– Four months ago –
Spinner's End, worn, dirty, poor, and about to fall apart, teemed with tiny houses squashed together like too many sponges in a grimy wash bucket. But one patch boasted only charred remains, and that only enough to fill a small wheelbarrow.
An old man, broad-shouldered, with a beard, iron gray hair to his shoulders and a firm jaw stood near the bare lot. He wore fine, black muggle clothes and his knuckled fingers hung at his sides. Black eyes, heavy and empty, stared at the scene.
The transfiguration of eye color proved a more difficult spell, so he was stuck with them, but the rest of his appearance was unrecognizable. Wrinkles replaced smooth skin, shoulders broadened, height lessened just a bit, cheeks sank due to a constant glower. The beard was new. In place of his signature hooked nose sat a smaller, wider, downright flat nose.
In lieu of using his limited Polyjuice Potion supply, Severus placed charms that needed reapplication daily—instead of hourly. Safer that way. Even if he missed a day, the transformation would stay in place for a while, and reversion to his true self would happen slowly over the course of several days, or if someone threw a revelation charm.
The decision not to use Polyjuice meant he wouldn't have to worry about becoming someone else's double—a potential inconvenience—and he could save his Polyjuice for any impersonations he might need to pull.
Now, I look the same way I feel… like an old, unpleasant man. Finally, a good illustration of my life. He kicked a charred piece of rubble farther into the lot where his house once stood. An old, burned down hovel…
Only a year ago he'd sat by a stream with the love of his life, making a mental list of what he did and didn't want.
He wanted Lily… but didn't deserve her. He wanted her friendship… still did. He wanted her safety… but he'd failed miserably at that.
He didn't want to become a teacher—but ended up acting like one anyway, giving Defence lessons as if his own life depended on it.
He didn't want to live mired in deceit and lies. As I walk around pretending to be Johan Jones. Good job, old boy…
He didn't want to be thrust into complicated schemes. Hah. That's a laugh.
And he didn't want his only reason for living to be paying off a debt. But that's exactly what I'm doing, isn't it?
The only goal he'd succeeded in—somewhat—was not being in league with Voldemort. Instead, he'd managed to become his sworn enemy. Wonderful… And he'd been stupid enough to think he could be someone others respected—and foolish enough to think he could respect himself.
This is pointless… me being here, twenty-two years out of my own timeline. I'm worse than useless. Can't even protect the ones who depend on me. Can't keep them safe, no matter how hard I try.
He left the blackened rubble to wander Spinner's End.
He'd gotten nothing out of the past few months, though he'd searched, listened to Death Eaters, and followed the next logical step besides finding the Horcruxes. He'd sought to be in the thick of the action, tried to snatch clues to the whereabouts of the rest of the Horcruxes and rejoined the Order of the Phoenix—though few knew it was him.
"This is my choice, Albus," said Severus as he sat across from Dumbledore at a crowded café, the ideal place for their meeting. "I can't rest until he's defeated, and I need to be part of that."
Dumbledore nodded. "I won't take you for granted, and I'll honor your wishes." He folded his hands. "But I need to be sure you're not just running away."
Severus raised a brow. "You know how to read people—even me. You always did. Lying to you seems futile." He took a sip from his teacup. "I have my reasons. This is my choice. Take my help or don't."
"Of course, I'll take it." Dumbledore sighed. "You knew that even before we met. I fear you can read me far too well too. I'm not sure what I'd have told you in another lifetime. You'd be safest at Hogwarts, and that's where you should be for another year, but you don't want that, and I can't keep you. You've fallen into a difficult position. You're Voldemort's priority—he fears you, wants you killed before you can grow any stronger. To everyone other than me—and to take a guess, Miss Evans—you're just a seventeen-year-old. I don't think many Order members will want to cooperate. They'll probably treat you as a child."
"That I intend to disguise." Severus indicated himself. "This persona carries no importance in the Wizarding World or anyplace else. I'm still myself. It doesn't matter whether it's Severus Snape or Leonard Jones who goes on field missions."
"Of course," said Dumbledore. "Seems like a good plan to me. I'll put you to use right away. But we don't just attack Death Eaters. We gather information; we protect. That's what you're to do on this mission. A family of muggleborn parents needs a grunt for safe passage to Germany. You'll meet with Arthur Weasley at the Leaky Cauldron. Do you know how you'll be contacted for a meeting?"
