Book 2 First Play, White
CHAPTER 10 Evening Inquisition
Tuesday, October 10, 1985, 21:15, Snape's Quarters, Hogwarts
When anticipating a situation requiring the skills of his profession; a spy ensured the best possible advantage to himself for the success of his goals. Guaranteeing himself said advantage was never easy, but nevertheless crucial, both for the accomplishment of his task as well as his continued existence. Any vulnerability, perceived or existing, on his part, was an open door to failure. It was why the spy, from the earliest moments of life, learnt to calculate the meanest of his actions, playing the chess game of life always five moves ahead.
Severus Snape, though he had, in actual fact, only truly become a spy just under five years ago (and then only for a year, as difficult as that year had been), had cultivated such knowledge within himself from infancy. Living as the unwanted offspring of an inebriate millworker and a disgraced pureblood witch had required it. Seven years struggling through the stifling and backstabbing atmosphere of Slytherin House had only reinforced it. Hogwarts over, being thrown at the feet of the Dark Lord himself, it had become a question of survival.
No matter that it been two more years before Snape swore his services to Dumbledore, that dark stormy night, disarmed and begging and terrified (mostly for himself or for her, he had not known), by then the tricks of the trade had been second nature.
It had become simpler, somewhat, in the last few years. After the death of…-no he would not make himself think of that, of her, again, it was too painful-after the end of it all, and then the trials-the nightmare of dementors and cold cells and wary looks cast in his direction-, Snape had been allowed to breathe again. Somewhat. Until it came back to him, Dumbledore's prediction, nay, Dumbledore's promise that it would come back. That the backlash of her death, that the full weight of what tortured him would continue for a while yet. He resented it most of the time, hated it at others, hated it almost as much as he hated himself; but it was necessary. What else could he do when the accusing and wary look of her eyes-her gorgeous gleaming emerald eyes- blazed at him across haunting thoughts that no Occlumency could deter. It was why even now, at the end of a grueling day teaching idiots, from which he was desperate to dive into the depths of his personal research, he was instead swallowing down the indignity of being ambushed and served his own liquor in his quarters.
However bothersome and obnoxious Lucius Malfoy might be, keeping in with the old Death Eater crowd was essential, and the aristocratic blond, whatever his many annoying traits, was one of the least bothersome of the lot, as well as the best connected. You could also take into consideration that Snape was currently as interested in the subject of tonight's meeting as Malfoy himself, albeit for different reasons. Lastly, however contrary it was to have Malfoy invading his sanctuary, such an invasion had not, after the report of Saturday's Wizengammot session, been truly unexpected, and Snape had at least had forwarning enough to plan accordingly. Upon reflection, Snape was thankful at the surprising level of restraint Malfoy had shown in not storming through the Floo in the first hours of Sunday morning, if not as soon as the congregation had broken up the day before. Certainly hearing the account of Peverell's reappearance in the Assembly seats from Dumbledore beforehand had given him time to refocus his enquiries, as well as an opportunity for the Headmaster and him to discuss to what extent Malfoy should be informed. There had been no avoidance of the fact that much would have to be revealed. The topic was too hot and the rumours too rampant for them to risk the blond Death-Eater discovering hidden facts through other means. It simply meant Snape would have to be all the more careful in how he proceded.
As it was, Lucius had arrived roughly ten minutes previously, and had wasted no time demanding answers of Snape. He had also, unconsidering of what liberties he might be taking, served himself a tumbler of meade without invitation and promptly swallowed it down as easily as if it had been pumpkin juice. The intensity of the stare he fixed on Snape, was such that had he not known better, the Potions' Master might have thought he was being Legilimized.
"I have no promising information to impart, Lucius."
The staring eyes flared dangerously. "You've had three days Snape! Three days on top of the weeks we've been at this, with barely any advancements to go on. I am sick and tired of knowing nothing; don't you dare tell me you still don't!" Lucius' expression was blazing and his countenance hysterical, rising agitatedly out of his chair and standing to glare at the Potions master, who, in comparison,seemed quite composed. No sign of reaction escaped him beyond a long slow sip of his meade and a smooth lift of an eyebrow, a fact that did little to ingratiate him to his companion. Lucius furrowed his brow accusingly. "What is the use of you playing sycophant to that demented mudblood-loving fool if associating with him brings you nothing?" He saw Snape catch his sneer , and the raised eyebrow lifted higher.
"One would little grasp why you should put yourself through such degradation should it not at least reap some advantage." His tone was biting and the implied undercurrent to the words resounded clearly: Lucius did not care for associating with those he perceived as degradations.
"You go too far, Malfoy." There was a pause, as hard black eyes met grey.
