were unconvincing to any versed in the art of politics.

They were not here to mourn the man or support those affected by his murder. No, they were here only to benefit themselves, and Sirius doubted it would take long for them to exploit the situation for their own gain.

For now, however, he was focused on what had just happened in front of hundreds of witnesses, many of whom, had been children who would be haunted by this until the day they died.

Without Albus, Hogwarts would go on, but what interested Sirius right now was who was responsible.

He knew.

There was only one person he could think of with the temerity to pull of such a public and vicious execution.

Voldemort.

Although he’d been waiting for this day for longer than he cared to remember, it had still been a rather unexpected reintroduction to the man that had plunged Britain into a state of misery for several years during his rise to power.

This, however, was only the beginning, and Sirius knew it would only get worse from here on out.

The gathered members of staff said nothing.

Somehow, Minerva had found the strength through her grief to see Albus to the Hospital Wing, where he was being watched over by half a dozen aurors who refused to leave him.

In what had been Dumbledore’s office for decades now, they waited for her; the only sound to be heard the quiet sobbing of Hagrid, who was dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief the size of a bedsheet.

“Where is Severus?” Pomona asked.

“I saw him escorting the Slytherins back to the common room,” Filius answered.

When the truth came out, Sirius did not doubt that many of them would eventually be dragged into the war their parents so readily fought in on Voldemort’s behalf, and inevitably, it would once more spill into the school, just as it had back in the seventies.

Sirius could only shake his head at the implications of what was to come, and already, he felt the same way he did back then.

It was Minerva entering the office that stalled his thoughts. The woman was pale and shaking and refused to sit in the chair behind the desk. For a moment, she eyed it before shaking her head.

“The aurors will be arriving to speak with each of us soon,” she informed them. “Arrangements will be made per Albus’s final wishes. I will be sending the students home in the morning. Both Karkaroff and Bagman are dead, and Olympe Maxime is in critical condition in St Mungo’s. I will keep you informed of any further developments.”

“What happens now, Minerva?” Filius asked gently.

The woman swallowed deeply.

“Hogwarts will continue on,” she answered sadly. “Our best way to honour Albus is to carry on the work he dedicated his life to.”

Sirius nodded his agreement, and frowned as Argus Filch entered the office.

Oddly, he did seem to be rather shaken by what had happened. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was holding Mrs Norris tight to his chest.

“Apologies for disturbing you, H-headmistress, but this was stuck to my door,” he explained, handing her a sealed envelope.

Minerva opened it with a frown, that only deepened the more she read the note.

“Severus is gone,” she murmured. “This is his resignation.”

Sirius was not surprised.

If Voldemort was back, Snape would be at the very top of his hit list, or those he wished to welcome back with open arms. Not that it mattered.

Snape had always been a self-serving, selfish, unpleasant git.

That would never change.

“We all know the only reason he remained here was because of Albus.” Pomona pointed out.

“Because Albus is the only reason he did not end up in Azkaban,” Sirius added.

None said anything to the contrary, and Minerva released a deep breath.

“I do not even know where to begin,” she murmured.

“By securing the school,” Sirius urged. “Have the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang returned. I begin arranging the French side of things and get a message to Durmstrang informing them of what has happened.”

“Thank you, Sirius,” Minerva said appreciatively. “I’m just…lost. I do not understand how or why this has happened…”

“No, but we will know the truth,” Sirius comforted. “You’re right. For now, we must continue Albus’s work as best we can, and I’m afraid to say it, but I do not believe Fudge was here as a shoulder to cry on.”

“You cannot possibly think the Minister…”

“Cornelius has all but been waiting for this day,” Minerva sighed. “He has always been of the belief that Albus has too much power, and now he will look to exploit it, along with his cohorts.”

“I will handle them,” Sirius assured the woman, “but we must not give him any reason to think he can interfere here. Everything must be in order.”

“But everything is in shambles,” Filius reminded them. “Albus is gone, Minerva is now the headmistress, and with Severus having left, we are short a Potions master and Transfiguration professor.”

