Janus Reynard had once dreamed of becoming an Auror. From the time he was a small child, till he grew to be a scrawny, ginger-haired youth, it had been the one thing he had most wanted: to track and capture dark wizards. But when that dream was dashed, on his being rejected as unfit for service, he turned all his skills and abilities, such as they were, to spiting the Ministry and the Order he had hoped to work with. Along with his friend, Rita Skeeter, he had succeeded in becoming an unregistered Animagus; a feat which often came in handy in the snooping, spying work he had set himself to. As now, for instance.
Professor Severus Snape. Janus had had his eye on him for some time now. Something about him just didn't add up. Whose side was the man on? What was his game? In his animal form, Janus could slip undetected, through the unrepaired holes and cracks, into the house on Spinner's End. And this night, his waiting at last paid off.
"Wormtail," Snape was saying, "I don't believe the upstairs rooms have been done yet."
"Yes they have," a resentful voice- Wormtail's, Janus supposed- replied. "And the downstairs, and the laundry, AND the dishes—"
"Well well! Industrious, aren't we. You must be tired. And it's getting late. Why not turn in and get some rest?" -It was not a suggestion.
"You can't send me to bed like some- like some small child!" Resentment had now turned to sputtering outrage.
"Oh, can't I?" Snape asked, in his silkiest voice, edged with steel. A flash; a bang; a yelp; and all was silent. …Except for the racket coming from the cabinet in the next room; from which came a rattling, banging, bumping around. A Boggart.
With a sigh, Snape went over to the cabinet door, and opened it. And out came—Lily Evans Potter? Something that looked like her, anyway… only, this Lily was not fully solid. Something between a ghost and a memory.
"Severus. You failed me, Sev! You know what I died for. You knew I gave my life to protect my son- my Harry. But now Harry is dead, you let You-Know-Who kill him. Now, it is all for nothing. My death- all in vain."
"Riddikulus!" Snape snarled. And the Lily figure was gone.
In the dark of his hidden corner, Janus crouched, trying to process what he had just seen and heard. So! *This* was Severus Snape's worst fear? Snape, whom the Dark Lord trusted (to all appearances, anyway)- working to protect the one whom he most wanted dead! And he, Janus- what use could he make of this knowledge? He was no Death-eater; and yet, surely he would be well rewarded for such valuable information.
He went out to think it over. A chilly mist filled the air, a mist to dampen the heart and lower the spirits. Still in his creaturely disguise, he slunk along the dirty river, past an immense chimney- the remains of an old disused mill- and down the rubbish-strewn bank. The scent of some fish-and-chip wrappings in the tall grass drew his attention- how many hours since he last ate? Then suddenly, he froze. A hooded figure had apparated with a faint pop at the edge of the river, and after a moment's pause, set off through the grass. Then, a second and louder pop; a second hooded figure. "Wait!" came a harsh cry. Startled, Janus leapt from his hiding place in the undergrowth, and up the bank. The last thing he ever saw was a flash of green light.
The second figure turned over the animal with its toe. "Just a fox," said a woman's voice dismissively from under the hood. "I thought perhaps an Auror—Cissy, wait!" But her quarry, who had paused and looked back at the flash of light, was already scrambling up the bank the fox had just fallen down.