11
The Snape Chronicles—Book 5 Part 2
While difficult to believe it possible, this year manages to suck even worse than last. Although Arthur Weasley is recovering nicely from his Nagini-inflicted wounds, I am still forced to interact on a regular basis with the wretched Black dog and the rest of the Order, who mistrust and despise me. And, to make my life so much sweeter, Albus has decreed that I teach the brat Occlumency. I have been unable in four and a half years to teach that dunderhead the basics of Potions-making, and I am now expected to train him in one of the most difficult mind exercises that exist. I'm not a freaking miracle worker, Dumbledore! Why didn't he just demand that I walk on water or cause the sun to stand still?
For starters, the whelp can't seem to understand that it's important for him to close his mind to Lord Voldemort. It seems obvious to anyone with a brain that you don't want the darkest wizard in history sifting through it, but I dare not give Potter too much credit. I'm not entirely sure he's got more than rudimentary parts beyond the brain stem. If I weren't a lowly spy-slave, I'd tell Potter straight up what is going on, but nooooo. We have to play the game. Always the game with you, isn't it, Albus? Potter will not buckle down and try because he doesn't understand what is at stake…and I can't tell him. I lead him through the exercises, and he resists me; he can't grasp that it is the dark lord he needs to resist.
People think me detached and cold…perhaps I am. It keeps me alive. Those who wallow in sentiment and 'feelings' are easy prey for Voldemort, and I can't afford that. Potter has no sense of emotional control or boundaries. Well, no sense at all, but don't get me started on that. The hopeless brat will get us both killed, allowing the dark lord to see me teaching him. I hate Potter. And Dumbledore. And what the deuce, Umbridge as well—is there anyone at this bloody school I can tolerate?
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Severus apparated immediately when the Dark Mark burned in his skin. He didn't know what he was getting into, but he knew what he was avoiding—a very painful session of lessons involving promptness and obedience. He could do without that again, thank you very much. He arrived once more at the old Riddle house, the last place he'd seen the master, and was rather astonished to see numerous other persons apparating there as well. At least it wasn't for a one-on-one torture session…that was a relief.
With the masks on, he could only guess at the identities of most of them, though the bulky build of two told him Crabbe and Goyle Sr. had arrived. Long blond hair poking from beneath a hood was another good indication, and he sidled up to the man heading for the house.
"Any idea what this is about, Lucius?"
Malfoy halted in his tracks, then drawled, "How did you know it was me, Severus?"
In answer Snape gave a light yank to the locks extending beyond the reach of the hood. "You might want to watch that next time. So, any clue?"
"No more than you." Lucius gave him a push to hurry him along. "The dark lord has been busy plotting of late, and if his plan has succeeded…" The two looked at each other, their masked faces not revealing the true feelings beneath.
They entered together and made their way to the sound of commotion in the back of the house. When they arrived to the kitchen, they both stopped in their tracks, mouths dropping open and eyes bulging, thankfully hidden by their masks. In front of them, some sitting, wolfing down morsels from the mountains of food loaded on the table, some pacing about, some laughing and talking, were ten extremely dirty, unkempt, long-haired and bearded Death Eaters they had not seen in a very long time. In the very middle of the fray, seated at the head of the table and lapping up the profuse thanks coming his way, was Lord Voldemort.
The smell in the place elicited a soft gagging noise from Lucius, which Severus quelled with a hissed, "Knock it off! They've been in prison for fourteen years."
"As if I couldn't tell," Lucius shot back. He hurried forward to Voldemort, saying, "My lord, your ingenious plan worked! How fortunate we are to have our former members in our ranks once more!" He stooped to kiss the hem of the dark lord's garment, removing his mask to do so.
"Yes, Lucius, did you ever doubt me?" rejoined the dark lord gaily, and those about him laughed heartily, more for their newfound freedom than anything else.
Lucius moved aside to let others offer their obeisance, and as he did so was approached by a dark haired woman whose eyes shone with a strange, other-worldly quality. She walked up to him, swaying her emaciated hips, her hair a tangled mess, her face gaunt and sallow. Even her voice sounded gravelly, as if from years of disuse. "So, blondie, did you miss me?"
Lucius faced her, grimacing. Did she have her wand? Had the dark lord been able to retrieve them? In the event that he had, it was better safe than sorry. "Hello, Bella. It's good to see you…still…alive." It was the best he could do while being honest. "Narcissa will be pleased."
"Yeah, I'm sure she will be," retorted Bella. Then she started swaying to music no one else could hear, flapping her arms gently to the tune and waltzing about the room. "I've missed dancing, my lord. Won't you dance with me?"