“Well, when you put it like that, Filius,” Sirius muttered thoughtfully. “Minerva, any ideas?”

The woman shook her head.

“No, but we must come up with something.”

Sirius could not agree more, and despite the fact that they were all grieving, none disagreed with the sentiment.

Hogwarts must go on as it had, for the most part, but how they would ensure it did so was another matter entirely.

(Break)

He took in his own reflection as he ran the tips over his cheeks and his nose. It had been so long since he had seen what he once resembled, and though he did not quite look like himself, he did not care.

The Dark Lord had his own body, could use his wand without being exhausted after only a moment, and felt stronger than he ever had.

His hair was flecked with grey, his eyes as red as blood, and skin pale and waxy, but none would mistake him for anyone else.

He removed his wand from his sleeve for the dozenth time since he’d regained his body and simply stared at to for a moment.

The ritual could not have gone any better for him, and all that remained was one last thing.

“Wormtail!” he called.

The snivelling man approached from the shadowy corner of the room, hunched over, and fearful.

"Your arm, Wormtail."

It was trembling uncontrollably, and he whimpered as the Dark Lord pressed a finger against the mark on the inside of his left forearm.

“Now, let us see how many of them answer the call,” he murmured, taking his leave of the house, into the expansive back garden that had belonged to his muggle ancestors.

It took only a few moments before he heard the first swishes of cloaks as his followers began to appear, most undoubtedly looking at him from behind their masks in utter shock.

None, however, spoke, and when he counted most that he was expecting, the Dark Lord stepped forward, his gaze switching from one to the next as he breathed in the scent around him.

Fear.

It was palpable, and each of them reeked of it.

“Thirteen years,” he whispered, “and yet, you come as though it was only yesterday.”

“My lord, had I known, I would’ve been at your side. In your absence…”

“CRUCIO!”

He allowed his anger to consume him for a fleeting second, long enough to bring Lucius to his knees with an agonised scream.

“Your excuse are neither wanted nor believed, Lucius. I do not want you to grovel, I want you to do what you do best.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“But if your loyalty wavers again,” Voldemort continued, leaning in so he could speak in a whisper, “I will cause more suffering than you can begin to comprehend.”

Lucius swallowed deeply as he nodded.

“My lord.”

He met the man’s gaze and held it for several moments, revelling in the fear of one of the most powerful politicians in the country. When he was satisfied, he moved along to each of the others before standing before them once more.

“There are those that are missing who proved themselves loyal to me and our vision. They will be among us soon enough, as will our other allies. There are those that have failed to return. They will be dealt with. Our enemies are many but our mission remains the same. Without the old fool leading them, Britain will fall into our hands. Are there any of you that doubt me? Of course, there is. I can sense it from each of you. What happened to me was merely a setback, an oversight on my part, but one that will not happen again. When Potter is at my mercy, begging for his life, you will see it for yourselves, and then your doubts will become unfounded. You all know what to do.”

He returned to the house where Barty, Wormtail, and Quirinus were waiting for him.

“What now, my lord?” the rat asked.

The Dark Lord frowned thoughtfully and help up a hand as he sensed another presence.

“Come out, Severus. I know you are here.”

The man did so, his expression as unreadable as ever as he bowed to Lord Voldemort.

“My Lord,” he greeted him. “What would you have me do?”

(Break)

“A power the Dark Lord knows not,” Harry spoke, echoing the words of the prophecy.

Having been allowed to leave the Department of Mysteries, he’d returned to Ilvermorny, lost, confused, and worried about what was to come.

With Dumbledore dead, Voldemort already held a significant advantage that had been absent during the first war, and one that might just be insurmountable.

Even so, Harry remained undeterred, as motivated as he’d ever been to see to the end of the man that had murdered his father and attempted to kill him to.

No, nothing had changed for him, not really, but he did not doubt that Britain would suffer now that Voldemort was back.

Not that the Dark Lord was likely to proclaim such.

The Ministry of Magic would carry out their investigation, and Dumbledore’s death would certainly not be attributed to a man that most believed to have been dead for more than a decade. What reason would be concocted to settle the masses, Harry did not know, but for some time, until Riddle truly announced himself, a suitably lie would be provided.

