IMPORTANT Author's Note: I've condensed the existing chapters into fewer, longer chapters, so the pace I hope is quicker. The first few chapters took too long to get going. But for regular readers, you won't need to read chapters 1-3, none of the content has changed (actually, except the first few paragraphs of the first chapter are different, I've just cut a lot out, so you don't need to re-read if you don't want to). Similarly, you'll have read the first half of this chapter already.
Chapter 4 - The Man Of Your Dreams
The unexpected ceremony earlier that day had been unexpectedly long, and it was nearly eleven o'clock at night when Emily finally arrived at Hogwarts. News of the ceremony had completely thrown her, but Mr Bartlett told her all she needed to know to get through it without raising suspicion amongst the Muggles she met. Even then, he never left her side. By the end of the day, it was clear that the elderly solicitor was indispensable. Over a late dinner, she told him she'd like him to remain in her employ, and he assured her that when they next had a chance to meet, they would sort out the remaining details of her family's affairs.
Yes, sadly, there was still her parents' house to deal with.
Emily suppressed a sigh as the portrait to Ravenclaw Tower swung open, and was immediately distracted by the fact that the Common Room was still full of students.
Besides Hagrid, who'd met her at the gates and kindly walked her up to the castle, she'd expected to find everyone asleep after the extravagant Sorting Feast. The last thing she'd expected was to find her peers having what looked like a serious discussion. Not even Ravenclaws had debates after the Sorting Feast.
"-You can't be certain of that, 'Hill."
"We'll find out soon enough."
The first voice belonged to Adriana Fletcher, an athletic seventh year girl, and Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. The second, quieter voice was unmistakeably Ferdinand. They were joined in the Common Room by what looked like everyone from fifth year and above. A few noses were buried in books, and two were playing chess, but most of them were watching the exchange between Fletcher and Ferdinand.
Emily was suddenly spotted by Helena, who asked loudly about her trip to London. A different sort of silence fell, tenser than usual, and everyone turned to look at her, apparently waiting for an answer. Their alertness was infectious. Helena and Ferdinand exchanged the briefest of looks.
"Uneventful," she replied curtly, unwilling to discuss her family's affairs in front of half of Ravenclaw House. Besides, she was far more interested in the heated conversation she'd walked in on. "How was the feast?"
"Not uneventful. This is Hogwarts after all." Helena gave Ferdinand an encouraging look, who, upon seeing that no one else was going to speak up, turned back to Emily.
"Remember that spy you mentioned, the one who worked for the Order of the Phoenix?" he asked, "Do you remember his name?"
"Snape," she answered easily, "Severus Snape. Why?"
"How can you be sure?" demanded Adriana, or Fletch, as she was often known.
"Because I was there when Igor Karkaroff andAlbus Dumbledore named him," Emily replied coolly.
"But you might be mistaken. You might have misremembered it." This came from another student.
"I haven't."
"But how do you know?"
"Because I don't misrememberdetails like that," she almost snarled, her patience wearing thin. "Why?" she asked again, louder this time, turning back to Ferdinand.
"Slughorn's retired," he said quietly, "There's a new Potions Master. His name's Snape."
"Dumbledore wouldn't allow a Death Eater to teach here! He just wouldn't," a voice piped up from the direction of the stairs to the girls' dormitories. They all turned to see either Justine or her twin Rebecca, few could tell them apart, and crowded around behind them the rest of the younger Ravenclaws. The noises coming from the staircase to the boys dormitories told them the girls weren't the only ones listening in.
While Ferdinand and the other prefects told them all off for being up so late, and shooed them back to their dormitories, Emily considered this latest development. Would Dumbledore hire someone with such a dark past? He'd been known in the past to hire some pretty dodgy characters, but that was always for the Defence position, which was difficult to fill. And he'd never, so far as she knew, hired a criminal, let alone a potential murderer.
But if he was persuaded that someone had changed, that they truly regretted their actions, he may well show them mercy. Isn't that what he'd said at Karkaroff's trial? That Snape had changed, beforethe end of the war. That he'd betrayed You Know Who and his followers.
Granting someone their freedom from Azkaban was one thing, but bringing them to teach children was something else entirely. An error of judgement here would have such serious consequences that surely Dumbledore wouldn't risk the lives of his students unless he was absolutely certain that Snape was safe.
