Chapter 11: Partings

Harry did not see Draco Malfoy again that evening. Wherever his father had dragged him off to, it was not the Infirmary. His bed there was neatly made and his clothes gone. Harry spent a restless night staring at the ceiling of the Infirmary, and in the morning was unable to persuade Pomfrey that he was fit enough to make it back to Gryffindor on his own. When Filch stopped by to bring her a package of herbs, she asked him to escort Harry across the school, but the look he gave Harry was so black that he told both of them he'd wait. Instead, she scribbled a note to take to the Slytherin dormitory and pushed Filch out the door despite his protestations that the Malfoys had probably left.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked her.

"Forgot his medicine," she explained. "There's some for you too. Four ounces in the morning, four ounces at bedtime. When the liquid's gone, you eat..." She set a large jar of pale yellow liquid on his bedside. Ragged orange blobs drifted slowly across a cloud of brown dust at the bottom. Harry stared at it, revolted; it looked for all the world like a specimen from Snape's dungeon. Pomfrey cleared her throat. "Relax, Potter. They're only pickled peaches." A taste proved her right, and as he finished his first dose, Hermione and Hecate appeared at the door with a bag for his things.

They rounded the corner of the Infirmary corridor and came face to face with Draco Malfoy, standing a few paces ahead. The fresh wound stood out ugly and dark against his pale skin, and for a moment Harry saw how his own scar must catch the eye, faded though it was. Draco was not alone; his father stood facing him. They were arguing furiously and neither one noticed Harry and Hermione approach. In the corridor beyond them, a tall, black-robed figure emerged noiselessly from the staircase.

"Don't you even care that I almost got killed? Again?" cried Draco, his voice strident.

"Of course I care!" hissed Lucius. "I wanted to keep you safe at the school. The attack was supposed to be at Hogsmeade."

Draco's pale face went even paler. "What do you mean by that? D'you mean you knew about it, and you let it happen?"

"Shh, shh, there was a good reason for it," protested Lucius, trying to cover his panic with a soothing manner. He reached forward as if to pat his son's shoulder, but Draco twisted away abruptly.

"Do you know how many people could have been killed? How many of my friends were there? Merlin's beard…" Draco's voice quavered as he listed off the names softly. "Zabini... Warrington... Millicent... Vince..." Suddenly he was shouting again. "You don't even care that they could all be dead by now, and for what? To get rid of one conceited little scar-faced git? Don't do me any more favors... Father." He spat the last word, then turned away, stopping short as he saw Snape behind him.

Snape's deep black eyes bored into Lucius. "How did you know when and where the attack was supposed to be?" he asked softly.

"I might ask you the same thing," retorted Lucius. "Anyone could tell that office of yours was rigged to be magic-proof and you locked Potter in there." He grabbed Draco and swept back his hair. The lightning shaped wound stood out red and black against Draco's pallor. "Just look at his head," he hissed. "It was that potion, wasn't it? That's why he's not dead. That's what drove the Dark Lord away."

The corners of Snape's mouth turned up. "Effective, wasn't it? Don't feel you have to thank me." He stepped aside to walk past, but Lucius grabbed his arm and spun him around, putting his own pale white face close to Snape's sallow one.

"You deceived me, Severus, and no one gets away with that. You won't last long as Headmaster of Hogwarts once your staff knows about your little walk on the Dark side, and your year in the loony bin. And once you're sacked as Headmaster, no one will question you killing yourself."

Snape's hand fastened upon Lucius's wrist and began to twist it down and away. "I'll take my chances, Mr. Malfoy."

"Stop it, Father, didn't you hear him? If I hadn't taken that potion I'd be dead."

"If you hadn't taken that potion, you stupid brat, my lord's powers might have been restored!" He shot Draco a furious look and the boy recoiled, clapping his hand to his head. Still clinging to Snape's sleeve, he thrust his face forward again. "Now, Mr Potions Master, I shall want a copy of that potion recipe before I leave today, or your career is in ruins."

Hermione could contain herself no longer. "Everyone knows he was on the Dark once," she shouted, her voice ringing down the corridor. "He even said so in class."

