Chapter 5—Let's do the Time Warp Again
Snape struggled in the flames, casting out enough sand to litter a Roman arena, but still not enough to keep the fire from eating away at him. It drove him mad to be stuck in Moody's aging body, though it was still strong, and dealing with a blasted wooden leg that for all knew, was going to catch on fire as well.
He fell, and he heard part of the building do so as well. Damn you, Lucius, if it wasn't for your greed I wouldn't be here. At least Arthur is safe, which I hope gives you hemorrhoids. Lucius, I hope Narcissa hangs a rack of horns on your head!
Then he was too busy staying alive, and then too busy screaming. The buckles on the straps that held the wooden leg on his 'stump' were heating up and hurt. He quickly unbuckled them and shoved the peg away. He coughed from the smoke, and the pain began to be too much for him to keep track of what to do. He slammed down his Occlumency shields to their maximum strength to ignore the pain as much as he could…his hand briefly touched the flask that held more Polyjuice…but something told him not to take any more.
He had to hang on. He crawled forward to what he hoped was safety the best he could, now that he now had only one leg, and the air was cooler and had less smoke near the floor. His magical eye helped him pinpoint the safest path, though that was relative, as nowhere was safe right now. His lungs hurt as he breathed, but he was glad that the dragonhide boots helped protect his remaining leg as the flames crackled around him.
A beam fell, and Snape barely dodged it by rolling over into a smoking floor too near another patch of gleaming coals. Gods, this hurts!
He heard some voices, though they were barely audible over the noise of the fire. He didn't care if they were Ministry, Order, DE or chattering jarveys right now, he needed help! He didn't dare try to Apparate, it had taken all his concentration not to splinch himself this morning with being a different body shape than he was used to. How the devil does Tonks manage not to lose her eyebrows every time she does it in a different body?
Snape shouted, but that ended in coughing as the smoke invaded his lungs. It was almost as bad as when James Potter, may he rot in Hell, had filled his mouth, nose and chest with soapy fluid that horrible day.
At last…at last he felt himself change back. The pain subsided to almost nothing, except on his newly restored, but bare left leg. The harm done to the body of the grouchy Auror disappeared, but new pain flared up at the fire kept burning.
He felt dizzy from the change, and from the echo of the damage done to him. He knew little of the theory, but knew that Polyjuice had sometimes been used to change a badly injured person into someone else to buy time to take the victim to St. Mungo's.
Snape felt darkness spread into his vision and reached for his wand to Apparate…
"There he is!" Kingsley said, and levitated Snape out of the wreckage. He didn't know how the place was holding up, but hope it did so long enough for some other Aurors to come to help spell it together in case there were any others stuck in the building on other floors. He noticed sand on Snape's robes…now that was a good idea, water sometimes made certain fires much worse. He yelled at the others to summon that instead of Aguamenti's. Some of the stuff that old hag Nora made, the place could explode and not just fall apart.
The Potions Master didn't look too bad—at least that was what Shacklebolt thought till he saw the burns on the one bare leg. Why wasn't he wearing a stocking and a boot on it, the way the other one was? No doubt there was a good reason, and he would hear about it later, or not. Kingsley sprayed the leg with emergency balm, and then grabbed a light blanket and covered the injured man with it, all over, to make it look like he was moving a corpse out. It would probably be a bad idea for Snape's name to be attached to any of this.
Moody showed up to keep people not in the Order out of the area. Kingsley told him what was going on, and the retired Auror sighed. "He was me this morning, while I tried to get caught up on paperwork. I'll pop him back to the gates of the school and send up a Patronus to have Hagrid come get him."
"He doesn't look that badly hurt, but he's shaking like anything," Kingsley said. "Then again, he's on all those ghastly potions, I've heard."
"And we don't know how bad off he was before the Polyjuice wore off," Moody said. "Injuries don't carry over, but somehow they do, it's complicated. I'll send for Madam Pomfrey instead."
