Chapter 21

Interrogation

Patience looked up from the less than enthralling concluding chapter of Albaterra's Heroine. Sarah had recommended the book, but Patience felt that it had not delivered the requisite romantic thrill. In her opinion, the Dark wizard was twice the man that the hero had been because at least he did something. The good wizard spent too much of the book worrying about his witch's fate, but not doing anything much to help save her from it. Plans were nice, but the whole time that Phineas and his brothers spent devising the perfect scheme, poor Arabella had been trapped in the castle with Oscar de la Vega y Montoya-Escobar. In addition, Phineas had to quit his job with the unsympathetic apothecary to rescue his witch, which meant that he now had no way of supporting Arabella. Patience thought that Phineas seemed a little unstable, frankly, and would not be likely to find another job easily. At least the Dark wizard could have provided for her. And who was Albaterra's heroine? Arabella was Scots. It was the Dark wizard who was from Albaterra. Patience skimmed the last four paragraphs of the book and then tossed it aside with a vengeance.

It had been an awkward sort of evening. Dinner was the most uncomfortable meal she had eaten in the house yet. Everything he had said or done had caused her to stammer or blush with embarrassment. She had not been able to react normally about anything, which had consequently caused him to ask her with some sharpness whether she was feeling ill. Not unnaturally, his sarcasm did not help Patience's feeling of awkwardness, so she had stood up from the table at the end of the meal with every expectation and hope of fleeing to her room.

However, he had asked her to come with him, since they needed to discuss Luther's arrival the following afternoon. So Patience, remembering what Eva had said about him perhaps wanting her to remain in his rooms at her own instigation, had asked him to let her go to her room first to get her shawl. Whilst inside she had selected Albaterra's Heroine from the stack beside her bed, since it was the only book small enough to put in her pocket, so if he did not want her to stay then he need never know she had brought her book with her.

So she was now seated in her usual white chair beside a roaring fire and he was bent over his desk working on something that he had been writing for the last hour or more. Patience could not say that she felt precisely comfortable, but at least she did not want to run to her room and bolt the door.

Luther would be coming to stay with them tomorrow. Snape had explained to her quite clearly what was expected of her, which mostly entailed quite a lot of studying, and what rights she had regarding giving Luther the boot. Patience knew that whatever alternatives to Luther that Snape was likely to offer would be much more unpleasant than her brother, but she still allowed herself to escape for a few moments into a pleasant daydream that consisted of telling Luther exactly what she thought of him before she allowed Rem to bodily remove him from the house. Yes, that would be very satisfying, although of course it would never happen that way.

As Patience was getting up from her chair to kneel on the floor beside her Crup, both she and Snape were surprised by the sudden appearance of Wicket.

"Master, St. Mungo's delivery owl."

Patience grabbed the back of her chair, knowing what must be contained in the small brown piece of parchment. She had never liked her brother. He had actually tried to kill her that once and had tortured her emotionally and physically throughout her life, but the idea of him dead suddenly filled her with intense sorrow, which surprised her in its unexpectedness. She looked bleakly at her husband, who had taken the parchment from Wicket and was now looking at Patience.

"Is he dead?"

Snape nodded and said, "It is addressed to you, from Luther. Do you want to read it?"

Patience shook her head, but still extended her hand to take the parchment from him. The contents were three hastily scribbled lines: "Govan died this evening after the Morpha Potion was administered. No ceremony being held due to inquiry. Will still come tomorrow–L.W.K."

Patience crushed the parchment in her hand and said shakily, "Luther is still coming tomorrow. He says there is an inquiry."

Snape nodded, "Any death from the yggdrasilsap is going to warrant an inquiry. They will question your parents, Luther, Govan's friends, and anyone else who might have information. The Ministry will want his supplier."

Patience sank back into her chair and asked, "Why would he want to take the sap? I do not understand. It is so dangerous."

Snape did not immediately reply as he walked across to a chair not far from where Patience was seated. Then he pulled out his silver sand needle case and opened the lid as he said, "There is a very good reason why yggdrasilsap is appealing. The effects are tremendously useful, especially for young wizards who are hoping to develop their skills in the Dark Arts. Yggdrasilsap gives the wizard extreme confidence, but such that he is able to focus his thoughts on exactly what he wants to the exclusion of extraneous, unimportant items or problems. The feeling of power and the ability to focus to a degree otherwise impossible are very potent incentives, Patience."