"Later, Bellatrix, when we're alone." Voldemort purposely looked at Rodolphus, as if to challenge him, but the Death Eater seemed oblivious to it and only took another deep draught from his cup of ale.
Severus got up from kissing the dark lord's garment and scuttled off to the far corner of the room where he could observe without too much actual interaction. As fate would have it, he bumped into one of the larger men, whose hair reached long past his shoulders in ratty knots, his beard hanging down his chest. The man rounded on him, eyes like daggers.
"What's your problem, Snape? F—king halfbreed, get the f—k away from me." He turned to Rabastan Lestrange, who looked just as bad for wear, so thin his bones poked out. "Let's move over there, away from this arsewipe."
"Always a pleasure to see you, Dolohov," Severus muttered under his breath.
"Snape?" said a voice from behind him.
Severus turned reluctantly, knowing that voice. He'd been tortured by Mulciber with the consent of the dark lord shortly after joining the Death Eaters, when he'd failed to help murder a family. He'd never forgotten or forgiven. Glaring at the other man, he tried hard not to mock his appearance or odor. That was sure to get the rest of them riled at him, and he'd seen one of them flashing a wand earlier. "What, Mulciber?"
"Just wondering why you're here. I figured the dark lord would've killed the likes of you by now." He guffawed at his own cleverness and meandered off to talk to a group of men as scruffy and grubby as himself. Across the room he shouted, "Hey, Bella, guess who's here? Your very best mate, Snape!" That brought another round of giddy laughs.
Bellatrix peered past the ever growing crowd, their ranks swelled by the Death Eaters still arriving. Catching sight of Severus, she sneered and cooed, "Oooh, Snapey comes to play with the big boys. Couldn't go to prison with us, though." All at once her wand was out, and everyone within range ducked for cover. She walked across the room, holding the wand level at him. "Wanna play, Snape?"
He stared her down; there really wasn't anything else he could do, seeing as she'd hex him to Hades and back if he moved for his wand. "I see your personality has taken a turn for the better since you've been away," he said dryly.
She paused, not sure how to process that. Was he complimenting her? That didn't make sense. She rammed the wand so close it nearly stuck in his nostril, while bending in to growl, "Give me a reason."
And then it happened, as was inevitable, Snape supposed—someone made an off the cuff, stupid remark that sounded like, "You gonna kiss him, Bella? You a halfbreed lover now?"
She whipped around and began firing curses indiscriminately, with everyone running or ducking, until the dark lord bellowed, "Enough!"
The entire room went silent. He got up onto the table where all could see him better, and motioned for them to gather round; Bellatrix made a point of cuddling up close to him, like a leech on his leg. His high voice rang out over the room, "My friends, for the first time in fourteen years we are all together again. I cannot express my glee at the fulfillment of my plans. Let us welcome our returned comrades!"
Heavy applause rang through the air, together with hoots from the escaped convicts.
He'd shaken off Bella's grip and begun striding the length of the table, theatrically waving his arms in expressions of happiness. A giggle escaped him, and Snape glanced at Lucius, who glanced back then stared stoically ahead. No way in hell was he going to touch that!
"Now that we are all united, we shall stand firm, we shall be a wave of change to wash over society. We shall bring the joy of serving me to all of humanity."
Severus coughed to mask the snicker trying to force its way from his throat.
Voldemort smiled at his troops, the way a loving parent smiles at a beloved child, though Snape knew better than to mistake it for anything so human. He was pacing slowly again, gesticulating with his hands. "First order of business—"
"A bath and haircut," chuckled one of the recently-freed men in the back, obviously inebriated.
Voldemort's red eyes narrowed to slits, his wand had appeared in his fingers, and he aimed it directly at the man. "Need I teach a lesson your very first day back, Travers?"
"My lord, no," gulped Travers, falling to his knees, sniveling. "Forgive me, it's been so long since I had anyone to talk to, I speak out of turn." His head reached the floor, so low was his bow. "Forgive your ungrateful servant."
Nodding, satisfied with the answer, Voldemort returned to surveying the crowd. "Let us try to remember manners. Now, as I was saying, our first priority is to retrieve a certain prophecy from the Department of Mysteries…"
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The dark lord is thrilled. If there is anything more terrifying than seeing him in an angry state, it is watching him prance around in ecstasy. He has convinced the dementors to free ten Death Eaters from Azkaban, and that idiot Fudge believes Black is behind it. When did common sense become illegal?
I can't put into words the delight I feel at seeing my old comrades again…perhaps because 'delight' is hardly the word. Dolohov is the same sadistic arse he always was, Mulciber is lucky I didn't curse him on general principles, the Lestrange brothers ignored me as they always have. And Bellatrix…how does one describe Bellatrix? She emerged from Azkaban even more batshit crazy than she went in, and she was a psychopath then. Now she and Voldemort have that much more in common.