"A message from Fawkes," said Severus with a smirk.
"Indeed. I trust you can handle yourself when there's nothing to do?"
Severus nodded.
These past months as Leonard Jones, the old, grumpy, and frankly unpopular Order member, had seen him doing whatever he could—not for glory or recognition, but for redemption. He wanted two things, Lily's safety, and revenge against Voldemort. But he'd come no closer to his goals.
His feet took him to a building that still stood but housed no one. The Evans' home. Uncovered windows betrayed empty rooms. The gardens grew unkept, and grass spilled from the yard, tangled with weeds.
Lilies, petunias, marguerites and violets jumbled into unordered chaos in the flowerbeds as weeds choked them.
With a wary glance over his shoulder, Severus stepped into the garden and plucked a handful of weeds from among the flowers, but it made little difference. The weeds had taken root too deeply. Shouldn't have come here in the first place. He chided himself as he tossed the weeds aside and left.
If Severus' thoughts had been less shrouded in gloom, perhaps he would have noticed the weeds he'd plucked were mistflower. Only one of the buds had bloomed, and Severus hadn't realized. In time, dozens of tiny white flowers would mingle with the others, not obscuring them, but pulling them together, even though most thought mistflower a weed.
– A few weeks later –
Severus perched carefully on a rooftop in Diagon Alley, careful to stay out of sight of the Death Eaters searching the street below for the Marauders and their friends.
Of all the—Merlin! Fool Marauders! Do they even know the meaning of safety? What were they thinking, coming here? Everyone at that mansion is a target. As dense as Potter, Black and Lucy are, they're not so moronic as that. And Lily, Remus and Regulus are with them—at least those three have brains. They should've said this was a rotten idea. They're kids all right, the lot of them.
At least they're gone now. Well, I hope so, anyway.
Kreacher had proven a faithful house-elf—as all house-elves were, if their masters were kind to them. A quick Imperius on Lucy served to deliver his message about Kreacher to Regulus. He'd chosen the girl as the most simple-minded of the group, including Sirius Black, the mutt—surprisingly. But Lucy was just so… simple. His diversion had helped too, though.
Good thing I followed them from the Leaky Cauldron. He'd been sitting at a table, in plain sight, wearing the guise of Leonard. Stupid kids. I'm going to hex Dumbledore next time I see him! No, I suppose they're on holiday, so I can't hold Dumbledore accountable. And they have three more weeks off. I suppose I'll count myself lucky they've stayed out of trouble until now.
Maybe it would be safer for them if he went back to Hogwarts so he could yank their ears when they did such foolish things. But that's not where I need to be… I'm supposed to be here.
With not a few mutters and curses, Severus crept down the roof and dropped quietly into the main street. The second he did, he felt eyes on him. Severus turned to find Remus Lupin's face on a poster hung on the near wall. "Be on the lookout. Werewolf attending Hogwarts" was written under the picture.
Severus ripped the poster down and summoned any other copies. Thankfully, there were only three. Another poster caught his eye. A little girl. Severus sighed as he ripped that one down too. Evelyn.
Why are common wizards such cowards?
For his trouble, he decided to treat himself to a spot of Firewhisky. The walk back to the Leaky Cauldron was uneventful.
Though never one to drink enough to get drunk—though that would have long been the easy way out—Severus found he liked the taste of Firewhisky. Seeking redemption meant not adding yet another sin to the list. That, and he refused to become his father.
Inside the Leaky Cauldron, a drunk blond woman sat at the long center table. She hadn't moved an inch since Severus left to follow the Marauders and their friends. Pathetic.
"One Firewhisky," Severus barked at Tom the bartender. "Make it a strong one."
Tom raised a brow as Severus took a seat down the table from the woman. "That must've been an exciting escapade, Mr. Jones."
Severus snorted.
"No need to be rude," Tom said dryly. "One Firewhisky, coming up."
The blond woman stirred at their voices.
Isn't it about time to throw a bucket of water over her head so she can stagger home to bed? It wasn't yet midday, and already she was the picture of pitifulness.