"Well, I think it's unlikely Snape's going to murder us in our beds tonight," said Helena with a yawn, "so I'm off."
Most of the remaining students apparently agreed that there was no imminent danger, and so followed suit. Emily briefly wondered about the castle defences, and how most of them were useless when the enemy was already inside the castle walls. Strategies and plans discussed over the past few years flitted across her mind. She glanced back at the entrance to the Common Room, biting her lip. But Helena was probably right; unless Snape was suicidal as well as murderous, it was unlikely he'd do anything tonight. She followed her friend up to the dormitory they shared.
They were just about to say goodnight when she suddenly remembered about Olwen and the Head Girl badge. Stifling another yawn, her friend confirmed her suspicions, that Olwen Greenlaw had indeed been made Head Girl, and was apparently very pleased about it.
Emily lay awake into the early hours of the morning, mulling over the day's events, particularly the news about Snape. How long had Dumbledore been planning this? Something this huge would surely be difficult to keep under wraps. She'd seen Slughorn herself during the summer, and he hadn't said a word about his retirement. But then she remembered the very limited coverage of Snape that had appeared in the Prophet. Frustrated at the spineless media, and even more so at the disproportionate power and influence of the Headmaster, she rolled over and tried to get comfortable.
Nevertheless, she was curious about this Snape guy. Who was he? What was his story? Had he really changed, or was it all part of a plan to make sure that, no matter which way the war went, he'd come out on top? Perhaps he'd suspected You Know Who was about to fall, perhaps he'd been privy to some information. No, she thought, nobody could have predicted You Know Who's downfall. To all appearances he'd been gathering strength, not losing it. And who could possibly have known that that tiny little infant, Harry Potter, would somehow beat him, against all the odds?
The next morning at breakfast, Emily kept glancing up at the staff table. Helena had pointed out the new Professors to her straight away. Professor Dugbury, the new Defence teacher looked unremarkable enough and was soon forgotten, at least by her, but Emily's eyes were repeatedly drawn to the new Potions Master, sitting between Hagrid and Professor Sprout at the far end of the Staff Table. Throughout breakfast he barely raised his head from behind his newspaper, nor did he speak to the teachers on either side of him. From where she was sitting, Emily could see he was young, far younger than she'd been expecting. Indeed, she thought he looked barely older than they were.
Her fellow Ravenclaws had noticed this too, and some were already expressing the intention of doing a little research on the new Professor in the library. Checking the school records would also have been useful, but only Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore had access to those, and nobody could think of an adequate reason for wanting to see them that would convince the Professors.
But it wasn't only Snape's youth that was bothering Emily. There was something else about him, something that was very wrong indeed. She had this annoying nagging feeling, as though she was forgetting something, something important. She supposed it was because there was the possibility that he was a Death Eater, and therefore dangerous, that put her on edge. Whatever the reason, when she'd dressed that morning, she'd decided to strap her wand holster to her left forearm, rather than keeping her wand in her bag.
The holster had been a gift from her uncle, the first Christmas she'd spent with the Crouches, and was generally used by duelling champions, Aurors, and the paranoid. However, Uncle Barty encouraged her to wear it wherever she went, even at Hogwarts, just in case. One never knew when one would need to quickly draw one's wand, and then there was the danger of being separated from one's schoolbag… But having her wand so quickly and easily at hand only marginally reassured her this morning.
It was only when Olwen came over from the Gryffindor table to hand her and the other prefects the rota for corridor patrol, that she noticed Ferdinand's absence. She saw him talking to some older Slytherins, presumably handing out the rota there, and for a moment she scanned her eyes over that particular table. There were definitely more of them this year, she decided. Their numbers had grown so much that there were almost as many in Slytherin as there were in each of the other Houses. She wondered suddenly if that's what it had been like before the war had started, before her own schooldays. The thought that eventually the numbers in each house would balance again did not please her.
It was no secret that Emily Saxon hated Slytherin House, and had no friends, and plenty of enemies there. It amazed her that Dumbledore allowed a House to continue that explicitly and proudly defended its pureblood ideology. Even without the context of the war against You Know Who - whereby Slytherin House was clearly a breeding ground for Death Eaters - it was still wrong to allow such discriminatory practices, against Muggleborns and half-bloods, to continue. Doing nothing was as bad as being in favour of it. It was this difference of opinion, she thought, that had chipped away at the trust she had once placed in the Headmaster's governance of the school, a trust that was about to be put to its greatest test by the appointment of the new Potions Master.
