Dumbledore's gaze passed over the gathered crowd and came to rest on the blood-soaked, trembling werewolf crouched in the corner. His brows furrowed slightly, and he lifted a hand.
At once, all the curtains in the cabin snapped shut with a soft whoosh. Even the wide lookout window at the front of the captain's room fogged over with thick mist, sealing out the cold moonlight beyond.
"James, Sirius," the Headmaster's voice was calm as ever, steady and reassuring. "What exactly happened here?"
Before the trembling-lipped James could form an answer, Mundungus, who had been half-ignored until now, leapt forward from the edge of the crowd. He pushed his way toward Dumbledore, speaking in a shrill, self-satisfied tone.
"Professor Dumbledore!" he cried, pointing a grimy finger toward the towering werewolf. "It was me! I found them when I was patrolling the lower deck! That thing, that werewolf, it killed one of our prisoners!
"Right there, in the holding chamber! It was, well, you should've seen the scene-" Mundungus stopped mid-sentence, casting a doubtful glance at the unnaturally subdued, even shivering, werewolf. His tone wavered.
"Don't be fooled by how harmless he looks now..." Then, raising his voice again, "He was ferocious! Took everything I had to subdue him!"
"Which prisoner?" Dumbledore's eyes sharpened, the gentle aura around him vanishing in an instant, replaced by an almost tangible pressure. He turned to Mundungus, his voice firm. "Is he alive? What was his name?"
Mundungus recoiled under the weight of Dumbledore's presence, shrinking back like a chastised child.
"P-professor," he stammered, swallowing hard. "He's... he's dead. Dead beyond doubt... It, it was Peter Pettigrew."
"Peter?" The composure vanished from Dumbledore's face. "Peter Pettigrew? Why was he a prisoner aboard the ship?" His eyes swept over the pale faces of James and Sirius before settling on Professor McGonagall.
McGonagall inhaled deeply and stepped forward, sorrow heavy in her expression. "Albus," she said softly, "much has happened while you were unconscious..."
She began recounting everything that had transpired during his absence, their departure from the Founders' Ark, Pettigrew's betrayal, his defection to the Death Eaters, his role in the murder of James's parents, and the loss of the Invisibility Cloak.
At the mention of the Cloak, Snape noticed a sharp flash in Dumbledore's eyes behind his half-moon spectacles. His brow tightened, and a distinct shadow of concern crossed his face, not just surprise, but deep, grave worry.
Around them, murmurs rippled through the members of the Order of the Phoenix who were hearing this for the first time, whispers of disbelief, anger, and shock.
Dumbledore raised his hand once more, and silence fell.
"Please, everyone, calm yourselves," he said. "You've all done enough for today. I want everyone to return to your cabins and rest. Tomorrow at breakfast, I'll meet with you all to assure everyone that I am well."
"As for what you've seen and heard here tonight," he added with subtle emphasis, "I must ask that you keep it confidential for now. I will handle the matter appropriately." He turned to Moody. "Alastor, please inspect the scene."
Though still full of questions, and some, like Professor Flitwick, visibly hesitant, the group obeyed under Dumbledore's steady gaze.
They murmured quietly among themselves as they departed, with Moody herding a protesting Mundungus out last.
When the door closed, only Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, James, Sirius, and the silent, slumped werewolf remained.
"Severus," Dumbledore said, turning toward Snape. "I'll speak with you privately after I've handled this situation." Seeing that Snape made no move to leave, he raised an eyebrow. "Unless... you have something to do with all this?"
"Of course not, my dear Professor," Snape replied, his tone edged with irritation. He had no intention of letting James and his friends dominate the explanation. The matter, after all, should be clarified by him alone.
"I simply happened to contribute a small measure of... assistance to certain endeavors." He reached into his robes and drew something out.
A shimmering silver-grey fabric cascaded from his hands like liquid light, the Invisibility Cloak, scorched and punctured by a blackened hole from a goblin-forged dagger.
"Professor," Snape said, holding it up for all to see, "look at this."
"While you, through your own reckless decisions, forced Mr. Riddle to abandon his original hiding place in that seaside cave and then saw fit to take an extended slumber, I, unlike some, did not spend my time sulking or idling away the hours."
At the sight of the once-pristine Potter family heirloom in such a damaged state, James's mouth fell open. He took an involuntary step forward, but Sirius's hand caught the edge of his robe, halting him.
James froze. He stared at the hole in the Cloak, lips pressed tightly together, then stepped back without a word.
Dumbledore, however, kept his gaze fixed on the Cloak, expression grave.
After a long moment, he nodded slowly. "You have done extraordinarily well, Severus. Better than I could have imagined."
He looked up, sweeping his eyes across Snape, McGonagall, and the others present. "I owe you all, Severus, Minerva, and everyone aboard Hogwarts, an apology.
"If not for your loyalty, courage, and quick judgment, my arrogance and unilateral actions might have caused irreversible consequences."
He gave a brief bow, his eyes lingering meaningfully on Snape.
Straightening, Dumbledore turned to James and the others. "Now, children, tell me exactly what happened down below tonight."
