The poor man was babbling. Minerva couldn’t get a word in, no matter how hard she tried.  He kept going on and on, speaking only gibberish. She was going to become insane, if he kept blathering. All she could hear was, “Yaxley- Dolohov- Draco-kdbthm…” Finally, at her wit’s end, she said in her best teacher’s voice, “LUCIUS MALFOY!”

He stopped, to her relief, but the distress on his face did not diminish. Minerva sighed. “First of all, I’d like my wand back.” At his blank face, she realized that he was not at his full mental capacity at the moment. Something must have happened to turn him into this much of a fool, not that he wasn’t, in the first place. Abraxas Malfoy had done his son wonders; he was pretty much a first class idiot. Of course, she was biased – she had always hated the Malfoy family. So why would Lucius choose to come to her? It made no sense whatsoever. Unless…Abraxas meant to call up that debt she owed them…No, it couldn’t be. Abraxas was long gone, having died of dragon pox two years ago. “Speak, Mr. Malfoy. I don’t have all day. And enunciate.”

Lucius took a long, ragged breath. “My father has asked that I speak to you…he insists that you are the most perfect for the job.”

Damn you, Abraxas. I hope you ended up in hell, she furiously thought. “And precisely why do you think I would agree to whatever…shifty… task you might have me do?”

“Fa-Father said that you owe him a Wizard’s Debt,” stuttered Lucius, no longer confident.

“How dare he! I owe him no such thing!” exclaimed Minerva.

“I knew it was hopeless,” muttered Lucius, and turned to go. Minerva, her curiosity peaked, called out, “Wait. Tell me first what you would like me to do…and perhaps I will reconsider. I do owe your father something…just not a Wizard’s Debt, no, something far more precious.”

“Yaxley and Dolohov…the-they…”He choked. Minerva took a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to him. He accepted it, and after regaining some composure, he continued. “They have taken my son, Professor.”

“Your son…Draco? Were you not allied together in your little band of…miscreants?” asked Minerva, having had trouble using another word to depict the Death Eaters. Of course, that word didn’t even cover what havoc they had unleashed on the wizarding world.

“Yes, I mean – no…I renounced the Dark Lord, Professor, before he died. That’s how I was able to keep my place in the Ministry. Yaxley and Dolohov knew this. They kidnapped Draco so that they could control me…”he trailed off, then continued angrily. “The Imperius Curse I could throw off…but my son! The lifeblood of the Malfoy line!”

 Trust Malfoy to think of bloodlines at a time like this, Minerva thought. Nonetheless, she spoke of nothing on her mind, except of the present problem. “And why would you ask me, Mr. Malfoy? Why not Severus? Or Albus?”

“Headmaster Dumbledore doesn’t trust me,” Lucius said, his eyes darkening. “I was only looking for my family’s safety, you must understand. I had no intention of…truly bowing my head to the Dark Lord. Had it not been for my father…”he trailed off again, then picked up his train of thought. “Severus…I can’t find him. He seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. So…you, Professor, are my last remaining hope. Narcissa has fallen apart, and I fear I, too, am close the edge of the cliff…”

Melodramatics, thought Minerva. Just like his father. Why did children feel as if they had to copy their parental units? She shuddered. It was almost like talking to Abraxas all over again.

“Professor?” inquired Lucius softly. But no, this Malfoy was nothing like Abraxas. He was soft, cowardly…but seeming to finally grow a spine. Whether or not it was a good thing remained to be seen.

“I am considering all that you have told me, Mr. Malfoy,” snapped Minerva. Finally, she acquiesced. “Lucius…What do you want me to do?”

He breathed a sigh in relief. His father had been right. She really was a Gryffindor, through and through. “I need to tell you the entire story first.”

“Fine,” she answered. “But I would like my wand first, Lucius. It is very precious to me, you must know.”

“Here,” replied Lucius. “And I’m sorry about earlier…”

“Forget about it. Now tell me. What happened to lead to such tragic unfolding of events?” said Minerva, and she sat down on one of her sofas. Lucius took a seat in front of her, on the divan.

