Giving Hostages to Fortune Chapter 1, a harry potter fanfic

Giving Hostages to Fortune

By tearsofphoenix

Standard disclaimer applies – it's all JKR's

This is a further step in the universe that started with "Just one more time", and it follows the events of my last instalment, "Homecoming"; this one is very much related to it.

Many thanks to my patient previewer Lady Memory and to my wonderful editor Whitehound, who suggested this continuation by giving me some ideas for the plot and corrected it with special care, as ever.

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"Very well, Miss Granger; now, with this…" Madam Griselda said, pointing at the parchment that she had just sealed with a flick of her wand. "I'm sure that you'll be accepted at the Ministry in whatever branch of the law you'll decide to apply for."

Radiant with joy at the praise from the old witch, Hermione whispered her thanks, and took the document that attested to the successful end of her training and her competence in Wizarding laws and codes.

Having retired from the Wizengamot some years ago, yet still not feeling ready to enjoy a deserved rest, Madam Marchbanks now dedicated herself to mentoring promising students: the charge she had left during Umbridge's interregnum didn't appeal to her as much as helping these youngsters grow into mature, efficient professionals. And the girl in front of her was one of the most gifted.

So she smiled at Hermione, her wrinkled face betraying her inner pleasure, then continued her speech.

"You'll do well, Hermione. I'm very glad to know that someone like you will soon take on the many tasks that I was forced to leave behind. Don't hesitate to ask me for further advice, should you be in need of it."

Touched by those words addressed to her in such an encouraging way by the formidable old witch, the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, Hermione felt the urge to hug the woman and, in a rush, she did it.

Then she went away quite rapidly, wishing to leave before embarrassing them both with tears and, above all, dying to tell everything to Severus.

Out of the old house, almost running towards the Apparition point from which she would reach him, she didn't notice the young man who was following her steps from not very far off.

With a quick move, she Disapparated and, after landing at the opposite side of London, she couldn't restrain anymore her longing to be inside, into the house that from now on could, eventually, really become their home.

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"You won't believe who I met today…" Hermione announced some days later, entering his new house and addressing Snape straightway with her characteristic spontaneity.

He looked at her with an amused smile, lifting his gaze from his work to assess her appearance, still not completely used to such impetuosity. His reaction changed immediately however, as soon as he noticed the shadow that dimmed the brightness in her eyes.

"I could have never guessed that I would see him again, and never like this, not in a million years!" she continued, throwing her bag on the couch and sitting worried in front of him.

Snape, who had been putting some books in order on the new shelves, quit that job and joined her, moving her hand aside from her forehead and looking at her in concern.

"I was just leaving the office, you know, and then he called me, but at first I couldn't even recognize his face!" she burst out and sighed. "I hadn't seen him for years, but it couldn't be just the passage of time which has changed his features so much!"

"Hermione," Snape interrupted her. "Calm down. Breath. Who, for Circe's sake, are you talking about?"

"He was one of your students Severus; he was Baddock, Malcolm Baddock, do you remember him?"

"I do remember him very well, of course… but I admit that the fact that you know and remember one of my Slytherins is something remarkable," he answered, showing complete attention in spite of his taunting tone, and clearly waiting for an explanation.

"Well, he started school in my fourth year and, you know, that was a very special time… at some point, there was a sort of unity between the Houses… after all, we shared the goal of winning the Tournament together as a school, rather than just every House fighting for the Cup as usual… So, I remember I spoke a few times with him, too. I didn't mind the fact that he was a first-year, of course, and he didn't mind me being a Gryffindor and a Muggle-born…"

"Yes, I'm sure that during your Spew campaign you went around approaching not just Gryffindors but every decent, kind student in the school, and he was one, I can give you that," he replied, still disconcerted.

"It was S.P.E.W.! How do you know what I… Oh, never mind!" she continued, shrugging in exasperation. "And, for Merlin's sake, let's not change the subject now… even though it's true, at that time my concern was mainly with the way the rights of house-elves were being neglected."

"Will you tell me", he urged her with some impatience "and possibly today, why this encounter has upset you so much?"