"Stay out of this, you little Mudblood. No one's going to believe you."

"Oh, yes they will," said Hecate, evenly, coming up behind her. "He said it in my class. The whole school knows it, staff and all. And if you want to make an issue of it, Mr Malfoy, there's a lot Dumbledore knows about you that he can still tell."

"Not if you're in Chechnya, he can't," retorted Lucius. A nasty smile played over his lips. "No, I think that before Minister Fudge makes up his mind about this, he'll want to hear from someone else, someone who seems to matter a great deal to him." His back turned to Snape and Draco, he walked purposefully down the hall toward Harry, whose scar started to itch.

"What do you say, Harry?" asked Lucius, narrowing his eyes. His manner was confidential, yet he spoke loudly enough for all of them to hear. "Do you like having your father's oldest, most bitter enemy as your headmaster? Do you like his teaching? The way he treats you – or your friends Weasley and Longbottom? Haven't you ever imagined him rotting away in Azkaban?" The tone of his voice, mingling threat with a false heartiness, made Harry's stomach tighten.

"Don't you think McGonagall would make a much better Head?" continued Lucius. "After what she's had to put up with, doesn't she deserve the job, Potter?" Harry wrenched his eyes away from Lucius and looked down the hall. Snape stared back past Draco's trembling form, but he couldn't tell if the Headmaster was looking at him, at Hecate or at Lucius.

Lucius pressed on. "And your Defense mistress here – wouldn't she be happier in a Hogwarts classroom than dodging machine gun fire in Chechnya?" Beside Harry, Hermione gasped, and Hecate put a protective arm around her.

"You've had your doubts about old Snape, haven't you?" continued Lucius. "Especially when you were locked in his office, powerless, alone with the Dark Lord. Surely you've told your suspicions to your friends already – ah, yes, I can see that you have, many times. All you have to do is speak out about him one more time. One more time, and you've beaten him forever, and helped your friends in the bargain."

"I don't have to beat him," Harry said mulishly. He stared again at Snape, wondering what thoughts lay behind those deep-set eyes, that greasy forehead. What had been the expression on Snape's face when he had bent over a cauldron all those years ago to make the Doomspell potion for James? He had been reluctant to brew it for Dumbledore himself. But for a man he had hated from his schooldays, knowing that it would bring about his death? Harry caught his breath. The thought was a block of ice in his stomach. There's no getting round it, he thought, Snape helped to kill my father. And now I have a chance to beat him. For my father's sake. He hated Snape to the last, and now, for his sake, I can beat him. Wouldn't my father have done it himself? Isn't that what he would have wanted? And wouldn't he have wanted me to protect Takushiki?

Lucius gave him a push in the chest. "Stupid boy! Wake up! How much longer do you want Severus Snape breathing down your neck? Think what he did to your father, and to you. Think what your life would be like without him! Think!"

Harry stood unmoving, staring at a crack in the floor, tight prickles rising in back of his eyes. The silence of six people pressed on him; he could look none of them in the face. Behind them he felt the deeper silence of his parents' deaths, one body and then another collapsing through the shadowy after-images of the green flashes. They had died as Dumbledore had died, defending what they loved, regretting nothing, refusing to compromise. My life without Snape? Much better, in a way, thought Harry. But even better for Lucius Malfoy, and the Dark Side. What a choice. Still, it looks like I'm stuck with Snape for a while. My father's example. And Dumbledore's orders.

He looked directly into Lucius Malfoy's pale eyes. Aloud he said, "Go to hell. I don't know what you mean."

"You'll regret this," pronounced Lucius. He turned away towards Snape with a look of pure hatred. "So will you, Headmaster."

He seized his son's arm and dragged him past Snape into the stairwell. Draco stumbled along beside him, his other hand clamped to his head. As they disappeared around the corner, Harry looked up at Snape. Their eyes locked. Snape stared back, unfathomable. It seemed a long time later that Hermione touched his arm and said, "Come on, Harry, we'd better go."

Hecate took his other arm and gave it a gentle tug. "She's right, Harry, go with her." As they passed Snape, Hecate spoke again. "Harry? I need to talk with you, but not right now. In my office, after lunch?" He nodded blankly and followed Hermione down the hallway.