Her musings over the Slytherin Problem were interrupted by a conversation taking place nearby. Some of the prefects were complaining to Olwen about the new rota, who was putting up a good effort defending it.
"How are we meant to fit this all in, alongside homework andQuidditch practice?"
"-Surely we don't have to patrol as much this year-"
"-It's safer now-"
Emily studied the rota herself. There were in fact far fewer patrols planned than in previous years, which was to be expected, but prefects were still expected to patrol at least one evening a week each. She noticed too that rather than rotating patrol partners, as they'd done last year, they would be assigned one partner, who they'd stick with for a term at least. Her partner was a Gryffindor fifth year prefect she'd never met, by the name of Julian Laurent. At least he wasn't a Slytherin, she thought, hoping too that he wasn't a Quidditch obsessive.
Olwen looked about to give up reasoning with the prefects, at which point, Emily decided to step in.
"You may think the danger's past," she said quietly and seriously, leaning across the table and looking the loudest complainers in the eye, "but I think you're forgetting that there's quite probably a Death Eater in our midst. Until we know more about the new Potions Master, it's important that we're vigilant. And there are still Death Eaters at large outside Hogwarts. Those two factors combined couldmake for more, not less, danger."
She sat back in her seat and returned her attention to her untouched breakfast. None of the prefects complained after that. In fact, nobody said anything, they all seemed lost in their own thoughts. Olwen also seemed at a loss for words, and so she simply said, "Good," and went to rejoin her Gryffindor friends.
"Well," said Helena, not looking up from her own copy of the Daily Prophet, "I'll tell you one thing Em, you certainly know how to scare the shit out of people."
Emily ignored her and again glanced up at the staff table. None of the teachers seemed particularly anxious about their new colleague, but even if they were, it was unlikely they'd display their concerns at breakfast in front of the whole school. Yet it would have been very surprising if they hadn't had somereservations about Snape's appointment.
She wondered suddenly who was now Head of Slytherin House, since Slughorn was gone, and was about to ask Helena if Dumbledore had mentioned it the night before, when Barty came and sat down next to her. This was such an unusual occurrence that she looked at him expectedly. He didn't disappoint.
"I sent an owl to Father last night," he murmured quietly, a sneer tugging at the corners of his mouth, "I'm sure he'd be very interested to know Snape's been hidingat Hogwarts."
They exchanged dark looks, then glanced up at the offending man, both their faces clearly showing their antipathy and suspicion of the new Professor. They watched Snape as he continued to read his newspaper, whilst reaching blindly for his goblet. Unable to lay his hands on it, he looked up, and for a moment he glanced in their direction. Emily gasped and dropped her gaze to her plate. That nagging feeling was back, stronger this time, and accompanied by a strong and unpleasant sense of déjà vu.
But why? It felt as though the cogs in her brain were sticky with honey as she attempted to remember, to figure out what was bothering her. She tried in vain to block out the noise of the chattering students surrounding them, distracting her, tried to think. A second ago it had felt as though she almost had the answer, but now it was slipping away with every passing moment.
Suddenly feeling as though she had to get away right now, she mumbled an excuse, ignored Helena's protestations that they should soon be in class, rose to her feet and walked hurriedly between the tables. The doors to the Entrance Hall seemed so far away, but she didn't dare run. She hadn't even reached the end of the Ravenclaw table when the final piece of the puzzle fell into place, and caused her to stumble and almost double over, winded by the horrific realisation of what was so wrong about Severus Snape.
She recognised him, she'd seen him before. The long dark hair, the large, hooked nose. Those eyes. She knew him. But it was impossible, surely. There had to be a mistake. How could he be Snape? How could hebe the spy?
He's here, now!
Brought back to the present with a jolt, she spun around, only to find the man himself walking towards her.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit.
She immediately began to sweat as fear coursed through her veins. She was transfixed by him; the figure from her nightmares, here, in the flesh. Actually real. He'd only glanced at her once as he approached, but seeing that she wasn't going to move aside to let him pass, he gave her a longer look. Somewhere inside her, her stomach twisted and clenched with every jolt of recognition. It was definitely him. How could she have forgotten that face?
Snape didn't come to a standstill until they were only a few feet apart. His face was pulled in an expression of distaste, which changed to irritation as he stood there looking at her, waiting impatiently for her to step aside. Emily had to force herself not to take a step backwards. At last, her brain kicked in.