“Earlier this year…Yaxley and Dolohov approached me with the prospect of entering the black market,” he said, his hands shaking. “In the area of…exporting children. No, I suppose I might as well give you the correct term: child enslavement. Of course, not all children were sold as…slaves, some families preferred to adopt the child without the hassle of going through the government. I, of course, refused, having a child and knowing how much pain it would cause to take another’s. I should have stopped them! But I was too much of a coward…”

His shoulders shuddered, but he forged on. “I didn’t, needless to say. Earlier this year…they encountered a mishap, a set-up by the Aurors, and Nott and Goyle were caught. Knowing that the two of them would give Yaxley and Dolohov up, the two of them kidnapped my son in exchange for their release. I did so…but they still haven’t given me back my son!”

He collapsed back, exhausted. “It has to do with Potter’s boy. ‘Else they would have given my Dragon back.”

Minerva gasped. This was a task for Albus. Then, an idea came into her head. If Albus saw how well she accomplished this, perhaps he’d see her in a better light? Making up her mind, she said, “And what do you want me to do, Lucius? I can’t very well take on two healthy, albeit idiotic, men. You know that as well as I do.”

“Yes, but you can tip off the Aurors to their location. I-I’ve found them, but I can’t find my son!” his anguish tore into Minerva, who knew full well what it was to lose a son.

“All right. That, I can do. I am still on good terms with Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt…who else is in that department? Oh yes, Rufus Scrimgeour,” she added, the revulsion coming out in her tone. She had never liked that man. Ever.  “In fact, we could talk to them today.”

“You can, as soon as I leave. I don’t want to be seen by them. Bad memories, you see, especially Moody,” said Lucius. “And I have to see to Narcissa. I don’t really trust the house elves. I’ll be seeing you then, Professor.”

The he tossed Floo powder into the fireplace, and called, “Malfoy Manor!” And he was gone, leaving behind a very befuddled Minerva McGonagall.

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 Severus awoke with a start. He had one very hyper child bouncing up and down on him. He pulled on his best Snape face and sneered at the child. “Now what do we have here? A very naughty child, eh?”

Harry giggled. He loved it when his father teased him. “No,” he replied. “A vewwy vewwy goo’ child.”

“No,” roared Severus. “I see a very naughty child indeed, bruising poor Severus.”

“No, Dada, me goo’!”

“Well, we’ll see about that!” Severus tossed Harry into the air, and caught him. “What do you say now, you little daredevil?”

Harry was laughing hard now. Severus smiled. How could he not, when just days ago, Harry had been afraid to even be touched, much less smile. “No, Dada, me goo’!”

“Oh, really?” And Severus started tickling Harry. “What do you say now, scamp?”

Harry screamed with laughter. “Stop, Dada, stop! Me bad, me bad!”

Severus kissed the child with delight. “I love you, Harry.” He held the child close as Harry started to calm down. Then he heard a little voice in his ear, saying, “Dada, can we ha’ bweakfas’?”

“Yes, I’ll go cook it now. You have to brush your teeth, put on your clothes, and brush your hair first though. I’ll call you when it’s time to eat, all right, little imp?” asked Severus affectionately. The boy was growing on him.

“Yesh, Dada. Me go!” he replied, then ran up the stairs. Severus sighed. “No stomping, young man, or else I’ll tickle you again!”

He heard the little giggles above, and he smiled. Hmmm…what would Harry like for breakfast? Something nutritional…something that would help him gain back the proper weight, and size. Harry seemed to like everything Severus gave him. He definitely wasn’t a picky eater. But…he wasn’t eating enough, and that worried Severus. So for days, he had been adding in a nutrition potion into his apple juice. He finally made up his mind. He would make toast, scrambled eggs, and have Harry eat half an orange. And of course, the apple juice.

