A/N:
Yikes! The penultimate chapter!
This chapter is a little digression from the battle action but it's one of my favourite chapters of this story and I hope you love it too. I'd love to know what you think!
'"He believes the school will soon be in his grasp, yes."
"And if it does fall into his grasp," said Dumbledore. "I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students of Hogwarts?"
Snape gave a stiff nod.
"Good."
- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Neville waited as the headmaster's office in front of him morphed before solidifying again. The branches of the trees of the Forbidden Forest seemed less full than before; it seemed it was the beginning of autumn. Again, Snape stood, looking up at the portrait of Dumbledore as the old man spoke to him in solemn tones.
"Minerva has managed to persuade the Carrows that student participation in the Purification Ceremony will be voluntary and not compulsory?"
Snape's eyes shifted to the other portraits lining the walls of the room and lingered on that of Phineas Black, before returning to Dumbledore's.
"Is it...prudent to converse with you like this, Dumbledore? Considering...the walls have ears?" he asked so quietly that only Dumbledore could hear.
The ex-headmaster replied in an equally low voice. "There is an ancient magic which bonds all those who inhabit the portraits of Hogwarts to loyalty to the school. Or, more accurately, to the safety of the school's students. They cannot share anything they hear with anyone if there is any possibility that it will endanger the students, or lead to consequences in which students may be harmed. So I think it will be safe to converse, yes, Severus..."
"Then regarding the Purification Ceremony, yes, Minerva was rather insistent that students are not made to participate," Snape replied gravely. "Perhaps foolishly insistent. If she's any more forceful, she may be made to leave the school."
Dumbledore pursed his lips in apparent agreement. "She keeps a small portrait of me in her chambers. I will talk to her…tell her that, indeed, she must endeavor to protect her students but she must not get herself fired…. And you, Severus, you did not try and dissuade the Carrows of this ceremony? They cannot suspect you, remember."
"No, no, I gave it my full support," Snape said bitterly, then started pacing back and forth agitatedly. "Burning books! It's barbarous! Such philistines!"
"You know some students won't stand for this, don't you Severus?" Dumbledore reflected calmly.
"You mean those show-off Gryffindors? You anticipate the Weasley girl and her friends will try and play hero as always?" Snapes's tone was characteristically sneering.
"I was thinking more of the Ravenclaws."
Snape halted in his pacing and looked sharply up at his predecessor.
"The burning of books, Severus," Dumbledore explained quietly. "It will be like a violation of the very soul of their very house."
Snape looked downcast. "Yes. I see."
"But they are not used to rebelling, those of wit and learning," Dumbledore continued. "It may be a clumsy attempt at a revolt and I fear the Carrows' retribution." There was a pause as Snape looked up at Dumbledore's portrait, waiting for the man to continue. "So intervene if you must – if Amycus loses control, which he seems adept at doing."
"What do you suppose I do?"
"Just try and draw the whole matter to a swift close," Dumbledore advised softly.
Snape inclined his head in reluctant agreement...
The edges of the room shifted and shimmered, and Neville felt Snape's memories careen forwards.
"And they will administer this punishment on all the students who refused to take part in the book burning?" Dumbledore was asking, his hands pressed together as if in prayer, the tips of his fingers positioned under his chin.
Snape was sitting in the headmaster's chair, facing Dumbledore's portrait. He looked downcast in a way that Neville hadn't seen before.
"Yes," Snape stated regretfully. "I don't think there's any stopping it. The Dark Lord himself suggested the nature of the punishment. He even spent time teaching Alecto the cutting curse."
"And you think she can perform it proficiently?" Dumbledore asked sceptically. "It is an very advanced piece of dark magic."
"Not to the standard the Dark Lord can. I think its potency will fade with time…"
"Does Madam Pomfrey have an adequate supply of murtlap and dittany?"
"She has a limited amount of murtlap, which I feel confident she can get to the students after the punishment will be administered. The Carrows and I have been ordered to clear all dittany and murtlap from the Potions classrooms. But I have some in my private stores, and I have left a bottle in one of the storerooms, unbeknownst to Slughorn…I am hoping that one of your gang of followers will get their hands on it – possibly Terry Boot. But that's besides the point – normal healing potions will help a little but not to a significant extent...we will just have to hope it will lose its potency over time…"
Edges blurred, the teachers' voices became muffled, then everything sharpened again…
Snape was staring out the window of the office, at the trees of the Forbidden Forest, the branches of which were now almost bare.
