STANDARD DISCLAIMER: Don't own it, can only dream about it and wish that I were in a certain Scottish writer's shoes ... never mind if she's in heels that would kill me.
Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews, alerts and approval of my work. There have been comments made about the general 'shortness' of the chapters and the fact that some chapters could have been longer or should have continued rather than leaving cliffies. I know - it's been a different style of writing for me but the muses dictate what is happening.
I will try for more frequent updates to shape out the story faster but can make no promises. Real life is rearing its ugly head - hope it won't scare the muses away.
Without further ado ...
Chapter Twelve. Fidelius
In the Hogwarts hospital wing, all eyes - except Amelia - were focused on the small demi-goblin who was shifting his eyes from Remus Lupin to Amelia Bones. The latter was trembling, wand gripped tightly in one hand and pointed at the gaping Sirius Black.
Lily Potter had been more than an Auror recruit and member of the Minister's security detail; there were so few women in the force - and even fewer men or women with Lily's intelligence, skill and drive - that Amelia had taken the young woman under her wing. It had been a wrench to let the young woman go into hiding but she'd understood - pregnant and with a madman targeting her (she and James, after all, were among the handful who'd ever gotten the better of the Dark Lord more than once), what else was there to do?
She'd realized last night, after Alastor had shown her the parchment with the Potter's address, the reason why she'd so easily forgotten about her favourite Auror and her lout of a husband. She had promised to keep in touch and visit them when she could - but never did.
It was the way the Fidelius worked - all memory of where they lived was wiped away and she'd simply been too busy with the war … she stopped breathing, as something hit her with the force of a bat to the head. "Minister … Minerva, Filius. Do you remember what I was telling you about earlier … about Moody?"
Filius Flitwick nodded, his stance indicating that he knew where she was going with this. A puzzled Minister of Magic answered, "You were saying something about Moody telling you to meet you in Godric's Hollow …"
"Exactly, although that wasn't exactly what happened." She took a breath. "Moody called and told me to get a team together and get over to Bathilda Bagshot's place. I got the alert team and we floo'd there … he met us and showed us a parchment which said `The Potters live at Godric's Hollow'."
"So?" a clearly puzzled McGonagall asked.
Flitwick spoke, "If Black were the Secret Keeper, Auror Bones could not have told us where the Potters lived, Minerva - not while Black is alive and breathing."
Flitwick rubbed his face, ignoring the puzzled looks of the others except Amelia. "It's the nature of the Fidelius," the Charms Professor began, unconsciously dropping into lecture mode. "The Fidelius is an immensely complex spell involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find - unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it.
"Disclosure is always by the written word - the Secret Keeper has to write it down and show it to those who need the information. He cannot speak of it; neither can those he shared the information with speak of it or even write it out - only the Secret Keeper can.
"In this case, the Keeper - whoever it is - would have given Moody the parchment Amelia mentioned, which was then shown to Amelia and her people which is why they were able to go to the Potters."
"So what?" Remus Lupin growled. "Black must have given Moody the information, which Moody then shared to Madam Bones and the others -"
"But that's it!" Lupin turned a puzzled eye on Flitwick as the latter continued, "Auror Bones could not have spoken about it if Sirius is the Keeper! She said it herself - `The Potters live at Godric's Hollow' - see! I can say the same thing, which means the secret is out!"
"Filius …" Minerva McGonagall began, as she massaged her forehead.
"The only way for Auror Bones to be able to say the `secret' is if the Secret Keeper himself were dead." Flitwick paused to look at the others who were gaping, comprehension beginning to light in their eyes. "After the death of a Secret Keeper, each of the people to whom he or she had confided the secret will become a Secret Keeper. The power of the Fidelius will be diluted as more and more people become Secret Keepers.
"If Black were the Potter's Secret Keeper - and he's here with us, alive and breathing - Auror Bones would not have been able to repeat that specific information. Remember, Moody told her to get to `Bathilda Bagshot's place' - he couldn't tell her to go to Godric's Hollow where the Potters lived.
"Another thing - the news reports on You-Know-Who? They all said that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked the Potters at `an undisclosed location'. There was no mention at all of Godric's Hollow …"
"They do now," Poppy Pomfrey's voice broke in. She joined the meeting with a copy of the Daily Prophet in hand which had a photograph of the Potter's destroyed cottage with the caption clearly stating `Godric's Hollow'. "Although Filius is right - yesterday, it was all about an `undisclosed location', today -" She shrugged.
