Chapter 51- "I'm living in an empty room, With all the windows smashed."
"EDUCATIONAL DECREE NUMBER SEVEN: ALL SPELL CHECK QUILLS AND SELF-WRITING EQUIPMENT WIlLL BE CONFISCATED."
"EDUCATIONAL DECREE NUMBER NINE: ALL STUDENTS IN POSSESSION OF EQUIPMENT FROM UNAUTHORISED SUPPLIERS WILL BE EXPELLED"
"EDUCATIONAL DECREE NUMBER FOURTEEN: ALL BOYS MUST KEEP THEIR HANDS OUTSIDE THEIR CLOAKS."
"EDUCATIONAL DECREE NUMBER ELEVEN: ALL STUDENT OWLS WILL HENCEFORTH BE TAGGED."
"EDUCATIONAL DECREE NUMBER FIFTEEN: STUDENTS ARE HENCEFORTH PERMITTED A MAXIMUM OF TWO HOURS IN THE LIBRARY OR OTHER COMMUNAL AREAS."
Circe stared up at the cone Filch had placed in the corridor just outside the Great Hall. Dolores's 'announcement system' was up and running, and she recognised the amplifying device the woman had used to make the speaker: Remus's gramophone. It was like Circe was looking at the severed head of an old friend that had been placed on a spike outside the gates of a medieval city. And hearing Dolores's shrill voice coming out of the gramophone cone was like rubbing salt into the wound.
"EDUCATIONAL DECREE NUMBER TWENTY: STUDENTS ARE FORBIDDEN FROM DISCUSSING THE TROUBLESOME EVENTS OF LAST YEAR."
Oh God, does she ever shut up…? Circe thought with a roll of her eyes. So far the announcement system was just an endless cycle of repeating decree after decree. Rules on top of rules that Umbridge was enforcing with the Minister's backing.
"EDUCATIONAL DECREE NUMBER TWENTY EIGHT: ALL HOGWARTS PROFESSORS SHALL BE SUBJECTED TO AN INFORMAL REVIEW BY AN APPOINTED MINISTRY REPRESENTATIVE."
Circe groaned, thinking on the "informal review" she would have to endure later that day. She steadied her nerves and walked into the Great Hall. A number of students were already enjoying breakfast and a decent selection of staff were present too for the morning meal. Circe took her seat at Minerva' side and poured herself a large mug of coffee and a decent bowl of rice crispies. She watched as Minerva's gaze hopped from Harry and his friends at the Gryffindor table and then to Umbridge, sitting at the opposite end of the staff table, sipping on a cup of tea whilst she read a paper. Circe noted that Mcgonagall was gripping rather tightly on to her spoon and her mouth was a thin white line of anger.
The two of them had talked long into the night about what Circe had seen on Harry's hand and, eventually, Circe had managed to convince Minerva of her opinion: they couldn't confront Umbridge yet for all of the reasons Circe had thought about last night. If the Ministry were dead set on interfering at Hogwarts, then the two of them had to make sure they stuck around to protect the children from Umbridge's wrath. The lionesses had to bide their time…. But still, that didn't stop Minerva from wanting to tear Dolores's throat out… And by God, Circe could almost see that fantasy play out in Minerva's eyes every time she looked at Umbridge.
"Minerva…" Circe whispered, pushing Mcgonagall's foot with her own underneath the staff table. "Stop staring at her."
"If she says something, Circe… Something about the blooming "Minister" again or if she dares call Harry a liar in front of me... I don't think I'd be able to hold back." Minerva grumbled.
Circe stiffened in alarm when Umbridge glanced down the table at her and Minerva, flashing them her sweetest smile.
The air between them at the staff table was spiky, coarse, prickly. It was as if the whole atmosphere was one brash decision or raised voice away from shattering like a pane of glass. It was excruciating to be in the midst of. Tense to the point of torturous. Circe felt on edge, like she were preparing herself to engage in battle at any moment. Hand hovering over her gun holster like a cowboy in an Old Western.
