Later Same Day
I had to ask for a damp cloth and some water as soon as I returned to my cell. I had not expected this interview to take as long as it did, nor did I expect the interrogator to be who it turned out to be.
Hermione Granger.
She is a grown woman now and not the insipid brat she once was. I had not seen her since those final days at my trial. She sat in the balcony then, listening to the judges and my prosecutors drone on. She had been injured during one of the clashes and wore a huge bandage on her arm. She had been burned severely by one of Bellatrix's spells. Granger had managed to survive. Bellatrix did not, thanks in part to Neville Longbottom.
She was sitting at the conference table in the visitation room when I came in. She had the air of a matron about her. Prim and proper, or at least that is what she wanted to exhibit to me. A neat suit, a starched white shirt and sensible heels on her shoes. She looked like one of the ladies from the garden club. The only jewelry she wore was a thin band about the finger. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun on the nape of her neck. She was trying to appear older than her years.
"Thank you for seeing me Professor Snape," she said as I entered.
"I had little choice in the matter," I replied. I sat down in the chair across from her, my shackles clinking. She made a face at the noise they made.
"Do you think," she said looking at the jailer, "those could be removed?"
"I wouldn't mum," replied the jailer. "This here is a real dangerous one."
Granger smiled at the jailer. "I am not afraid of the professor. Remove the shackles."
My jailer grumbled a bit under his breath and did what he was told. I felt the blood rush into my fingers as soon as the shackles were removed and uncontrollably I felt the need to rub my wrists. Again Granger smiled.
"I would suppose that is better, is it not, sir?" she said.
I am still a "sir". Interesting that you can take the girl out of the school but you can never truly get the school out of the girl.
"I have a few questions I would like to ask you Professor Snape," she said and she opened a leather folder in front of her. She picked up a pen and made herself ready to take notes.
"I have been working on a book," she said slowly and folded her hands neatly in front of her. "It is a biography of Albus Dumbledore."
I could feel the smirk on my face
beginning to form. "Oh yes, Miss Granger. I have heard of this. I
believe I heard the title was Albus Dumbledore, A Life In
The Service of Hogwarts."
Dumbledore would be appalled, I
thought.
Granger smiled weakly and looked down at her paper. "Yes, and there are a few questions I had for you. I hope you won't mind."
"Why would I mind, Miss Granger?" I asked and I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "I have nothing better to do this afternoon."
Granger removed some notes from a flap in her leather folder and set them in front of her. "I have been doing some research on Professor Dumbledore. I have several of his personal papers and many of the notes he kept over the years. A diary I suppose you could call it."
It seems I have not been the only one to put one's thoughts to the page.
"I have found that Professor Dumbledore had an incredible obsession with the phoenix," Granger continued. "It seemed to touch everything in his life."
I sat silent. I have learned over the years to offer nothing unless asked.
"I have done some research into the phoenix," she continued. "The bird that dies and rises anew from its ashes."
"Most everyone knows that."
"Yes," she responded. "It achieves an immortality of sorts."
I remained silent.
"What few know," she went on in a soft voice, "is that at one time there may have been an ancient tribe of wizards that had the same powers of the phoenix."
"A tale that is told as a bedtime story by house-elves, Miss Granger," I replied. "What wizards cannot achieve yet dream of. Immortality. Even a wizard who is powerful beyond comprehension cannot overcome death. I would consider it foolish to hold with such tales."
"Dumbledore was a powerful wizard," she offered.
"And considered foolish by many," I replied curtly. I laughed and shook my head ruefully. "Many would consider him extremely foolish for trusting me as he did. I believe your friend Potter holds to that idea."
"I don't think he was a fool," she said quietly. "I think he was a member of that tribe of wizards who had captured the power of the phoenix and I think you knew it."
I remained silent and stunned.
Lupin might be right about her. She may indeed be the most brilliant witch of her generation. Or the most absurd. At this point I am not sure which.