Trelawney has been sacked. Firenze has been hired in her stead, and I say good riddance. To her, that is. Nothing personal, she's had a few lucky hits, but centaurs are definitely connected to 'the other side', or whatever it is those charlatans like Trelawney call it. The fact that Toad-face Umbridge hates him for being only part human makes me like him all the more. With his white-blond hair and good looks, I can't help but wonder if he is what the spawn of Lucius and a horse would look like. I think I'll forego mentioning that to the Malfoys, they can get a bit testy.
Potter's little illicit group has been discovered, but Albus took the blame for it and is currently on the lam. I'd be far happier to be rid of him if that bitch Umbridge hadn't named herself Head Dictator. I am simply gobsmacked that neither the Toad nor Fudge has the capacity to see through that whole ridiculous lie—Dumbledore creating an army of urchins to fight the Ministry and trained aurors in a coup. Really?
Marietta Edgecombe has been scarred, perhaps permanently, by a curse placed on the parchment the brats signed. I suspect Granger is behind that one, none of the rest are clever enough. What ticks me beyond measure is the hypocrisy of those blasted Gryffindorks. Those who proclaim so loudly to loathe the Dark Arts have no qualms about using them, do they? Just like the sainted James Potter and his cronies never hesitated to use them to torment me, even stealing my own curses! And I must point out how Weasley and Potter protested so vociferously when Granger's teeth grew—courtesy of a duel Potter was instigating, and in which Goyle was much more severely injured—yet I was condemned for not feeling pity for her. Where is the compassion for Marietta or Goyle? Silence? I thought so.
When I left the room to aid a student, that bastard Potter took the opportunity to peer into my memories in the pensieve. I'll bet he's still laughing over the 'prank' his darling father pulled on me. If I ever catch that whelp in my office again, I may just strangle him. I don't care what Dumbledore or Lupin or anyone else says, I'll be ice skating on a rink in hell before I attempt Occlumency with him again.
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"He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden." Potter looked at him with desperation shouting from his eyes, hoping he'd understand.
Snape swore inwardly, though not a hint of emotion showed through. Feigning ignorance, he left Umbridge's office, and as soon as he was sure no one could see him, he broke into a run. By the time he'd made it to his own office, he was out of breath. He took a few seconds to gulp in air, then thought rapidly to himself: If he floo-called Black, it could be traced; he'd rather not go see the git if he could avoid it; Protean charms…unreliable if Black wasn't carrying it with him.
He took out his wand and growled, "Expecto patronum." A large, silvery doe burst from the end of his wand and pranced about, waiting for instruction. "Go to Sirius Black at 12 Grimmauld Place, London. Tell him to send me a patronus message letting me know he is still alive and well and hasn't gone out anywhere."
The doe bounded out the window, across the grounds, and was gone. Pacing in his room, Severus waited for the return message. What if Potter was right, what if the dark lord wasn't just tricking him, as he'd planned, but had actually got hold of Black? As much as he despised the prat, it was his responsibility to protect Potter, and that would be very hard to do if Potter went running off into an ambush…and knowing the idiot child, that's exactly what he'd do. The dark lord was generally right about him.
On tenterhooks, he waited a good five minutes, then suddenly a very bedraggled animal came bounding up the lawn toward his window. Severus thought at first it was simply Sirius in his dog form, but the silvery colour gave it away. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was a wolf. It leapt through his window and landed beside the Potions master.
In the voice of Black, the wolf practically barked, "What the f—k is your problem, Snape? It's not enough you taunt me in person, now you send your patronus to do it? I'm sure you'll be ecstatic to know I'm still cooped up here being useless. Now bugger off!"
Severus let out a breath of relief that he didn't even know he'd been holding in. Good, Black hadn't done anything stupid…yet. Gathering himself into his impassive façade, Severus left the room once more, headed back to Umbridge's office to see what he could find out, and halted suddenly, slipping behind a stone column. Umbridge, Potter, and Granger were all on their way out, Umbridge with her wand in the children's backs, and they were headed in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. That didn't bode well.
He hurried up to the office, where Draco and the other members of the Inquisitorial Squad were holding Harry's friends. He went in without knocking, and almost got a hex to the face for his trouble. Crabbe's spell went awry and hit the doorjamb a good six inches away.
"Sorry, Professor, I thought you was…uh…"
Snape returned a dour, fierce glare. "Do that again, Crabbe, and you'll learn why they call me the Bat of the Dungeons. Hint: it has nothing to do with my clothing."
"What does it mean?" the boy asked dully.
"Think Beater's bat," said Draco, smirking.
Crabbe scrunched his face in thought for a moment, then his features registered terror. "I'm sorry, sir. I am!"