Patience watched as he lit the sand needle, flicked his case shut again, and then looked up at her. Suddenly she blurted out, "That sap bottle is yours, isn't it? The one in the sitting room cupboard?"

Snape's surprise showed briefly before his mask slipped back into place and he replied, "If you are asking whether I have used yggdrasilsap in my time, then the answer is yes. I used it extensively in my youth. However, I no longer feel that the reward outweighs the risks."

Patience asked tentatively, "You do not use it anymore?"

"That bottle was purchased almost 15 years ago."

"Oh. Oh, I am so glad. What is that you just inhaled though? It isn't something like the sap, is it? I have seen my father's friend, Mr Mulciber, use it. I remember the weird purple flame."

Snape stared at his wife as he digested the information that Mulciber had apparently been to visit William Kent, who Snape had always considered a minor player too afraid to commit himself to either side openly. Perhaps there was something to Kent after all, if he would allow an escaped Death Eater into his house. It would be wise to keep an eye on Kent, especially to be certain that Mulciber had not used Kent as a test subject for his speciality curse.

Snape could see that Patience was nervous that she had pushed him too far by asking so many questions, which he hoped would keep her from asking for any more uncomfortable clarifications requiring evasive answers. "It is sand needle. It does not cause one's organs to liquefy or anything else of that nature. It is the primary ingredient in Calming Potions. I find it useful, but not necessary, Patience. Sand needle is not addictive and is quite legal."

Snape watched Patience look down at the parchment in her hand, but to his relief she did not ask anything further. The sooner that Patience got past her feelings about Govan, which Snape considered were due to foolish sentimentality and nothing more, the better for them both. It was preferable that Govan was dead, since this would free Luther from Govan's influence. Snape would rather be the only direct influence on the young man, who, despite his conceit, was quite one of the most intelligent Slytherins to pass through Snape's Potions classroom in years. It could be extremely useful if he could attach Luther Kent's loyalty via his sister and research ambitions.

Snape stood and crossed the room to the cupboard where he had placed the now half-empty bottle of Aphigorial nectar the night before. It had worked even better than he had expected. She had been so relaxed and comfortable with him that she had been quite open to suggestion. He was not certain what had caused her to act so childishly at dinner, but since she had voluntarily elected to remain in his library to read after their conversation, he had been unwilling to press her for an explanation. Snape poured out a small goblet for Patience and then walked across to her chair and handed it to her.

"Is this more of that nectar?"

"It is."

Patience peered into the glass and then said, "Thank you."

Snape returned to his desk and sat down at the chair. He smoothed out the curled edges of the parchment and read over the last two lines that he had written. He had got very little done this holiday, although he had more that needed doing than ever before. One of his masters was unwilling to accept excuses for lateness and although the other would be more understanding, Snape's personal pride did not allow him to perform to anything other than the top of his ability. This left him almost no time for personal considerations, which was why he was going to regret his time spent in this house for more reasons than the obvious.

He could see that she was no longer reading her novel, but still staring down at the crumpled parchment and silently crying. There was nothing useful that he could do with her until she had herself more under control, so Snape turned his attention back to his papers.

Patience sat stonily as she half-listened to her husband talking to her brother and watched Rem pulling down what remained of the Christmas decorations from the sitting room walls. That morning had been extraordinarily unpleasant, which had precipitated a nasty afternoon and now a very dreary evening.

Once again, she had awaked to the unwelcome view of his lank hair and hooked nose. If only she could Disapparate back to her own room, then she would not have to manage the awkward interactions of the morning. She had slept in her underrobe, since she had not been given the option of changing for bed. Because she had not put up her hair, it had been full of knots and kinks from sleeping on it wrongly, causing Rem to spend almost a half-hour brushing out her curls until they gleamed like normal. She knew she must have looked a mess, but although this bothered her pride, she had faintly hoped that it might put him off her so she could get away as quickly as possible. Of course, he had not seemed fussed at all, but had stridden about the room gathering his robes for the day without giving thought to her state of mind.

