Bottle Fame and Brew Glory: Underlying Problems
Thursday, September 11, 1997
Russ was driven from sleep at three o'clock the next morning by searing pain in his left arm. He gasped "Lumos!," and groped his way to the door of his tiny room, managing to open it and stagger to the common room, where he collided with a table and knocked a lamp crashing to the floor. A moment later, Goldstein was beside him.
"What's the matter, Moody? Why are you out of bed?"
"There's something wrong with my arm. Gad, it hurts."
Goldstein wasn't a prefect for nothing. Instructing Russ to sit in a chair, he rushed to his own dormitory room where he was allowed a small amount of floo powder. Back in the common room, he flung it at the grate and cried, "Madam Pomfrey!" Within seconds she responded.
"What is it, Ravenclaw?"
"I have a student complaining of severe pain to the left arm. It doesn't look like anything's wrong, but he's hurting bad, ma'am."
"Which student?"
"Russell Moody."
"I'm on my way. Wake Professor Flitwick, and young man…"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Pain in the left arm can be a symptom of a heart attack. Don't let him move around."
"You got it."
His first priority was to insist that Russ remain seated, then Goldstein raced from the tower to Flitwick's rooms, which were also seventh floor west. Moments later, both of them were back in the common room, Flitwick concerned, but Goldstein practically dancing with anxiety and itching for something else to do. Pomfrey arrived.
Pomfrey's examination of the arm was brief, then she turned to Goldstein, who snapped to attention. "Go to the headmistress. Tell her that Mr. Moody is very sick and that his uncle should be sent for at once." Grateful for the task, Goldstein sped towards the headmistress's office and rooms.
"Now, Filius, if you would conjure a stretcher, I'm going to get this arm into a sling. And you, Master 'Moody,' when did you take your last allergy pill?"
"Ten o'clock."
"Then we have to wait nearly seven hours before we can do anything. I'll try to make you comfortable, but you can bet that I'm going to give Alastor Moody a piece of my mind."
Ten minutes and a hefty dose of painkiller later, Russ was lying in the hospital wing behind a privacy screen. If anyone else was admitted, he would have to go into Madam Pomfrey's little private room, but for now he had the benefit of the larger area. McGonagall was there, as were Flitwick, Sprout, Lupin, and 'Switch.' All were looking worried, but 'Switch' more than the others because 'he' had more cause, having the same 'allergy.' Then Moody came in.
He went right to Russ. "You know, boyo, there's other ways of getting attention than scaring folks out of their beds in the wee hours."
Russ smiled. It was a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. "I was just sleeping. That's all I was doing – sleeping."
"Well, you rest. We're going to talk a bit." Moody turned and nodded toward the door where Goldstein could be seen still waiting for more instructions. McGonagall went over to him.
"You did an excellent job this evening, Mr. Goldstein. Thanks to your swift action, Mr. Moody is now in good care and will shortly be fine. I know you weren't thinking of it, but I intend to give fifty points to Ravenclaw anyway, and a commendation in your file. Few prefects are faced with such an emergency during their tenure, and you showed your true mettle. Get along back to bed. You've still got a couple of hours' sleep due to you."
Goldstein went, thankful that his charge was now in professional hands. After he was gone, McGonagall and her staff pulled up chairs and sat in a semicircle around Russ's bed.
"So, Poppy, what do you think it is?"
"I don't have to think, I know. It's that butcher's job Alastor did on his arm. It's down in there somewhere festering. And if it's gotten so infected that it's broken through the Polyjuice body, it's bad. Right now I can keep him comfortable, but I can't treat the problem until the Polyjuice wears off."
"Maybe you don't have to wait so long, Poppy," said Moody. "We took some clippings of Severus's hair and made Polyjuice capsules with that. I can turn him back into himself right now."
"Use your head, Alastor. That would only make things worse. Those pills won't turn him into himself. They'll turn him into the Severus he was a couple of weeks ago when you took the clippings. I'd have to wait several hours longer before I could see the condition of his arm as it is now."
After a moment Moody said, somewhat petulantly, "I did the best job I could."
Pomfrey softened. "I'm sorry, Alastor. I look at it today from the point of view of what I have to deal with, and I forget how horrible it must have been for you to be faced with no time, no choices, and limited tools. I don't think anyone could have done better, and Severus was lucky you were there. But now we have time, and we have choices, and we have to make better use of them."
"What do you suggest?"
"I won't know until I see it. But he may have to give up this Polyjuice existence."
"And that," said McGonagall. "Is as far as we're going to get right now. Moody, we've made up quarters for you. The rest of us need some more sleep, and we still have three hours until breakfast that I suggest we make use of. Pomfrey will see that our patient doesn't get up and wander about. Tie him down if you have to, Poppy."
Russ drifted into a fitful doze that wasn't interrupted until around breakfast time. Then he roused enough to hear voices speaking at an immeasurable distance, neither near nor far being accessible to Russ at that moment.
"He can't stay here like this. No information is worth the risk."
"We have to discuss it with the others. We may need him to continue."
"Don't the students know enough by now? Surely there are other places…"
"It's not something we can decide. The whole Order needs to deliberate."
"What if he won't…?"
"What if he can't…?"
"We use what we can. We haven't been left with many options, and none of us is expendable. Has he woken up?"
"Not yet, but it shouldn't be too long. Ten at the latest when he begins to change."
"Has everyone been alerted?"
"We started the chain an hour ago."
"Let me know when he stirs."
"What if he won't?"
"We decide when we face that moment. Not before."
Then there was quiet, and Russ slept once more.
Just before ten o'clock, everyone was back in the hospital. This included not only Moody, McGonagall, and the four teachers, but Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville. This made the hospital wing rather crowded, and Pomfrey insisted they sit quietly by the door while Russ morphed back into Snape behind the screen.
"You certainly look like something the cat dragged in," was Pomfrey's first comment.
"I love your beside manner."
"Don't be sassy. Let's have a look at that arm. Lovely. Suppurating scabs. You must think I sit around here with nothing to do all day, you bring me an arm like that. It would serve you right if gangrene set in, and you a healer. You should know better than to leave that kind of injury untended for what, ten days? Have you changed back into yourself at all since you got here? Don't lie to me. If you had, you'd have seen and felt it."
As she scolded, Pomfrey worked, lancing the area to permit drainage, cleaning it and gently working in a salve. "It's not like it was some ordinary scrape you got falling off a broom you know. This tissue was damaged by dark magic, and it needs regular tending. Have you thought who's going to help you with this if you can't get to me?"
