"Alastor, keep watch by the door," Dumbledore murmured quietly.
Moody gave a curt nod and positioned himself in the corridor, his wand-hand steady on his staff, sweeping his gaze across the shadows.
At the cell entrance, Dumbledore raised his wand. With a subtle flick, the iron bars unlocked and parted without a sound.
He and Snape stepped inside. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the heavy door swung shut behind them as if pushed by an unseen hand. All sound from the corridor vanished.
The cell was silent. In one dimly lit corner, a frail shape lay slumped, barely breathing.
Hokey the house-elf sat curled up in the gloom, listless and unmoving. She was so small she could have easily slipped through the iron bars, yet she made no effort, her will long since withered.
Dumbledore approached her, knelt down, and studied her for a long moment.
Then, with a gentle motion, he pointed his wand at her. A faint green mist poured from the tip, wrapping softly around Hokey's wasted body.
The effect was immediate. Her emaciated frame seemed to plump slightly with restored vitality, and her fingers gave a small twitch. Her long lashes quivered like dying leaves clinging to a branch.
Before her eyes could fully open, Dumbledore cast another spell—a wash of golden light that melded into the green mist and brightened it.
Hokey's eyes fluttered open. Wide and brown as tennis balls, they were clouded and heavy with grief. Tears welled instantly, running down her grimy cheeks and carving clean tracks through the dirt.
"M'lady…" Hokey whispered in a hoarse, trembling voice, "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…"
She reached weakly toward Dumbledore, trying to crawl closer, but her limbs gave out beneath her frailty.
"Stay there, Hokey," Dumbledore said, his voice like a warm shawl. He turned to Snape and held up a hand for silence. "I don't blame you. I know you didn't mean to.
"It's been too long since I've seen you. Without you, my days have fallen into complete disarray. So I came to visit."
"I know you've suffered here," his tone turned quieter still, more tender, "and I still miss the days you took care of us."
"M'lady…" Hokey gasped, her chest heaving, "I've missed you too…"
Another wave of mist, rich with restorative energy, enveloped her, and her breathing slowly steadied.
"Hokey," Dumbledore said gently, meeting her eyes, "do you remember the day Tom Riddle visited us?"
"I remember, m'lady," she murmured. "He brought you roses. He was so handsome… so polite. He made you smile."
"And what happened after?" Dumbledore asked.
"After…" Hokey's voice quaked again, and her body trembled with fresh terror. "I'm sorry, m'lady! I thought it was sugar… I didn't mean to…"
"It's all right, Hokey," Dumbledore soothed. "You're forgiven. But now, I need to see your memories. Will you look into my eyes and open your heart?"
"Yes, m'lady," she whispered. "Hokey lives to serve you."
She strained to lift her head and gazed up into his eyes, filled with sorrow and longing.
Dumbledore leaned forward, his pale blue eyes shining behind half-moon spectacles, locking onto hers with calm intensity.
He placed the tip of his wand gently to her temple, and slowly drew forth a strand of memory—neither gas nor liquid, but a silver-blue thread that shimmered in the gloom.
With care, he uncorked a narrow crystal phial and guided the memory inside. Once sealed, he tucked the bottle into the inner pocket of his robes.
Hokey exhaled softly and closed her eyes, drifting into sleep. Her face, once scrunched with pain, now bore a fragile peace.
Straightening, Dumbledore turned to leave.
Snape watched him, then glanced back at the sleeping house-elf. "Professor," he said, "if she didn't do it… shouldn't we get her out of Azkaban?"
Dumbledore paused and turned. His expression was strange—half bemused, half sad.
"Severus," he said quietly, "you are so young. Yet I've never once taken you for someone so naive as to ask that sincerely. Are you?"
Despite the rebuke, Dumbledore's voice remained calm as he explained, "If a soul leaves Azkaban that wasn't officially recorded, the Dementors will notice. And trying to exonerate her now… it would draw Tom's attention.
"But at least… Hokey will feel that her mistress has forgiven her. That is something, isn't it?"
Of course. It was not the kind of sentiment Dumbledore would ever voice to Harry in the future—but here, to Snape, he offered a truth as cold and practical as the sea.
Snape clenched his jaw. "Yes. I understand, Professor. Sometimes sacrifices are necessary, if the goal is to defeat a greater evil."
Dumbledore's footsteps faltered slightly as he stepped through the cell door, then resumed their pace.
Snape allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. At least, when it came to his students, the headmaster's temper was more forgiving than it might seem—so long as the misstep wasn't fundamental.
Still, he made a mental note: at the right time, he'd make it clear that he was entirely Dumbledore's man. One couldn't play with fire without declaring a side.
The three wizards made their way back through the dark halls of Azkaban.
Moody's wand flicked constantly, sweeping away traces of their passage, masking their intrusion from the eyes of future Ministry inspections.
Just before they reached the dock, Snape paused. "Professor," he asked, "that Dementor my Patronus destroyed… is that going to be a problem?"
"Dementors are non-beings," Moody replied gruffly before Dumbledore could. "They breed endlessly. No one knows how many exist. Not even they do."
"Well then," he added with a grunt, "enough dawdling. We're not staying for dinner."
The small boat pushed away from Azkaban and began its journey back across the grey waters.
Once ashore, Moody departed with the slack-jawed attackers in tow, dragging them off toward the mainland.
Dumbledore took Snape's arm, and with a sharp crack, the two vanished—reappearing just outside the gates of Hogwarts.
Inside the headmaster's office, the Pensieve already awaited them, swirling with silver memory, the threads of the past ready to reveal their secrets.