Kingsley nodded, and watched as Mad-Eye took Snape away. I hope he isn't too rough on the man. You'd think he would have learned the night of the party, but he's been making comments again. The Headmaster might need to have a bit of a chat with the old fellow over it. There for a while I thought Moody and Snape had buried the hatchet, but now it seems like Moody wants to bury it, all right, in Snape's neck. I hope it's not over Mrs. Weasley, she has enough on her plate with seven children and Arthur to have to get out her spoon for Order members.
He added his magic to that of the other Aurors now beginning to show up—one crew to flood the ground floor with sand, and the rest to move forward, put out the fire, and restore the beams as they went. Tricky work, but this fire squad knew their business. He was glad somebody did!
Albus answered the urgent Patronus—though, technically, he had received Poppy's urgent plea since she was at St. Mungo's. He had called for Harry and the two younger Weasleys already, and seen them off to poor Molly's generous arms. He popped himself down to the gates rather than walk; hearing of Arthur Weasley's death had depressed him. Snape floated there under a blanket as if he were dead, but Moody wouldn't have bothered to deliver a corpse—there was a bet that Moody would set up a bonfire and dance around Snape's when the man's death finally happened. I think I may have to do the spell on him again that I did for both him and Snape after Molly healed them the old-fashioned way—it's clear that he's jealous of any attention that she gives Severus. For all I know, he's jealous of Arthur, too—well, he shouldn't be now. But that might make things worse, if she decided to remarry. Was he running the Order, or a nursery school? That was a silly question after being in charge of Hogwarts all these years.
He quickly accepted custody of Snape, took over the levitation, and removed the blanket from the spy's face. The unconscious man took a deep breath, shuddered, and remained out of it. "Thank you, Auror Moody," he said, and made sure to keep the tone of his voice warm. "Please stop by for tea this afternoon, we have much to talk about. You probably already know that Arthur Weasley is dead, and along with his being someone we will all miss, we will have to set up another contact in the Ministry. I know young Mr. Weasley is increasingly valuable in his multiple roles, but I would hate to overburden him. We have seen the folly of that already."
"True." Mad-Eye grimaced.
"I suspect that Snape took a great deal of damage while in your Polyjuiced form," Albus added, as he used a simple diagnostic spell. "He seems to be more affected than I think is normal with the injuries and smoke inhalation. Who knows what was in that smoke?"
Moody bit his lip. "Damn it, Arthur was a good man, and Snape was supposed to protect him!"
"Given that Snape had to be rescued from the flames, and Arthur just somehow ended up at St. Mungo's, perhaps he did."
Moody looked down at the ground. "I'd like to know how that happened!"
"We all do, Mad-Eye, and we will definitely investigate. Now I need to take Professor Snape to the infirmary, and hope he doesn't suddenly expire on us too."
That finally shut Moody up, and Albus walked back to the castle and hoped the raw weather wouldn't finish whatever had happened in Knockturn Alley had started. Still, his potions master didn't seem to be hurt that badly, save for the burns on the leg, but he could always go into shock somewhere along the way. There had to be a better way of retrieving people who were injured and taking them to medical care. But he didn't dare put a Floo in near the gates, that was just asking for trouble.
He entered the castle and put a Disillusionment spell on Snape; students would talk and perhaps write home if they saw Snape anywhere but Hogsmeade today. He hoped nobody was in the infirmary looking for Madam Pomfrey, either, though most of the ones who might get hurt were in Hogsmeade enjoying the rare half-holiday. The weather was moderately decent today, but was not likely to stay that way much longer, and the students and teachers had to deal with the bad all too often as it was. He hated the constant rain and snow himself, one reason he sometimes interfered with the charm in the Great Hall to show sunshine when any such thing was far above the clouds.
Albus arrived at the infirmary and wished the dear woman was there. Still, she had a right to her occasional time off as well, however badly timed it turned out to be. She was also going to consult with friends at St. Mungo's about what to do if she was overwhelmed by the number of casualties. She nearly had been when two Quidditch teams had been sent to ground after fighting—he still couldn't believe it was Hufflepuff's fault even after Rolanda Hooch had told him—and it was a still-convalescent Snape who had ended up doing triage on part of the intake. Yes, she really needed help, especially if the war made its way here.