"Remember what we said last night. We need to stick around, Min." Circe whispered to her.
"Well where the bloody hell is Dumbledore?" she shot back agitatedly. "He should be here to challenge her. She isn't the Headmaster, he is. All these "decrees" and "observations"... who does she think she is?!"
Circe shushed her, spotting the very faintest tilts of the head from Umbridge towards them from down the staff table. But Umbridge's attention was not piqued by Circe and Minerva, but rather by the low rumbling drum roll that had started at the Gryffindor table.
"Freddie… FREDDIE! That was "Decree number twenty nine!" George Weasley hollered, his hand cupped behind his ear as he listened to the announcement system. "Which means the next one is….!"
"Decree number thirty! Can we have a bit of buildup Gryffindor?!" Hollered out Fred.
The Gryffindors joined in on the drumroll and the noise in the Great Hall grew. The noise of the roll was accompanied by a growing "ooooooOOOOHHHHH!" until it was echoing off the cavernous roof above.
"STOP!" the Weasley twins announced, and the Hall fell silent.
"DECREE NUMBER THIRTY: GIRLS AND BOYS ARE NOT PERMITTED TO BE WITHIN SIX INCHES OF ONE ANOTHER."
"LUCKY FOR YOU WE'VE GOT TEN!" the twins shouted in unison.
Circe sent a plume of orange juice spewing out of her mouth over the table as the whole room erupted into laughter. Umbridge stood up from her place at the table, her face set into an expression that looked like she had half a lemon in her mouth.
"Fred and George Weasley!" Mcgonagall said, hurriedly standing from her seat and marching out towards the Weasleys before Umbridge could get her claws into them. "My office, at once!"
Minerva escorted the grinning Weasley boys from the Great Hall, accompanied by the raucous laughter and applause of many of the students seated in there. Circe struggled to hide her grin from the students in front of her and she felt almost joyous as Ziggy came swooping into her field of vision.
Her owl circled in the rafters above and eventually placed a bound scroll in her lap. Circe glanced down at her post and stiffened as a shiver went up her spine. The note before her bore the same black wax seal as the scroll she had received with her necklace from…
Voldemort… Circe thought, touching a hand to the oval at her neck.
She snapped open the seal and delicately pulled apart the scroll with shaking hands.
"Our Master summons all of his faithful to the second conclave in his name, at Pettigrew Manor.
We meet on the night of Hallowe'en.
His Servant,
Peter Pettigrew."
The piece of paper in her hands was immediately engulfed in a ball of black flame, yet Circe felt no pain as it burned away to nothing in her grasp. She looked solemnly around the room, over the faces of the students still laughing and talking about Fred and George's performance. These young souls who would soon become the children of war. Circe hoped that whatever part she played in this fight, her efforts would result in as many of them being spared pain and hardship as possible. Little did they know of the storm that was brewing beyond the castle's windows. Yet she couldn't help but feel that she would feel less apprehensive about going back into the lion's den if she knew her students were prepared, aware, readying themselves in whatever way they could. Not being lied to and pacified like Umbridge intended. Instead of the atmosphere being made of glass, Circe felt like she was the one made of glass and she might soon shatter and fall apart with the pressure of it all. But she had to think of all those who would also get their feet cut on her sharp remains if she did fall apart under the mounting tensions
Perhaps the best way for a lioness to protect her cubs is to give them the claws to protect themselves.
Severus came marching into her classroom just before she was due to start her "observed" lesson, all scowls and billowing black cape. She looked up from her desk and pushed her glasses up her nose as he drew nearer to her.
"Professor Snape…" she stated rather formally, peering around him for any possible students that might have followed in his wake. When she saw no one but him she relaxed a little and put down the last of her papers. "Severus can we talk about the summons later?"