Voice soft as honey and deadly as poison, it was Snape's turn to sneer. "I do not answer to you, Lucius, and would do well to remember it."
However great the importance of staying in Malfoy's favour, Snape's limited patience would not let him be kicked about like a mindless puppet. Such provocation from the elder Slytherin might have worked when he was Snape's upperclassman and House prefect, but no longer. Snape bared his left forearm for both to see, the dulled outline of the Dark Mark still in stark contrast to the deathly paleness of the skin it was bound to. "Only one wizard has ever had the honour of unwavering service on my part towards him Malfoy, and I shall bow to no one else."
A meaningful pause followed this statement, the tension in the room mounting just a notch, until he was granted with a curt nod, and Malfoy finally sat down. It was Snape who spoke again first, tone slightly less lethal, but sneer still firmly in place.
"As for my playing lapdog to Dumbledore, the benefit I "reap" as you so eloquently put it, is not spending the rest of my days in Azkaban. Not all of us possess the wealth of centuries to pave our way out with galleons." His look became pointed, challenging contradiction. "The so-called lack of information from him, moreover, is conditioned by the same hurdles. Whatever his naïf belief in the good of people and second chances , even his beneficence has limits. I can hardly wander around making suspicious enquiries." The leveled stare became mocking. "I also admit to finding it hypocritical, Lucius, that such a comment should come from you. You speak of the degradation of tying myself thus to him, or at least appearing to publically, but what of your attitude towards Fudge? Dumbledore at least, is powerful, and has a brain. He has also been behind most of the snatches of information we have managed to glean over the last few weeks, however limited. I rather wonder, then, what use our dear Minister has been?" His eyebrow raised carefully in expectation. "Having heard you repeatedly extoll his uselessness in our matter of interest over the last month and a half, I can hardly understand how youcan justify toadying up to an incomprehensible idiot such as Fudge let alone criticize my chosen target for security."
Malfoy's attempted reply to this was batted away like an irksome fly.
"I am sure there are many advantages to having idiots in positions of power, Malfoy, but enough of it for now, I have no wish to hear any of them. We are here to discuss Peverell."
"What is there to discuss? You emphatically told me you had nothing to say!" Malfoy started to rise again before being roughly pushed down.
"I said nothing of the sort, you just assumed." Once again, all protestation to this pronouncement was hushed and Snape was left to clarify. "I merely stated that I had nothing promising to impart, and you chose to bumble about in a rage like a mindless Gryffindor."
Lucius scowled.
"Well then? What did you learn?"
Snape considered Malfoy carefully, taking in the full extent of the frustration that was practically seeping from him. The man was desperate for news, any news –no matter that it should be unwelcome -that much had been clear ever since the two of them, the titled wizarding Lord in particular, had finally become aware of the true significance of Peverell's identity.
It seemed strange to recall now, somehow, after weeks of careful enquiry and research, that Malfoy had initially not cared about Peverell beyond agreeing to ask a few discrete questions at the Ministry or having Snape keep him updated on any interesting advancements. Even their decoding (with Dumbledore's helpful knowledge), of the initials C.I.P. to the name of Caspian Peverell had not been sufficient to sound the alarm bells. It confirmed what they had already known, that Peverell was a wizarding Lord. It certainly sealed his belonging to an old pureblood line, but it was not unheard of (though undoubtedly rare) for lesser nobility to reemerge every decade or so, revealing themselves to have been abroad, or belonging to cousin families having inherited the parent line titles. Insofar, that had only supported the possibility of Malfoy gaining a wealthy and talented (if his mastery were anything to go by) asset upon which to exert his influence.
That had all changed when, contrary to anyone's expectations (except Dumbledore's perhaps, although he had infuriatingly kept silent about it), Peverell had revealed himself at the September gathering of the Wizengammot.
Of course, the name's being familiar to Lucius, however distantly, should have been a clue. The makeup of the Twenty-Five Families of Assembly of Lords had been (though evidently not sufficiently) ingrained in his pureblood education for infancy.
Malfoy had protested (as he would, Snape mused)that that Assembly seat had been empty for close to two centuries, and how in the world had he been supposed to know Peverell was one of the three unidentified heirs in the Twenty-Five?
This revelation had, however, completely changed Malfoy's view of the situation. Peverell revealed as belonging to the major governmental body of wizarding Britain, on par with the Ministry of Magic, placed him in a position of power equal to Lucius' own. Instead of a social inferior, on whom his authority could easily be asserted easily enough, Malfoy was met with an additional challenge to his control in the political arena.
Malfoy would not have been quite so aggravated, Snape thought, had the mystery wizard at least entered that same arena in the position of vulnerability and isolation his being a new arrival should have guaranteed.