Severus loved cooking the Muggle way. To him, it was almost as enjoyable as brewing a potion. In a way, they were very similar. Severus finished in a record of five minutes, but he left everything on the stove, to remain warm, and decided to peruse the newspaper. Nothing new, really. The Daily Prophet was quite useless; everyone knew it was Ministry controlled. But the other options were even worse, including Xenophilius’s The Quibbler. How he hated the filth in today’s news!

Fifteen minutes ticked by. Worried, Severus looked up. He hadn’t heard from Harry in a while. Had something happened? He ran up the stairs, crossing his fingers desperately. To his surprise, Harry was in trouble. But not in a bad sort of way. No, he was in trouble with Severus. And Severus had no idea what to do.

Harry had decided to play with water. Play perhaps, is not the most efficient word. No, Harry had proceeded to drench the entire room with water. The only thing keeping the place intact was the anti-flooding charms.

“HARRY POTTER! What have you DONE?!?” roared Severus. “I only asked you to brush your teeth…”

“An’ dress an’ pu’ on cwothes an’ brush hair,” replied little Harry cheekily.

“I will not tolerate impudence from you, young man,” Severus said, turning into the harsh taskmaster his students were used to. “Now, tell me, what possessed you to create such a…disaster?”

Harry gulped. He had never seen his Dada so mad before…and he sounded like Uncle Vernon! “No, don’-don’ hit me!” He curled up in a ball, and started to cry.

“Oh, Harry,” said Severus softly, seeing that he had frightened the child. “Harry, remember what I said before? I will never, ever hit you. Ever. Do you hear me, Harry? Oh, Harry.” He pulled the child on to his lap. He should have been paying attention to his tone. He knew Harry was sensitive!

“Dada still love me?” asked Harry, sucking on his thumb.

“Yes,” Severus replied. “Dada still loves you…very much.” And with that, the letter addressed to Professor McGonagall was forgotten…and it would never be sent. Severus was keeping the child.

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Remus Lupin was nervous. He almost felt like he was the one entering Azkaban. Technically, he was, but only as a visitor. Still, it made him no less panicky. Had Sirius felt like this? Remus almost let his bladder go. Had Sirius trembled in fear at the prospect of living the rest of his life here in this hellhole?

Albus Dumbledore could feel Remus’s anxiety. He felt the same, though he was more reserved than the younger man. He wondered why it was taking Amelia so long; they had waited here for half an hour. Hadn’t she said that everything had been processed beforehand? But that wasn’t the only reason that made him agitated. No, he didn’t really want to see the injustice served upon Sirius three years ago. He wanted to disconnect from this reality, and refuse to see his mistakes. But all men must face justice at one point or another in his life; here was his, no matter that it was poetic justice. Finally, Amelia Bones returned, huffing, as if returning from a sprint.

“They’ve had some trouble with the Dementors this morning,” she said. “But they’ve got it under control, so our tour can proceed as planned.”

“Thank you, Amelia. So may we set off?” asked Dumbledore. “I’m eager to put this behind us…and search for any clues regarding Sirius Black.”

“Why, yes. But you’ll need to put on these visitor tags,” said Amelia. After the three of them had put them on, she led the way – into the prison, Azkaban.

The front foyer of the prison was almost as sterile as the foyer of a hospital. The same stench of despondency, and the impersonality of it all struck Remus. As a werewolf, he was attuned to people’s feelings through his heightened sense of smell. The lack of hope almost crippled him. Oh, Sirius, he thought. They registered their names in the guestbook, and walked down, all the way to Cellblock X, where only the lifers resided. The very first cell was Sirius’s, for which Remus was extremely grateful for. He wouldn’t have to see Dementors today.

Amelia wove to the front to unlock the cell. With a clank, the door opened, and Remus caught the scent of something…no, he could see the scene unfolding before his eyes. The scene of Remus’s last hour in this cell. All the little actions, the last meal…it was all there. He hadn’t known his heightened senses would affect him so…as he crumpled, he could barely hear the shouts of Dumbledore and Madam Bones.