Chapter 3 Know Thyself

Professor Severus Snape

HSWW, Scotland

July 26, 1998

Dear Professor Snape:

It is my personal regret to inform you that you will stand trial for your activities as a Death Eater. It will be held on the 31st of July 1998, at 14:00 hr. at the Ministry of Magic Courtroom 10. Presiding judges will be Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, and Dolores Jane Umbridge, Chief of Wizengamot.

Failure to appear shall mean automatic cessation of your right to defend yourself, and the Court shall assume your outright guilt.

Sincerely,

Rufus Scrimgeour

Deputy Minister

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"Five days, Minerva! It has been five days! I stand trial tomorrow! Where is that bloody missive from the High Lord? No, scratch that, where in Merlin's pants is he? What kind of help is this?" Severus Snape threw the glass of scotch he was holding against the nearest wall where it shattered. It was just after breakfast and the pair were once more ensconced in the Headmistress' office.

"He gave his word, Severus. Have faith. And stop that incessant alcohol binge of yours! You need you sobriety once you face the Court of Wizengamot –"

"Screw them! Screw the –"

Just then, a familiar bird swooped in. But this time, it landed not on the Headmistress' desk, but on the left shoulder of one pissed-drunk Potions Master.

"Bloody falcon! What do you want?"

"Severus!" Minerva gasped. "Do not offend Isolde!"

The man sneered at her before turning to the falcon.

"It does not look offended to me,"

Isolde, the falcon, crowed, as she extended the leg carrying yet another sealed envelope. She stared at the drunken recipient with deep yellow eyes as she waited for him to take it. But Severus just stared right back.

"You know, I think I remember my grandfather having a bird like you –used it to send a letter to my mother, telling my mother she had been officially disowned –"

"Severus, the letter! I thought you wanted to hear from the High Lord, now, there it is! And for Circe's sake, stop talking to the bird. Here –" she handed him a small vial of purple liquid. "Do us all a favor and take this sobriety potion!"

Severus glared at her, which would have been at least effective if he wasn't going all cross-eyed from the effects of his early morning drinking stupor. When Minerva did not back down, the ineffective glare graduated into a scowl. He then grabbed the potion from her outstretched hand.

"You, woman, are absolutely no fun!" he snarled before grabbing the vial and downing its contents. Severus made a face.

"Disgusting concoction. When I am fully sober and not being threatened to marry a toad, remind me to make my potions taste better." When the effects fully settled in, the Potions Master turned to the falcon and retrieved the envelope. He stared at the yellowing piece of parchment like it was about to explode anytime soon. Minerva rolled her eyes.

"Well, open it! Let us see what the High Lord has to say,"

Severus glared at her, this time, rather effectively, but said nothing. With trembling hands, the ex-Death Eater carefully broke the wax seal on the back flap and slid the paper out of the envelope. The parchment was folded twice over and contained, on it, an unfamiliar crest of a black falcon, a silver sword, and a single winter rose on a forest green background –that, and two words:

Know thyself.

Severus frowned.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" he spat out angrily. But before he could crumple the offending piece of paper, more words appeared after he had spoken:

No, Professor Snape. I assure you, it is not a joke.

Severus stiffened and almost dropped the parchment in surprise.

"Bloody –"

"Severus, what is it?" Minerva asked him upon seeing the astonished look on the Deputy Headmaster's face. The man pointed at the parchment with a stiff finger, before collapsing on the carpeted floor of the circular office. The formidable witch snatched the parchment from his hand. More words appeared:

Good day, Professor McGonagall. I am sure you are concerned over our dear Potions Master over there, but I assure you, I mean him no harm. He just needed to be out cold for us to be able to talk freely.