Do it - a voice inside said - Do it NOW!
She fumbled desperately for her wand, her nervous fingers getting tangled in her sleeve - so much for the holster - but faltered when he spoke.
"Do you mind?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. His voice was quiet and smooth, not at all what she'd been expecting. In fact, she didn't know what she'd expected, she'd never even imagined what he sounded like. In her dreams he was always silent; a silent monster.
Suddenly aware of the eyes of the surrounding students on her, a glimmer of courage reappeared inside her. Memories of Marcus, who'd once sat in this very hall, stabbed painfully at her heart, but they only served to strengthen her resolve.
Her fingers had just grasped her wand when Dumbledore appeared behind Snape, smiling as though there wasn't a murderous Death Eaterstanding in front of him.
He said something that was obviously meant to diffuse the situation, but Emily wasn't listening. She was staring at the hand the Headmaster had placed protectively, kindly, on Snape's shoulder. Confusion, and then anger, replaced the fear as it began to recede.
Feeling temporarily beaten, she stood aside to let them pass. As she watched Snape and Dumbledore leave the Great Hall together, she cursed herself for her hesitation. The moment was gone. She hadn't done it. She'd had a chance and she hadn't taken it. Fear had paralysed her. After all the waiting, the practicing, the preparing, in the end, she was still that frightened little girl who'd hidden while her family was murdered. Her cheeks grew hot as shame mingled with the fear still thumping away in her heart.
Snape didn't look back at the girl as he followed the Headmaster out into the Entrance Hall, but he was thinking of her. He'd seen the fear in her eyes, seen the way her hand searched for her wand, just reaching it as Dumbledore arrived. What would she have done if he hadn't appeared at that moment?
Emily Saxon.
Dumbledore had already warned him about her. She was Barty Crouch's niece, and daughter to two murdered Order members. She hated the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, and this dislike and distrust extended to Slytherin House. She'd also been present at Karkaroff's trial. She would remember his name, there was no doubt about that.
No doubt her friends had already filled her in on the events of the night before. There had been little initial reaction then when Dumbledore had introduced him to the hall full of adolescents. There were so many of them! But he'd noticed the clusters of whispering students during the course of the evening, stealing fearful glances up at him, as those who read the Daily Prophetspread the news. By the time the feast was over, they all knew who he was.
All thoughts of Emily Saxon were pushed from his mind as the day ahead - his first day of lessons - loomed over him threateningly, almost overwhelming him. Placating the Headmaster with an excuse, he disappeared into the dungeons to prepare himself for his first class.
By the end of the first day, Emily was exhausted. Her emotions had flitted rapidly throughout the day between terror, anger and hurt, each threatening to overwhelm her in their turn. Seeing her brother's killer again had opened a wound she had thought was long closed. Every hour she expected Snape to come bursting in to her classroom or the library where she was studying, his dark eyes cold and cruel, his wand out.
Ready to finish what he'd started.
She wondered if he knew who she was, and how long it would take him to work it out. She was certain he hadn't seen her during the attack - she'd be dead otherwise - but if he was half as clever as everyone said he was, sooner or later, the penny would drop.
During quiet moments, her mind wandered, inevitably revisiting her memories of That Night all those years ago. She relived the most vivid moments; her mother's scream, Marcus duelling with Snape, his final fall, finding what remained of her father. Grief then turned to righteous anger at the unfairness of the situation, and heaven help anyone nearby when this change in mood came around.
Half way through Charms she accidentally caused Professor Flitwick's pile of books that he stood on to fly off in all directions, causing her Head of House to tumble to the floor, and one of the books to hit Ferdinand on the back of the head. She apologised profusely again and again, surprised and ashamed at her lack of control, but thankfully only lost five points to Ravenclaw. Flitwick had smiled and said, "Even the best of us lose control once in a while," before launching into an anecdote about how he'd broken a glass jar during an encounter with an unhelpful shop assistant only a few years ago.
As the day wore on, Emily thought again of Helena's words the night before, and came to realise how unlikely it was that Snape would do anything to jeopardize his cushy new position at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's word had saved him from a life sentence in Azkaban, but this would surely vanish if something were to happen the very year he started teaching here. With You Know Who gone, it wasn't in his interest to stir up trouble. Better to keep his head down and wait for people to forget.