"I had to come and find you…" he muttered, his eyes a little wild and unfocused. Circe could tell immediately by the dark circles under his eyes and the rather manic look to his features that he hadn't slept all night. "You need to know. I have to tell you..."
"Sev, I'm about to get torn a new one by Umbridge. Can it wait?"
"S-Summons?" Severus asked as he realised what Circe had said to him, his eyebrows knitting together. "What are you talking about?"
"The letter this morning. I assumed you got one too."
When he looked back at her perturbedly, Circe sighed and stood up from her desk. She walked around to the front and perched on the surface, beckoning him closer.
"Voldemort is calling another conclave. On Hallowe'en." She whispered.
"What? Why?" Severus asked.
"I don't know. The summons didn't say." Circe sighed, placing her good hand on Severus's black cloak and pulling him closer to her until he stood between her legs. "Not how I wanted to spend my birthday this year…" she chuckled.
"And he wants to see the both of us?" Severus asked, running a hand almost absent-mindedly up her thigh.
"The note said "all of his faithful", so I assume so."
"We still have time to prepare then… resume your occlumency lessons and start building your resilience again." He mumbled.
"Oh wonderful." Circe grumbled. Occlumency had been difficult and draining at the best of times. At its worst, it had been a gruellingly difficult skill to master with minuscule rewards for a magnitude of effort from her end. In the short time Circe and Severus had together in Spinner's End, trying to master the craft, Circe had come to view occlumency training as something akin to having dentistry done… "And here's me thinking my arm was enough of a 'get out of PE' letter to excuse me from that…"
"I have left you to recover from your splinch for a fair few months now, Circe. I thought you'd need every ounce of your energy into concentrating on healing your wound. But I'm afraid you can't be let off any longer."
"Alright, alright…" Circe said with an agitated wave.
"That is… if you still want to. After what I have to tell you."
A prim cough behind Severus brought them both plummeting back down to earth. Severus stepped away from Circe with a graceful twist, and Circe too hopped off the desk and tried not to break out in a fierce blush. Umbridge stared back at them both, holding a clipboard and expectantly poised quill in her hands.
"Your students are waiting outside, Professor Smith." Dolores stated with a sickly smile. "A bit of a late start will have to be noted." She chided, tapping her clipboard with her quill.
Circe rolled her eyes at Severus as he turned back to face her. But Severus still looked pained and troubled, his dark features bearing that mournful look she had seen him wear the night before. Her own stomach churned with anxiety.
The Prophecy. This foreboding, disquieting, heebie-jeebies inducing Prophecy…
Circe tucked her hair behind her right ear, locking Severus in her gaze.
Severus cleared his throat and promptly returned the gesture to her.
"Professor Smith. Professor Umbridge." Severus said curtly to them both, before turning on his heels and striding from the door.
Until later then… Circe thought as she watched Severus swish away past her lines of desks, past Umbridge and out the classroom door.
Circe sucked in a deep breath and fixed Umbridge with her best shit-eating grin.
I've danced with larger sharks than you, my dear… She thought, summoning her courage. But truthfully, within her heart, Circe was feeling more like Umbridge might just be successful in cutting her down if she wanted to…
She ushered her students into the classroom and her heart sank a little as she realised it was Harry's class that she was due to teach now. As the students suffled in and took their seats, her head was jumping from the letter of summons, to whatever Severus had to tell her about The Prophecy and then back to Umbridge bobbing around near the back of her classroom, inspecting her display of runestones and poking the end of her quill into the faces of the figures carved into her Greek stelae.
"Um, right guys. Today we're going to be resuming our studies of the European witch hunts of the 1400's. Have you all got your copies of 'Malleus Maleficarum'?"