"I wanna Firewhisky too…" the woman slurred.
Tom shook his head as he gave Severus his drink. To the woman he said, "You've had quite enough. I'll get you some water."
"Jus' gimme the Firewhisky!" the woman was instantly beside Severus and half-way over the table, trembling hands tangled in Tom's collar. Her red face and eyes said this wasn't her first drinking spree. "That or gimme my daughter! But I s'pose you can't do that—like everyone else on this stupid planet!" She cursed in Tom's face. "So, gimme that Firewhisky!"
"I don't' know what happened to your daughter, but you need to calm down," Tom said in a tone that betrayed how often he'd dealt with drunks.
"Look at all a you up on that high horse," the woman spat. "Think you're better than her—that she's not worth anything! You're wrong! She's worth more than anyone in this awful place, and I want her back!" She shook Tom, death grip still on his collar. "Just gimme Evelyn!" She burst into tears, let go of the bartender and sank into the seat next to Severus.
"Andrea?" Severus said in a moment of realization.
"You know her?" said Tom.
"Sort of…"
Andrea Clearwater, Evelyn's mother, faced Severus. "You know my name…" she whispered. "I don't know you." Anger replaced momentary confusion. "You're one a them!"
"No, I—"
Andrea grabbed Severus, rage now fully focused on him instead of Tom. The reek of alcohol rolled off her breath in putrid waves. "Gimme my daughter!"
"I don't have Evelyn. And I didn't take her."
"You're from the Ministry!" Andrea let him go as if he were a piece of piping metal. She scrambled away, knocked over her chair and thunked to the floor. "Get away from me. I'm not insane!" The next instant she groveled at his feet. "Please, help me. I'll do anything. Just give me back my Evelyn!"
"Andrea, I don't know—"
"Slime!" She stood and took a staggered step. "Filthy, horrid old man, you don't know anything! She's worth more than any of you lot!" Andrea spit at him. "Cowards!"
"That's enough!" Severus sneered and pushed the woman away. He stood, towering over her. Her eyes turned fearful again as he grabbed her wrist.
"Let go!" she screamed and tried to twist away. "I'm not crazy! Let go! Let go! I didn't do anything wrong! We didn't do—"
Severus pulled her into a tight hold and forced a vial full of liquid down her throat as she struggled and nearly choked. Forced to swallow, she blinked; her eyes misted, and she slumped into Severus' arms.
"What'd you do?" said a wide-eyed Tom.
"Sleeping draught," Severus said. "The kind that guarantees she'll be sober when she wakes."
Tom shook his head. "So many senseless victims in these dark times. Poor woman."
To Severus, this only proved again how weak Andrea was. He sighed and hefted the unconscious woman. "What does she owe?"
"Three sickles and five knuts."
Severus tossed four sickles on the table to include his Firewhisky—which he hadn't gotten to drink—before hauling Andrea out of the Leaky Cauldron.
With a pop, he disapparated.
– The next day –
Severus frowned, arms crossed as he sat beside Andrea's bed. How do I keep getting into these stupid situations? I'm supposed to be the sullen grump who doesn't care a wit about others' feelings. And I was good at it, too—until this new life. Now, I can barely get through one day without having to watch over someone I barely know… but can't bring myself to leave behind.
Now that the sleeping draught had worn off, she groaned and held her head. "Ow… What a headache…"
Severus cleared his throat.
Andrea's eyes flew open. "Who're you? Where have you taken me?" She sprang from the bed and tumbled to the floor, clutching her stomach.
"Calm down," said Severus, annoyed now. Her little stunt at the pub had costed her his respect. How he hated drunks.
"I demand to know who you are!" she growled from the floor. "Let me go! Did you come to poke fun at me? Well, it isn't funny. Did the Ministry send you?" Horror filled her face. "Did Erick send you to get me out of the way?"
"None of that," Severus said sternly as he got up, hauled her to her feet by the wrists and shoved her back onto the bed. "And stop the hysterics!"
"No! You let me go. Right now!"
"So you can go have another drink?"
"What does that matter to you?" she hissed.
"It matters—" Severus sneered, "—because you should be ashamed! What would Evelyn think?"