He could only shake his head at the sudden turn of events.

How Voldemort had gotten to Dumbledore was one thing, but managing to kill him was quite the feat.

“Harry, are you in there? Have you heard the news?”

He opened the door to his room to find a panicked Olivia, who breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of him.

“Come one, the others are waiting.”

With a nod, he followed her through the eerily silent corridors of Ilvermorny, and onto the grounds where the rest of his friends were gathered.

“Thank god,” Wendell sighed, pulling him into a tight embrace. “We thought, you know, that you were there.”

“No, I was somewhere else.”

“With Sabine?”

Harry rolled his eyes at the other boy.

“No, but not at Hogwarts. I came back when I heard.”

“So, it is true then?” Isabelle asked.

“I expect so,” Harry murmured. “They wouldn’t print it or announce it if they weren’t certain.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Marisa broke in.

“I don’t know, but this will not end well. Britain is going to be a mess for a while. Dumbledore was the Hogwarts’ headmaster, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. They’ll be asking questions too,” Isabelle explained.

“Not that they will get them,” Harry snorted. “No one has been arrested, and they probably won’t be. Just look at what happened. There is no evidence, and the person that actually killed him is dead, so, there is nothing for the aurors to go on. It will be in the news for a week or so, and then the world will move on.”

“That’s a cynical way to look at it.”

“It is the truth,” Harry said with a shrug. “Just because it is Dumbledore, that doesn’t mean it will be so different than anyone else. If there is no evidence, there is no one to pursue.”

Even if they had the needed evidence, it wasn’t as though it would change anything.

No one was going to be hunting for Voldemort, whether they believe he is dead or not.

He was feared for a reason, and according to the damned prophecy, there was only one person that could stop him.

Harry felt the weight of it bearing down on him.

He despised that there were those that thought of him as a hero, as a saviour of Britain, when in truth, he’d done nothing.

No, it was magic that had intervened that night, that had prevented him from dying, and yet, it wasn’t lost on him that next time, it would truly be in his hands.

Even so, when he thought about it, it changed nothing.

He’d known for years now that Voldemort was still out there, had been waiting for this day to come, and for his opportunity to right the wrongs perpetrated against him and his mother.

If anything, he had gotten what he wished for, and he would make sure that Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, or any other ridiculous name he wished to give himself, would suffer for what he had done.

For now, the Dark lord would undoubtedly be feeling rather smug, rather elated at what he had achieved, but all he had done was clear the path for Harry to get to him.

What he had learned about Dumbledore was that the man was no warrior, and certainly no killer, but when Harry pondered just how he would fight a war against those that had already tried to kill him more than once, he knew he was not like the departed headmaster.

No, Harry would readily kill the Dark Lord and his followers, would become an enemy they never thought they would find themselves facing, and one day, it would come down to him and Tom, and only one would live to tell the tale.

“Harry, are you okay?” Maggie asked worriedly.

“Just tired, but I’ll be fine,” he assured the girl. “I think I’m going to get some rest, and hopefully everything will make a little sense when I wake up.”

He was tired.

He’d been unable to sleep when he’d returned and had spent the night in his room pondering what had happened, what it meant, and what would come next.

War.

No matter what Voldemort decided to do now, it would inevitably lead to war, and for that, Harry was determined to be ready.

(Break)

“Lily, Albus has been killed. I will explain everything when I get home.”

She had received the message hours prior, and ever since, she had been waiting impatiently in the kitchen for Sirius to return. What had happened, she did not for certain.

The release of the news on the radio had alluded to the man being murdered during the third task of the, but the details had been lacking. Even so, it confirmed that this was not just one of Sirius’s pranks.

The revelation of Albus being killed had been playing havoc with her mind. Lily did not wish to jump to any conclusions, but it was impossible to do so knowing what she did.

Voldemort.

Albus’s death had to be something to do with the Dark Lord, which could only mean he was once again ready to terrify Britain with his presence.