As if his victims ever would.
But what would he do when he found out what she knew? If she could identify him as being present on the night of her family's murder, would he try and get rid of her? Was she even safe here anymore? The thought of leaving Hogwarts early was almost unbearable, made more so by the thought that she'd be leaving him here to do as he wished. No, if she could only achieve one thing in her life, it would be ridding the free world of Severus Snape.
That evening, Emily patrolled the corridor with Julian Laurent. At first, Julian tried to strike up a conversation with her, but soon gave up when it became apparent she wasn't in the mood. Instead, he followed her lead and kept his wand out and his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. On this, his first patrol as prefect, he was quietly glad of his good fortune at having Emily Saxon as a partner.
Long after curfew, they were walking past the entrance to Dumbledore's office on the seventh floor, when Emily stopped in front of the stone gargoyle.
"I need to speak with the Headmaster. It's important. Kindly inform him that I'm here. And don't pretend that you can't because I know that you can," Emily said matter-of-factly, while Julian watched in confusion and something akin to awe at the confidence and authority she exhibited. They were meant to be meeting some of the other prefects several floors below here. Julian would have reminded her of this fact if he wasn't so curious to see if the gargoyle would actually follow her command.
One of the portraits nearby huffed and tutted and launched into a tirade about the cheek of young people these days, but Emily didn't seem to have heard. It was difficult to tell whose stare was the stoniest, hers or the gargoyle's. Then, less than a minute later, the statue came to life and a set of stone stairs appeared behind it, spiralling up to the Headmaster's office. Before stepping onto the staircase, Emily turned to Julian.
"Don't wander," she said simply, "I won't be long." Apparently oblivious to her patronising tone, and the irritated blush it induced in her patrol partner, Emily climbed the stairs.
In her head she had already prepared what she was going to say - she'd been thinking of little else all day. She would just have to tell him everything, that much was clear. She'd never spoken about her experiences to anyone before, and she hoped now that she could at least deliver the important points to Dumbledore without completely breaking down in front of him. Perhaps he'd understand, she thought. Perhaps he wouldn't think her a selfish coward when he found out she'd saved herself, and done nothing but watch while her family was murdered.
She took one last deep breath before knocking on the office door. When it swung open, however, fear flooded her again when she saw that Dumbledore wasn't alone. Snape was there, as was McGonagall. They all looked at her, calculatingly. Her voice failed her, so she coughed and started again.
"I wondered if I could speak with you, Headmaster, alone," she said quietly, trying to salvage some of the confidence she'd had with the gargoyle.
Dumbledore and McGonagall shared a glance, and the Transfiguration Professor left. Snape seemed about to leave as well, but Dumbledore stopped him.
"I presume you're here because of Professor Snape. In which case, it seems only appropriate that he should remain."
Fine, she thought angrily. If Dumbledore, or Snape, if he was indeed unduly influencing the Headmaster, wanted to play that way then that was fine by her.
"Sir, some students have expressed concern-" she began.
"Some students? Who?"
"Many students have, sir, over the appointment of - Professor- Snape," she insisted, with just a hint of a sneer. Certainty in the righteousness of her position returned, strengthening her. She stood a little taller. "They no longer feel safe here."
Dumbledore sighed. "I am trulysorry to hear that."
The Headmaster looked sad and old, and for a brief moment she felt guilty, but then remembered that she was in the right. What did Dumbledore expect? That he could just bring a Death Eaterto Hogwarts and everybody would be fine about it?
He asked her to sit, and she perched herself on the edge of the squashy armchair McGonagall had vacated, not allowing herself to relax as long as Snape was nearby, and glad that he was standing where she could easily keep an eye on him while still talking to Dumbledore.
"Emily," said Dumbledore quietly, leaning forward and looking at her intently, "The last thing I want is for my students to feel that they're in danger, especially when there is none. Merlin knows the war has taken its toll, on the young in particular. I don't suppose you remember what it was like, before the war."
He paused, aware perhaps that he only had half her attention.
That last sentence had brought a lump to her throat. No, she didn't remember life before the war, before You Know Who. Danger had always been there, dominating her life, even before she lost her family. She was, like so many her age, a child of war.
Dumbledore went on, "And it's understandable that you should be concerned, suspicious even, but I repeat now what I said to the Wizengamot: Severus is no more a Death Eater now than you or I. I trust him."