Though it already had for Professor Snape, and it had taken near-disaster to make him see it. Well, he was a fool to wait who knows how long for the mediwitch to return, especially if she had decided to help Molly with Arthur. Albus called Winky, and had the elf remove Snape's stocking and boot, which bore fire damage as well. He sat down at the infirmary's Floo and called the clinic in Switzerland. "Is Master Lowenstein available?" he asked. "Professor Snape may need his help today, or at least someone there at the clinic." He hoped that someone was still there, given that it was later in Switzerland.
The receptionist appeared. "The master is not here, but his assistant Johann is. You can talk to him about the professor."
The flames blurred, and then a bright, cheerful young man with bright blond hair and blue eyes appeared. "Headmaster!" the young man said, whose voice even sounded like the unlamented former professor Lockhart. "What can we at the Institut do for you today?"
"Professor Snape had a mishap, and his right leg is burned, plus he has a small case of smoke inhalation. I am not entirely certain what fumes he may have inhaled," Dumbledore said. "An emergency balm was put on the burned leg, and he seems to be breathing all right so far, but I don't want to take any chances. I don't think any other part was affected, at least my spell didn't detect anything, but for once I would rather not take any chances." He certainly wasn't going to tell anyone but Master Lowenstein or Malachite what really happened. Besides, Snape would be in safe hands at the clinic, even if Polyjuice shock was a problem. It was surely out of the younger man's system by now.
Perhaps it was the fellow's resemblance to Lockhart, but Albus felt uncomfortable around the man. "He probably only needs the leg looked after, and some supportive care. If he needs to stay a week, that's what he needs to do." He didn't like it, but at least they had a good cover story if need be. If nothing else, he could go down to Snape's lab and arrange a potions accident of some kind.
"Yes, yes, he always needs more rest than he will allow himself," Johann said. "I will make sure he is diagnosed here, of course, if you don't mind, and then he will sleep at least the next day after the burns and inhalation are treated. This will be a good chance to calibrate his potions and see what he needs for the next toxin release. Please, we will take him now?"
"Yes," Albus said, though he really wanted to wake Snape and find out what had happened. "In fact, I wish to visit as soon as he is awake again, I need to find out what potions he was working with before the accident since it may be unsafe in his lab till it can be cleaned and put back together again."
"Oh, come along, then. I will need to speak to him, too, if only for a short while, before I put him to sleep for treatment."
The Headmaster was hoping for an invitation like that, and eagerly accepted. He helped put Snape through the Floo on the stretcher, and then followed.
They went to an exam room. Johann fetched his wand and cast several spells. "Underweight and tired, as usual. The cream put on the burns should stay there, it is working well. I am surprised to see not much on the other leg, he must have been standing by the cauldron sideways when it happened. But see the sand there! He must have put most of the fire out wisely, since water will react to some potions. I shall put a pain charm on him now before waking him, it would not be right otherwise." Johann was as good as his word.
Snape's eyes slowly opened on the Ennervate. "Headmaster," he said with bit of hoarseness. He glanced around. "I am at the clinic?"
"Yes. Madam Pomfrey was gone to visit some friends. You seem to have had a lab accident," Albus said, his eyes flicking to Johann. "It would be helpful to know what kind of potions or ingredients might have been involved."
"Dragonbane," Snape said. He paused. "An Ashwinder egg or two."
"Professor, you work with dangerous things! You are lucky to not be hurt worse," Johann interjected.
"Yes, the results are sometimes fatal," Dumbledore said, willing his meaning to be taken by Snape, though he hated breaking the news in this way.
"Headmaster…something else I should know?"
Albus nodded, and motioned for Johann to back away. Once the young man did so, he put a Muffliato up. "Arthur Weasley ended up on the steps of St. Mungo's, and died this afternoon. Mrs. Weasley has likely already taken him home. I am so sorry."