At the common room, Harry pushed past the babble of questions and expressions of sympathy, and fled upstairs to the dormitory to start packing. The other Gryffindor boys, understanding his silence, did not bother him. He kept working through lunch, stacking books and vests and trying to think of what to say to Hecate, and when his roommates returned, he headed down the stairs to keep his appointment with her. He thought he had prepared his words carefully, but as soon as she ushered him into her office, it all flew out; Dumbledore and the Doomspell potion; the office raid, Snape and Lucius Malfoy in Knockturn Alley and even his trip to the Potions Institute with Ron and Hermione... Finally Hecate put up her hand.

"You deserve an explanation," she said. "I found out almost as soon as I came to Hogwarts that Dumbledore was gravely concerned at Voldemort's growing strength. He already suspected that it was linked with the mysterious deaths of Squibs that were being reported to the Ministry and he was already thinking of challenging Voldemort to a duel, just as he had fought Grindelwald all those years before. As a fallback he wanted Professor Snape to make the Doomspell potion, for you and he to drink. That would mean that even if Dumbledore was killed, you would be protected by the death should Voldemort attack you."

"I had to tell him that he had far less time to carry out his plans than he thought. One of his oldest friends, Nicolas Flamel, warned him of that the first time I translated for him. So Dumbledore decided to take the potion, have you drink it too and then lure Voldemort into a duel far away from Hogwarts. This was a plan that several of his colleagues did not approve of, I might say."

"Snape told Lucius Malfoy what Dumbledore was planning," interrupted Harry.

"Of course he did," nodded Hecate. "In order to fight a duel, you have to issue a challenge. That was what Professor Snape was doing on Dumbledore's behalf when Hagrid spotted him in Knockturn Alley. Of course, Mr Malfoy didn't see it quite like that. He got the impression – as he was meant to – that Professor Snape was nostalgic for his time in the Dark."

"And was he?" asked Harry.

"Whatever Professor Snape said to Mr Malfoy, it was on Dumbledore's orders, Harry. Try to see it from Dumbledore's viewpoint: Snape was the obvious person to send; someone who could convincingly pretend to be ready to return to the Dark. But pretend is what it was; convincing too, as you saw. Mr Malfoy can see now how completely he was fooled and that galls him as much as anything. Anyway, when Voldemort heard of it, he decided on an immediate attack while Dumbledore was still at Hogwarts. You know what happened then.

"Afterwards, Professor Snape was left to try and solve the mystery of what was behind the Squibs' deaths. He took me into his confidence – at least, as far as he can take anyone into his confidence – and again you know what the answer was, because you and your friends worked it out too. We also knew that Voldemort was likely to attack you again. The centaur's prophecy tipped us off – "

"The twins and the sickle!" interrupted Harry, "and Snape tried to – "

Hecate turned and pulled a long scroll of parchment from a shelf behind her desk. "Look at this," she said, unfurling it. Harry saw that it was chart much like Lavender and Parvati's, covered with stars, moons and arrows, and decorated with comments in Professor Sinistra's flamboyant purple scrawl.

"The twins," pointed Hecate. Harry peered closer and recognised a constellation labelled 'Gemini'.

"And the sickle," she continued. Her finger was resting on a crescent next to the twins and with his mind's eye, Harry saw again the dark night sky outside the Infirmary window on the night of Voldemort's attack, and the thin moon floating through the clouds.

"That was how we knew he was expected," said Hecate.

"So when the Headmaster told Hagrid to make the Weasleys cut down that grass – "

"He was trying to extend their detention," grinned Hecate, "not to mention needling Hagrid. You don't think that a little thing like the world's darkest wizard attacking at any moment would distract him from doing that, do you, Harry?"

"But the enchantments in the office…"

"You would have been safe there, even with that hole in the wall. We didn't know about that of course. I had protected everything with enchantments. We even fixed the weather so that all the younger students would be outside at Creatures and Herbology exams that afternoon. It would still have been safer, I think, if the Headmaster had explained to you why you were there. Voldemort quickly realised that you were not in Hogsmeade and appeared at the school. The one thing we didn't realise was that Draco Malfoy had drunk the potion. You know what took place then. We were ready to hit Voldemort with curses but it never came to that."