How such a thing was possible was another thing she could not begin to comprehend, but when it came to Lord Voldemort, it was unwise to question his ability to what most others could never bring themselves to.

Looking towards the clock, she could see it was almost lunchtime, and getting closer to a full day having passed since Albus had been murdered.

Sirius would undoubtedly be busy tending to Hogwarts, but it was only a few moments later that the exhausted man arrived in the kitchen.

“What happened?” Lily asked immediately.

He shook his head in response.

“No one knows exactly, but he was stabbed by Crouch with some kind of cursed dagger. According to Poppy, it drained him of all of his blood before exploding his heart.”

“What kind of curse…”

“I don’t know,” Sirius murmured, “but you can imagine the uproar. Anyway, I’m only here for a moment. Fudge has already called an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot, and I need to be there. I’ll let you know what else I can learn when I’m back.”

“Harry…”

“I will visit him before the meeting,” Sirius assured her. “For now, I do not want you to leave the house.”

Lily nodded her agreement, and he offered her as comforting a smile as he could muster.

It was strained at best, and did not conceal the haunted look in his eyes.

Whatever had happened must’ve been harrowing to witness, and the aftermath was certainly no easier.

Dumbledore dying would undoubtedly have considerable implications in Britain. There would be those looking to take advantage of it, to fill the sudden power vacuum created, and the seediest of those would now come crawling out of the woodwork.

“Are you okay?” Lily asked.

Sirius shook his head as he released a deep breath.

“No,” he answered honestly. “Things are going to be very different from now on. I’ll explain when I make it back.”

With that, he was gone, and once more, Lily would be waiting for news to reach her. She took a little comfort that Harry was safely within the walls of Ilvermorny, but when it came to the Dark lord, how safe could he be?

Already, he had managed to get to Dumbledore, and it was not so much of a stretch to assume that her son was not as safe as she would like for him to be.

(Break)

From the moment he had realised that Dumbledore had died, he felt a sense of freedom wash over him, a relief that he was no longer beholden to the whims of the man. He’d despised teaching, hated the children that came through Hogwarts over the years he’d been in post.

The castle did nothing but reminded him of his miserable childhood, of how he had lost the one important person to him.

Oddly, however, he had come to respect Albus.

To many, he appeared to a be a dithering old fool, aloof and quite naïve in his own way, but Severus knew better.

Albus Dumbledore was as shrewd and brilliant as the very best of them, and he’d often wondered why the man had not been a Slytherin.

Perhaps that was just how shrewd he was. He’d been able to convince the hat that he would be better served elsewhere, and he’d been right.

Not that it mattered now.

Without Albus, there was no true opposition for the Dark Lord, and he would put no stock in the prophecy he’d overheard.

Harry Potter had gotten lucky as a child, but now, the Dark Lord would take no chances, would overlook not even the finest of details.

The boy would die, and were that to be the end for Severus, he could take comfort in that, but he knew better than any the vow he had given the day he’d received his mark.

Service to the Dark Lord was for life, and attempting rescind on such an honour, meant only death.

If nothing else, Severus had always been a survivor, and if he wished to continue being so, there was only one choice he could make.

He had considered, just for a moment, fleeing Britain, but there was not a person that could hide from his master indefinitely.

Lord Voldemort would always find a way of tracking down those he wished to see dead, and Severus would be no different if he decided to try his hand at hiding.

Perhaps he could avoid him for months, maybe even years, but eventually, he would be caught and his suffering not something he wished to allow his thoughts to linger on. No, he had made the only decision that made sense to him.

Without Dumbledore, there was none to know his betrayal of his first friendship, but it left him inevitably tied to the Dark Lord and his ambitions.

Not that he was so opposed to them.

He may have been a broken-hearted and even bitter young man when he’d sought to join the Death Eaters, but for the first time in his life, Severus felt truly valued, as though he mattered to someone, that his skills were appreciated.

Being a half-blooded Slytherin had not been easy, but he had earned the respect of his peers, so much so that his muggle father had been all but forgotten about.

On his own merit, Severus had climbed the ranks of the Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord had taken notice of him, respected his mastery of potions and the Mind Arts, and gave him purpose.