His tone had that edge of finality she knew too well, that told her this topic wasn't up for discussion. Her eyes flicked back to Snape. Throughout the conversation he'd made no sound, and only occasionally glanced her way. Each time he did, she felt that ripple of fear, mingled with disbelief. It was really him.
Dumbledore watched her, waiting for her give in. He would be waiting a long time.
"It isn't just that," she said quietly, "Sir, you know it isn't just- even if you're right about- it's still wrong!"
She wanted to say. There was a part of her that wanted him to know, wanted to trust in him like she once had. But something, shame perhaps, and fear held her back. Perhaps if Snape hadn't been there, perhaps if she could have shownDumbledore without having to actually say it, perhaps if she wasn't so used to keeping this secret to herself, she might have unburdened herself at last. But even the hope of relief wasn't enough to endure the initial pain and uncertainty.
But she had to say something. Dumbledore was watching her expectedly, and Snape was looking at her with curious eyes.
She swallowed. "I was raised to believe in justice," she said firmly, in the lecturing mode she'd often seen her Uncle use, "And that no one is above the law, no matter how powerful their friends are-"
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows just a little. She went on.
"-If someone commits a crime, they should be punished. They shouldn't be rewarded with a- a nice job and- protection from the rule of law. Our actions have consequences, and people shouldn't be allowed to- to avoid facing up to those. It doesn't matter how sorrythey are, nothing can change what they've done-"
She was angry now. All the emotion that had been rolling around inside her during the day was returning. Coupled with exhaustion, she struggled to get her words out coherently.
"I believe your parents also taught you to be merciful," said Dumbledore, cutting across her mid-flow, "And the value of giving someone a second chance."
Furious at his hypocrisy, she stood up suddenly, and half turned away from him before realising she'd be turning her back on Snape as well. If she wasn't so angry, she might have cared about her rather undignified movements, and how she was rapidly losing the upper hand in this conversation.
How dare he bring her parents into this? How dare he lecture her about their ideals? She knew better than anyone what they stood for, what they had died for! They sacrificed their lives for peace and justice and now their memories were being trampled on because their son's killer wanted a second chance. And Snape, just standing there, rubbing her face in it, lording it over her! He probably thought this was all so fucking hilarious! Couldn't believe his luck, being able to watch her suffer because of him and his killer friends! How she wished he would just die-
"Emily," said Dumbledore quietly, having risen himself and gone to stand beside her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, unwittingly reminding her of the very same gesture he'd used on Snape that morning. "The war's over. Now's the time for peace. And sometimes that means forgiving old enemies."
She stared up at that kind old face, the man they all trusted and respected, the greatest wizard of the age. Everyone said he was such a force for good. Everyone said he was honest, and just.
Everyone was wrong.
"Is that why you wrote that piece for the Prophet, accusing the Wizengamot of corruption after Lucius Malfoy was released without charge? Sir," she added, not even bothering to hide her contempt.
Dumbledore's expression changed, becoming hard. There weren't many students who dared speak to him in such a tone, and they all were made to regret it. He'd allowed her to speak her mind, had tried to allay her fears and make her see his side of things, because she'd had a difficult few years, and was understandably anxious. But also because she was respected by her peers, and he feared many would follow her lead if she wanted to make things difficult for Severus.
Perhaps he was wrong to entertain her so long. Perhaps all it would do would feed her own inflated sense of entitlement and importance, a sense that clearly didn't befit a student, even a seventh year prefect. She may be good at duelling, and she may have survived a Death Eater attack when she was thirteen, but she was never in the Order herself. She would do better to remember that.
He swallowed that last thought before it slipped out, knowing that he'd regret it. There was no sense in aggravating her further. Before he could say anything, however, the door opened and Professor McGonagall rushed in.
"They're here," she hissed at Dumbledore.
In an instant, Dumbledore forgot Emily and turned to the Potions Master, who was suddenly alert. "Severus, I suggest you leave."
"There's no time," said McGonagall, glancing behind her down the stairs.
"Then Floo."
"Not so fast, Snape."
It was Uncle Barty, followed by a man Emily didn't recognise. Both had their wands drawn, but kept them at their sides. Uncle Barty's eyes glittered as he scanned the room once, resting for a fraction of a second on Emily, and then a delighted smile played across his mouth when he saw Snape, darting between him and the Headmaster.