The students all delved into their bags and satchels, rummaging around for the book Circe had asked them to pull out with a rustle and a clatter of noise. Hermione was the first to get her textbook out, repositioning a few of the other books in her bag as she extracted her quill and parchment also. Circe glanced down into the young girl's bag, spotting the rather remedial DADA book she'd been given. She ambled through the desks, casting an eye here and there into other students' book bags and seeing the same textbook for under 10's in all of their satchels. She frowned to herself, thinking on why they had possibly been given something so wildly below their learning age. Circe suddenly remembered their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was now Umbridge herself, and she suddenly felt the pink woman's eyes on her. She turned to face Dolores slowly, meeting the woman's eyes and suppressing a shiver as a chill went up her spine. Umbridge nodded curtly and went back to toying with the canopic jars Circe had on display. Circe waited patiently for the students to have their textbooks out in front of them before she continued, but kept a watchful, nervous eye on Umbridge at the back of the room. Right now, she seemed to be more interested in Circe's various knick-knacks and display items than on the actual teaching…
"Right… um can anyone tell me what the "malleus maleficarum" translates to?" Circe began a little unsurely.
"The hammer of the witches, Professor." Hermione said confidently.
"Correct, ten points to Gryffindor."
Circe continued the lesson as best she could, going through the material she intended to and setting up the learning task for the students without a hitch. She was pacing through the rows of desks, checking their analysis of the text and the various annotations they had made that highlighted all of the fallacies and falsehoods in the "witch hunter's manual" and Circe was perched over Ron's desk, helping him with a trickier passage. Umbridge coughed demurely at her back and Circe flinched a little, having almost forgotten she was still there.
"Professor… am I right in stating that you worked for The University of Edinburgh before taking up a roll here?"
"A part time roll. But yes."
"What's a University?" Ron asked, scratching his head.
"A place of further learning that muggles go to." Hermione chimed in.
"More school after they turn eighteen?" Ron asked again, almost balking at the idea.
"Well, you tend to pick a subject that you're really passionate about. Something that you could learn about forever." Circe offered helpfully.
"And your specialist at this University was…?" Dolores asked.
"The History of Magic and the Occult in medieval Europe. This kind of stuff actually." Circe replied, pointing at the 'Malleus Maleficarum'.
"Gosh that sounds fascinating. I wish there was a magical University. Somewhere where we could continue our studies after Hogwarts." Hermione said wistfully.
"Yeah…" Circe sighed. "My Dad was quite shocked when I told him there wasn't an option for further education in the wizarding world. I'm kind of surprised there aren't more witches and wizards that choose to attend muggle Universities. Instead we all seem to get married to our school sweethearts and have kids before we're twenty-five…"
Circe's eyes briefly locked with Harry and she looked at her hands awkwardly, remembering the Potters had barely been twenty one when they'd had Harry. So had many of her other friends at Hogwarts. Within a few years of leaving school, it seemed to be the wizarding practise to marry young and spawn as quickly as possible…
It's actually almost considered a bit of a bad omen if you don't find your "person" when you're at school… Circe thought critically.
But maybe that was part of a wizard's magic: being able to find your soulmate within another like a heat-seeking missile. Circe cringed a little as she'd previously been dismissive of "soulmates" and had rolled her eyes almost out of her skull when her married friends had described their partners thusly. But hadn't her own meeting of minds with Severus not felt like there had been some divine, cupidian intervention? Had it not felt, at times, that they had been drawn to one another like the sure flow of a river to the sea? There had always been something beautifully sweet and inevitable about the two of them.
"I doubt there's anything a truly great witch or wizard could learn at a muggle school." Dolores scoffed, pulling Circe's mind from out of her musings.
"Professor Umbridge… that's just not true." Circe scoffed right back. "Potter here says he wants to be an Auror. What's to stop him from going to study Criminal Justice? Or the Weasleys. They've been selling their… Uhh...school supplies with great success. If they ever wanted to set up shop, they'd learn so much if they went to read Business Management. Or Hermione-"
"But… you did say your role was "part time", didn't you." Umbridge interrupted, flicking through a few pages in her clipboard. "Your CV states that you also worked part time at Edinburgh Castle.."