"Heavens," the Headmistress exclaimed. "A sentient parchment?" But before she could contemplate it further, words formed to answer her:

This is nothing like Tom Riddle's diary, Minerva. Just a parchment I merely charmed to activate with certain key words and phrases. The first line was activated by the words SICK JOKE, the second line, with BLOODY. This line you are reading now, with HEAVENS, and the next one –

"Merlin,"

With MERLIN. Before I go further, I would like to confirm that I have indeed received and read your letter. I am most inclined to help Professor Snape, I assure you. If there is one thing I detest, it is seeing an innocent man suffer at the hands of an incompetent judicial system. You must understand though, that knowledge of my existence would cause tremendous chaos should it be made public at the wrong moment. Therefore, your utmost secrecy is necessary. With that being said, I will need your compete trust as well in the avenue I will be pursuing to assist our dear professor. The letter you hold is a portkey –

"A what?" Minerva exclaimed. She almost dropped the letter, but more words appeared to reassure her.

-That would only work for Professor Snape. I plan to take him on a little trip. Worry not, I shall return him well before the appointed time for his trial tomorrow. I need you to trust me on this.

"Why –should I do that?"

The parchment provided a cryptic response.

I swear on my mother's sacrifice. I mean him no harm.

Minerva felt her chest tighten.

"Oh dear, but you –you –"

Yes I am. But he does not need to know that. Not yet. I believe that you now need to reennervate our dear Potions Master, Headmistress. We would not want him to get s stiff neck for lying on the floor for too long. After he is awake once more, I need you to hand him the parchment. Once it is in his hands, I need you to ask him his mother's maiden name and I will take care of the rest.

Sincerely,

HLP

The usually stern witch felt tears forming in her eye.

"Oh, thank Merlin," She then proceeded to commence her task. She gripped her oak wand and pointed it at the passed out man in her office.

"Ennervate!"

Severus stirred.

"What –what has happened, Headmistress?"

Minerva merely smiled and shoved the parchment into her Deputy's hands.

"Tell me, Severus, what is your mother's maiden name?"

"Huh?" The man's obsidian eyes clouded in confusion. "Why in Merlin's name are you asking me that right now?" He glanced at the paper in his hands. "And what is this –"

"Just answer the question, young man!"

"Good grief, woman, no need to scream like a banshee! Prince! My mother's name was Eileen Prince! But I don't –"

The rest of the confused wizard's words were snatched right out of his mouth by a familiar tugging sensation coming from his navel. And before Minerva could hear the expletive that was sure to come out of the Slytherin's mouth, he was gone.

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Severus Snape prided himself in being ready for almost every situation thrown upon him; his Death Eater training assured him of that. So, there was almost nothing that caught him off-guard. Almost.

As soon as he felt the all too familiar sensation of a portkey travel, his instincts prodded him to grab his ebony wand and get ready to hex the first thing that he saw on the other end of his impromptu travel. Well, that was his intention.

ON the other end of the portkey, a man awaited the ex-spy's arrival with his own wand at the ready. So, even before Severus could mouth the first syllable of his 'Sectumsempra,' a warm jet of red light shot directly towards him upon his touchdown on solid ground. The last word he had heard before completely blacking out was 'Stupefy'.

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Gareth was an educated goblin. He was no novice on wizard magic. He watched as his lord's guest crumpled on the floor of one of Gringotts' many hidden chambers after being hit by a stunner, issued directly from the said Wizarding Lord's wand. He sighed as he turned towards the blue-eyed wizard.

"Must you stun him that hard, my Lord?" To Gareth's surprise, the man smiled and winked at him.

"Not a way to treat a guest, I assure you, Gareth. But believe me, if I did not do so, you would be picking up bits and pieces of me lying around for days,"

Gareth shook his head with a small smile of his own.

"You know him better than I, my Lord. I concede to your wisdom. But next time, try not to hit him so hard. It would do no well for your image, or your agenda."

"Will do," the man grinned at him, then faced the unconscious form of the Potions Master. "Well, at least we will not have a hard time bringing him into the Lair. Professor McGonagall did well. The parchment portkey was an inspired idea, Gareth."

