Chapter 12
Mid August 1996
They were bottling potions for the hospital wing when it happened. Fawkes appeared with a loud cry and a flash of flames.
"Fawkes? What—"
"What is it, bird—"
The phoenix landed on Civia's shoulder, and grabbed at Severus' cloak with his beak, and they were surrounded by flames.
When the fire disappeared, the Potions masters found themselves in the headmaster's office.
Albus was slumped on his desk, a ring and the Sword of Gryffindor before him.
Severus swooped into action, drawing his wand and checking the headmaster's vitals.
"What happened?" she cried as she saw his right hand—blackened and burned.
"The ring—" Severus barked. "Move it—don't touch it!"
Carefully, she levitated the ring away from Albus' hand, further aside on the desk. The dark stone was cracked—by the Sword, she assumed curiously.
Together, they worked, muttering incantations and spells. Eventually, they Summoned various potions ingredients and cauldrons, eventually concocting a potion they hoped would heal him, or at the least, contain the curse to his hand.
Eventually, Albus stirred, sitting up slowly.
"Why?" Severus immediately demanded. "Why did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realize that. Why even touch it?"
He grimaced. "I…was a fool. Sorely tempted…"
"Tempted by what?" Civia asked gently.
"Don't coddle him!" Severus snapped to her, before looking back to the headmaster. "It was a miracle you managed to return here! That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it is all we can hope for; I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being—"
Slowly, Albus examined his useless hand with an air of utter detachment.
"You have both done well. How long do you think I have?"
Severus hesitated, glancing to Civia, who grimaced. "I cannot tell," he replied. "Maybe a year. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time."
Civia coughed and hesitantly spoke up. "We could always cut it off, Albus. It might halt the curse, if we amputate below the elbow."
"Even that only has a chance of success," Severus replied grimly.
Albus smiled. "I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you two."
"If you had only summoned us earlier, we might have been able to do more, buy you more time!" Severus snapped again. "Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?"
"Something like that…I was delirious, no doubt," Albus replied, shaking his head. "Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward."
"Sorry?"
"I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me."
Severus sat down heavily in the chair in front of the office, while Civia leant against the desk itself, dreading this conversation.
"Draco is not expected to succeed, Albus," Civia said sadly. "This is punishment for Lucius, slow torture for him and Narcissa, to watch him try and fail."
"In short, the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have," Albus replied. "Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself, Civia?"
"I think…I think that is his plan," the Potions Mistress reluctantly replied, and her heart went cold when she realized what he would ask of her. "Albus—no, you can't possibly think—"
"Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts?"
"…he believes the school will soon be under his control, yes."
"And if it does fall under his control, I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students at Hogwarts?"
Both nodded stiffly.
"Good," he murmured. "In the meantime, we will need your help here at Hogwarts."
Silence fell.
"I'm sorry, I thought I was already fine here at Hogwarts—"
"Will you teach?"
Civia blinked. "Albus, I couldn't—I couldn't teach Defense, I'm not half so good at it as Severus—"
"Which is why I mean for you to take over Potions."
"Headmaster?" Severus looked up, hesitantly hopeful.
"Will you do it, Civia?"
How could she deny him this? How could she deny Severus the chance to finally teach his favorite subject?
"I—of course."
"Excellent. "Now then, Civia, your first priority will be to discover what Draco is up to. A frightened teenage boy is a danger to others as well as himself. Offer him help and guidance, he ought to accept, he likes you—"
"—much less since his father lost favor. Draco blames me for it all, thinks I have orchestrated it—"
"All the same, try. I am concerned less for myself than for accidental victims of whatever schemes might occur to the boy. Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath."
"You can't mean for me—"
"Yes, Civia. You must kill me."
"Would you like us to do it now, or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?" Severus sneered.
"Oh, not quite yet," Albus smiled fondly. "I daresay the moment will present itself in due course. Given what has happened tonight, we can be sure it will happen within a year."
"If you don't mind dying, why not let Draco do it?" Severus snapped.
"The boy's soul is not yet so damaged," Albus replied, calm as ever. "I would not have it ripped apart on my account."
"And Civia's soul, Dumbledore? Hers?"