"But he was all right! I sent him out back before the worst of it…" Snape took a deep breath and shuddered.
"You did all you could. I wanted you to hear it from me, and not have to find it out from the newspapers or gossip," Albus said. "I suspect you were hurt badly indeed before the Polyjuice ran out, so you'll take longer to recover than you think you will. I don't want you to worry. I will find something to explain your absence."
"The Ministry…"
"Will be looking for a scapegoat and not find him. Moody is prepared to swear that he was actually there, and Apparated out as soon as Arthur Weasley left the building, and there are few people currently in power that he doesn't scare out of their socks. Madam Umbridge, unfortunately, is one of them, but with any luck Percy Weasley will make sure she has other things to worry about."
Snape let out a hiss. "Throwing him to the wolves too…"
"Moody is watching the situation. Madam Umbridge will not ask too much of her assistant in that way, if only in fear that her former roommate will disembowel her. I do not think Molly Weasley would content herself with a wooden spoon if she thought her son was being taken advantage of."
Snape wearily nodded. His eyes began to roll up. Albus canceled the Muffliato. "I have spoken to him too much, I fear. I think at least a day of magical sleep, in addition to any other measures you need, will be good for him. Please contact my Floo at any time should he take a turn for the worse—I will have an elf watching it just in case."
"Of course. I will call you in the late morning, since it may be too early if I call when I wake up," Johann said. "I will tell Master Lowenstein everything, and perhaps it will be he who calls. Now rest, honored Headmaster, or perhaps I will have you stay, too. That is a joke."
"Of course," Dumbledore said. But if he stayed too long, he suspected Johann would stop joking and start waving his wand around. He departed for Hogwarts.
It was already late afternoon here, and he had tea served. Mad-Eye showed up just as everything was all laid out. "So, I see you found a solution without my having to swear to anything," the retired Auror said.
"I expect I did, though I am not quite certain of it right now," Albus said.
"You know someone is going to inventory Arthur Weasley's office and wonder where the Muggle artifact was that he'd logged in. I'm sure his wife can just tell them he took it home and let the Ministry try to find it in that shed he had in back, though. Especially since Weasley showed the Toad one that he said he'd found and had to deal with."
The Headmaster had no idea what Moody was talking about. "I am afraid I still don't know what you're hinting at even now."
"Ah. Haven't thought of it yet, then. Well, I'd better shut it, and let it come to you naturally. Wouldn't want to start up a loop, after all."
Oh! Of course! He didn't say anything, though, because Mad-Eye was quite right about the possibility of a loop. Well, if Snape could bear the strain of stretching time for a few days, it was probably the only way that would let the man recover in privacy and still leave him able to provide an alibi. "I suspect that Professor Snape would rather have been in Knockturn Alley, explosions and all, rather than supervise the children in Hogsmeade today." He had been lucky that the Weasley children, including Harry, had stayed at the school. Suddenly, he remembered that all three of them had been assigned to some kind of detention that kept them from going, though he was hazy about the reasons for it or who had given the detentions. Hmm…possibly there was a loop, or an alternate time reality struggling to be born.
"Things becoming confusing, I expect. We've used certain artifacts like that before, but things will settle down," Mad-Eye said with a grim smile. "But that's probably not why you had me come up here. Can you just say you read me the usual lecture on stop trying to screw over Snape, he has less time than any of us, and so on?"
"Yes, of course," Albus said, and sipped his tea. He knew better than to offer the other man one of his lemon drops. Moody had been on to him decades ago. "However, your feelings seem to be focused on Mrs. Weasley again. Would you like me to repeat the spell I did after she healed you?"
Moody had the grace to look down at his tea and find it very interesting. He sighed. "I suppose you should. I hope you did the same for Snape, mind you."
"Yes, I did, though I fear he has some emotions that have nothing to do with that. Is…is that the case with you as well?"
"Well, do the damn charm and we'll find out, won't we?" Mad-Eye said harshly.
Dumbledore complied. He could almost see some of the anger dissipating from the other man. "Better now? It's said the 'jealousy is as cruel as the grave'. I'm surprised you didn't resent Arthur as well."