"I..." James lifted his head, eyes red beneath his dark fringe. "I..." He glanced briefly at Snape, who returned only a cold, indifferent stare. James lowered his gaze again, his hair falling back over his eyes.
"Tonight, I wanted to..." His voice shook. "To avenge my parents. To kill that filthy traitor. I waited until the house-elves changed shifts and slipped down there quietly..."
He paused, breathing unevenly. "But I didn't expect Sirius and Remus to follow me." His shoulder brushed Sirius's, both of them staring down.
Dumbledore exhaled heavily through his nose, like a sigh made of disappointment.
"And then?" he prompted.
"Then..." James's voice fell to a whisper. "I opened the cell door. I raised my wand at him, at Pettigrew, but Sirius and Remus tackled me from behind. We fought. They tried to stop me..."
"But the cell had a narrow window," he choked out. "The moonlight hit Remus, and he, he transformed. He lunged at Peter, bit him, and Peter screamed... that's when Mundungus came running..."
When James finished, Dumbledore turned calmly to the corner, where the werewolf whimpered softly upon hearing his name.
"Severus," Dumbledore asked quietly, "I trust you've been providing Remus with the proper dose of Wolfsbane Potion?"
"Of course, Professor," Snape replied evenly, without a hint of emotion. James and Sirius, however, stiffened slightly at his words.
"However," Snape continued smoothly, "according to the seminal paper published by Damocles in The Practical Potioneer, the Wolfsbane Potion's efficacy is not absolutely consistent. There can be minor fluctuations and rare failures, can't there, Professor? I believe this was simply a matter of probability."
"Perhaps," he mused, "at the very instant the moonlight struck Remus through that narrow window, the active components in his system happened to dip momentarily below stability, resulting in this regrettable, accidental loss of control."
James and Sirius exchanged a quick glance of relief, their tense hands unclenching.
"Yes," Snape tilted his head slightly, as though pondering a scholarly curiosity. "An interesting anomaly. I might even collect some data and publish my own paper on these extreme cases in The Practical Potioneer-"
"That will do, Severus. I understand," Dumbledore interrupted gently but firmly. His eyes conveyed full comprehension of Snape's underlying message. "I'll conduct a thorough investigation and proceed according to-"
"According to what, Professor?" Snape cut him off coolly. "What laws do you mean?
"The same laws enforced by the Ministry and the Wizengamot, those now under Voldemort's control, used to persecute the innocent and brand us as fugitives?
"If so, shall we turn this ship around right now and hand ourselves in? Perhaps they'll reward our cooperation with a fair trial, and the privilege of a Dementor's embrace?"
Dumbledore faltered, waving a hand in weary resignation, half exasperated, half understanding.
"Enough, Severus," he said. "You're right. I know the situation."
Snape nodded solemnly, his tone deepening.
"Yes, Professor. I'm glad you do. Things have been dire while you slept.
"These days, we've been like hunted dogs drifting through the sky, barely surviving.
"Once, Death Eaters even traced the Founders' Ark and attacked us. The battle was fierce. Many of our comrades were captured, sent to Azkaban, fates uncertain."
Dumbledore sighed deeply, guilt and sorrow etched across his face.
"You've suffered far too much," he murmured. "All of you... because of me..."
"It's all right, Professor. We don't blame you."
Snape's tone softened slightly, then grew steady again. "For the sake of the students, and to protect the members of the Order, we've had to take certain unconventional measures, actions in the gray areas, so to speak."
"Thankfully, the outcome has been good," he continued, standing tall. "I can report, with pride, that every person we evacuated from Hogwarts is safe and unharmed. Well, except for Peter Pettigrew.
"But the point is, under these extraordinary circumstances, the extraordinary means we've employed for survival and eventual victory... I trust you understand, don't you, Professor?
"Without your guidance, facing Voldemort's unprecedented power, everyone's nerves have been stretched to breaking. Everything we've done has been to protect as many innocent lives as possible."
Dumbledore was silent for a long moment. His gaze passed over James and Sirius's bowed heads, the pitiful figure of Lupin in his monstrous form, and the deep shadows beneath McGonagall's eyes.
"I believe I understand," he said at last, nodding slowly. "In times of mortal peril, we cannot cling blindly to laws that have already been corrupted.
"Necessity demands flexibility. Survival itself becomes wisdom. Rest assured, I may be old, but not so senile as to mistake principle for folly. I understand the choices you've made."
Hearing that, Snape exhaled inwardly in relief, though his face remained composed. The moment he most dreaded had passed.
"All right," Dumbledore said, sounding tired now. "Let's end this for tonight." He turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, please see to it that the three of them are settled. Give them a calming draught and rest."
"Remus," he added, looking kindly toward the werewolf, "you'll have a separate room. Even with Wolfsbane, please stay inside during the full moon. For everyone's safety."
Lupin lowered his great head, whimpering softly, nodding several times in obedience.
As McGonagall motioned for James, Sirius, and Lupin to follow her out, footsteps echoed from the corridor, measured and unhurried, drawing nearer.
A moment later, the door clicked open, and a voice tinged with mild impatience entered the room.
"Why wasn't Dumbledore in the infirmary? Where have you-"