Learning the man was going to go after the Potters had been quite the revelation to get his head around, but truthfully, him doing so could not have turned out any better, except for the boy somehow surviving the ordeal.

James Potter had been brutally murdered, something Severus wished he could’ve witnessed, but Lily had been spared as he’d begged for.

What he hoped to achieve from her living, he did not know. Maybe he’d been hopeful that she would reach out to her first friend once more for support, that perhaps…

No, he would not allow that thought to prevail.

Any notion Severus had of their friendship ever becoming more had died the day she’d birthed the son of the man he still hated with a burning passion.

He grimaced at the thought as he ran his fingers over the mark that had steadily become more prominent over the past year.

There was no reason to dwell on what may or may never have been.

Severus had made the decisions he had almost two decades prior, and the consequences that came with them had followed them all the way to this very moment.

For the first time in thirteen years, he was once again free, well, as free as any servant of the Dark lord could be.

Even so, this was preferable than the life he’d been living.

At least now, there was no Albus Dumbledore to keep him shackled.

(Break)

She hadn’t sought him out for the sake of learning what he may or may not know about what had happened to Albus Dumbledore. Of course, the man’s fame was considerable in America having been the only man able to defeat Grindelwald; a sore point for the MACUSA, but it was of little interest to Sabine.

No, she had found Harry because she had seen the unmistakeable concern marring his features, and that look of being lost he could not shift.

“Were you close to him?”

“Not really,” he sighed. “I got to know him more recently, and I definitely came to respect, and even like him, but honestly, I don’t think anyone really knows Dumbledore. He is an expert at diverting conversations away from anything he did not wish to discuss but was a brilliant wizard with the very best of intentions.”

Sabine smiled as she took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“It will inevitably change Britain, won’t it?”

“More than you can imagine,” Harry sighed.

“Well, I think I have something of an idea. I may not have been raised at my father’s knee the same way my brothers have, but I know enough. There will be those that will look to someone else to solve their problems, and those that want to be the problem solvers, none of which are of any use to anyone. It is those that want to solve the problems of the world that end up being the cause of it.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Surprised by my cynical view?”

“I am.”

“Well, let me tell you, Mr Potter, that I am not just some brainless, airhead,” Sabine replied with a smirk. “I also know that there will be those that will soon expect more from you. It won’t be so long before you are old enough to take up your seat on the Wizengamot, and you already have a reputation. They will think of you as the next Dumbledore.”

“That is the last thing I want.”

“And that is why you will be a damned good politician, and the right man, because you do not want it. My father always said that the men that do not seek power are the ones that should have it. Surprising, I know, given that he is one of the most power-hungry men you will ever meet, but he is not as stupid as he might seem. You don’t get to be the head of my family if you’re a fool.”

He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, and Sabine gave his hand another squeeze.

“You know more than you are letting on,” she realised. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I am here if you want to talk.”

He offered her an appreciative nod, and just for a moment, it appeared as though he had the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

Perhaps he did.

Britain was now in a position for the first time in many decades that they did not have a strong figurehead to look to, and with Harry on the cusp of manhood himself, his reputation, and growing fame and brilliance, even Sabine could see he would be perfect to fill that void.

“You know, you can always just go into hiding. I’m sure you have the resources for that.”

He actually chuckled amusedly.

“Believe me, I’ve thought about it, but it’s not so simple.”

“It isn’t?”

“No, and as much as I would maybe like to one day, I have responsibilities to my family, and maybe even Sirius’s. Britain needs strong leaders and strong men, more than ever.”

His words were rather ominous, and Sabine suspected they referred to more than the sudden changes. Yes, there was much more to it, and though Harry was keeping rather silent for now, she could see just how much it was playing on his mind.

“It will be okay,” she comforted. “No matter what it is.”

Harry nodded, and once more, she caught a glimpse of something in his eyes. Was it determination? She couldn’t be sure, but it was born of a strength, the very same that a twelve-year-old boy had mustered the deal with her older brothers when they’d accosted him.