"The foolish children have reformed their previous illegal defence club! Your little Army as they call it!" Snape was saying agitatedly through clenched teeth.
"Ah!" Dumbledore's lips curled up at the corners and his eyes managed to twinkle, despite the fact this version of him was made of nothing but oil paints. "And what, if anything, will you do about this?"
Snape gave Dumbledore a quick glance, his eyes narrowed. "The Carrows do not know of it. Some of the IS have tried to tell them about the Come-And-Go Room, or Room of Requirement, and they have tried to search for the entrance but to no avail. It seems they – Longbottom in particular – have a powerful connection to the room's magic and are able to ensure that it keeps them safe. And I continually dismiss the suspicions when the IS raise them, and assure the Carrows it is all nonsense…"
"Very good, Severus, very good," Dumbledore's tone was placating.
"But really . Even the Hufflepuffs are being ridiculously reckless. The Abbott girl put herself on the wrong side of Alecto on the first day of lessons by asking unnecessarily challenging questions."
Dumbledore's lips raised into a small smile. "A sense of justice and a fierce compassion. These are the tenants of Hufflepuff House, Severus. Indeed, I rather think that the Hufflepuff's are more likely to fight Voldemort's regime than anyone..."
The room spun dizzyingly, then righted itself… Snape was striding away from a pile of shattered glass and wood in the corner of the office and towards his desk, on which lay the Sword of Gryffindor.
"Did you converse with the foolish children when they attempted to take the Sword?" Snape spat out, looking up at Dumbledore, his gaze fierce.
"I did, Severus," Dumbledore replied calmly. "I tried to dissuade them from their endeavour but they are some of the bravest and most determined students in this school."
"Foolhardy and stubborn, more like it," Snape retorted.
"What will you administer as their 'more proportional punishment', as you put it? Remember, it cannot seem too lenient – you need to keep your cover. Perhaps – a night in the Forbidden Forest? Wandless? With Hagrid?" Dumbledore suggested lightly, his eyebrows raised suggestively.
"Well… that would seem terrifying enough to the Carrows, and to most students."
"But not to those three students. Miss Lovegood is familiar with the forest from her trips to feed the Thestrals, and in her searches for rare creatures, and Miss Weasley and Mr. Longbottom will find comfort in Hagrid's presence."
"And his pink umbrella, no doubt?" Snape sneered.
Dumbledore gave a small, knowing smile. "Indeed. But also, and this is most important Severus: tell Hagrid to go to the clearing south-east of the Blue Mountain. I think they will find something they need there…"
Lines blurred and shapes distorted, before becoming clear again. The wall sconces around the room were lit, in an apparent attempt to keep the dreariness of the evening at bay – the sky outside was a dark grey and sheets of rain hammered down on the windows.
Dumbledore was frowning down at Snape who was sitting at his desk with a short tumbler of amber liquid in his hand.
"You could not stop Alecto from mutilating the Finnigan boy's hand?" Dumbledore asked, his voice melancholic. "This is…this is barbarous, Severus…."
Snape rubbed his hand across his forehead, his eyes squinting shut as if trying to block out an external source of pain. "I was out of the school at the time, as you well know. The Dark Lord is increasingly requesting my presence. There is little I can do – I cannot refuse him – and I cannot be in two places at once. When I returned to the school, it had already happened. I will try and rein in Alecto, remind her that the Dark Lord does not want magical blood spilled unless it is a last resort, and order that she should come to me before she uses such punishments again. But really, if your Army of students did not insist on being so stubbornly rebellious, this would not happen..."
The room shifted once more. When it righted itself, Neville saw from the window that a carpet of snow was laid across the grounds of Hogwarts.
"The man is a buffoon! " Snape was pacing agitatedly around the room. "Organising a party! In the Forbidden Forest! And calling it, of all things, a 'Support Harry Potter Party'!"
Neville couldn't help snorting at Snape's scathing indignation.
"And so? Did the guests get away from the forest unharmed after they were so rudely interrupted?" Dumbledore asked with a hint of amusement, as if he were asking a neighbour about the local gossip.
"Yes, although that excuse for a groundskeeper was chased deeper into the forest. I think it best if he doesn't return for now," Snape replied, then continued in a quieter tone, as if talking to himself. Which, in a way, he was. "But some of these students – Flint and Crabbe in particular – I worry that they are becoming somewhat brutalised. I have heard nasty rumours of what they have attempted to do to other students...I think they feel they may have impunity..."