In lieu of that, the most recent Head of an Ancient and Noble wizarding House had emerged at the side of Cyrus Greengrass of all people, who had wasted no time in introducing him to Amelia Bones (Head of the Ministerial branch of the Wizengammot, as well as Head of the DMLE), Graham Griffin (another of the Twenty-Five), and Balthazar Rush, just to name a few; making it unlikely to trap him under his thumb. To add insult to injury, within the week following this spectacular introduction to the wizarding world, Peverell had all but completely vanished. Occassional appearances, almost exclusively on weekends, were all Snape (who had been renewing his efforts to tail him every elusive trace he found) had to assure him he still existed. These repeated failures were only mirrored by Lucius' own lack of results in getting anything out of the Minister(not that Snape ever expected anything from him anyway) to the increasing irritation of both.
Yes, Snape could completely understand why Malfoy's patience was wearing thin. The Hogwarts professor himself was grateful that recent advancements in his research, Miriander having (notwithstanding the outrageous raise in prices) finally managing to replenish his ingredients, had at least given Snape something positive to turn his attention to.
Snippets of details had managed to be collected over the course of their investigation (Peverell's occasionnal passages into Diagon , Hogsmeade and even one particular excursion into Jeurn Alley for what revealed to be a Grimoire of Forgotten Runes) but very little of consequence. Between his classes, Potions work and new Head of Slytherin duties, notwithstanding his target's phantom appearances, updates in news were few and far between. Until the last few days, the most important discovery- dating back to mid-September- had been that Peverell had renewed his Runes Apprenticeship- and that-to none other than Leander Hayes.
As for the most recent information,-which was after all the reason for Malfoy's current imposition-, brought about by Snape's conference with Dumbledore and the success of a few of his own hasty endeavours; it was somewhat enlightening to be sure, but Snape had to be very careful how much he let slip to his interlocutor.
The Potion's Master steely gaze met Malfoy's slowly; expression impassive; refusing to acknowledge the expectant glint of impatience concealed with it; and still debating how much concealment would place Malfoy's trust in him (as far as it went) at risk. He would have to say something, he knew; and soon, before Malfoy's jitteriness became unbearable.
With a mental nod acknowledging his decision, Snape silently summoned the meade with a careless flick of his wand, refilling both their tumblers as he started to speak. He had an idea that either of them (or possibly both) might be thankful for it later.
"The most clear cut information I have gathered, as well as the most reliably corroborated, concerns where Peverell has been running off to in his absence form the social scene. I trust your formidable contacts at the ministry have made you aware of Gringotts' excursion to Egypt?"
Malfoy furrowed his brow in consideration. "I heard some noise of it, yes, but nothing definate. The project was only submitted to the Ministry office recently, and with as big a project as was intimated at, it could hardly take off so quickly. The logistics alone; not counting organising a teams of warders and gathering adequates forragers on location...such a scheme would take months. Though even were it already off the ground, you can't mean to suggest Peverell would be involved? A virtual unknown, and so quickly?"
Snape shook his head. "The project is not recent, just the deposition of it at the Ministry. It was all very hush-hush. You know as well as I do that the Goblins are famous for enjoying their anonymity. Rumour has it it was kept particularly close to avoid any repetition of the Aztec Gold fiasco of four years ago. From what I understand it's been on the backburner for months, possibly years now, waiting patiently for everything to be in place. As for Peverell's involvement, the first I heard of it implied it had only gone as far as a financial investment in the project, until I had word that Hayes and Greengrass are leading the wizarding side of operations."
Lucius continued to look at Snape with what could possibly be described as willful incredulity, but an undercurrent of apprehension now accompanied his expression.
"You would not find it strange for Hayes to include an apprentice in such a venture? We were already surprised enough at his having taken an apprentice on, but this would be going even further than that."
Snape's answering expression gave little comfort.
He shook his head in annoyance, while his companion studied him, silently. The Potions' Master knew Malfoy was uncomfortable with Peverell having already received such a level of acceptance within the peers of the wizarding community. Hayes was not a political figure, but he was respected and revered, as well as not the easiest to please. If Peverell could seduce him so easily, he would probably have the entire wizarding community in his pocket in no time.
Lucius sighed defeatedly, or as much a Malfoy would allow himself to do so. "I would not like to wish it true", he went on, "but it would explain Greengrass' contact with Peverell prior to his formal presentation at the Wizengammot. I should have considered the possibility, Hayes' and Greengrass' business partnership being well-known." He shook his head in exasperation. "If anything, Peverell's prolonged dealings with Greengrass are even more inconvenient. An alliance between them among the Twenty-Five could threaten my hold on the ministry."