"Thank you my Lord. Shall I levitate the Professor now then, or will you prefer to do the honors?"

"Yes please. I still have to prepare my Occlumency shields. The man we will be dealing with is by no means a yielding soul. I will need all my artillery to break into his defenses.

Gareth gave his lord a wide grin.

"Would you like me to soften him up a bit, sir?"

The man raised an eyebrow.

"Hmm, that's not a bad idea." He reached into his royal blue robes and produced a small vial containing an amber colored liquid. "Put this in a bottle of the strongest scotch you can find. And oh, put a note right next to it too. I will be back."

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The next time Severus opened his obsidian eyes, he was lying on a soft mattress, surrounded by white walls.

"It is most pleasing to see you awake, Lord Prince," a gruff, but polite voice said. Severus bolted right up from his position. He tried to grab his wand, but to his surprise, it wasn't anywhere on his person.

"I assure you, there would be no need for this,"

The Potions Master followed the voice until his eyes rested on a goblin standing by the foot of what turned out to be a four-poster bed that he was currently on. When their eyes met, the goblin broke into an easy smile. He gestured to his hand which held…

"My wand!" Severus made a move to grab it, but an invisible force pushed him back on the bed. He snarled at the goblin.

"What is this farce? What do you need of me?"

To his surprise, the goblin chuckled.

"The High Lord sends his apologies regarding the manner by which you were brought here –"

"Here? Where exactly is here? And who are you? The High Lord, you say? Where is he?"

"My name is Gareth. Where you are right now is called the Lair. It is neither here nor there. The High Lord asked me to see to your needs until he is ready to meet with you." Gareth waved his crinkled hand. A bottle of scotch appeared by the bedside table. Severus eyed it warily. The goblin smirked.

"Compliments of the House of Peverell, I hope it is to your liking." Gareth made a move to leave.

"Peverell?" Severus mused out loud, trying to place the name. "Wait!"

"Yes? Is there anything else, Lord Prince?"

If Severus noticed the formal address the goblin gave him, he made no move to correct it.

"I understand –I am in need of the High Lord's help and –but can I please have my wand back? I shall cause no trouble."

Gareth gave him a calculating look before tossing the wand back to its owner.

"The Lair is impervious to wizard magic. You may try, but you certainly cannot."

Severus sighed as he watched the goblin's retreating back.

'Merlin, what have I gotten myself into?'

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Gareth closed the door behind him gently, not bothering to lock it.

"Is he awake now?" A shaky voice asked. Gareth smiled.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Has he taken the potion yet?"

"Not yet, my Lord. Give it a few more minutes. Lord Prince still seems to be much agitated by recent events."

"Very well," the man sighed, running his fingers through his burgundy locks out of habit. A pregnant pause ensued for about a minute or so. Gareth frowned slightly.

"You seem quite uneasy yourself, my Lord. Are you sure you are alright dealing with the Potions Master?"

The young lord gave him a timid smile.

"It feels like it is my first year Potions Class all over again, Gareth."

"Would you like tonic for your nerves, sir?"

The goblins suggestion was met by a nervous chuckle.

"Would you believe that I have already downed two full-strength doses of a Calming Draught?" The man then sighed. "I have faced dragons, trolls, vampires, werewolves… Why am I so afraid of a wizard?"

"Perhaps, you are afraid of rejection from this particular wizard, my Lord?" Gareth supplied helpfully. The man gave him a pensive look.

"Perhaps, Gareth… perhaps you are right." The man then faced the door behind the goblin, his sapphire eyes shining but apprehensive. He made a move to grab the ancient brass doorknob. But before proceeding, he turned to his right-hand goblin once more.

"How do I look, Gareth?"

The goblin smiled.

"Charming as always, Lord Peverell."

Lord Peverell smiled back.

"All thanks to you, my good goblin." Lord Peverell then proceeded to open the portal to the Lair and let himself in.