The room's boundaries blurred once more, before returning to normal.
"Severus," Dumbledore was saying. "I have just spoken to my brother. He has agreed that, if Miss Edgecombe makes it safely to his pub, he will keep her safe until an Order member comes for her."
Snape's lip curled into a smirk. "And how do you suppose she gets to the Hog's Head? She has not been granted permission to visit the village for Hogsmeade at the weekend. Besides, those students that are allowed are watched too closely to be able to do such a thing."
Dumbledore merely raised his eyebrows expectantly in response.
"You wish me to accompany her?" Snape guessed in a resigned tone.
"Yes," Dumbledore stated with calm finality. "And to also, in future, accompany any other student that may be in dire need of escaping Voldemort's regime. Think of the abuse that poor girl is suffering, Severus. Accompany them to the pub door, then they will enter by themselves, after you have Obliviated their memories of your help. They must ask for an elderflower cordial at the bar. Aberforth will take it from there. I think it must be you though, Severus. Any other teacher is under too much scrutiny from the Carrows to be able to accomplish it."
"Fine," Snape conceded through clenched teeth.
The scene changed once more.
Snape was sitting at his desk, quill in hand, writing furiously on a piece of parchment, when there was a sudden movement from one of the portraits on the wall. Lord Cadogan had rode hurriedly into the frame, before halting his horse abruptly.
"Oh, Wise Master of this Ancient House of Learning!" the Lord began. Snape gave Cadogan an unimpressed but quizzical expression. "Foul play is afoot! Villainy in the form of three young students, who seek to harm another young sire, who is innocent! Some fair knights nearly saved the boy from his fate but, alas, they were slain – "
"Speak English , for Salazar's sake!" Snape snapped. " What are you talking about?"
Lord Cadogan looked affronted, but continued in a less pompous tone: "Three students, sir, have conducted some kind of mock trial on another student, who it appears they think is a Muggleborn. They have harmed the fellow and have snapped his wand in two. Those of Dumbledore's Army happened upon them, but they have all been Petrified. And then, as I left, some approached from the house of Slytherin – "
"Who? Who in particular?" Snape clipped urgently.
"Young Malfoy, Nott and Zabini."
Snape's shoulders slumped and he visibly relaxed. He nodded shortly. "Right. Cadogan, go to McGonagall's – to a portrait in her study, she should be there now, and inform her of this. Encourage her to intervene, and then report back to me."
Lord Cadogan doffed his hat in acknowledgement, and turned his horse. "I will not fail you in this quest, sir!" he called as he rode out the frame.
Once he left, Snape picked up his quill once more, but instead of writing he stared blindly down, his forehead creased in worry, at the parchment before him...
Once more, the room's boundaries shimmered disorientatingly, before sharpening again. The late afternoon sun shone through the windows. It felt warmer in the room and Neville supposed it must be spring.
Theodore Nott stood at the door of Snape's office, as if about to leave it. Snape was looking at him sternly.
"Remember Theodore, in the name of Salazar, heed my words and end things with this girl."
"Yes sir," Theo murmured coldly, before quietly leaving.
A few moments after Nott had left, Dumbledore broke the silence. "You were very concerned that young Nott understand what his trigger was," Dumbledore observed. Snape spun around in his chair and glared at his predecessor before Dumbledore continued, unfazed by Snape's hostility. "You seem to care for the boy. Ever since he started school, and you initiated your meetings with him – to discuss potions, if I recall correctly. And you've been so very good to him in helping him understand...his difficulties."
"What of it?" Snape snapped.
Dumbledore shrugged nonchalantly. Instead of answering Snape's question, he continued in the same thoughtful tone, "Young Theodore reminds me of someone. Another young Slytherin I once taught. He was also reserved, polite, intelligent and academically inclined, and had not had the nurturing one needs in order to have the confidence in their own ability to be good."
Snape huffed dismissively, and started tidying some books up on his desk. "He should have known better! The boy was out of control and clearly not thinking rationally!"
"And in love, it seems. They often come hand-in-hand, I find." Dumbledore said somewhat wistfully.