"Moody or Lupin…"
"Neither of whom is a healer. Acceptable for first aid and mundane nursing duties, but you need a real healer. Who else knows about you and this masquerade?"
"They're all in this room. There's no one else."
"There are other members of the Order who know about you, but none of them is a healer either." Pomfrey looked around the screen at the group sitting near the door. "Pomona, could you come over here, please? And you, too, Longbottom."
"Me?" said Neville hesitantly.
"Good herbologists are often competent healers. It comes of being attuned to living things. Come along now."
"Go ahead, Neville," Lupin whispered. "Professor Snape thinks you're an excellent herbologist. He told me so himself a few days ago."
"Wait a minute," said Snape. "What are you teaching them to do to me?"
"One emergency spell that can keep almost any condition stable for a short time until you get more expert care." Pomfrey glared at him. "Do you want emergency backup or not? We could always just let you die, you know."
Snape kept his mouth shut after that, and stared fixedly at the ceiling while Pomfrey taught Sprout and Longbottom the little chant: Sano corpum e mali dominio, quamquam in mortis articulo. Each then practiced on a small section of the arm, after which Snape was forced to admit that it hadn't gotten any worse. Neville was quite pleased because the spot he was working on stopped oozing and began to mend on the edges.
"Now, Alastor," said Madam Pomfrey, "you're going to have to do something about this Polyjuice. He has to turn into himself – his real self – at least once every two days.
"Crouch didn't," said Ron. "He was 'Professor Moody' all the time."
"And were you a fly on the wall of his bedroom that you know what he was doing in his sleep?"
Ron thought for a moment, then was silent.
"Crouch took hourly doses." Pomfrey continued. "He had frequent opportunities to revert to his own form in private. Severus has been enduring marathon sessions with no reversions at all. The true body doesn't vanish just because you take Polyjuice. It's still under there. If it's healthy, you have no problems. If it's sick or injured, it gets worse until the overlaying body can't contain it anymore. If you severed an artery and then took Polyjuice, you might disguise the injury, and even slow the flow of blood for a time, but in the end you would still bleed to death without proper treatment."
Moody shook his head. "We can't chance any of the students seeing him change. As long as he's in a house, he has to take a pill every twelve hours."
"Why?" asked Luna calmly. "Why can't he take the twelve-hour pills some of the time, and three-hour or one-hour pills at other times? Then he could come up here where Madam Pomfrey can keep other people from seeing him, get his arm checked, then be Russ again."
"Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday are the full moon," said Snape. "Fluxweed…"
"I'm on it," Neville replied.
Flitwick sent for his prefects to tell them that Russell Moody would be going to stay for a few days with his uncle in order to rest, and to ask them to respond to any questions from his house mates. Flitwick didn't mention what the problem was, that being a matter of strictest privacy, but all of Ravenclaw 'knew' that the unfortunate boy was suffering from a congenital heart condition baffling to wizard medicine, and that he would probably die young – a piece of information that for some reason was considered highly romantic, especially by the older girls.
"And to think," said Goldstein, whose role in the latest events had made him something of a hero, "he pretended it was allergy medicine. That's brave, that is."
McGonagall, who had not yet given up the duties of head of Gryffindor house – though it was understood that job would eventually go to Lupin, there being no other teacher from Gryffindor, at least none who was qualified – let her prefects know that Granger, Longbottom, and the two Weasleys, at the request of Moody Senior would go with the stricken young man, as would Lovegood of his own house. Since Ron and Hermione were two of those prefects, it meant the others would have extra duties.
"But as the poor lad has no other friends here in Britain, his uncle thinks, rightly so I believe, that he will mend better if he has comrades his own age with him. And it should only be for a few days – then things will be back to normal."
The heat of popular rumor was stoked to a raging fire by the group's means of departing Hogwarts that afternoon, since Madam Pomfrey insisted that both apparating and floo powder put too much strain on Snape's system. The frail and imperiled Russell (for Snape had taken a Polyjuice pill that would last just an hour) was carried down the hill on a stretcher to the Hogsmeade station, where a single private car attached to the Hogwarts Express engine was prepared to carry him to London. The tragic little procession was watched from the castle by all of Ravenclaw house and a respectable percentage of the rest of the school.
It was Luna, a mischievous gleam in her eye, who tried to disrupt the proceedings. "Eledora MacAlvoy wants to give you her body," she announced to Russ when they were halfway down the hill.
"What?" Russ exclaimed as Ron clamped a hand over his own mouth to keep from hooting with laughter.
"Her body. She thinks it's a shame someone would have to die so young without ever having had any pleasure in life, so she's going to see that you get… some. Of course, it's not like you'd be the first, but I say take what you can get."
"I am not the slightest bit interested in Eledora MacAlvoy! She's way too… well, she's the wrong age!"
"Watch out, Luna. Pomfrey says we're not to let him get too excited," and Ron doubled up so far with suppressed laughter that they were afraid he'd fall, so Hermione and Ginny had to support him. Russ hoped that from the castle it would look as if he were in pain.
"Eledora –" Hermione's voice had a waspish quality to it – "is a… a…"
"Tart?" Luna suggested. "I thoroughly agree, but you must admit the gesture has all the aura of greatness of soul – the tragic heroine with her hopeless love…"
"I'm going to strangle you, then I'm going to strangle her!"
Ron had stopped laughing and was staring at Hermione. "There's nothing to get worked up about. It's just a joke. For a bit of a laugh."
They were at the bottom of the hill now, and Filch had the gate open. "You know, Ronald," Hermione said with impressive dignity as she marched through the gate, "not everyone considers making fun of another person to be funny."
A horse-drawn wagon waited to take them to the train station, which was a longish walk away, and Ron was silent and withdrawn the whole time it took them to get there. Hermione fussed a bit with Russ's blanket, then watched the passing scenery, one hand still resting on the stretcher. Moody sat next to Russ as well. He'd observed the whole interplay with amused interest.
The car was one long room, like a club car, with tables and chairs, and a curtained-off section where Russ could let the Polyjuice wear off in private. About ten minutes after the train started south, Snape emerged, his arm again in a sling. Moody helped him to a seat as the car swayed along a curve in the track.
"Don't want you losing your balance," Moody said, then addressed the whole group. "We're not going all the way to London, nor to my house either. We're not even going as far as York. At Northallerton we're taking the track west to Leyburn. There's a safe house out in the countryside, between Wensley and Middleham. You'll like it, boyo. Nice open moor and fresh air. And not so far west of a little village called Snape. I'll take you there if you behave."