"So," he drawled, "this is where you've been hiding him, Albus."
Severus Snape. He would be Bartemius Crouch's greatest catch, the jewel in his crown. His arrest would surely secure him the Ministerial election. Dumbledore had been foolish to bring him out into the open so soon after the war, when wounds were still fresh, when the public was still thirsty for blood. And to bring him to Hogwarts, to teach! Did he not realise that when it came to the protection of their children, parents lost all sense of reason and rationality? The old man was clearly losing his touch.
"Barty," said Dumbledore brightly, positioning himself between Uncle Barty and Snape, "and Mr Adams, I believe. What brings you to Hogwarts at such an ungodly hour?"
"Don't play games with me, Dumbledore," said Uncle Barty in a quiet, deadly voice, "You know full well why we're here. You can't really have thought there'd be no consequences when you hired a Death Eaterto teach."
"Who I choose to hire is not the concern of the Ministry, Barty," said Dumbledore with ease, "And since Severus was cleared of all charges by the Wizengamot-"
"On your evidence!" barked Uncle Barty, "And only your evidence!" He smiled again, brining his anger under control. "You may be a powerful wizard, but you and I both know that you can't govern alone. And you are alone on this, Dumbledore. You may thinkyou can ignore the Governors, or even the parents, but can you really do without them if you've also lost the support of the students? Of the staff?"
He flung a hand in McGonagall's direction, who was looking quietly defiant, but was avoiding Dumbledore's gaze. The Headmaster seemed to understand something, and for a second his expression showed a touch of sadness, and bitterness. They should have had more warning of Crouch's arrival. There should have been time to make sure Severus was safely in the dungeons, allowing Dumbledore to deal with the Ministry alone.
Instead, he was in a situation that was far from ideal. He didn't particularly want to have this conversation in front of one of his students either, especiallyEmily Saxon.
Judging from the look on her face, the sudden tension between McGonagall and Dumbledore wasn't missed by Emily, who was staring at McGonagall in shock. She'd clearly underestimated the Transfiguration Professor. She'd assumed, mainly because McGonagall was a Gryffindor like Dumbledore, because she was Deputy Head, and taught the same subject Dumbledore used to teach, that she wouldn't dare defy the Headmaster, even if she disagreed with him. Emily made a mental note of this new, potentially useful information.
Uncle Barty chose this triumphant moment to touch his niece's shoulder and told her to wait outside for him. She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a stern look. She would do as she was told, if only to make it abundantly clear to Dumbledore where her loyalties lay. Throwing one last unfriendly glance at Snape, she walked back down the stone staircase. McGonagall shut the office door behind her.
Julian Laurent wasn't the only one waiting for her in the corridor. He was chatting easily to Olwen Greenlaw, while her patrol partner, a Slytherin judging by the green trim of his robes, stood some way away, looking bored.
"Jules said your uncle arrived, with one of the governors," said Olwen quickly once she saw Emily.
Emily caught the glint of Olwen's Head Girl badge, felt the first twinge of jealousy since arriving at Hogwarts, but pushed it to the recesses of her mind. There were far more important things going on than her rivalry with Olwen. She confirmed Julian's story, but gave non-committal responses to their other questions. She was in even less of a mood to be sociable after that conversation with Dumbledore.
She pretended to eye the Slytherin prefect with suspicion, if only to avoid looking at the Gryffindors, but somehow she couldn't muster the passion to make it convincing. Slytherin House suddenly looked tame compared to the new Professor.
"There's talk of starting a petition," said Olwen, watching closely for Emily's reaction, "And more and more are writing home to their parents, and getting them to complain."
None of this was new. Emily had heard talk of such things all day. They had struck her as brilliant ideas at first, but after seeing Dumbledore's refusal to listen tonight, she was less sure. More than ever, she needed to speak to her uncle.
The wait was longer than expected, and by the time Uncle Barty descended the staircase, the governor in tow, Emily was alone in the corridor. Her heart sank at the furious look on her uncle's face. Mr Adams, now looking rather harassed, didn't hang around once he saw Emily waiting for them. They walked a little until they were out of earshot of anyone coming or going from the Headmaster's office, and then she turned to Uncle Barty, desperately hoping for somegood news.