"It's…it's a bit better, but Molly Weasley is still a fine figure of a woman," Moody said slowly. "And things might end up worse before they become better if she ever decides to remarry. Why, even You Know Who could fancy the woman for himself."
Albus hadn't even considered that possibility. "I hope nobody tells her that. She might take it as a challenge, and try to feed him up so well he won't want to take over the world." He hoped that was a joke.
Moody roared with laughter. "If anybody could do it, she could!" Then he looked sober again. "But seriously, there aren't many unattached women in her generation, and a lot of single men. She'll have her year to mourn Arthur, we all respect him that much, but after that she'll be pressured to make a choice. Kingsley and Tonks seem to have an understanding, so there won't be trouble from that quarter, but even the wolf might come sniffing around Molly if he thought he had a chance. Guv'nor, I know you like all your operatives to be single, but it's a hard life and no mistake. You have your memories, if nothing else, but most of us don't even have that. The purebloods on the other side would be like that, too, if You Know Who had his way, but their families make damn sure everyone is matched up that can be. Surprised they haven't found a bride for Snape yet."
Albus sighed. He hated it when Moody was right about this. "They've tried with Snape, but so far Mrs. Malfoy, Tom, and I can't agree on a candidate—not to mention Snape needs someone bright enough to keep up with him, and not someone who's ever been his student. That narrows it down somewhat."
"So it does," Moody said. "We need to set up a marriage mart for us, or they'll just outnumber our side in the long run. The Muggleborn aren't counted as good prospects and end up marrying each other, but most of their women don't want that many children either."
No doubt his old friend was right. He would not like to be the person to tell Miss Granger, for instance, that she had to bear three or four children just to keep the numbers up—though she was likely to be pressured into at least a couple if she wed Ronald Weasley. He feared the numbers of the Wizarding World would continue to dwindle as they had in the long years after the Great Plague of 1918. Granted, more Muggleborns appeared as the great pureblood families narrowed down to one or even no heirs, but the totals had been growing fewer even before Tom Riddle decided to sign up for the role of Dark Lord.
"Wartime often evens up the numbers," Albus said. But then, in that case society ought to have more single women rather than single men. "Should I start looking for a bride for you, Alastor?"
Moody nearly swallowed his tongue and vanished the tea that dribbled down his chin. "Don't joke like that!" he said. "But your point is taken, I'm being an ass again. You would think I would have learned from that shower of a party, but clearly I didn't. I still say Molly needs to choose again right smartly in a year, and make sure we all know it, or choose to not marry at all and make even me know it, or there will be trouble."
"Hard to believe that a woman her age could cause so much trouble," Albus mused.
"Some people just smell pretty over the Wireless," Moody said, "no matter their age or even looks. We joke about Snape, but I don't think he would be hopeless to the right woman. Thank God, he put the Toad in her place, and I hope she's not carrying a grudge over that. Just as well she is mooning over Perfect Percy, when you think about it. Snape would want a real marriage, and the Toad wouldn't like that one bit."
Dumbledore briefly imagined Umbridge's reaction should Snape and her former roommate ever become a couple, and decided he would rather not. Pomona had told him stories of Dolly Matliff's occasional fury at all the boys sniffing after Molly instead of her, and didn't think the grown woman would appreciate a repeat. I really am running a nursery school even with all the students fully grown, he thought. "You have raised concerns that I should look at, Alastor. I have been single for so long that I have forgotten that other people are different. Most of the staff here aren't married, either, so I forget what the rest of the world is like."
"True. Holed up here, you don't see the outside world sometimes except as a war between you and Tom. Now, don't doubt me, I see the war, too, but when the Auror trainees come in, half of them are already betrothed and the other half want to be. Or they belong to a family that expects them to carry on the family name. Very few end up like me, and that's a good thing."
Albus sighed. "I see what you mean. But for now, let us grieve for Arthur Weasley, and worry about the marriage market later."
"As long as you don't forget all about it," Moody said, as he levered himself to a standing position. "You tend to do that on things you don't want to do."