"Do you remember New Year's Eve?" she asked, apparently not affected by his light sarcasm, but concentrating on her distress.

This time he thought better than to answer with a further "of course" to her question. He was more than certain that she couldn't even begin to suppose that either of them could forget the fateful night in which an impending danger had made them so close to lose each other and, as a consequence, had reinforced their bond so deeply.

Absorbed in that memory, he didn't initially realise the further change of topic that her words seemed to introduce. He just nodded, and put a hand on her hands that were still clasped on her lap, wordlessly encouraging her to talk. He was eager but also dreading to know what Hermione's current worries had to do with the events of that night in Hogsmeade, where the lives of the merry people who were celebrating the feast had been threatened by the sudden presence of werewolves.

"It was he who firstly recognized me in the middle of the Atrium," she began to say. "He told me he had heard of us… me and you together, I mean, and he sent his best wishes to you. He looked so shabby and miserable, Severus… I simply had to ask how he was," she murmured, unable to conceal the sadness and compassion in her voice.

"He didn't answer or say anything else, just turned and left with a sad smile, and I couldn't find the words to stop him."

"But I couldn't let go of what I sensed. I had the strong feeling that there was something dreadful going on with him, so I looked for one of the young witches at Reception. Well, she was reluctant at the beginning, but finally she told me that he was there for his monthly signing-on, because… because he too, during the last war, had been bitten and turned into a werewolf", she ended in a whisper, without averting her eyes from his stunned, finally understanding gaze.

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It didn't matter for how long Snape had been separated from his previous existence, nor how many times he had repeated to himself that he wasn't missing that time at all, nurturing his detachment with the certitude created by his bitter memories. He was still proud of his being part of the Magical World, of his belonging to it.

So, reaching the very core of its activity, he felt a sensation not very dissimilar from the one he had experienced during his first trip to Diagon Alley, when he was a student, and a completely different world had opened itself to him.

And, as in those former days, he almost savoured the vitality around him, the changes made since Voldemort's period of terror, the bustle, the complete immersion in it… He covered the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic with long strides, reverting to old habits of projecting self-confidence, without slowing down to look at the fireplaces and at the people continually emerging from the green flames.

He wasn't even aware of his mood and appearance, nor was he aware of the contrast with his less appealing experiences on first becoming re-aquainted with this world. He was aware only of the important purpose guiding his steps.

By doing so, in fact, he was resuming his teaching persona, with all the self-assurance and the protective meaning this role had always carried for him. Only someone who had known him very well in those earlier days could perceive the coexisting feeling of inadequacy disguised under his coolness… but such a person probably didn't exist, since nobody had ever felt the need to observe his actions that carefully in those former times.

Severus went straight to the lift, and quickly reached the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. There he asked the welcoming witch at the reception desk about the appointment he had applied for, after Hermione's revelation.

Too engaged in settling their future, the new house in Islington and his venture as Master Apothecary, he hadn't yet started to investigate or to offer his help to those unfortunates whose destiny had moved him to compassion some months ago, after the discovery of their existence… but, hearing of that boy, one of his students, involved in that horror, he had resolved not to wait another minute, but to at once find out more about the whole situation.

What he already knew, from reading newspaper reports about how these youngsters were being registered for proper care and control, was no longer sufficient.

"I'm sure the Department Head must be waiting for me," Snape offered after some minutes of hanging around, watching with a glint of irritation the young witch who had greeted him, and who was still fumbling with papers, as if searching for the record of said appointment.

She smiled blankly at that remark and said nothing. Slightly annoyed, Snape resigned himself to wait for the call from that meticulous secretary, and examined in his mind the speech that he would give shortly afterwards.

"Come in," a voice finally called from the next room, and, without deigning to give the witch of a further glance, Severus followed its invitation.

"Snape," greeted the wizard sat behind the desk.

"Mr. Diggory," Severus answered, and though quite irritated by such a curt greeting, he felt a sudden qualm in front of the man whose tragedy had suddenly come to his mind, reminder of a past that couldn't be forgotten. So, he continued respectfully, "Thank you for receiving me at such short notice."

Amos Diggory, Head of the Department, absently stroked his beard and showed a polite interest.