"Yeah well, it didn't pay fantastically-"
"And you spent four years working for their institution and they didn't promote you into a permanent teaching position?"
"No."
"I see." Dolores stated primly, making some notes on her clipboard.
"I'm sorry… How is this information relevant to my observation?"
"I perhaps wouldn't have encouraged the idea of attending a muggle institution, Professor."
"Why? Because it's beneath you?" Circe asked shortly.
"Because they are taught everything they need to know here at Hogwarts, Professor." Umbridge shot back, her wide face growing a little red with agitation.
"Not bloody likely with your lessons…" Harry mumbled under his breath.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, her youthful face morphing into an expression of eye-popping fright.
Circe looked to Umbridge, just in time to see her nostrils flaring in rage.
"Mr Potter...!" Circe said quickly before Umbridge could blow her top, thinking on how Minerva had avoided conflict earlier that day in the Great Hall by acting first. "Detention with me tonight. I do not tolerate rudeness in my lessons."
She cast a side eye back to Umbridge and saw that the squat, toady woman was almost spluttering with rage. By acting quickly and giving Harry a detention herself, she had saved the young man from having to endure another detention with Umbridge. She prayed that Dolores wasn't in a mood to undermine her even more and challenge Circe's sanctioning, and as the little pink woman took a deep breath in, regaining her composure, Circe felt the fractious tension alleviate.
God, trying to protect this lot from Umbridge's wrath is like trying to walk through a carpet full of broken glass… Every day, every moment is a bloody minefield.
"Sorry Professor." Harry mumbled. But something in the tone of Potter's voice made Circe aware that Harry knew what she'd just done for him.
"Now all of you, make sure your annotations for pages thirteen to twenty three are done by the end of the lesson…"
The students bowed their heads low and buried themselves back in their work. Silence fell over the classroom again, the only sound in the room was the scratching noise of quill nibs scrawling away on parchment. Circe nodded curtly to Dolores, and Umbridge did the same back to her. Having supposedly seen everything she needed, the pink-clad woman turned on her heels and promptly strode from the classroom. Once she'd gone, Circe sighed and drifted back to her desk, plopping herself heavily down into the chair and lowering her forehead onto the surface with a small thud.
"Thank you, Professor…" She heard Harry's voice call out to her in the silence. "... for trying to protect me."
"Harry…" Circe began, raising her head up from the desk and looking to the young boy. But something in his expression made her falter. She was too drained, too distracted, too crest-fallen to give the boy a lecture now. "... just get on with your work, cub. Kid! Kid… I meant kid."
Severus wrung his hands nervously as he waited for Circe in the Room of Requirement that evening. His mind had been in an anxiety and terror-induced panic since he had left her this time yesterday. He had not calmed since he'd reluctantly left her side, his mind turning over what he had to say and tell. He'd paced around his rooms all night, his heart unable to quieten and his mind unable to stop punishing himself.
How can I tell her of what I did? He thought solemnly. How can I tell her that it was me who told Voldemort of The Prophecy? That it was my fault that James and Lily had to go into hiding? That it's my fault that they're both dead…
Severus hung his head low, his dark hair falling about his face as utter dread and sorrow swept over him again. He thought of how he had tried before to run and hide from his love for Circe, to push it all away, push her away, in the fear that she would one day discover what he had to tell. Before, he had raged against falling in love with her, now, he raged against losing her love.
I have so little left to lose… but Circe might just be the last thing that my past mistakes take from me.
He had thought of lying to her. Telling her that some other Death Eater had learnt of Trelawney's prophecy and had smuggled the information back to Voldemort. But he knew Circe, he knew that she would eventually learn of the truth. And he did not have it within him to have her believe anything but the god's honest truth about him. She deserved that. She deserved to know every uncomfortable and awful detail of his past. She deserved to know exactly what kind of man he had been. He just hoped that the man he was now might redeem him.
The door to their hidden room swung open and Circe slipped quietly inside. Severus felt his guts seize with dread as she entered and flopped onto the bed at his side.
