"Please, sit down. You've come to see me for answers, haven't you?" Dumbledore invited, his voice gentle, gesturing to a comfortable armchair near the fireplace.
Anduin nodded, sinking into the chair. "Yes, Headmaster. I have so many questions that feel impossible to reconcile."
Dumbledore's eyes were filled with profound sadness. "I take full responsibility for the failure of the security measures. My own faith was misplaced, and for that, I am deeply sorry. Ask whatever troubles you, Anduin."
Anduin leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly. "How is Sirius Black now? What happened when the Aurors questioned him? Did he confess?"
Dumbledore sighed, a sound like wind through dry leaves. "Sirius Black offered no defense for his actions after his capture. He was charged with the murder of Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles, and the betrayal of the Potters. He was swiftly taken to Azkaban."
Anduin felt a fresh wave of disbelief. "But, Headmaster, that makes absolutely no sense! A man who committed treason and mass murder wouldn't simply surrender his most prized possession—his motorcycle—to the very man tasked with taking the surviving child away. It's illogical! Was he being controlled? Was he coerced somehow?"
"Logic often fails us in the face of human emotion and dark magic, Anduin," Dumbledore murmured.
"Sometimes, the most painful reality is the cold, hard truth of betrayal. Nobody knows precisely why Sirius Black made the choices he did. It is a source of immense anguish for the Order, but we must accept the facts as they presented themselves: he was the Secret Keeper, and he handed the secret over. I regret having to tell you this, but it is the truth, however cold."
Anduin bowed his head, accepting the Headmaster's finality. If Dumbledore, the man who trusted everyone and saw the good in the darkest souls, was convinced, then Anduin's doubts were simply the remnants of a destroyed friendship.
"May I see him?" Anduin asked, looking up, desperation in his eyes. "I want to hear it from him. I need to understand his choice."
"I'm afraid that is impossible," Dumbledore said gently. "Azkaban is perhaps the most secure, and most dangerous, place in the magical world. It is guarded by creatures that strip the soul of hope, and access is strictly limited. Only high-ranking Ministry officials, Aurors stationed there, and very few others are permitted entry. Perhaps,"
Dumbledore paused, allowing a small, encouraging smile to break through his sadness, "if you work diligently and achieve great standing in our world, you might one day earn the privilege to ask him the answer yourself."
Anduin nodded, understanding that Dumbledore was giving him a purpose, a goal to strive for instead of just letting him wallow in grief. "I understand, Headmaster."
"Good. Always look forward, Anduin. The world is safer now, and you have great potential to shape its future." Dumbledore changed the subject slightly. "You were a close friend of the Potters, and I believe you will want to say your own farewells. Their funeral is being arranged. It would be appropriate for you to attend and bid them goodbye."
"Funerals," Anduin repeated flatly, the summer's constant exposure to death resurfacing. He then remembered his primary concern. "One more thing, Headmaster. Where is Harry? Is he truly safe? The Dark Lord is gone, but what about his followers?"
"Fear not, the boy is in a completely secure location, hidden by layers of magic I myself have reinforced." Dumbledore leaned forward conspiratorially.
"Lily's sacrifice—the powerful protective spell she cast when she faced the Dark Lord—was what allowed Harry to survive the attack. That innate bond of sacrifice created an ancient magic. I have amplified that protection, and now, no one will be able to find him. Not Death Eaters, and not even the Ministry. He is safe."
Anduin felt a wave of relief. This was the detail that mattered most. "Thank you, Headmaster."
"And finally, regarding the man you just attempted to hex in the corridor," Dumbledore said, a flicker of amusement returning to his eyes. "Severus Snape. You are correct that he was a Death Eater, but he has been our informant for some time. All you need to know is that his hatred for the Dark Lord is now absolute and sincere. He has been providing us with vital intelligence all this time."
Anduin's eyes widened. "So, the intelligence you received about the near-attack last Christmas—was that from him as well?"
"Indeed," Dumbledore confirmed simply. "Severus is trustworthy. You will, in fact, be spending a significant amount of time with him in the coming years, so I suggest you try to maintain a… diplomatic relationship with the Professor."
Spending a lot of time with him? Anduin frowned internally, choosing not to voice his confusion over Dumbledore's cryptic statement. He simply accepted the information about the spy. It was plausible; Dumbledore always had an inside source.
"I understand, Headmaster. I apologize again for the trouble I caused." Anduin stood up, his mind struggling to process the flood of information. He now had the official narrative: Lily and James were dead, Harry was safe under powerful protection, and Sirius was a traitor locked away.
He left the office, his initial anger replaced by a cold, analytical suspicion. He had been an observer of this world before, and he knew the official narrative didn't always align with the truth.
What if Dumbledore's certainty is protecting a larger secret? Why would Sirius, a man of such intense loyalty, give up his life and his most prized possession?
Anduin pulled the crumpled magical photograph from his pocket—the one taken during Christmas at the Potters' house. He frowned at the image of the happy, laughing Potters, and Sirius Black's arrogant, grinning face next to James.
"Did you truly betray them, Sirius? Or is Dumbledore wrong? Or perhaps… is there something he doesn't want me to know?" Anduin vowed to himself. He needed to find the real events of Sirius's last six months before his arrest. He needed to satisfy his own sense of justice, even if the rest of the world had already moved on.
He spent the rest of the day in a haze of suspicion and speculation, attending classes but absorbing nothing. His peers were wild, the sudden cessation of the war having unleashed a frenzied, chaotic energy. The professors, too relieved to chastise them, mostly let the excited students celebrate.
That evening, Anduin, following Dumbledore's advice, attended the celebratory dinner in the Great Hall. The atmosphere was electrifying. Dumbledore rose, his voice echoing through the newly silent hall, and delivered the announcement that stunned Anduin entirely.
"...And so, the greatest challenge of our time has passed. But life at Hogwarts continues, and with it, the pursuit of knowledge. With Professor Slughorn's well-deserved retirement, I am pleased to announce that our newest member of staff, who has served us all in ways you cannot yet imagine, will be taking up the role of Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House!"
Dumbledore beamed, gesturing to the entrance.
"Please welcome, Professor Severus Snape!"
The roar of applause from the Slytherin table was immediate, but Anduin was frozen solid. The information crashed into his previous encounter like a meteor.
Professor Snape.
Potions Master.
Head of Slytherin House.
In other words, that morning, fueled by righteous anger and a devastating misunderstanding, Anduin had:
Violently dueled his new Head of House.
Nearly incapacitated his new Potions Professor.
Utilized an incredibly destructive, Transcendent-level power on him.
Anduin slumped back onto the bench, burying his face in his hands. He had not just caused trouble for the Headmaster; he had nearly committed an act of magical fratricide against his new Dean on his very first day back at work.