'What did he say?'

The sudden words startled him awake. He was in his office. He had even erected the Wards.

And the day wasn't over yet.

He snapped his fingers, received a tray of tuna sandwiches and tea, put it mechanically down on the clearer part of his desk.

'He said he was now poor enough.'

'Spartans,' whispered Albus.

'How did you do it?' Snape asked without rancor. 'With Grindelwald?'

Albus didn't answer for a while, but that was fine with him. He ate, sorted his correspondence, and sharpened his quills.

There was no view more precious to a Centaur than the stars, apart from the happiness of his family; Firenze was single, banished, and vulnerable to a foe that already marked him for slaughter.

Poor enough, yes.

'I was not alone,' the late hero said at last, sounding old and hollow. 'I distracted him, and my friend disarmed him… and when I came to, I saw that he hadn't followed my instructions and tried to defeat the Elder Wand itself.'

'Defeat?' Snape felt stupid with fatigue. 'Why?'

'We considered it evil, naturally.'

'Evil. An inanimate object.'

'Probably.'

Silence. Roaring silence.

What? Snape thought, and then, No.

'A Horcrux?'

It couldn't be, couldn't be… could be…

'You know about Horcruxes?'

'I used to be a Dark Wizard,' he said with some asperity.

'My sincerest apologies,' Albus said smoothly. 'Yes; it was a very strong one.'

Snape thought of the trail of blood that followed the hateful Stick through the centuries and felt sick.

'Usually, destroying such an object requires more strength of will than anything. Even a child is capable of it. But we had planned to preserve the shell and break only the core, the essence...'

'You should have gone to Flamel,' he muttered dully. ''Metaphysical' was his middle name.'

'I had wished to, but my companion, blinded by triumph and grief and thinking I was dead, not unconscious, took it upon himself.' Dumbledore closed his eyes. 'It broke him.'

'How?'

'It possessed him. He used to be a good man, bright, kind and brave, and it defiled his mind.'

There was a lesson here, and Snape didn't like the moral.

'And then?'

'We went to Nicolas, and he helped us. The wand is now a piece of wood. There's more magic in a limb of a tree.'

'But you used it! To fight the Dark Lord!'

Albus shrugged.

'I wanted myself a lucky charm?'

'No.'

'Well I did, though I can see your point…'

'So you tricked everyone into thinking that your, um, successor will be the Holder of the Elder Wand, when in reality it would be simply a bauble?'

'This is not the question you should be asking, Severus, especially since you know the answer.'

Oh he could be pitiless if that was what Albus wished of him.

'What did you do to your friend?'

'We… we made certain that he was as safe to be around as can be.'

'You put him behind the bars or into an asylum.'

'No, I couldn't bring myself to do it.'

'You know,' said Snape with a note of hysteria, 'you can be so generous sometimes.'

'I also didn't trust institutions.'

'Ah. You mean to say that you expected Hagrid to break out on his own.'

Albus glared at him.

'Go on. Where's your deactivated friend now?'

But Dumbledore did not speak to him.

'Suit yourself. I have other things to think about.'

Like the Carrows.

Alecto was still in Hogwarts, but the contract she had signed when 'applying for the position' would prevent her from teaching. All her spells were being recorded, since officially she was now an outsider who had hurt a member of the stuff. His House Elves were following her every step.

He shook his head. He'd set so many watches that it was hard to keep track of them, and he needed every single report and maybe even this wasn't sufficient.

Because in Hogwarts, Second Year students had been known to brew Polyjuice Potions, and Third Year students – to use Timeturnes.

Mmm, he loved his job.

Amicus would lose some of his boldness for about a fortnight, if he read the man correctly. Maybe even longer than that. Really, where did they both apply for treatment? Though that was never a priority with him, as Headmaster –

And then it hit him.

Longbottom.

Longbottom couldn't brew a thing, and he obviously needed supplies.

Somebody had to smuggle them to him. Somebody competent.

How?

That wasn't a hard nut – the traffic to the Room of Requirement had been heave since the beginning of the year (or earlier, he had no way of checking).

But still, they couldn't just walk in and out in broad daylight; they had to be hunting for opportunities –

Or to make them.

He swore and was in the Floo almost before the powder painted the flames emerald. Good thing Hogwarts always got his meaning right.

'Madam Pomphrey!'

She dropped some sheets and jogged to him, putting a finger to her lips. Firenze was asleep.

'Who?'

Ah yes, she always expected another victim.

'Nobody this time,' he said. He was still angry at her. 'Have you had a hand in Mr. Kent's adventure?'

'Severus?' she asked, bewildered. 'Are you alright? Sit down, have some water. You look terrible.'

'Thank you. Have you had a…'

'Small sips.'

They were all doing everything to make him impatient. But he did as he was told.

'I know what you are talking about,' said Poppy quietly. 'And I swear, Severus, I hadn't known anything beyond the date.'

'Thank you,' he repeated, slumping down in his chair. He could forgive that.

(He could also understand Pomona Sprout for not forgiving that – nor Poppy, neither her little badgers. How did she learn of the conspiracy? Did they simply invite her? Before or after Kent 'went ballistic', as the saying went?)

She conjured a glass for herself, and they shared a minute of peace.

'I could help you,' he offered. 'I have the training.'

Poppy's sly smirk, smudged with weariness, told him she knew of his nightly walks.

'Call on me when you need to,' he insisted.

'I will.'

'And tell those rascals that if they use another schoolmate as bait, I shall blow them up.'

Poppy pursed her lips.

'They had asked him, and he had agreed, Severus.'

He pressed his hands to his temples.

His children were willingly becoming martyrs.

This was not allowable.

This was worse than anything that could happen to himself, to Poppy, to Minerva.

To the Hogwarts Castle.

Slowly, she embraced him, and they wept.