"Evelyn…" Andrea paled. "How do you—You are one of them, aren't you?" She pointed a shaking finger at him. "What did you do? Where did you take her? She was fine as she was! Give her back!" Andrea flew at him, nails aimed for his eyes.
"Stop it!" He grabbed her firmly. "Sit down right now." He threw her onto the bed again. This time, she gave him a sour, defiant look and spit in his face. "That's it," Severus hissed through clenched teeth. He drew his wand.
Andrea's expression changed from defiant to shocked. "Just let me go! I'm of no use to anyone."
"Clearly."
"Then put the wand away!"
"Believe me, I want to, but this appears to be the only way you'll calm down." He pointed the wand at himself. "Finite Incantatem." Warmth spread over him as he reverted to his true form. It was as if he'd carried eight tons on his shoulders and had his nose pressed flat with tape. To be himself again was a relief. "Now, will you look at me?"
"I know you!"
"My name is Severus Snape. We met last summer. Remember?"
"Severus!" she whispered… then did the opposite of what he'd hoped. She spit at him again. "This is all your fault! She thinks she's a warrior now! And I went along with it because it seemed like a fun game for her. How could you tell her to fight? She took it seriously! But I didn't think she'd do something so stupid!" Andrea wilted and started to sob.
"At least I'm not the one going on a drinking spree," he quipped.
"Don't you dare!"
"Oh, I'd dare." Severus glowered. "Drunk parents are pitiful. I may be a lot of things, but at least I'm not that!"
Ashamed, Andrea looked away.
"Have you calmed down now?"
Andrea slowly nodded, ears red as she squinted to hold back tears.
"Good." Severus pulled his chair closer. "Here." He handed over a vial from his inner pocket.
Apprehensive, Andrea eyed it. "What's that?"
"Should help with your hangover—judging from the state I found you in at the pub."
Shame covered her face, but she took the vial and drank it. As the potion worked, she fell back onto the bed. "Can I have some water, please?" Her voice was hoarse, something Severus hadn't noticed during her hysteria.
He conjured a glass of water and let her drink it. She gulped down the whole thing in a few seconds.
"Tell me what happened, and what in Merlin's name drove you to such a pitiful state? I thought better of you," said Severus.
"People think they know so much about me," Andrea muttered sourly. "They took Evelyn—Fenrir Greyback's pack. I tried to stop them." Tears welled in her eyes again. "But I couldn't." She cursed in frustration. "Why is it always her who has to be the brave one? That's my job, and I'm lousy at it! The first thing I did was go to the Ministry, begging for help, but they said they couldn't waste time on a half-breed. Said they have more important things to do.
"I went to my mother, but she said I'd finally gotten what was coming to me. I even went to Erick, but he threw me out—said he'd come after me if I tried anything." Andrea hammered a fist into the bedpost. "It's not fair! Why do they keep insisting she isn't worth anything? Why doesn't the world care? I was a shallow teenager when I had her, but she shouldn't pay for that. I should, not her! It's not fair! I just want her safe." She sobbed now. "I kept going back to the Ministry—fought my way into different departments. It ended with security warning me away."
"Who's Erick?" said Severus.
"My… ex-husband… We divorced shortly after Evelyn was bitten," Andrea said, her guilt and sorrow clear. "Please, don't judge him. We were so young when we got married, when Evelyn was born." She laughed bitterly. "We were the school's power couple. That made us blind. And unprepared. We thought we didn't need anything but pink colored love clouds."
Only now did Severus realize how young Andrea looked. Her anguish last summer had masked it, but she couldn't be more than twenty-seven or twenty-eight. "And you had nowhere else to go?"
"I lost contact with all my old friends from Hogwarts," she said. "I tried to find them, but everyone's in hiding these days."
"You've been living alone since Evelyn was bitten?"
Andrea nodded.
No wonder she resorted to the bottle… Never had he thought he could sympathize with a parent who'd stooped to drinking, but instead of judgment, he felt compassion for this woman who'd raised such a wonderful daughter.
No wonder Evelyn seemed so brave. She's been strong for herself and her mother. But where is she? Will she turn when she discovers the ugly truth about what she is? That's the last thing I want for her. Will the werewolves realize? Will they kill her? Is she already dead? A thousand reasons they might have killed Evelyn flooded in. She shouldn't be with the werewolves. "Do you have any idea where they took her?"