"The distressing situation of those young werewolves who were infected during the last war, and who are currently under the care of your Department, has recently come to my attention," Snape began.

The other man didn't reply, so he went on.

"Having taught nearly all of these young people before they suffered this terrible transformation, and having been house-master to several of them, you will understand that I feel some responsibility for their futures and their well-being. Plus, since I'm already brewing potions for St Mungo's apothecary and several others, I could provide effective help to these former students if required.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you could inform me as to the measures you have taken up till now to assist them and ensure their care."

Beginning to feel uneasy under the other wizard's cold stare and prolonged silence, Snape paused for a moment, waiting for Diggory's reaction. Then, seeing that there wasn't any, except the dismissive way in which the other man seemed to listen, Snape mustered his will and once more resumed his speech, hiding the irritation that was beginning to mount inside him.

"During the time in which Remus Lupin was teaching at Hogwarts, I brewed Wolfsbane appositely for him. He had no independent source for it, so I wonder how and if it is supplied to the young people you have in your charge here…"

His jaws tightened in spite of his resolution to keep his anger under control. "And there is another thing that I'd like to know: you are giving it to these people on a regular basis, are you not?"

This time the other man spoke, though not answering Snape's question in any effective way.

"Hogwarts! Yes, surely… the perfect place to protect young people."

Snape stayed silent, unable to find something adequate to counteract those bitter words behind which lay undeniable truth.

"You should have contacted our Support Services, the Being Division then, not my office. We only take care of the beastly side of the matter, as I'm sure that even one of your first year students knows…"

Feeling the heat rise to his face in an outraged reaction, Snape was ready to answer that those Services had redirected him to this Department, since it was the one that headed the two co-working branches. Once more, however, he was able to manage his feelings, considering not just what was at stake but also the man in front of him, whose losses and consequent sourness he could understand.

But his sudden glare and blush had anyway sent the right message to Amos Diggory, because the man went on speaking with a less resentful tone.

"…Werewolves are dangerous: furthermore, not all of them are under control and, after the registration and the diagnostic tests at St Mungo's, many of them prefer to stay away with their pack rather than undergoing regular monitoring by coming here."

"So", he continued with a meaningful glance, "we are redirecting the registered werewolves to our Support Services, where those who want to keep living among wizarding communities rather than hiding in the wild places are then directed to Apothecaries or to other authorised potion makers who can brew Wolfsbane for them. But, since not all of them agree with these options, and considering that the potion is quite expensive, no, we are not administering it on a regular basis. Perhaps you wish to be added to the list of authorised suppliers, then?"

Snape was still struggling to control his increasing temper for the mission's sake but, hearing that last question, he couldn't refrain from making a snappy reply.

"Trust me, Sir, when I say that I've all the experience necessary to know what dangers to expect when approaching a werewolf. However, given the current situation, I'd prefer contacting my students without your assistance."

The other wizard raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue.

"Speaking of lists, anyway, may I see the one concerning these unfortunate young wizards?" Snape ended, hoping that there were no objections to that.

"It isn't a secret," Amos Diggory answered shrugging, then he called his secretary and told her to prepare a copy of it.

Snape didn't know whether permission and data were given to him thanks to some weird exception to the usual ministry's policies, or if the freedom allowed to him was just due to the poor level of care of the Department. But, whatever the reasons were, it suited his purposes to proceed without bureaucratic restraints, so Snape kept silent, waiting.

Then, just when he was leaving and already approaching the door, the parchment gripped in his hand, Amos Diggory spoke again.

"Some of those students should still be at school, shouldn't they? But, of course, this is an irrelevant detail, isn't it, Headmaster?"

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to be continued…

A.N. During the Sorting Feast in GoF Malcolm Baddock, less than a cameo, is perceived by Harry like this: "Harry could see Malfoy clapping as Baddock joined the Slytherins. Harry wondered whether Baddock knew that Slytherin house had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other. Fred and George hissed Malcolm Baddock as he sat down."

The section breaks are borrowed, as in the previous stories that form this little series, from: www. whitehound. co. uk/Fanfic/ffn_how-to. htm (remember to remove the spaces after the dots).