"That is also true." Albus stood up. "And people have died, or nearly died because of it. Don't forget to remind me if I seem to yet again."
"I won't!" Moody then left through the Floo to the Ministry, where things were likely to be even more ugly than on Knockturn Alley this afternoon. He did not envy Mad-Eye his colleagues there.
He sighed, and called in Minerva. He needed to remember that someone had to know everything he did.
She came in, and her eyes were red. "Dear me, things keep getting worse! I need to go to the Burrow soon and see what help Molly will let me give. Arthur was a dear man, and we will all miss him dearly."
"Yes, we will. Tea?" He poured for her. And then he told her everything, include how Snape was injured and that he was at the clinic, resting comfortably.
"Really? He just returned from Hogsmeade not long ago, grumbling about idiot students and he would have gladly put them all on detention if he'd had his way. Though it was rather helpful that the Weasley children and Harry had already been…" Her eyes narrowed, and Albus knew exactly what she was thinking even without Legilimency. "I daresay you'll need to speak with Madam Pomfrey fairly soon. So will I, because I think I might have been the one to issue the detentions for those three."
"Yes, I suppose I will." His head still felt muddled, as if something was terribly wrong. "I haven't written any of this down yet, and I don't think you should, either. I think I know what may happen—may have happened—and I need to make sure things happen the right way first. If that makes any sense."
"I felt the same way one night several years ago," Minerva said. "I was slightly unsettled all that year, I expect, and then that last night, the one with the full moon…Well. I don't think it would be a good idea for you to speak to Professor Snape until this is resolved. I suspect it's all from the same source."
Dumbledore nodded. "I expect you're right. I suppose I have been putting it off. Now I have to see Madam Pomfrey, then."
They both finished their cups and left the office. Minerva then asked, "When will he return?"
"It was a very good thing he was Polyjuiced, or we would be planning two funerals," Dumbledore said softly. "He was injured afterwards, but the echo was severe enough that I'm glad he's at the clinic…oh, wait, I really shouldn't have said that." Echo was right—echo of Hagrid speaking out of turn again.
"Never mind, I should have waited to ask. But I thought we should at least pretend to care." The Transfiguration mistress sighed. She nodded, and then turned a corner in another direction than the hall which went to the hospital wing.
Madam Pomfrey was back at her desk, looking through some papers when Albus walked into the infirmary. "Arthur Weasley's funeral has been moved to Thursday," she said as she looked up at him. "And I think I know what you are here for. I should keep it till Wednesday. I know things are going to feel odd till then, but I really do think you did the right thing earlier today."
"How am I to avoid the professor?" he asked.
"I should send you to the clinic, too. Someone your age might suffer from temporal displacement more than someone who still has a lot of time to work with. Have you ever looped before?"
"I almost did right before the end of the Grindelwald War," he said.
"Oh, of course. It's a common thing to try to reverse something you think should not have happened. It might be a good idea to ah, supervise its next use."
Albus hadn't thought of that, but of course he suspected Snape would. "It doesn't work like that, unfortunately. I shall warn him, of course."
"Of course." The mediwitch looked dubious. "Well, I won't send it till Tuesday anyway. He's young enough that he needs more time to heal under the influence of this, um, object, than he would suffer from any displacement from using it. But yes, you should avoid him. I will tell everyone that you are extremely tired and must visit your cottage."
"I can't desert the Order at a time like this."
"Then go visit the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley can use someone else to fuss over right now to take her out of her grief, and I know you want to keep an eye on the family. You might have to share a room with the mob they have there now, but it won't be boring, I can guarantee."
He sighed. "I will visit them tomorrow, and then go to the cottage. I don't think they need me there right now. Tonight should be just for family. But please let me have the…item…now. I have a feeling that I'm going to need it."
Madam Pomfrey looked reluctant, but did as he asked. Dumbledore put into a special pocket in his robe that held anything in it safely. Then he went back up to his quarters and lay down for a nap. Surely he couldn't make horrible mistakes while he was sleeping, right?