Snape rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Draco, outside with me. Now."
He stepped outside, with Draco following passively behind. They closed the door, and Severus said, "Where did Potter go with Headmistress Umbridge?"
"I don't know exactly where, but to find something!" the youth exclaimed with delight, eyes shining. "Granger said Dumbledore's Army built some weapon for him, and she'd show it to Professor Umbridge."
"A weapon?" repeated Severus, brows dipping. "What sort of weapon?"
"I don't know, but it seems like it's pretty strong. Too bad we can't have a go at it, huh, sir?" He almost danced with glee at the idea. For some reason, it made Severus want to slap him.
"Very well." He turned to walk off, leaving Draco standing bemusedly in the hallway. He went outside and stationed himself at a location from which he could watch the forest for when they came out. It was, after all, a dangerous place, but Umbridge was a trained witch. They should be fine.
After the better part of an hour had passed, Snape looked at his pocket watch. Surely whatever they'd been doing can't have been so far into the forest that they'd not yet returned. What if they left from another direction and he'd been watching this one all along? He berated himself perfunctorily; there was only so much one man was capable of doing. He stood up, eyes never leaving the treeline, as he began to pace again. After a few more minutes passed, he started to suspect the Brat-Wonder and his crony had overpowered Umbridge and escaped, possibly to run for the Ministry. If that were the case, he had no time to lose.
Dashing across the lawn, he headed for the gate, beyond which he was free to disapparate. Once he'd cleared it, he immediately disappeared, to reappear on the doorstep to Grimmauld Place, and set to knocking madly. The door was opened by Mad-eye Moody, who hadn't time to demand what he wanted before Severus shoved his way into the narrow foyer.
"Is Black here?"
"What?"
"Is. Black. Here?" Snape demanded loudly, bringing in Lupin, Tonks, and Shacklebolt from down below in the kitchen.
Sirius came sauntering up the stairs, then rolled his eyes and exclaimed, "For crying out loud, don't you ever stop? I told you—"
"Potter is gone," said Severus. Still panting from the exertion of running all the way across the grounds, then apparating here, without pausing at their incredulous stares, he said, "Umbridge took them into the Forbidden Forest and they haven't come out yet. I think he may have slipped off to go to the Department of Mysteries. He thinks Voldemort has got you there." He jerked his head at Sirius.
"Why would he think that?" asked Sirius in a voice that reeked of disbelief.
"Because he's an uncooperative, obtuse little whelp who refused to practice his Occlumency!" Snape shot back. "I informed you all that the dark lord was planning to invade his mind, lure him there to fetch the prophecy—and what better way to lure Potter than to make him think the dark lord's got you." By now his breathing had begun to return to normal. "He said in code to me, 'He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden.' What else could it mean?"
"We'd better get a move on, then," said Moody.
"Right with you," said Lupin.
"I'll notify Dumbledore before we leave," offered Tonks, racing from the room.
"Black, you should stay here to tell Dumbledore what's going on," Severus warned. "He'll be here soon."
"I should stay? I think not." Sirius was already stowing his wand in his pocket and putting on his cloak. "Kreacher can tell him what's going on."
"You're not supposed to be leaving!" Snape insisted forcefully.
Sirius walked right up to him till they were nose to nose. "You make me stay, or get the hell out of the way." With that he shoved Snape in the chest, hard enough to rock him to the side and walk past.
As he went by, Severus remarked nastily, "Are you sure he's not your son? You're just as dense and rash as he is." He took the opportunity to push past Sirius this time and went out the door, then turned to say, "I'm going back to the forest to search in case something went wrong in there. God knows that boy draws trouble like dung draws flies." Then he disapparated.
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Black is dead. I really thought I'd be a lot happier to hear that. In spite of what the whelp may think, it is not MY fault, it is his own. Had he learned Occlumency as I tried very hard to teach him, he'd have closed his mind and not been tricked into going to the Department of Mysteries to begin with. Oh, and Dumbledore's fault for not being honest with Potter from the start. How are we supposed to work together to defeat Voldemort when no one is allowed any information?
While I'm assigning culpability, Potter is primarily to blame for Lucius being sent to Azkaban, along with Nott, Goyle, Crabbe, and several others. If he hadn't gone to the sodding Ministry, the Death Eaters wouldn't have gone, either. Narcissa is hysterical over the whole affair. The Death Eaters' boys here in Hogwarts are understandably distraught, though the sentence is only a year. Of course, a year in that horrible place is like a lifetime…and may be a lifetime if they don't make it out. I feel unutterably wretched over that, sending word to the Order that caused my best friend to be incarcerated. And Nott, I guess I sort of like him, too. Merlin's ghost, I hate my life.