Sabine already knew there was much more to Harry Potter than what made him famous, and the more time she spent with him, the more apparent it became.

“Ah, there you are.”

She almost jumped out of her skin from the sudden appearance of the man, who eyed her and Harry curiously.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked immediately.

“Nothing good, but I suppose you will learn all of the details soon enough. I can’t stay long, I just wanted to see how you were holding up.”

“Well enough,” Harry assured him. “Sirius, this is Sabine Van Droombeeld. Sabine, this is my godfather, Sirius Black.”

The man frowned.

“Is this the same girl who’s brothers, well, you know.”

“The very same,” Harry confirmed with a grin. “She’s all trouble this one.”

The man chuckled and Sabine scowled at the boy.

“Just as much as you are then. Sneaking off to London when you’re supposed to be at school…”

He broke off with a pointed look.

“I’m not an idiot, Harry, and I have no intention of keeping you prisoner, but now more than ever, you must be careful.”

“So, it is what I think it is?”

Sirius nodded grimly.

“It’s going to be bad, Harry, but for now, I need your word. I need you to trust me and the others to handle it.”

Once more, it seemed that the boy wished to say more than he was, that his mind was awash with thoughts he would not speak aloud even if Sabine wasn’t here, but instead, he nodded.

“I will, for now,” he agreed.

Sirius offered him a sad smile and squeezed his shoulder.

“Constant vigilance, Harry. An absolute lunatic shared that little pearl of wisdom, and it kept many of us alive. I’ll be in touch soon, and I’m sure you can expect a letter or two from your mother. It was nice meeting you, Sabine. Do try to keep him and yourself out of trouble.”

With a grin, he left, and Harry’s expression shifted once more to one of irritation, and something else she could not quite discern.

“Whatever it is, it will be okay,” Sabine reiterated.

Harry nodded.

“I will make sure of it.”

(Break)

He watched Fudge as he entered the chambers of the Wizengamot. The man looked to be tired, but oddly, given the circumstances, he had something of a spring in his step, as did those accompanying him.

Cornelius was not tired from the grief of losing such an irreplaceable and valued member of their body. No, Sirius did not doubt the man was exhausted from all of the politicking and arse-kissing he’d been doing.

When it came to who would be named the new Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, there was little Sirius could do except offer his own input. No, what worried him was the man’s intentions for Hogwarts.

“I know that it has been a long day, and I apologise for the late hour we find ourselves here, but as I am sure you can all understand, we find ourselves in a rather grave position.”

The members of the Wizengamot murmured their agreement, and Fudge cleared his throat.

“I have spent the day chairing meetings with my closest advisors, and of course, we intend to hold a vote to determine our next Chief Warlock in the coming days. Our main concern, for now, is ensuring that Albus Dumbledore is given a suitable send off, and that Hogwarts is in a position to continue thriving. His absence will undoubtedly be missed.”

Sirius frowned at the man’s words, and he raised his wand, eliciting a look of annoyance from the Minister of Magic.

“You have something to say, Lord Black.”

“I do, and it pertains to Hogwarts. As it has always been, as decreed by the Founders themselves, the school is an autonomous body, separate from the Ministry of Magic. Within this room, we have no mandate or say what is to happen with the school. Any decisions made are to be done so by the governors, and senior members of staff.”

Fudge frowned in response, but it was Lucius that responded.

“As one of the governors, I do have a say, and I have already arranged a meeting between myself and my peers for the morning. I am quite certain they will agree with the suggestions the Minister intends to make.”

“And what suggestions would they be?” Sirius questioned.

Once more, Fudge cleared his throat and consulted a piece of parchment from the stack in front of him.

“Well, firstly, it is in the interest of the Ministry, and of Hogwarts, of course, to ensure that this transitional period runs as smoothly as possible. With that in mind, I will be appointing an advisor, a liaison if you will, between the school and the Ministry. Fortunately, this advisor is more than qualified to teach just about any vacant post. Of course, there so very few that could hope to replace Minerva as the professor of Transfiguration, and Deputy Headmistress, but we do have a candidate ready and willing to step into both position immediately.”

