Ariadne's Thread ⭒ h. potter

Every Last Bit of Him

"Ariadne," a voice said gently. Something nudged her calf, and Ariadne jerked her leg away. The movement caused the thin sheet to fall over the edge of the bed, and she shivered at the change in temperature.

Bed?

Ariadne opened her eyes and sat up at once, gasping to find Professor Dumbledore sitting patiently at the foot of her bed. His half-moon spectacles twinkled under the moon, the only source of light in the Hospital Wing emanating through the windows, but the expression on his face was grim. "Professor?"

"Ariadne," Professor Dumbledore repeated, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "You're in the Hospital Wing. Your arm was fractured and you received a deep cut to your thigh. You were found at the castle entrance; you nearly bled out. Madam Pomfrey managed to heal you in time, but we were not certain..." Professor Dumbledore trailed off, waiting for Ariadne to meet his gaze. "Tell me, Ariadne," he spoke seriously, "was the curse cast at your father's hand?"

"My father's innocent," Ariadne said quickly, jerking out of Dumbledore's grip and watching for any change in his expression to see if he thought her mad. He did not react. "He is, Professor, you've got to believe me. He wouldn't hurt me, not on purpose anyhow. I'm not sure who cast the spell. I was caught in the crossfire. It was the three of them, Lupin, Snape, and my father, and I'm not sure who did what, but–"

Ariadne cut herself off, for Professor Dumbledore shut his eyes tightly at her words. She watched as he swallowed, and although she allowed him a moment, they did not have the time to waste any longer.

"He's innocent," she repeated. "Peter Pettigrew is alive. He's an Animagus – a rat. It's how he's managed to stay hidden. I saw transform him with my–" Ariadne looked around wildly, craning her neck for a better view. She was in the bed second from the door, and while Harry was to her left, only Hermione, Ron, Lupin and Snape occupied the beds to the right of her. The rest of the Wing was empty.

"Where's Pettigrew?" she asked Dumbledore urgently, loudly, uncaring of who might wake. "Where's my father?"

"Listen to me very carefully, Ariadne," said Professor Dumbledore, and though his tone was no less urgent, it was also very soft. "I have spoken with your father. He has provided me with the same version of the events that have unfolded tonight, as well as the events that unfolded twelve years ago. But your father does not have a shred of proof outside of the words of you and your friends, and it simply is not enough. I testified against your father myself that he was the Potters' secret keeper, and a street full of muggles corroborated Pettigrew's murder at your father's hands."

"Professor Lupin–" Ariadne interjected, but Dumbledore did not allow her to continue.

"Professor Lupin is widely known as your father's best friend," Dumbledore spoke tersely, and Ariadne felt at once both very young and very old to be spoken to so frankly by the headmaster. "And he is a werewolf, for that matter, and as unfortunate is it may be, his testimony thus counts for naught."

"Perhaps Professor Snape," tried Ariadne desperately, but even as she spoke the words she knew that the attempt was in vain. Dumbledore shook his head.

"Professor Snape has a grudge against your father that goes far beyond this night's events," he said, and Ariadne nodded, recalling what Snape had spewed at her father and Lupin about attempted murder.

"He will not defend Sirius," said Dumbledore candidly. "His judgment is clouded by a boyhood grudge. And Peter Pettigrew is nowhere to be found. If he has not been spotted around the castle yet, it is likely that he has long escaped. You and Ron were found at the entrance of the castle, broken handcuffs attached to each of your arms. He's gone, Ariadne, and there's very little time before Minister Fudge sees to it that your father receives the Kiss. Sirius's escape has been a blight on Fudge's office, and he will want to see it corrected, guilty or otherwise."