"You know, my great-grandfather's name was Wensley Snape. I wonder if there's a connection. I grew up in moor country, on the other side of the Pennines, in Lancashire. Do you know Pendle Hill?"
"Of it. Never been there. Isn't that historic witch country? Hermione?"
"Hmm?" Hermione answered. She was watching out the window of the train and hadn't been paying attention.
"History of Magic, girl," said Moody. "Lancashire witches."
"Sixteen-twelve," recited Hermione, "Lancaster Castle. Nine people from Pendle, seven from Samlesbury, one from Windle, and one from Padiham were tried for witchcraft. The nine from Pendle and the one from Windle were found guilty and hanged.
"Katherine Hewitt," Snape added, "was on my father's mother's side of the family."
"That'd be the Princes, no?" Moody asked, and grunted when Snape confirmed the name. "Hanged for being a witch. Barbaric."
"She wasn't hanged for being a witch," Snape said with just a touch of impatience. "She was hanged for murder. Murdering a child, in fact."
The students were now staring at him in horror. This was not in their textbooks.
"One of your ancestors murdered a child?" Ginny exclaimed.
"No," replied Snape, beginning to get irritated. "She was accused by two people, the simple-witted son of a friend and his nine-year-old sister, of joining with another woman to murder the girl by witchcraft. Nobody really knew why the girl died, medical science being a touch primitive, so witchcraft seemed as likely a reason as any."
"I thought," said Luna calmly, "that witches were burned at the stake."
"Heretics were burned at the stake. Witches, at least around here, were only arrested if they were accused of hurting someone. You notice that half the accused at that trial were found not guilty. For the ones found guilty, there were actual dead people they were accused of killing – by malice, not by accident."
"So," Ron asked, "did she kill the girl?"
"No, but one of them may have actually done something to start the case. She was begging, and cursed a man who refused to give her money. He had a stroke right there on the street that left him partly paralyzed. That's why the first arrests were made. Then they started accusing each other."
"Do you think it was a real curse?"
"It may have been. She wasn't too bright."
"I thought," continued Luna in the same, almost dreamy tone, "that hundreds of thousands of witches were tried and killed, maybe millions. Four hundred in one day in southern France."
"Is Binns still teaching that tripe? He should stick to goblin wars – that's what he's good at. Of course, he died before modern research debunked that story. Miss Lovegood, that tale was a forgery compiled by a rather bad author who spent most of his time writing horror stories about vampires. Not a word of truth in it. Anybody who really knew anything about medieval history would know at once it was a lie."
Moody laid a hand on Snape's good arm. "Like Fortescue?"
"Damn," Snape breathed softly. "That's how he recruited Death Eaters in the seventies. That's how he got me."
"Come again?"
"Fear of a witch-burning craze. Lots of Death Eaters at the time were afraid of muggle riots. They joined the Dark Lord for protection. Sometimes the Dark Lord sent muggles under Imperius curses to attack witches in order to feed the panic. That's how my grandmother died, burned to death in her own house. I was still in school when it happened, but that's the main reason I became a Death Eater."
"He might do it again?"
"Why not? It worked before. Modern research knows that witch hunts weren't as widespread or as large as people used to believe, but witches still think they were." Snape gestured towards the students. "We even still teach it at Hogwarts. Fortescue is one of the few who would know the truth. I thought earlier, when Dumbledore had me investigating the founders, trying to locate possible artifacts for Horcruxes, that Fortescue was kidnapped because of that knowledge. I still do, but there could have been more than one reason."
It was late by the time the train arrived at Leyburn, but that was intentional. It meant fewer people would see them arrive. They were met at the station by an old, nondescript van just big enough for them and their few bags. The welcoming party consisted of one – Yaxley.
"I didn't know you could drive," said Snape by way of a greeting.
"I couldn't. Had to learn. The boss wants no magic out here. Too detectable. I sure hope you can cook. My cooking's terrible."
"No magic!" cried Ron, focusing on the one part of the conversation that affected him personally. "What are we going to do?"
"Pretend you're underage," snapped Moody. "It wasn't all that long ago. We don't know if Voldemort can detect odd magical spells, but the Ministry can. And he may have spies in the Ministry still. And any rate, we don't want the Ministry knowing about this place, so no magic."
The road was narrow but good as they headed south towards Middleham, then became more of a dirt path when Yaxley turned west. Under a moon that was almost full, they got glimpses of gently rolling hills covered with grass and scrub, with here and there a stand of trees in a lower part of the ground where a spring provided more water.
The farmhouse loomed rather large in the night, long and low – a single-storied building with a peaked roof that had probably once been thatched, but which was shingled now. It also probably once had a dirt floor, but someone had long since put in a wooden one, and they had to go up several steps to enter.
Ron, forgetting, started to say Lumos, but Moody gently placed his hand over Ron's mouth to stop him and tossed a box of matches to Yaxley. "Lamps are on the table," he said to Snape. They were oil lamps with tall glass chimneys. "Hope you know how to use a coal grate."
"I have one at home. If dad was out of work and we couldn't pay the gas and electricity, it was all we had. Any chance of a charcoal grill?"
"There!" crowed Yaxley. "He can cook!"
"Not unaided, I can't. I've only got one good arm."
"What's that got to do with it?"
"You try cracking open an egg one-handed. Or flipping an omelet when you can't hold the pan steady. We do have eggs, don't we?"
"Got one of those plastic cooler things filled with ice. Got milk, cheese, eggs, sausages, ham, bread…"
"Any onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, salt, pepper, butter…"
The students were silently setting out cots and sleeping bags. Ron especially was paying attention to the discussion about food. It had been his first concern when he'd heard they weren't allowed to use magic, and although he'd supped on the train, he was mightily concerned about breakfast. From Snape and Yaxley's conversation, it sounded like that wouldn't be a problem. Ron was immensely relieved.
Snape had started pulling open cupboards and drawers, and suddenly cried, "Aha! a toaster!"
"But there's no elec…" Hermione started to say, then saw he was holding a small square metal grill with a long handle. "That's not a toaster."
"Well, little Miss Know-It-All, how do you think your great-great-grandparents toasted their toast in the days before Thomas Edison harnessed electricity? They did have toast, you know."
"I… never thought about it."
"It's time you did." Snape continued rummaging in the cupboards. "Ron thinks he can't live without magic, and you think you can't live without electricity, and for thousands of years people have been doing without both. Come now, girl. These wizards are lost without a wand, but you're a muggle. You have mechanical ingenuity and skill. It's in your blood."