There didn't seem to be any at first - Dumbledore wasn't in the least bit intimidated by their visit, and at one point implied that if Snape was to go then he would too, so confident was he that his critics didn't stand a chance. But Uncle Barty wasn't a man to give up easily. It was because of his dogged determination and resilience that he'd risen to the top of the Ministry, that under his watch they'd caught and imprisoned so many criminals. True, Dumbledore was an opponent unlike any other he'd faced, but in politics there was always a way, if you only knew how to find it.
The look of fear and despair on his niece's face pained him, and he took her face in his hands and forced her to look up at him.
"What have I always told you, when a way forward seems impossible?" he demanded sternly.
"'If we work together, we can defeat our enemies'," she recited without conviction. There was a lump in her throat again, and she desperately wanted to look away so he wouldn't see.
"That's right. You and me, working together. Using our intelligence, and our cunning. I can't do this without you, Emily."
There was a warm, fuzzy feeling inside her that seemed both alien and familiar, like a half-forgotten dream.
"Now," he fell back into his business-like manner, "We're agreed that Snape has to go, and there are two ways of doing that. Either exert influence over Dumbledore, or over Snape. Personally I favour the former, as the latter is a complete unknown. Who knows what motivates such a man?"
"We're starting a petition," she said, feeling better now that they were planning something, "And getting parents to write in and complain."
"Excellent," he said, and she almost grinned with pleasure, "Get them to write to the governors as well. Harder for Dumbledore to ignore them then. I'll do what I can to rally support as well, from outside Hogwarts, and Adams may be useless in most regards but its reassuring to know we have at least one of the governors on our side. Of course it would be so much easier if we had some way of disproving Dumbledore's trust in him-"
She said nothing, somehow even less willing to share her secrets with him than with Dumbledore. Telling Uncle Barty meant telling the whole world, she was sure. That she seemed to trust Dumbledore more than her own uncle made her feel terribly guilty, especially after all Uncle Barty had done for her.
"In the meantime, I need you to keep an eye on him," he went on, suddenly sombre, "You're my eyes and ears here. Don't hesitate to contact me."
The seriousness of his tone made its impact on her. This wasn't a game. They were dealing with a very dangerous Dark wizard, who currently had the support and protection of the most powerful wizard in the land. That Snape was dangerous was obvious. Either he'd fooled You Know Who or he'd fooled Dumbledore, which meant he must be very clever, very manipulative, and an exceptionally skilled Occlumens.
She forced her rising fear back down, quieting it with anger. Snape had murdered Marcus. She'd been preparing for this moment for years, dreamt she'd one day track him down. Not once had she imagined he'd walk right into Hogwarts, as a teacher. Still, it was too good an opportunity to miss.
Seeing her grim smile, Uncle Barty's expression grew soft once more.
"Are you using your wand holster?"
She nodded, deciding not to tell him how she'd fumbled with it earlier that same day.
"Good girl. And-" he paused, then touched her cheek once more, "be careful. Your aunt would never forgive me if something happened to you. A man like Snape is dangerous-"
"I know what he is," she said seriously, "I've been waiting for this for five years, I know what to do."
"Try to avoid being alone with him. And say the same to your friends. Look after each other-"
A sound behind them cut short Uncle Barty's sentence. They turned to see her cousin, watching them, his face a mask of indifference and a pile of books under one arm. How long had he been standing there?
"Barty!" Emily hissed, "It's almost midnight! Only prefects are allowed out after curfew!"
A scowl darkened his face, but he said nothing. Instead he just kept staring at his father. Emily was rather glad the look wasn't meant for her, but Uncle Barty didn't seem at all fazed by his son's behaviour.
"You have one year left here," he said curtly, "which is hardly enough time to make up for the disappointment of your record so far, but do try not to drag the family name down any further, won't you?"
And with that burning viciously in his son's ears, he gave Emily's shoulder a gentle squeeze that she knew was meant as a further dig at Barty, and strode away down the corridor. Emily eyed Barty a little warily, but he seemed to relax a little as soon as his father was gone.
"So?" he asked, as they walked back to Ravenclaw Tower. "When can we start the campaign against Snape?"
She caught him grinning and couldn't help but return it.
"Immediately."
Author's Note: I welcome all comments, criticisms, reviews etc. I enjoyed this last one - the Crouches are a joy to write, though I hope they're more rounded than they're portrayed in canon - they're both capable of compassion and kindness, which if anything makes them more frightening/interesting/tragic. Let me know what you think!