"So Sirius could not be the Secret Keeper?" The pain and remorse in Remus' voice was difficult to overlook and he slumped in his bed. He looked over to Sirius who was sitting in his chair, tears streaming down his face. "Sirius …"
"It's alright, Remus, old friend. We wanted people to think that I was the Secret Keeper … I was the obvious choice, wasn't I? You weren't told and yet you knew it would be me … it was what we were counting on … everyone, even You-Know-Poo, would think I was the Keeper and would go after me …"
"So who was it, Mr Black?" McGonagall's cold voice interrupted Sirius' rambling.
"Peter Pettigrew."
Heads snapped around at the cold, emotionless voice with the barest hint of murder and mayhem audible beneath it - and eyes widened at the sallow face of Severus Snape, dark eyes burning with frightening hatred, his prominent nose flaring at an unaccustomed rate, his clneched jaw a clear indication of teeth being ground together even as his pale lips were contored in in a feral snarl.
He continued in a harsh whisper that hinted at the iron control the man held on his emotions: "Pettigrew's a Death Eater … Lucius recruited him - how, I do not know; when … I first saw him at a revel a few months ago -"
"PETER WAS A DEATH EATER AND YOU TOLD NO ONE?"
Only the wands jammed beneath their chins stopped Remus and Sirius from charging the seemingly statue-like figure of Severus Snape - only the blazing eyes of Minerva McGonagall and Amelia Bones broke through the red haze of anger the two Marauders had for their arch-enemy.
It was the stonily impassive voice of Snape, however, which served as a bucket of ice-cold water pouring down on the two hot-headed men: "And why should I tell you - either of you?" Snape snarled. "He was your friend … your trusted companion …" His pale lips curled into a sneer as he stared at Sirius - "I owe you nothing …"
"Severus!"
The whip-like tone of the Deputy Headmistress' voice cut through the seeming fugue of the Potion Master's stance - he blinked for a moment before slumping against the wall but they could all hear his agonized whisper: "I tried owling Lily but the owls came back … tried talking to Petunia but was turned away … I told the Headmaster about it and he promised to do something …"
His head snapped up as his dark, beady eyes met Black's - the latter stepping back in surprise at the naked hurt and anger in Snape's eyes - "I'll kill him … wherever the little rat is hiding, I'll find him and KILL HIM -"
"You will do no such thing, Severus Snape! Neither will you, Sirius Black or Remus Lupin!"
It was a wonder that no one was suffering from pulled neck muscles at the frequent, sudden snapping of their heads around the Hospital Wing. This time, all eyes (and heads) were focused on diminutive Filius Flitwick, still standing guard on Harry Potter's bed - his red face and snapping dark eyes moving from person to person even as the scant hair on his head bristled in a way no one had seen before.
"Mister Pettigrew CANNOT be the Secret Keeper -" Flitwick's thin, squeaky voice rose, very much in the manner of a roaring mouse as he overrode their incipient protests - "UNLESS PETTIGREW IS DEAD!"
The squeaky roar made them all stop and blink in surprise - and Flitwick used the opportunity to roar, "WELL? IS PETTIGREW ALIVE OR DEAD?"
"He's verra much alive, Perfesser."
The unexpected voice in the Hospital Wing - loud, rough, booming and echoing - made everyone jump even as heads and hands snapped up and around, eyes and wands tracking on the huge, shaggy haired man in a moleskin overcoat who'd entered the wing.
A split-second later and eyes dropped to the rotund man with heavy jowled cheeks with tears running down, reddened eyes with dark bags beneath and unkempt, blondish hair standing in front of Hagrid, his head barely reaching the half-giant's chest. It took McGonagall and Flitwick a second to recognize their former student - but it was a second too late.
With an inarticulate roar that echoed painfully around the wing, Sirius Black's wand was up - an intense blue beam shooting out of its tip, headed straight for Peter Pettigrew. There was no time for anyone to react or even speak - the spell or curse was straight and true, blasting apart the top of Pettigrew's head and burning straight through the solid mass behind, blasting a fist-sized hole in the middle of Hagrid's bulk and spraying the empty space behind him with a fine mist of blood and bits of burned flesh and moleskin.
The occupants of the Hospital Wing could only gape at the shocked expression on Hagrid's open-mouthed face. Not one of them could move as the gentle half-giant took an unsteady step forward before tipping over like a fallen tree on top of a headless Pettigrew.
All of them would later deny to themselves that the first words heard in the eerily-silent hospital wing were a cold, indifferent "Well, he's dead now." It could only be their imagination, they would all think since none would really want to discuss what had just happened.
In a separate dimension, the shocked silence was broken by a rhythmic thumping that could be heard above the distinctive hum of machinery and air conditioning. Heads - including that of the dark-haired Director of Operations - turned to gape at the blonde head of Destiny Repair's CEO as she banged her head on the low table containing refreshments in front of her.
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