"So, Dolores managed to get right on my tits during my 'observation'." she grumbled, lying down onto her back and closing her eyes. "Managed to take a bite out of me too…"
"Circe…" Severus breathed.
"How can she be so… ignorant? So utterly infuriating? All I'm saying is don't be surprised if you find all of my things packed and left outside the Great Hall…"
"Circe, sit up." Severus said again, forcefully.
Circe reluctantly did as he asked, looking at Severus's forlorn face with pooling dread in her guts. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for whatever was to come next. Snape's eyes revealed nothing, nothing but pain.
"You know… I don't like surprises, Sev. And if this is all just an elaborate ruse to lure me into a surprise party and get me to be happy about turning thirty…" she chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood. But Severus's face remained stony and melancholic.
"Alright." Circe said. She took Severus's hand and realised that he was shaking…"Tell me."
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…" Severus said in his low, morose voice. "I can still remember it as if it were yesterday."
"The Prophecy..." Circe breathed, furrowing her brow.
"Made by the true Seer, Sybil Trelawney in the days of the First Wizarding War."
"Trelawney?!"
"In the Hog's Head Pub in Hogsmeade…"
"There's another pub in Hogsmeade..?" Circe asked, a little disorientated.
"I was one of Voldemort's creatures then. The Dark Lord had instructed me to keep a watchful eye on the comings and goings of the members of The Order through Hogsmeade. He was winning, Circe. Slowly picking off member after member when he'd catch them alone and unaware. Fabian and Gideon Prewett, Molly's brothers, killed by Dolohov a month before. Marlene Mckinnon, slaughtered during a raid on the safe-house where her and her whole family were hiding…."
Severus didn't notice Circe's visible flinch in that moment. But when she heard that name, a memory of a very awful day indeed came surging back into her mind. Nevertheless, Snape continued, too distracted by the tale he had to tell her.
"...The Bones family… The Diggs… All of them dropping like flies as Voldemort's darkness spread."
"Severus… did you kill anyone?" Circe asked slowly. There was a pause. Circe's heart thundered in her ears.
"No." he answered. "Not directly anyway…"
"Not directly?"
"During my station at Hogsmeade, I'd seen several Order members coming and going through the Hog's Head. So I waited, staked out the place for a while and I realised they were using the place as a meeting spot. And suddenly, there was the Phoenix himself… in the pub. Dumbledore…." he paused, casting a nervous glance up to Circe. Her face revealed nothing, all she could do was look back into his pale face as he continued on. "I thought… If I gave Voldemort the biggest prize of all...If I told him where to find Dumbledore… then he'd reward me. Make me a senior lieutenant like The Lestranges. So I… followed him into the Hogs Head. Up into the room above the pub. With the hopes that I'd be able to surprise him, encapture him, bring him to the Dark Lord as my prisoner… But that's where he met Sibyl Trelawney. He was conducting interviews, Circe, for a Divination teacher! In the midst of a war, in the midst of all of that!"
"Sibyl…" Circe muttered. "Our Sibyl? The living embodiment of a beaded curtain? One of the great Seers!?"
"Don't let her flightiness fool you. She's never once told a false prophecy in the whole time I've known her."
"But… her predictions on that night. The one "born as the seventh month dies"... What did it mean?"
"Circe… who was born at the end of July 1980?"
"Um… Neville… I think his birthday's in July. And…. Oh…" Circe's blood ran cold as she realised who Severus referred to.
Harry.
"Oh God, Sev…" She gasped, as chilling realisation hit her, suddenly understanding what Severus had been skirting around this whole time. "You told Voldemort about the Prophecy. And that's why he hunted down Lily and James. That's why he killed them..."
Severus felt her shocked words plunge into his heart like a dagger of ice. He had no words, he had no excuses. He nodded.
"And I have regretted it every single day of my life since." He muttered hoarsely.