This was exactly what Sirius had been afraid of.

This was no advisory position, as he was framing it to be, but an attempt to plant his own person in the second most powerful position within the school.

“Well, that will not be necessary,” Sirius said dismissively. “The senior members of staff are making necessary arrangements to ensure the school is not affected for when the students return in September.”

“Lord Black, the governors will decide…”

“Nothing,” Sirius cut in. “Decisions have already been made with the backing of the governors.”

“How is that so…?”

“Well, you did not arrive for the meeting, Lord Malfoy,” Sirius said with a smile. “The governors were sent for during the early hours of this very morning.”

“I was in conference with the Minister!”

“Thereby neglecting your duties to the school. As such, you missed what proved to be the most important meeting held in decades. Now, as I was saying, the Ministry input is neither needed nor wanted when it comes to Hogwarts. Any vacant positions have been filled.”

“Impossible!” Lucius returned.

“Well, when something so catastrophic happens, it doesn’t do well to wait around when there is much to be done. Minerva was quite determined to honour Albus’s memory by doing exactly what he would’ve done, despite the grief he was experiencing.”

“Then perhaps you should inform us of what has been decided, Lord Black,” Amelia Bones pressed.

Those gathered murmured interestedly, and Sirius offered the woman a shallow bow.

“Of course. Well, the very first thing was that, considering it was a prominent member of the Ministry of Magic that was responsible for the death of the headmaster, that it was not in the interest of the school to find ourselves in a position that we were not prepared for the students to return. That meant ensuring any vacancies were filled, with the agreement of the governors that did attend the meeting. As such, it was decided that Minerva would continue teaching Transfiguration. It is what she loves, and there is none better than her. I’m sure you will all agree.”

Even those that would disagree with him out of principle could not bring themselves to do so.

Minerva was one of the very best in decades in the art, after all.

“But being the headmistress and teaching will not be easy,” Dolores Umbridge simpered, giggling at her own observation.

“It will not,” Sirius acknowledged, and that is why she has decided to retain both of her current positions. She will still be the Deputy Headmistress along with her regular duties to the school.”

The confusion was quite palpable, and Sirius allowed his gaze to come to rest on Malfoy and Fudge as he spoke once more.

“At of six-twenty-four this morning, I was named as the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with my current position of Defence Against the Dark Arts being taken over by Alastor Moody.”

Stunned silence met the announcement, and Lucius appeared as though he’d swallowed something deeply unpleasant as the realisation of what had happened settled in.

It was not a position he’d wanted to accept but given that his post was the easiest to fill out of those that remained, who did not wish to vacate their positions, he’d been the best option to take over from Dumbledore, for the time being, at least.

None outside of Hogwarts, except likely for Voldemort, knew that Snape had deserted the school, but it would become public soon enough. To that end, Sirius needed to fill his place, and unless he could locate Horace Slughorn, there was only one other person he could think of to do so.

“Impossible,” Fudge murmured. “You cannot be the Headmaster…”

“Well, I am,” Sirius replied with a shrug. “As it has always been, the wishes of the Founders will be respected. There will be no Ministry interference at Hogwarts.”

That was one of the reasons Minerva had all but insisted he take the position.

As a prominent Lord, he was in a position to defend the stance they had taken, and in truth, it was worth it just to see the dumbfounded expressions of Lucius and Fudge, who had undoubtedly been foiled in whatever it was they’d intended to do.

More noticeable still, however, was the look of fury that Dolores Umbridge was unable to hide. Sirius could not believe that Fudge would place someone so unpleasant among the most vulnerable members of society.

She was a bigoted, prejudiced, deeply vile individual who should not even have the Minister’s ear, now more than ever.

Even so, fortunately, the difficult decisions made in the wake of Albus’s death had put an end to whatever ambition Fudge, Malfoy, and their ilk had attempted to pursue.

For now, at least.

This wasn’t over, and there was so much more to come when it would be decided just who would fill the other positions Albus had left behind.

Worse yet, somewhere out there, the Dark Lord was plotting his own war, and those that mattered here with him now, knew nothing about it.