There was one more thing. "Snape must have made that same potion for my father...why do you think he did it?"

"Because Dumbledore asked him to, I imagine."

"The book it's in – it says that only fools will drink it first and die – and he must have known my father would take it first – "

Hecate sighed. "I've read the recipe, or rather, Professor Snape's transcription of it. You have to understand; the wizard who created that potion all those centuries ago was on the Dark. He never imagined that there could be people unselfish enough to die willingly for another. He thought it could only be used as a trick. But neither of the people who drank it for you were fools, were they?"

Harry shook his head.

"That's something about dark people – even those who return from the Dark. They always assume the worst possible motive. No one will ever do an unselfish act. You're an idiot to trust people. There's no such thing as good-natured teasing, even, it's always malicious." She sighed again. "They can be a real pain in the neck."

"So you don't think Snape wanted to make that potion for my father?" asked Harry.

"I can't be a very good teacher, Harry," answered Hecate. "Remember what I told you in class? To people who return from the Dark, any memory or contact with it is painful. Like your scar. It's almost unbearable in the early days. No, Professor Snape would not have enjoyed making that potion for your father in any way."

Then I'm glad it made him suffer, thought Harry to himself. He was not ready to believe that Snape's motives had been entirely unselfish there.

"Still not convinced?" said Hecate. Harry guessed that she could tell by the expression on his face.

Harry shrugged. "How will he treat me now do you think?" he asked. "Back to 'Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter' every time I cough?"

"I couldn't say," said Hecate. "And believe me, I know how bad he can be. But remember, hate is destructive. Lucius Malfoy knows that; that's exactly what he was trying to play on when he asked you to speak against Professor Snape to the Ministry. I was proud of you when you wouldn't agree to do that. Hate will drag you into the Dark as quickly as anything will. I'm not asking you to like Professor Snape, but you should remember that you're both on the same side – even if he forgets it from time to time. And by the way, I've spoken to Mr Fudge myself; he is not pursuing the investigation into Professor Snape."

"And what about Voldemort?" asked Harry. "Has he been destroyed again?"

"Not from the account you gave. It seems that he is still embodied, if weakened. And he has his own, primitive, dementors now. And Pettigrew."

"Does Snape know it was Pettigrew and not Sirius Black, then?" asked Harry. "He didn't see Pettigrew in the hallway when Voldemort attacked."

"Dumbledore has told him about it via me," answered Hecate. "He has to believe that – the Dead can't lie. I should have told you that earlier."

Harry looked at her, choosing his words carefully. "I almost said OK to Lucius Malfoy when he talked about you and Chechnya. Now the more I think about it the more I worry about what's going to happen to you."

Hecate nodded reassuringly. "I love teaching, but I also love this other work and believe in it; it's worth every bit of risk. And never doubt, if anything should happen to me, it was my own choice to go over there. You tell that to Ron, too."

She picked up the astronomy scroll to put it away. As she did so, a small piece of flowery notepaper fluttered out from underneath it. Hecate smoothed it with her fingers and shook her head slowly. "Sugar Lips, for goodness sake," she said under her breath and her eyes filled with tears.

"I have a token of Dumbledore's," she went on, "should I need to speak to him again and he be available."

"Speaking of tokens..." said Harry. He pulled out a piece of twig and handed it to her. "I took this off the Firebolt this morning. Voldemort's still out there, and he might get me. If anything happens..."

Hecate took it and he felt better for her not trying to tell him that it wouldn't be necessary. "I'll know where to find you," she said.

"Who am I going to talk to now?" asked Harry, suddenly realising that this was really good bye. "First Dumbledore, now you... who will I speak to about the important stuff?"

"You have your friends, and Hagrid, and Sirius," Hecate told him, "and you still have me. An owl will reach me if all else fails." There was silence. "I have to finish packing, before the feast," she told him gently.

"Right," said Harry awkwardly. "I'll see you there."