"I didn't think about it like that. I thought being a muggle was… you know."
"Inferior. I know, I felt the same way. But muggles beat wizards in survival skills hands down. Never forget that."
"I thought you were proud of your wizard blood. You're the Half-Blood Prince."
Snape turned and faced her, a skillet in his good hand. "That was my mother's book. I started looking at it when I was eight, and wrote the inscription when I was nine. At the time I… didn't have a good relationship with my father. One of the wonderful things about knowing… her… was that I started to think that the muggle side of me was special, too."
There was an awkward pause. "Mr. Weasley," Snape said suddenly, "if you are awake early enough tomorrow morning, I shall teach you how to continue to eat well even without magic."
"I'll be there, sir," said Ron, grinning.
There was one actual bed in the farmhouse, and by Moody's decree it went to Snape. When Snape tried to object, Moody reminded him that the whole group's chances of returning quickly to Hogwarts or their normal lives rested on his, Snape's, getting well soon. "And I want to return to my normal life as soon as possible, so you're sleeping in the bed." At that point, all argument ceased.
Snape didn't sleep well. A couple of hours after they were all in bed, the pain in his arm woke him. He managed to light a lamp and check the scabs, which appeared unchanged. Just the painkiller wearing off, he reasoned. Before six in the morning he was up and moving about, trying to get everything ready for breakfast, there being no other activity to occupy his mind or his time. Unfortunately, there were things that couldn't be done one-handed. Like chop onions.
Neville was up soon after, and Snape set him to chopping the onions and the mushrooms. Hermione roused next and was given the task of grating cheese and cracking eggs open. Shortly thereafter everyone was awake, and breakfast proper could begin.
Ron was the cook, Snape being unable to beat eggs or flip omelets one-handed. To Ron was explained the absorbent qualities of onions and mushrooms that made it necessary to fry them separately and hold them to one side, the advantages of mixing just a touch of milk into the eggs, the way to judge the heat of the pan by holding one's hand over it, so that the eggs would not cook too quickly, and how to regulate the heat by moving the pan towards or away from the grate. Ron had to gently lift the edges of the omelet to let the uncooked eggs slip under the already cooked part, and Ron had to flip the omelet before it overcooked on one side. And of course, Ron got to taste the finished omelet first, go beet-red with pride, and hurry to cook more.
Luna was the toaster, holding the slices of bread near the coals in the wire grill, while Ginny buttered the toasted bread as each slice was done. Hermione and Neville set the table, and Yaxley fried up sausages and ham in another skillet. Moody was going to do the shopping later, and so was at first spared this round of labor. He relaxed and watched the bustle of activity until Snape screeched, "Coffee!" sending him to fill a coffee pot with water from the pump set by the kitchen sink, and get the coffee brewing next to the grate.
Breakfast was an extremely satisfying meal, each having contributed something to it. There wasn't a lot of talking, but the level of eating made up for it. The five students cleared up afterwards while the three adults went over shopping lists and menus.
"You do have money, right?" Snape insisted. "It's only for a few days, and we haven't much to entertain ourselves with except food. I say get a leg of lamb."
"That'll cost a fortune and besides, it's the wrong season for lamb."
"New Zealand. Have you heard of New Zealand? Or Australia? Get lamb. Submit a bill to Hogwarts when this is all done."
After Moody acquiesced, Snape began adding things. "Yogurt. And prepared mustard. Rosemary, bay, three chickens, ginger, turmeric, cinnamon..."
"You're going to bankrupt me!"
"Do you want to eat or not?"
Yaxley took copious notes and insisted on going with Moody to make sure he bought everything. After they were gone, Snape began to feel the lack of sleep. He was incredibly drowsy, and went out to the back of the house where lounging chairs had been set, easing himself into one. The autumn sun was warm and relaxing.
"Sir," said Neville next to Snape's ear, "would you mind if I practiced?"
Snape roused, and realized the boy was talking about the healing chant. He nodded and settled back while Neville unwrapped his arm and began humming the charm in a low, gentle voice.
The countryside was quiet except for the singing of birds. The sun was warm and soothing. Neville's soft murmur was almost hypnotic while the voices of the others registered far away, outside the realm of conscious thought. And Snape himself was sick, and very, very tired.
Within a few minutes, he had fallen fast asleep.
xxxxxxxxxx
They descended from the carriages in front of the house in Mayfair, where police held back a crowd. Sirius was there, his hair wild, his eyes wild, too, from years in Azkaban. The police had trouble holding him back. "Let him have you, Snivellus! Let him eat you alive! But if he gets my brother I'll kill you!"
He looked at his left arm where the skull and snake, ornate and beautifully entwined, gleamed in pristine newness. Regulus laid a hand on his shoulder and answered, "Poor old 'Serious.' With honey he might have gotten two. With a whip he got nothing."
Hundreds of candles burned in chandeliers and mirrored sconces. Karkaroff came up to him in the foyer to shake his hand in congratulation. Music played and goblins in livery served them. The table was piled with delicacies, and he sat next to Cygnus Black in the place of honor. Around them dancers swirled in a stately waltz of black tails and white gowns.
In the smaller sitting room, Wilkes and Rosier danced a mad tango. Bartemius Crouch stuck his head in the door. "Has anyone seen Barty? They said he was coming, but I can't find him anywhere."
A voice at his elbow commented mildly, "Have you tried the pickled mushrooms? They really are quite good." He turned to face Dumbledore, who laid a long finger against his lips and whispered, "Do not tell. I am not supposed to be here, you know. But Hagrid has done a splendid job, do you not think?" And he twirled in place like a ballerina. Then Dumbledore began to disappear until only his nose and mouth were visible. "The Baron spends a lot of time there," the mouth said, and vanished.
Regulus sat next to him, admiring the new mark. "I got mine a year ago, when I turned seventeen."
"But you were still at Hogwarts."
"You can get away with murder in that school. It's amazing what they're giving out awards for these days. Cats have nine, but the going rate for people these days is two." He stood and walked toward the door singing, "Fame! I want to live forever..."
"Severus?" a gruff voice was saying from the piano, "Severus… How long has he been asleep? Come on, boyo, you need to get inside. It's clouding over and may rain."
Snape stood, still half asleep and let them lead him back into the house where Moody checked the arm.