Andrea shook her head. "They came to our house—they got me. Evelyn ran straight at them. She wanted to defend me. When they had her, they apparated away. Please… help me."
Severus sighed. "I'll do whatever little I can."
A tear rolled down Andrea's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered. "You're the first person who—"
"There's not much I can do. If you haven't figured out by now, I'm not in a good situation either. And I can't afford you tagging along."
Andrea bit her lip.
"I know some people you should meet. If we're lucky, they may help you. At the very least, they can sympathize."
"I don't want sympathy!" Andrea crossed her arms. "I want Evelyn."
"I see that. But what are you going to do? Try to break into the Ministry again so you can spend a week in Azkaban for your trouble? I don't think you'll find her that way."
Andrea started to snap back but stopped, face red. She looked away.
"Get cleaned up. Bathroom's that way," Severus pointed to the door to his right. "I don't have any women's clothes, so you'll either have to make do with what you have or take one of my robes. Though you'll probably trip in them. Let's hope the people we visit are willing to help."
"I'd like a robe." Andrea's face was redder now than before.
"That trunk." Severus indicated the chest in the corner. "I see little reason to unpack since I move around a lot. Pick any of them."
"Thanks…" Andrea muttered as she shuffled toward the trunk.
"And don't be alarmed if I look different when you come out. I have to disguise myself."
"Are you in trouble?" she said. "Why do you need a disguise?"
"That isn't your concern," Severus snapped. "The fewer people who know my whereabouts, the better. And if you hold yours or Evelyn's life dear, you'll tell no one you've seen me."
"He's after you… isn't he?" Andrea shuddered. "You-Know-Who…"
"Go on." Severus shooed her toward the trunk. "No use standing around."
Andrea opened the chest. On top lay Leonard Jones' wider clothes. "Do you have anything other than black?" She shuffled through the top layer of clothing and found Severus' robes, longer, smaller, befitting his skinny frame. Andrea looked surprised as she pulled out a grey and green striped scarf. "You're a Slytherin…"
"So it would seem," Severus said from his chair as he held up a small mirror and carefully put his disguise back in place.
"But, back at Hogwarts I—they—I thought—"
"—all Slytherins are narrow-minded purists? You thought there were more stupid, arrogant people in that house than the others. But it's a symptom of ambition that sometimes takes over—especially during youth. With half a brain and a little perspective, there's no reason Slytherins should be more tempted than others. Death Eaters aren't spawned exclusively from Slytherin."
"Sorry…" Andrea mumbled. "I guess it's just… As a Hufflepuff, I never had the best experiences with… Slytherins. But I always heard—"
"—the Dark Lord favors Slytherins? He does. Because he's a narrow-minded idiot, and Slytherin is where most purebloods sort into, but when you've done the things I have, house and family matters little to him."
Andrea swallowed hard as she returned to rummaging. She settled on a forest green robe with bronze lining—the one Lily gave him for Christmas—which he hadn't worn since before their break-up.
When Andrea finished washing up, Severus was still finishing his disguise. It took three hours to apply properly and was a quick, messy job. Since he couldn't brag about being a Metamorphmagus, he had to do it the hard way.
"Severus…?" Andrea stood in the bathroom doorway. The chosen robes fit well—except for the four-inch trail dragging the floor. "This might be a stupid question, but… how old are you?"
"You're right. It is stupid." Severus adjusted his false nose—one of the hardest pieces of the disguise.
"Sorry. You just confuse me. Evelyn was so sure you were an ancient warrior, and I see why, but… you're so young…"
"I'm seventeen, if you must know. Any more stupid questions?"
"That young?" Andrea gaped at him. "Is it just me, or weren't you nicer last year?"
"It's you."
"You've grown sullen." She put her hands in the robe pockets. Something rustled. She pulled out a little paper note and opened it only to blush. She was about to put it back when she said, "How's Lily?"
Severus stopped and turned sharp eyes toward Andrea. "Why would you ask that?"
"Oh… you…" She held the little parchment piece closer.
Severus eyed the note. "Give me that! It's private!"
Still looking unsure and quite embarrassed, Andrea went to Severus and held out the note. He snatched it away.