Snape let Malfoy continue his soliloquy, glad at not having mentioned the Headmaster's suspicion of Peverell also having ties with the Goblins. If Peverell's rising connections in the Wizengammot were enough to annoy him this much, this line of consideration was hardly going to reassure him. He had not believed it possible initially, despite the immense frequency of Peverell's visits to Gringotts, but his being included in the Egypt excursion would certainly support the theory.
He focused back the discussion as Malfoy himself voiced some part of his internal argument.
"You are certain of this? Would the Goblins allow it? I cannot find it likely that a race as suspicious as goblins would accept to enroll a near stranger in such a venture; particularly one not even fully qualified in the field in which he would be needed."
"Wishful thinking." assured Snape solemnly, steering Malfoy's line of thought away from the truth (or Dumbledore's suspected version of it). "One could argue easily enough that they would have been mad not to take him. He is a Defense Master after all; a guarantee of an in-depth understanding of the mechanics of the Dark Arts that could hardly be ignored when planning to plunder cursed Egyptian tombs. As for his only being an apprentice in Runes, I believe it insignificant. While somewhat unusual, it is rumoured Greengrass' niece has gone herself, as her uncle's Charms apprentice, and she has started her training much more recently than Peverell who is at least half-way through it already. No matter that she only got the opportunity because she was related to him; if Greengrass managed to convince the Goblins she would be an asset, they could hardly then use Peverell's missing qualifications against him when his involvement was brought up. We will just have to assume that Hayes and Greengrass' request for his presence is enough to satisfy them."
Not to mention they mighthave orchestrated it in the first place, if Dumbledore is right about Peverell's Goblin ties.
Lucius nodded resignedly, his dissatisfaction clear. Shaking himself out of it, he looked back at Snape. "Anything else?"
Snape narrowed his eyes consideringly. "Possibly, but nothing certain. There have been implications that he could have family close by, accounting for his weekend visits, but I have not heard anything concrete that would support this."
"Family? Could it have been the reason behind his return in the first place?"
Snape nodded slowly."It is a possibility, but I think it unlikely. If there have been no traces of the Peverell line for so long, we could hardly be expect a collection of cousin lines to suddenly appear as well."
This of course, was hardly true, as Snape himself knew, due to Dumbledore's disclosure, only the day after his first sighting of the mysterious Defense Master, that the Peverells were a parent lines to the Potters. Snape felt that such information could hardly be relevant however, for even should Peverell be aware of it (which was by no means a certainty), the last Lord Potter was dead, and the House's scion hidden away Dumbledore knew where. Snape basked in the fact that nothing would be heard of the brat for another six years, so he felt there was little chance of Peverell getting to him even should he want to.
"A wife, then? And possibly children?"
Snape furrowed his brow. "I can not recall if there was a ring on his left hand, my attention was too much caught by the heir ring of his right. I suppose we could use a penseive to be sure, but I rather think we would have seen her in public by now."
"Unless there were an illness?" Lucius hypothesized. "You told me last time we met that several of your tails had led to the apothecary. Could he have been collecting ingredients for healing potions?"
Snape frowned. "I did not often manage to get a very complete idea of what he was buying, but I suppose the ingredients I did identify could come up in a certain number of healing potions. Nothing particularly striking however. The only purchase of note I recall was that shredded Arnica at the end of last month, as it is an infrequent form of preparation for the ingredient, and not used in the most banal of potions. I remember it particularly because it was a Wednesday, and that was the first time I chanced upon him at any other time than on the weeken..." he stopped short suddenly, realising something.
Lucius caught his expression.
"What is it?"
"I am unsure." Snape lied, hurriedly schooling his momentary shock into his more habitual frown; to underplay the significance of his momentary loss of composure.
"It might be nothing, but I will have to check among my mother's collection of disused potions."
Lucius looked at him carefully for a moment, with what Snape was sure was a hint of suspicion, but the portrayed impassivity of his face apparently seemed convincing enough.
"I will be certain to bring you up to date should anything come of it," he put in, "but it was only a passing thought, and too vague to make anything of at present."
Snape was glad when Lucius nodded in acceptance, thankful his continuing inner turmoil was not evident.
As a Potions Master, Snape was well versed with the tracking of the different phases of the moon, a know-how necessary for planning the best moment to collect ingredients that required lunar influence to reach full potency. He had been particularly careful in his tracking last month, due to the preference of certain potions needed in his research for moonstones gathered at summer's fall.
What were the chances then, of Peverell collecting one of the base ingredients of Wolfsbane two days before the full moon?