"You're doing a great job, Neville. It's looking better already." Moody's voice seemed to come from far away. "Look here, Severus, we've got lunch for you. Yaxley says you love fish and chips, so we went to… Well, will you look at that. He's asleep again…"
It was late afternoon when Snape awoke, feeling infinitely better, alert and energetic. He started to get off the bed, but Yaxley came over to make sure he didn't get up too quickly. "What time is it?" Snape asked.
"'Bout four o'clock."
"Good. Time to start preparing dinner. I'm starving. What did you get?"
They checked over the things, which included a small outdoor grill. "For the lamb tomorrow," said Snape, and he set Yaxley to cutting up the chickens. The sound of chopping brought Ron like iron shavings to a magnet, so Snape showed him how to chop up the various root vegetables. Meanwhile he prepared the yogurt/mustard marinade for the lamb.
"How does he know all this?" Ron whispered to Yaxley.
"My understanding is, cooking's a lot like brewing potions. If you can't use magic, you get yourself a muggle-raised potions master, and you'll always eat well."
Later, over dinner of Moroccan chicken and vegetables with rice, Snape remembered parts of his dream. "Does anyone know of a place where the Bloody Baron spends a lot of his time?" he asked suddenly.
The others stared at him as if he were delirious. "Now whatever prompted that?" Moody asked.
"Nothing. I was just remembering something I heard a long time ago."
No one at the table had an answer to his question. It's all right. The Baron knows who I am. Maybe the other ghosts do, too. I can ask one of them when we get back to Hogwarts.
That evening after supper, they washed up, then sat in the soft lamp light, the three men around the table and the teenagers on the cots or the lounge chairs they'd brought in from outside. There were some minutes of comfortable silence, then Ron attracted everyone's attention by clearing his throat.
"We've been talking outside, and we have some questions," he said.
"Thought you might," Moody grunted. "Where do you want to start."
"With him, of course," said Ron, pointing at Yaxley. "No offense meant."
"None taken. I work for him," Yaxley answered and looked over at Moody, waiting for him to explain.
"The problem is," said Hermione, "we've all seen you before, but none of us can remember where."
"I don't know where that would be, Miss. Not all of you at any rate."
Moody looked puzzled. Snape glanced around at the group, then addressed Moody. "Do you want to tell them, or shall I?"
"You mean you know the answer to this?"
"Yes, and I'd like it back eventually. Both of them, in fact. They are mine."
"What are you talking about?"
"My memories. The ones we've all looked at in the pensieve. That's where they've seen Yaxley."
Ron was on his feet, Ginny right behind him. The other three didn't move. "You're a Death Eater!" Ron cried. "You went up onto the tower to kill Professor Dumbledore! I remember your voice! You're the one who was telling Draco to kill him!" His wand was in his hand, pointed at the three at the table.
"Mr. Weasley," said Snape quickly and softly, "you use that wand, and we have to leave here immediately. If the Dark Lord finds out that Yaxley's not in Azkaban, he's a dead man."
"Now, boyo, we can always cut his mark off, too."
"I was in a shielded house with surgical scalpels. Those knives aren't sharp enough."
"You're serious," exclaimed Ginny. Ron put his wand away. Snape and Moody turned to Yaxley, who drummed his fingers on the table.
"Go ahead, Nigel," said Moody. "It's your story."
Yaxley coughed, then started. "Young Malfoy came through the cabinets that evening to Borgin and Burkes, and got Borgin to contact some of our people. There weren't many at headquarters that night – not expecting a call – but Greyback must've had standing orders. He organized a group to go to London and get to Hogwarts through the cabinets. I was worried because I knew Snape was planning to run with Malfoy if it came to it, so I tagged along. Just in case I could help. We weren't expecting a fight – you took us a bit by surprise there.
"Gibbon went up to the top of the tower to set the Dark Mark – that's when I knew Dumbledore was out and Snape would be waiting somewhere in the castle to help him when he got back. Draco went up the tower next, and when he didn't come back after a while, I followed Greyback and the Carrows up and blocked the stairs so only Snape could get through.
"That's when I realized that Dumbledore knew who I was. He was slumped against the wall away from the stairs, and though he greeted the others, he pretended he didn't even notice me. I figured you told him I was working for you. Draco was just standing there. He wasn't going to do anything, but the others were all for killing Dumbledore right there themselves. I told them to let Draco do it to stall for time. I figured eventually Snape would be called up to the tower.
"When he got there, things happened real fast. Dumbledore told Snape something through mind contact, then he looked right at me and said, 'Severus, please…' I figured if he was talking to Snape, there was no reason to do it out loud, so he must have been trying to tell me that Snape was about to do something that Dumbledore told him to do, and to just go along with it.
"Then all hell broke lose. Snape says the killing curse and at the same time blasts Dumbledore off the tower. He grabs Malfoy, orders us all down the stairs at a run, there's some kind of explosion in front of us, down the staircase, and I'm just about to follow the others down when I get immobilized from behind. It's the first I knew someone else was up there.
"Tonks found me, and I was in a panic. I was supposed to go to our safe house in Oxford and help Snape, but he was out there alone and I knew he must be in trouble. I convinced Tonks to send a message to Moody here to tell him how to get to the Oxford place, and I ended up with Moody, Lupin, and Tonks taking care of him for near a month. He gave us quite a turn there, you know. We thought we'd lost him. It was touch and go for more than a week.
"I'm still not sure what Moody did with the Ministry to keep me out of Azkaban."
"You know," said Hermione sadly, "I'll bet he was trying to tell Harry, too. Except Harry didn't understand."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked.
"When he said, 'Severus, please.' I'll bet he was trying to let Harry know he'd just asked Professor Snape to do something. Harry thought he was begging not to be killed."
"Albus begging not to be killed?" Moody was incredulous. "I thought that boy was close to him. Where would he get the idea Dumbledore would do that?"
Snape sighed. "Potter thinks I'm a killer. An alternate explanation would never occur to him."
"You? You've never killed anyone!"
"He thinks I have."
"He thought you were trying to kill him in his first year, the jinxed broom at the Quidditch match," Hermione said in a small voice. "Actually, we all did. That was my fault. I saw you muttering the counter curse and thought it was the curse."
Snape swept to his feet and seized a cup from the table. Yaxley was up immediately, flinging his arms around Snape's body, pinning Snape's arms to his sides, and the cup fell to the floor. "No magic!" Yaxley shouted. "No magic!" Since he was a much larger man, this action was effective in keeping Snape immobile. The others had sprung to their feet as well.
"I was just," said Snape quietly, "going to throw it."
"I didn't want to take any chances. Bella and that cousin of hers told us all what you did to the lab back in… London."