"She's not hurt, is she?" said Andrea. "I hope not. She seemed very nice."
Severus did his best to gather every stray emotion as he pocketed the note. "She's fine. For now." That note was the Christmas card that came with the robe. He hadn't wanted to throw it away, so he carried it around as a charm. That little letter was probably his most prized possession.
It read:
Dearest Severus,
I send you all my love, since, unfortunately, I can't just give it to you—as I should here on Christmas. I'm sad we can't spend it together, but next year there won't be any excuses. And I'll be sure to put the mistletoe in the hallway where we're bound to stand.
Try to imagine that for a bit. The two of us, under the mistletoe.
You felt that? I did! You're a great kisser, by the way. I wish you were here so I could give you a hug and tell you how much I love you.
Love,
Lily
That letter, written specifically for him and him alone, carried all her love. In the pocket alongside it was a cracked ring and a smashed pair of glasses. The gesture stung. "There's some food in the cupboards if you're hungry. I'll be another half hour."
Andrea headed for the cupboards, but still seemed nervous and distracted.
Several hours later, Severus and Andrea appeared with a loud crack outside a small hut in the middle of the woods. Severus hesitated, then knocked on the door.
When it creaked open, a man peered out. He was mid-forties, leanly built with brown hair and mustache. He had a simple look about him. "Yes?" The greeting was polite, but cautious and Severus knew from his posture he had a wand ready just out of sight.
"I'm not here to harm you," said Severus. "This woman needs help and support. I'm not the right one to give it to her, but I'd hoped you might be." He nudged Andrea forward.
"Why's that?" said the man, suspicious.
Andrea fumbled to clasp together whitening hands.
"Tell them," Severus said to Andrea.
"It's—it's not her fault! You must believe me!" Andrea met the man's gaze. "She's a good kid. The world hasn't seen a better child, so, please…"
The man raised a brow. "I'm not sure what you mean. Could you explain?"
"Honestly, Lyall!" A woman said from somewhere inside the shack. "Coming to us, of all people, missing a child!" The woman, hair a sandy brown, opened the door wider. "Come in. Hurry! And don't worry. You're with friends. Our son is the best child on earth. It's just people who don't understand."
"Your son is a… a…" Andrea looked at the woman wide-eyed.
"A werewolf, yes." The woman ushered Severus and Andrea inside. "A werewolf bit him when he was five. I'm Hope Lupin, and this is Lyall Lupin, my husband."
Andrea gaped at the pair as Hope shut the door.
"You poor dear." Hope took Andrea's arm. "Come on into the living room. I'll get something to warm you up." She led the flabbergasted Andrea away.
Lyall shook his head. "Not another one…" He turned to Severus. "How do you know about us?"
"I know Remus," Severus said. "I barely know Andrea and found her again by coincidence because of her drinking. Neither of us have any connections and I'm hardly able to look after her. But if I left her, I fear it would only be a matter of time before she went back to drinking."
"So, you're asking if we'll take care of her for a while?" said Lyall.
"Yes. If Remus' personality is any representation of either of yours, I thought you my best chance."
"How exactly do you know Remus?" said Lyall.
"I was his teacher," Severus lied smoothly. "Defence Against the Dark Arts. Only for a year."
Lyall sighed. "I see. Why don't you come in, Mr.—?"
"Jones. Johan Jones. Thank you."
Lyall led Severus farther into the house. "It's safe to assume you're alone?"
"Of course."
"Of course!" A high-pitched screech echoed Severus' words. Atop a closet sat a grey parrot with scarlet tail feathers. Severus eyed the bird. "Of course!" the parrot repeated.
Lyall shot the parrot a scathing glance. "Keep quiet." To Severus he said, "Sorry for the hostility before, but you know."
"Can't be too careful in times like these," Severus said. "No matter who you are."
"Of course!" the parrot squawked.
Lyall's annoyance at the bird mirrored Severus'.
"That what you get instead of an owl these days?" Severus said dryly.
"If only that bird was half as useful as an owl," Lyall muttered.
"Of course!"
"Don't let it bother you. It only wants attention," said Lyall. "Would you like to stay, or are you leaving already?"