But his dreams showed him that he could. Somehow, he was at the back door of some establishment in Knockturn Alley, watching Arthur Weasley being attacked, though he seemed to be alive as he watched the Death Eaters depositing him on the steps of St. Mungo's, and a Healer called to fetch him.
And then he was in Hogsmeade, talking with Snape…over and over again he was caught in the same scenes…
Snape allowed Johann to put him into a magical sleep. He had been given the chance to deal with his pain, but this time he chose to run from it. He knew that when he woke again, Arthur Weasley would still be dead, that building in Knockturn Alley would be a wreck, and the Dark Lord would want to know what happened. The echo of the pain he'd suffered while in Mad-Eye Moody's body still wracked his mind, while the burns he'd collected on his own tormented his body. No doubt Johann or Master Lowenstein would take this as an excuse to play with his potions again, or trigger a toxin release while he was there and they could watch the effects for themselves.
He awoke, and it was morning, judging by the angle of light through the window, since he was in the room they normally put him in. Why did I survive when Weasley died? That doesn't even make sense… He was nearly crushed by the weight of guilt he felt for having survived once more when others died.
Snape looked up again when he heard the cough. Malachite sat there, and she had entered the room without him even noticing it. Well, he wouldn't have much longer to wallow if he continued with paying so little attention to what was around him.
"My lady Malachite," he said. "I would rise if I could." He felt horribly weak yet, and wished he knew what day it was. He didn't want to miss Arthur Weasley's funeral, or to go there and find the Ministry ready to cart him away.
"I have heard a little of what happened," she said gently. "Our friend back at the school told me more of it than he did Johann, which shows he's not entirely senile. Johann has some friends down at his tavern, you see, that encourage him to drink more beer than is perhaps good for him. He does not mean to gossip, of course, and yet it happens. So be careful what you tell that one."
"Ah." Snape struggled to push himself further up on the pillows. He was so tired of being disabled, one way or another. Still, his leg didn't hurt as much as it had earlier, and his voice sounded like he no longer had to worry about the smoke inhalation—God only knows what kind of fumes he'd taken in during the process.
She took out her wand and performed a Muffliato, though rather shakily—it must be a new spell for her. "Now we may speak freely. You should not have been taken so ill—your burns were not good, but they healed rapidly, and the damage to your lungs was not great. And yet you were so exhausted that a magical sleep meant to last one day ended up sending you to slumber for two."
"There was more than that," Snape said. "I was Polyjuiced as someone else, and nearly died while in that body. If the potion had not worn off just in time, I would not be here."
"Ah! Now things make sense. I read about another man, though, who is dead in your land and shall be dearly missed, from all the paper says about him." She looked at him sympathetically.
"He wasn't supposed to die!" he cried. "I was supposed to protect him. I know he was still alive when I told him to go out the back. I don't understand it!"
"I am told this Knockturn Alley is a bad place," Malachite said. "Perhaps there were others who watched you, and took the one most likely to talk of what he found. Perhaps it was too dangerous for this person, or others, to try to attack you, and with the flames, perhaps thought that they need not make sure of you."
"That's what I want to think," he said, helpless to explain why it was so bad. "He trusted me to look after him, and now I must tell his wife how I failed."
"Ah…this wife, is she a woman that you care much for?"
He lay back on the pillows, gasping. Oh, hell. He might as well admit it. It wasn't like anything would happen—once he told Molly what had happened, she'd hate him forever. "Yes," he said softly, almost too softly for anyone to hear. "It's hopeless, of course. Once she knows how things went, I'll be lucky if she slaps my face only halfway to the nether regions, instead of just burying me in the back garden."
"So don't tell her."
He barked a laugh. "Of course. I've lived my whole life on lies…I am so sick of them. I can't lie to her, not about anything"
"Well, then, one of these days you will have to tell her you love her."
"And have her face go sad, as she thinks of the best way to let me down," he said. His body longed for hers as it never had for Gerte. The one night with the polyjuice whore—oh, he would never do it again, but it had been worth it. That night might have helped fuel his newborn Patronus, as did the real kisses Molly herself had given him at the dinner.