"Oh, really?" said Moody. "What did he do?"
"Telekinetic tantrum. Trashed the place by all accounts. Scared the sh- – the daylights – out of Bella."
"Didn't know you had it in you, boyo. I'll watch my step."
"Will you let me go now?"
"Oh, sorry." Yaxley released Snape, and everyone sat back down again.
"Excuse me," Neville ventured. When Moody looked at him, he asked in a very small voice, "Is it really that bad, doing magic here? Because I did some."
In the now tense atmosphere, Moody asked gently, "When was that, Neville?"
"This morning. I practiced the healing charm on Professor Snape's arm."
"He's right," Snape said. "He asked permission, and I told him he could. I was tired. I wasn't thinking. It's my fault."
"I saw him doing it when we got back and told him he'd done a good job. Does healing count? I mean, would they pick it up?" Moody was frowning.
"No one's come after us yet." Snape thought for a moment. "You weren't using a wand, were you Neville?"
"No, sir. Just the chanting."
"It's probably all right, then. It isn't magic on the same level."
"I can keep watch tonight, just in case," Yaxley.
"I'm sorry," Neville told Yaxley.
"Not to worry. You did exactly right. They're the ones who slipped up."
Snape was trying to remember the morning. "That may have been what gave me the dream. I have these dreams sometimes…"
"Don't tell me you're a Seer," Moody laughed.
"I should've thrown that cup at you. No. The dreams never tell the future, and I can remember them. They tell me things I should remember or be noticing. I even dreamed about Barty Crouch when he was impersonating you. I just didn't realize the significance at the time because I was sure he was dead. But something about the way 'you' were talking and behaving registered in my mind as Barty, and I dreamed about it."
"So, tell us this dream, boyo."
"I was young again, eighteen or so. It was the party they gave for me at the Blacks' London residence after I became a Death Eater."
"You were sponsored by the Blacks? You had connections!"
Snape gave Yaxley a rueful look. "Why do you think Bella always calls me 'puppy dog.' I'm her protégé. Anyway, we were going into the house, and Sirius was there threatening me if Regulus ever became a Death Eater and…" Snape told them the whole dream.
"A couple of things stand out, now that I think about it. First, some of the wrong people were there. Karkaroff, for example, who was never in that set. Then Crouch, who was never a Death Eater, and Dumbledore, who said he shouldn't be there anyway. And some people who should have been there weren't. Like Lucius, Bella, and Narcissa."
"They're all dead, aren't they?" asked Luna. "You only dreamt about dead people. Mr. Crouch said his son hadn't arrived, but he was kissed by the dementors, so he's not really dead."
"Maybe," said Hermione eagerly, "that's what Dumbledore meant about not belonging there, and what a good job Hagrid did. Maybe it means he's not really dead."
"Slow down," exclaimed Snape. "This is only a dream, not a prediction."
"At least," said Moody, "it's an indication that you don't think he's dead which, coming from the person who tossed him off the tower, is rather important."
"Now we know why you asked about the Bloody Baron," said Ron. "But don't you know where he spends his time? You're head of Slytherin."
"The Baron is a very private ghost who doesn't share his comings and goings with me. Although he does know that I'm Russell, or rather that Russell is me. There must be something I already know about the Baron that I have to remember."
"Was Sirius's brother really already a Death Eater before he left Hogwarts?" asked Hermione.
"I don't know. A couple of the others were, so I wouldn't be surprised. He mentioned awards in the dream, which may be a reference to the trophies."
"Of course," said Ginny. "Cats have nine lives, but the going rate for people is two lives. Maybe he even knew the cup was a Horcrux. That's the song – 'I want to live forever.'"
"Okay, stop," Snape said. "First, let's remember this is just a dream. But if Regulus had something to do with putting the cup in the trophy room in his seventh year, and if he knew it was a Horcrux, how would he feel when he found out the locket was one, as well? That there might be several Horcruxes? You do, after all, have to kill another person in order to be able to make one."
"Yeah, but that's nothing new. Everyone knew that Voldemort killed people. Are you all right?" Ron looked over at Yaxley, who'd jumped at the mention of Voldemort's name.
"Let's stick with You-Know-Who in present company," suggested Moody.
"Yeah, right. Sorry, I forgot."
"Actually, we didn't at the time. Realize the Dark Lord was killing people, I mean." Snape was pensive. "A lot of us thought he was protecting us against muggle violence. So it may have been a shock for Regulus if he found out that the whole thing was based on lies and manipulation – that the Dark Lord was lying to and manipulating his own people."
There was a long pause. Then Moody rose and went to the door and looked out at the moon, nearly full, that was more than halfway up the sky. "It's getting late. We should get to bed."
"I'll stay up a bit to keep watch," Yaxley reminded him. "Just in case."
"I think," said Snape, "we should discuss when we're going back to Hogwarts."
"Feeling better, eh?"
"Much."
"We'll see how you feel tomorrow. If you're still improving, we can talk about returning on Sunday. That way you youngsters," Moody included Snape in the comment, "won't miss out on too many of your classes."
Yaxley waited until just after midnight, then went to bed himself. It was a peaceful night. When Snape woke up, he found that Ron had already started breakfast and was showing Neville how to make omelets.
The group had just sat down to a breakfast supervised almost entirely by Ron – and a quite good one at that – when there was a knock, well more like a flapping, at the door. Yaxley got up and opened the door to admit a very familiar snow-white owl.
"Hedwig!" cried Ginny, who rushed to take whatever message the owl might be carrying, certain it was for her. There were, in fact, five notes with five short but personal greetings and the same basic message.
"Harry wants to know when the first Hogsmeade excursion is going to be, so he can meet us there and talk," Hermione said.
"Drat," said Snape, with a subtle note of sarcasm in his voice, "and I did so want to go to Hogsmeade."
"Why not go?" Moody asked. "Hogsmeade 'd be good for you."
"And run into Potter? You forget, he knows who I am."
"So what if he does? What's he going to do about it?"
"Do?" Ron scoffed. "Just tell the whole town and organize a lynch mob. Nothing to worry about there at all."
"See," Moody waved his fork at Ron. "Nothing to worry about at all."
"I'm pleased to hear that. So you take the Polyjuice pill and go to Hogsmeade in my place."
"Do I look like I'm crazy? Seriously, we'll be your backup. Nothing 'll happen."
"Until I get back into the school. Then they'll lynch me in the Ravenclaw common room."
"Harry wouldn't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because he wants you for himself. He'd never allow anyone else to steal that pleasurable duty from him. If he can't take you in Hogsmeade, he'll wait for a better opportunity."