Snape seemed to flinch, before gathering himself again. "Well…he has been foolish to let himself fall in love in such a way. It can only end in heartbreak, as I said, and/or it will make him vulnerable to the Dark Lord's wrath. A Slytherin – a Nott – falling in love with a Potter-supporting Gryffindor ... "
"I do not think he is the first Slytherin to have done that kind of thing, Snape. As I said, he really rather does remind me of someone…."
The room shifted and blurred once more, before becoming clear again.
Snape strode agitatedly into his office and halted abruptly at his desk, flinging a piece of parchment onto it before looking up at Dumbledore's portrait.
"It seems that the Dark Lord has finally had enough of Augusta Longbottom. I've just had word that he's sending Rowle and Dolohov here - now - to take away her grandson."
Dumbledore looked grave. "You cannot let them, Severus. I know you have never liked the boy, but he must not be taken. Not least because he's the one holding those resistant students together. With his actions, he gives those that are scared hope."
Neville's heart clenched as he heard his old headmaster's words.
Snape gave a disgruntled sound of agreement. "I could warn Sprout or McGonagall but it would be hard to do so without giving myself away… And there really isn't time...Longbottom's in his Dark Arts lesson now. I cannot call him out – it will look far too obvious."
Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "The Patil twins – they have a mind talking bond, do they not?"
"I have often suspected such," Snape agreed.
"Then maybe, go to Padma's class – she will be in Charms, I think – and try and warn her subtly. She could then alert her twin."
"That all sounds rather convoluted," Snape replied doubtfully.
"Yes. Yes, I do not disagree. But I think it is the best we can do at short notice without you giving yourself away."
After a moment, Snape nodded shortly. "I will tell Flitwick his Charm's skills are wanted immediately for vanishing some of the old graffiti made by those tiresome students… it still reappears occasionally, you know…then I will cover his class..." Snape was still talking as he strode from the room.
The muffled sound of shouting reached Neville's ears, and his heart lurched urgently. He'd been so entranced by Snape's memories that he'd forgotten he was in the midst of a ceasefire. He lifted his head out the Pensieve, gasping for breath, his mind reeling from what he'd just seen and heard.
But he didn't have time to think further on it, for the sounds of shouting got louder. He ran to the windows of the office, which looked out onto the front of the castle. Marching up the hill to the school was a large group of people, all clothed in black robes. From so far away, Neville couldn't make out the features of the person that was leading the procession, but their face shone in the early morning light, pale and white. Next to him walked an unusually large figure, whose gait reminded Neville disconcerting of Hagrid, and who was carrying someone in his arms.
Neville's ankle still hurt from when it'd been crushed under the rubble of the castle and so he performed a kind of half-run, half-limp down the stairs of the headmaster's office and through the devastated corridors of Hogwarts, blasting piles of rubble out of his way as he did so. He tried not to look at the motionless bodies that were yet to be recovered from the wreckage.
As he neared the entrance of the castle, the cries and shouts grew louder. He shoved his way through the crowd that had gathered on the steps of the school and finally got to the front. The parade of people that he'd seen from Snape's window were entering the courtyard, and Neville could see that, yes, it was Hagrid at the front of the group. Then his stomach turned nauseatingly, because now he could see more clearly who was cradled in the giant's arms: a young man, shorter than Neville, with dark black hair and glasses perched precariously on his nose.
No. No ! Neville's mind refused to believe what his eyes were seeing.
Ron and Hermione propelled themselves to the front of the crowd alongside Neville. As the realisation of who Hagrid was carrying rippled through the group, a succession of cries of pain, and yells of disbelief, pierced the early morning air. But it was Ginny's cry that cemented Neville's fear – of who was in Hagrid's arms. It was shrill and wrought with despair.
"Harry! Harry !" Ginny's voice broke as it morphed into wail, a sob.
"Silence!" cried the man – the monster – that must be Voldemort. His eyes were red slits, his face paler than the moon and something long and writhing hung around his neck – a snake. There was a bang, a flash of white light and Neville felt his lips press together as if someone had glued his mouth shut. Voldemort had silenced them all. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"
Neville watched as Hagrid laid the body he'd been carrying down on the cobbles.
Voldemort's cry, cold and chillingly, rang with unmistakable triumph: "You see? Harry Potter is dead!"
The ground reeled beneath Neville's feet, everything felt dizzyingly surreal, and Neville thought: this must be what it feels like when the world ends.
Notes: Thanks Rachael and IKEAwhatyoudidthere for your help with this story.
As always, you thoughts and reviews are LOVED! I's love to know what you think of Snape!