"Only you two know whether it will harm Civia's soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation. I ask this one great favor of you, Civia, because death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year's league. I confess I should prefer a quick, painless exit to the protracted and messy affair it will be if, for instance, Greyback is involved—I hear Voldemort has recruited him? Or dear Bellatrix, who likes to play with her food before she eats it."
Severus stared at Civia, at a loss for words, silently begging her not to agree.
But what could she do?
So she nodded and sealed her fate.
January 1999
It was before term resumed that Civia overheard a peculiar conversation after dinner between several of the older students regarding their past Defense teachers. When she returned to their rooms, she found Severus going over some research notes, while Narcissa was out on a walk with Draco.
"Sev?" she spoke up. "I overheard the strangest thing after dinner. Something about a dueling club some years ago that you were involved in?"
The Defense master snorted loudly. "It was led by that fool Lockhart when he was a teacher, I merely assisted."
"Well, I was thinking…wouldn't it be interesting to start that up again?"
Severus looked up, a smirk slowly curling his lips.
Not a week later, they sent out the notices to the Head Boy, Head Girl, and prefects after getting Minerva's approval.
The first Monday night of the school year found them in a room near the Defense classroom, setting up for the club with several prefects and the Head Girl—Hermione Granger, of course.
Soon, students were filtering in an hour after dinner, all chatting eagerly amongst themselves, excited for such an event, led by the legendary spies of Hogwarts.
"Is that it, Professors?" Granger asked, brushing her hair back into a bun. "I think it's all set up, don't you think?"
"Yes, Miss Granger, it is suitable," Severus replied calmly. "Thank you and the prefects for your assistance. Ten points apiece for your help."
The look on Granger's face—what a thought—Snape giving Gryffindor points!
It nearly made Civia laugh aloud. As it was, she was a bit too collected to allow her amusement show.
"Shall we start?" Severus asked. "It's three past the hour."
"May as well," she nodded, and turned to address the crowd of eager students.
Before she could speak, however, Severus barked, "Silence!" And silence, indeed, fell.
"Thank you, Severus." Civia smiled faintly, turning again to the students. "Welcome to the first weekly meeting of the newly reinstated Dueling Club! Professor Snape and I shall be co-leading the club, with goals to further your abilities in dueling and defense, should you require such skills. Any questions before we begin? Yes, Miss Jenkins?"
"Will we be learning the Disarming Charm—the one that Harry Potter used to defeat You-Know-Who?"
"Our first lesson, Miss Jenkins," Civia nodded. "Any others? Mister Collins?"
"Will you and Professor Snape be giving a demonstration?"
Other students nodded eagerly, looking to them pleadingly.
"You're here to learn for yourselves, not to watch a couple of old spies fight," she snorted.
"Watch who you call old," Severus quipped from her left.
The students' eyes grew wide at the realization that ol' Snape was joking, and Civia laughed. "Sorry, sorry.
"So no, Mister Collins. Maybe another time. If you all practice hard enough, perhaps we shall reward you with a demonstration."
Whispers spread through the crowd at this. Most of the veterans of the Battle of Hogwarts were present, and most of them had seen the spies fight in the battle; they had been wondrous and awe-inspiring to watch. To get a chance to watch again—to watch them face off too—what a sight that would be!
"Now, shall we begin?"
"That went well."
"It went surprisingly well," the Defense professor agreed softly as they re-entered their sitting room that night. "No one hurt themselves."
"It was just Disarming, Severus!" she chuckled. "Not real dueling, despite what my nephew might think."
Severus snorted at that. "The boy has a particular fondness for that spell, doesn't he?"
"Tea?" she asked.
"I'll get it," he replied, going into the kitchenette to boil the water. Soon, he returned with the pot and set it down on the table to let the tea steep. "He's inspired a whole new generation's favorite spell, I think."
"I believe you're right," Civia smiled. "They were very excited to practice. It was nice to have the older students there to help—the, what were they, the DA?"
"Dumbledore's Army, yes," Severus hummed. "They were…helpful."
"Don't sound so pained to say it," she teased. "And you giving Granger points earlier—it was just to see the look on her face, wasn't it?"
"You caught me," he replied dryly with a smirk. "All the school gapes whenever I give Gryffindor points, or take points away from Slytherin. Even the first years."
"You're legendary, Professor Snape!" she crowed, laughing.
"As if you aren't," he sniffed.