"You'll pardon me if the prospect doesn't enchant me."
Ginny looked up from her note. "I think you're being horribly unfair to Harry," she protested. "He's not like that at all. He had a chance to kill you, remember, and he didn't do it."
"I'm not risking my life on a value judgment."
"Ha! You already did, boyo. You're the one who told him who you were and practically dared him to kill you! You gambled and you won. Now if that's not risking your life on a value judgment…"
"You're assuming I didn't want him to kill me. Given the alternative of having to endure your conversation for the next several weeks, I was rather hoping he would. Now that I'm away from you and at Hogwarts, however, my existence has become more endurable."
"I'm beginning to understand why your students hate you."
Ron let out a yelp of laughter, was silenced by a glare from Snape, then crowed, "You're not my teacher anymore and never will be again. I don't have to be afraid of you!" He began to stomp around the room chanting, "Never again! Never again!"
"I wouldn't get too cocky. There are other ways to take you down a peg besides docking points from Gryffindor."
"What are you going to do, beat me up?"
"You think not, Mr. Weasley? You want to go outside and watch me deck you?"
Ron was grinning from ear to ear. "Sure! You just give it a try!"
Yaxley stepped between them. "I know this is all in fun, but before it goes too far, Weasley, you should know you're facing the Dark Lord's premier self-defense instructor."
Ron snorted, then looked at Snape, then back at Yaxley. "Nah," he said. "I don't believe you. He's just my Potions teacher."
"You know, Weasley, I did have a life prior to the day when you walked into my classroom. You want to try me?"
"You're on!" said Ron.
"You don't really want to do this," Moody cautioned as the excited group moved outside. "He's taller than you, he's younger than you, he's got two good arms… Hell, if I was a betting man, I wouldn't be betting on you."
"I would," said Yaxley, and left it at that.
"Moody has a point," Snape said to Ron. "I effectively only have one arm. Why don't you take it easy for two or three passes, until I have your measure. More sporting that way."
"Okay," Ron agreed.
Ron charged, but instead of meeting the charge, Snape pivoted and grabbed Ron's left arm with his right, pulling Ron forward in the direction he was already going, at the same time sticking out his right foot. Ron fell on his face.
"I have your measure," Snape said. "No holds barred."
The combat was sharp, but short. No matter how Ron attacked, Snape was able to direct his forward motion to Snape's advantage, and with relatively little effort. At the end of five minutes, Ron had conceded defeat.
"Teach me how to do that," he said.
It was like being back at headquarters with a new group to instruct, except this time it was a group that Snape sympathized with. The girls and Neville had all been electrified by the vision of physical mastery without the need for physical strength. The first technique was the roll and recover, and no one threw himself more into the instruction than Neville. That dodging a blow was not only an acceptable, but a preferred strategy was a liberating moment for Neville, and he took to rolling and coming up shooting with a passion that Snape had not encountered before.
Of course, they didn't really come up shooting, since they couldn't use magic, but Snape insisted that they visualize what spell they would have ready if it were a real situation.
"Now," he said in a moment of rest, "this is information that may be useful. Every Death Eater I've ever taught has been taught to roll to the right. So if one of them goes into a defensive roll, you just aim your spell to their right, and you'll have them. You need to practice rolling both to the right and to the left. The left-hand roll may be more useful since it's the opposite of what they expect.
After the rolls, Snape started teaching them how to utilize an opponent's forward momentum to their advantage. That lesson was interrupted by lunch.
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"Wow! Up until today I thought fighting was all about what spell you attacked with and what spell you blocked with." The whole group was finishing up the fish and chips and the Moroccan chicken from the day before. Snape was trying to keep track of what was old and what was new, culinarily speaking.
"The spell you attack with is very important, Mr. Weasley, but only if you manage to avoid the spell your opponent is attacking with. You can't always do that with another spell."
"So you can show us what spells to attack with."
"Actually, I'm not that good at offensive fighting. I've always been much better at defending myself than at attacking someone else. If you find a better instructor at attack, go with him." Snape was far too busy with the proper disposal of leftover food to notice the reaction of the students to his statement.
"Okay," Ron said, but it would have been clear to a more observant person that his heart wasn't in the answer.
The most important decision of the afternoon was that the following day, Sunday, they would return to Hogwarts. This decision was made by Moody, as none of the others wanted to interrupt their 'holiday' away from school. Moody, however, had them writing replies to Potter promising to send him the Hogsmeade schedule as soon as they knew it, and packing their things for the trip back to school.
By late afternoon, Moody and Yaxley had driven away from the safe house so that Moody could apparate to his own home, retrieve some of the shorter term Polyjuice pills, and apparate back a far enough distance from the house to keep them all safe.
"What about our self-defense lessons," Neville asked Snape.
"I can continue that at Hogwarts. It doesn't matter what I look like, I can still teach."
The evening meal of marinated leg of lamb was a lesson in barbecuing for Yaxley, as he would be staying on at the house and have to cook for himself. The weather was pleasant, so they moved the table, chairs, and a couple of lamps outside to have more of a picnic. It was a quiet time, since everyone in general was tired from the exertions of the day. As it darkened and the moon rose, the men moved back inside, leaving the teenagers to talk among themselves with the admonition that they'd have to be in bed soon for an early start the next morning.
Moody watched the young people from a window. "You'd best watch out for her, she's taken a fancy to you."
"Who are you talking about?"
"Hermione. Ron noticed. He was ready to tear you apart on the train."
"That's rubbish. Maybe she doesn't dislike me as much as she used to, but that's all. She's no different from the others."
"It isn't you yourself. It's Russell Moody. She seems to think of you as two quite different people. The others do, too. Luna would never talk to you as Professor Snape the way she talks to you as Russell. But Hermione seems to have totally separated the two."
"Are you sure?"
"On the train it was very clear. She was quite protective of Russ, but as soon as you came out looking like yourself, she lost all interest. The problem is that she's going to see you as Russ all the time now, and she may completely forget about Snape."
"I could remind her on a regular basis."
"Don't remind her too strongly. You want these kids to stay friendly. If they blow your cover at Hogwarts, you won't be able to get out. Well, Minerva would probably help you, but the students would all tell their families, and it'd be a mess."
"I'll keep it in mind."
They were on their way to Leyburn well before dawn on Sunday. Almost no one was about when the Hogwarts engine with its one car pulled in and then out with its seven passengers, as Yaxley watched from the platform.