However, this had not been the source of her current depression. Snape had been marginally decent at breakfast until the Ministry wizard had arrived unexpectedly at the door. Patience wondered how the Ministry could have anticipated anything but a cold reception when arriving at 8 o'clock in the morning, since most normal wizards would still be eating breakfast.

The young Ministry wizard had wanted to interview Patience about Govan, but had inexplicably reckoned without Severus Snape. The Ministry wizard was young enough that he must have had Snape for Potions, so there was really no excuse for it; he ought to have known what to expect. To Patience's relief, her husband had insisted on the wizard's right to be present during his wife's interview. He had refused to allow Patience to answer almost half of the questions that the Ministry wizard had asked and had been so condescending and dismissive of the Ministry wizard's authority that the young man had become almost apoplectic with anger. However, apparently Snape had been within his legal rights, because the Ministry wizard had finally terminated the interview and left without learning anything that he had not known when he came.

Patience felt that Snape had been almost as angry that the Ministry had dared to question his wife as that he had been caught off guard by the Ministry's decision to visit Patience so quickly. Immediately after the Ministry wizard had left the house, Patience had undergone an unpleasant interrogation by her husband that had resulted in tears from Patience and several cruel comments about her intellectual capabilities from Snape. It seemed that he had not felt beforehand that her knowledge of the Kent household might be important or useful. Now he had decided that he wanted to know everything—anyone who had visited in the last four years, any unusual comings and goings of her parents or brothers, any strange packages that might have arrived, and anything else that Patience could remember. Unfortunately, Patience remembered very little that was useful, which had seemed to anger her husband considerably.

Patience had spent the rest of the day in her room avoiding Snape and dreading that evening, when her brother was to arrive. Thankfully, Luther had come shortly before dinner so Patience had barely enough time to show him tersely to his rooms before leading him down to the dining room. Patience had been too overset by the events of the day to say much to her husband or her brother and had even found that she was so depressed that even a slice of apple walnut cake did nothing to tempt her.

Luther and Snape had now been talking for almost two hours, but Patience had paid so little attention to their conversation that she only knew that they were discussing her father at one point and then someone named Rookwood. Patience turned her attention from Rem, who was throwing the paper garlands into the fire, back to her brother. It had always seemed odd to her that Luther looked very little like his twin and yet so much like herself that several of her teachers at Hogwarts had asked with disbelief if she truly were Luther Kent's sister. It had certainly not been a resemblance to Luther's scholastic achievements that her teachers had noted.

Patience looked at her brother as he spoke and thought about what Eva had said about him. She supposed that they did look like Grandmother O'Shaughnessy. They both had Grandmother's brilliant blue eyes, pale, almost luminescent skin, slender nose, and delicate hands. Of course, Luther was quite tall, whereas Patience was very petite. Luther's shoulder length hair was the same deep black as both Grandmother and Mummy, whereas Patience had got the Kent blond. Yet Patience and Luther looked as much like each other as Govan had resembled their father.

Patience peered over at her husband, who was looking even more sour and unpleasant than normal. If she had a child with him—of course Patience hoped sincerely that she had taken the laxorica root properly that morning so they never could—would the child look like him? It seemed like there was really no way to predict, especially if one took her own family for example. What if she had a daughter that looked like him, but who was as brainless as she had been at school?

Despite her dislike of her brother, Patience had found herself pitying him slightly during dinner. She had never before seen Luther show almost any emotion, but his grief at the death of Govan was evident and apparently quite genuine. Yet typically, despite his emotion, Luther was entirely in command of himself whilst he had a heated discussion about their father with Snape. Now that she was actually paying attention to their conversation, Patience could see that her brother and Snape were interacting as equals, which astonished Patience considerably.

As there came a lull in the conversation, Patience was even more surprised to see her brother pull out a silver case from his pocket that looked very similar to her husband's sand needle case. As Luther casually flicked open the lid and dropped a pinch of sand needle on the inner lid as he continued to speak, Patience felt suddenly that she simply had to get away. She stood up from her chair and interrupted Luther, saying, "I am not feeling well. I am going upstairs."

Snape had stood when she did and Patience could see out of the corner of her eye that her brother was now standing up slowly. Snape spoke gruffly, "I will talk with you later tonight." However, Luther said nothing, apparently merely annoyed by her interruption.