"I'd better be on my way as quickly as possible. Although… if you don't find the subject too insensitive…" Severus checked on Hope's and Andrea's whereabouts. Still in the other room. Lyall tensed but seemed curious. "I promised to do what I can to get Evelyn—Andrea's Lycanthropia infected daughter—and Fenrir has her. I'm sure he's tried to contact you over the years, in efforts to collect Remus. Any information you have would be useful, and…" He held Lyall's serious gaze, "if you could convince Andrea you don't know anything. If she asks, deny it. She's not fit to go out alone searching for her daughter, but she will if you give her any reason to."
"And you are fit?" Lyall took in Severus' old appearance.
Severus held in a smirk. "Never judge a book by its cover."
"Of course! Of course!" The parrot fluttered around the ceiling.
"I told you to be quiet!" Lyall snapped at the parrot. He sighed and shut tired eyes. "I don't know much… but I'll tell you what I do know."
"Wind in the sails. Wind in the sails!" sang the parrot as it lighted back on the closet.
Severus gave the parrot a dark look. "You mind if I hurt the bird?"
"Personally, I wouldn't," said Lyall. "But I know a couple people who would… Unfortunately. Come into the kitchen, away from that awful creature. We'll have a spot of tea, then we'll talk."
"Of course!"
Both men gave the parrot one last searing glare before they retreated to the Lupin's kitchen.
– A week later –
The day was warm and sunny as Dumbledore walked beside Severus through Hogsmeade. "You're sure this is wise?" said the Headmaster.
Severus was disguised as Johan—a rather permanent state as of late.
"Keeping up such an appearance is difficult. Much could go wrong," Dumbledore said.
"Trust me, Albus. I know all about staying undercover, and you need someone as good as me inside. Johan will be a brilliant candidate from Australia, and, to Umbridge's liking, he'll hate werewolves and most other magical creatures." Severus threw in an evil smile. "She'll love him and never suspect for a moment." His expression turned serious. "I've been across England, fought Death Eaters and won, given you all the information you needed, transported at least fifty muggleborns to other parts of Europe, and still. Still—" Severus hissed. "No Horcruxes. I'm doing dirty work when I'm much more valuable on the inside."
"School starts tomorrow," said Dumbledore. "You can still make it if you want."
"I thought I was clear," Severus sneered. "There's nothing for me there. I care about one thing—seeing the Dark Lord taken down."
"Voldemort," Dumbledore said pointedly, "his name is Voldemort, and I thought you were one of the few unafraid to say it."
"Last year, I lived on an idealistic cloud," said Severus. "Thank God I rose above that—got some sense back."
The Headmaster sighed. "Whatever you say. But I'll have you know, I disagree. I liked you much better when you floated on a so-called cloud."
Dumbledore's amusement annoyed Severus.
"But, if you must go undercover as Umbridge's right-hand man, then you must," said Dumbledore. "Although, I must say, even I'm not that brave, and I'm the most powerful wizard of my generation."
"You were always so humble," Severus quipped.
"Thank you, Severus." Dumbledore smiled and bowed his head.
"Unfortunately, it's too difficult to get close to the Aurors these days," said Severus. "Something funny's going on in their department. Corruption's weaseled in."
"I already have people in there," said Dumbledore.
"Frank Longbottom and Alice Weatherfield are only trainees," Severus said sharply. "They're not prepared for that sort of threat. Besides, if I were you, I'd be worried about how distracted they are by each other."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes."
"So, it's a safe bet they'll get together?" Dumbledore chuckled. "If you could also remember which Quidditch team wins the tournament this year, it would be most gratifying."
Severus held back a grumble.
"By the way, there's an Order member who already knows what you're up to. She'll be the one keeping an eye on you."
"Who? And how did she find out? She's not one of the ones with an invisibility cloak following me, is she?" Severus said dryly.
"I'm sure you'll like her—very charming, colorful personality. Consider her your partner, and the one who'll look out for you. Her means of disguise will be quite obvious. Ah! There she is!" Albus looked up as someone flew down to them.
Severus paled. "You're not serious."
"You're working for me, and that makes you my responsibility. I still don't know the extent of your power, so I like people to look after each other. And in my humble eyes, dear Severus, you do still have such a young appearance."
Edited by Dtill359