The students were ecstatic at being able to use magic again, and filled the car with balloons, confetti, strange cartoon-like creatures that they sent chasing after each other in the corners of the ceiling, and anything else that seized their fancy at the moment.
"It never occurred to you to have two separate cars, did it?" said Snape as one of the game figures zipped past his ear.
"Think of it as acclimatization."
"That or a pressurization chamber."
"What'll you do when you're back in the castle?" It wasn't a question about classes or student life, and both knew it.
"Follow the dream lead and see if I can find out where the Baron spends his time. I'd also like to know what Hagrid knows. Minerva must have information, but she can't share it with me, or I'd go to her first. I'm hoping to find out something about Hagrid's excellent 'job.' Then I'd like to get a closer look at that cup. After that dream, I wish I'd been sorted back into Slytherin."
"Why?"
"I'd like to look at Regulus's old dormitory. If he really was doing things on the Dark Lord's orders, there may still be something there."
"Sure. After eighteen years of teenage boys occupying the same space. You don't think maybe you're a tad overoptimistic?"
"You're probably right."
As they neared Hogwarts, Snape moved into the curtained area to take the Polyjuice pill – a one-hour one – and change clothes. Alerted by Moody, he now paid closer attention to the reactions of the students when he emerged.
Hermione smiled warmly, and Ron glowered. Luna got a knowing, mischievous look in her eyes, while Ginny seemed unchanged. Neville actually looked disappointed.
The train slowed, eased into Hogsmeade station, and released its passengers. A wagon was there to take them to the gate, Russ officially still being too unwell for the long walk, and then they all climbed the hill together. It was lunch time, but Moody and Russ went up to see Madam Pomfrey first.
In the hospital's small, private room, Russ turned back into Snape so that Pomfrey could evaluate the arm.
"Has Neville been working on this?" she asked and, on receiving a positive reply, commented, "The boy may be a healer. A real one."
A schedule having been worked out for Snape's seeing Pomfrey on a more regular basis, Moody left for home. Russ then returned to his form and went first to the Great Hall, where he was warmly received (especially by Eledora MacAlvoy), but where he stayed only long enough to pick up a sandwich and go. His excuse was that he had to catch up on his schoolwork.
Where he went was Professor Lupin's office.
Lupin looked nervous and edgy as he opened the door to Russ's knock. Seeing who it was, he stepped back to allow Russ into the room. "I'm glad you're back. I'm not as good at mixing this as you are."
"You need to know how to choose and pick the herbs. Especially not to bruise the vervain and the pennyroyal until just before you add them. Here, let me see what you've got."
They fretted over the Wolfsbane Potion for more than an hour – Russ taking one of his pills in the middle of the session – since that same night would be the first of a three-night werewolf cycle. Finally Russ handed Lupin a goblet of brew. "Is it time for the next dose?"
"Just about." Lupin drained the goblet, and they both waited. After about five minutes, Lupin smiled. "That's much better. Now, that pill you took. Was that the Polyjuice?"
"It was, and I know what you're thinking. You'd like this as a pill. But wouldn't it be easier in wolf form to lap it from a bowl than to take it as a pill?"
"Probably. But couldn't I have it in both forms?"
"I'll check. There might be some problem in that regard with the vervain. Meanwhile, I've brought Longbottom back with me. You might think about getting him to gather herbs for you. He'd get the most potent in the best condition."
"I'll do that."
"One other thing. I need a place to do some of my own potions work. Would you mind if I used your office? There aren't a lot of places where I can come and go freely."
"Be my guest."
On his way back towards the entrance hall, Russ glimpsed a familiar transparency gliding in front of him. Luckily, it was a beautiful day, and the students were outside enjoying the sun.
"Sir Nicholas!" Russ called.
The ghost turned and approached, grinning conspiratorially. "Do you think it's wise accosting me in an open hallway? Someone might see us."
"It's considerate of you to think of that, Sir Nicholas, but I believe there's no one here but us. May I ask you a couple of questions?"
"Of course, we're both on staff."
"Who do you see when you look at me?"
"Yourself, of course. Ah! I understand. I 'see' a teenage boy with dark brown hair and gray eyes. But the spirit that looks out from those eyes is a very familiar Hogwarts professor. I don't 'see' his shape, but I know his essence."
"Do you remember three years ago, when Alastor Moody was supposed to teach Dark Arts?"
"Oh, yes indeed, sir. Sad business. It was really Crouch's son."
"What did you see then?"
"We 'saw' Alastor Moody. None of us had seen him for decades, so we really didn't know if the spirit in his eyes was what he had become or not. And we had not seen young Crouch for more than ten years so, what with Azkaban and all, we didn't recognize his spirit either. But you were just here not four months ago, nearer three, so of course we recognize you."
"It makes eminent sense. Now, if you please, could you tell me where I might find the Baron?"
"Oh, he's clanking and moaning up there in his favorite spot."
"Where might that be?"
"The top of the Astronomy Tower, of course."
Russ raced for the seventh floor, a sense of impending discovery pumping adrenaline into his veins. When he reached the base of the Astronomy Tower, he paused, this being far from one of his favorite spots. Then, taking a deep breath and locking himself firmly down, he plunged up the stairs and out the small door onto the tower roof. At first he saw nothing.
"Baron!" he called. "Baron, may I talk to you?"
A clank behind him caught his attention, and he spun, still seeing nothing. Investigation, however, revealed the Bloody Baron standing in the crenellation of the parapet. The entrance to the stairway was like a small shed that rose from the tower roof, effectively blocking the Baron from the sight of anyone standing close to the stairs. When Russ moved over to where Dumbledore had been that night, however, he could clearly see the Baron's head above the stair entrance.
"Baron," said Russ respectfully, approaching the area where the Baron stood, "may I speak with you?"
The Baron inclined his head.
"Were you here, in this place, the night that Death Eaters invaded Hogwarts?"
Again the Baron inclined his head.
"What did you see?"
The Baron glided silently to the spot where Snape had stood that night, looked to his right, looked back to where Dumbledore had been, paused, and extended his arm as if pointing a wand. Then he glided to Dumbledore's position, rose majestically into the air, rotated to be upside down, and began the descent, a descent which he cut short to return to the roof of the tower. He then went to his original position behind the stair entrance, and from there glided quickly to the spot where Dumbledore had fallen and looked down.
"What did you see?" Russ whispered.
Turning, the Baron intoned two words. "Slow." And then, "Fawkes." Then he glided through the stairway door and was gone.
I have to find the others. I have to get the timing.
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