"Or have her decide that she wants you, perhaps," Malachite said. "But I expect that is just as terrifying as her sadness to you. Tell her the truth now, and then leave her alone, as is her right. But just think, if you let her make the first move, then you will know for sure she cares. See, is this not easy?" she added with a mischievous smile. The light from the window shone through her white hair, and nearly shone through her, at her great age and delicacy. She had lost weight, he thought, since he last saw her, and that made him sad.
"I will ask you to my wedding, should I ever have one," he said. "And I will ask you to dance."
"Then I fear you will have to move quickly, perhaps more quickly than is seemly," she said, and her smile faded.
"Perhaps you should listen to those who love you, and let me brew for you. I have a Cruciatus potion that relieves the spasms much better than the standard one, and it might help you. If you lack appetite, I can adjust the potion somewhat, or perhaps you could take the appetite potion that I am taking now along with the other one. Though I've noticed that if I am taking the Crucio potion, that my appetite returns faster, since spasms occur in many different places and aren't good for the digestion under that curse."
"How do you know? Has my grandson been speaking out of turn again?" she asked.
"No, but I saw how your hands shake, and that's common with too many rounds of it," he said, delighted to get off the subject of Molly Weasley. "And when I mentioned the name of it, your chin jerked just a bit, as if you didn't want to hear about it. I have to be a keen observer, you see, in my particular trade."
"Hmm. There is no fooling you, I see. I suppose I will take all those foul potions if only to see the look on your face there," she said. "And you have to promise me not to die till then, as well. I should be very disappointed."
"So would I," he said. "But you have to promise to be sympathetic if she goes off with someone else or swears never to marry again."
"Ha! If that is the case, I shall find you someone more sympathetic. I tried so hard with Klaus…"
"He and Madam Pomfrey seemed to find each other congenial, from the little I saw of them when he helped teach my class," Severus said. "Perhaps there's hope for him, too."
"That would be nice," Malachite said. "I have longed to see him happy. And I think more than one person in your life would like to see you happy, too."
"I have learned not to place too much weight on anyone," Severus said, "but I have learned to put some weight on those who don't mind bearing it." It had been a hard lesson, though he longed for someone he could truly rest his full heart on.
"Well, that is certainly better than it could be," she said. "We all have to learn that some people cannot be trusted, and others trusted only for small things. I feel happy that you trust me with so much. And yet you can trust me more. Who was this Arthur Weasley, and what kind of man was he?"
"Braver than he should have been. He was growing bald, though he was only ten years older than me, and proud of all his children. He has seven, but had to strive to feed them all. I mean, had seven…" He felt himself beginning to break. "He…he fiddled with Muggle things, and sometimes they even worked…" Severus swallowed hard. "He treated me like a friend—and he probably saved my life just a couple of weeks ago when I was dumped on his front step." He couldn't talk for a moment, as he tried to banish the growing moisture in his eyes. "He knew I…I had feelings for his wife, but he said, he said he didn't mind, that any man with good eyes would care for his Molly…and, and, I let him get killed…" At that he couldn't speak any more, but turned his head into the pillow and let his weak tears flow.
Malachite said nothing as he wept. Snape recovered his composure and wiped his face with the tissue left for him. At least the paper didn't become discolored, the way they did when his potions bled poison out of him.
"You are right to grieve for him," she said. "He sounds like a good man, a man all too rare these days. You must work hard, though, to find out how he died. There is something wrong that he died when you thought he must live. Would this not be a treasure to lay at his widow's feet?"
When she put it that way, it was clear where his path now lay. Granted, it should be an easy task—he was certain that someone would boast of the deed at the next meeting—but it was certainly something easier to focus on rather than his shaky body and even shakier mind at this point in time. "You make a lot of sense," he said. Then he added with a martyred sigh, "No doubt I should ring for assistance and find out what kind of slime they intend me to ingest next."
"Oh, no need to call," she said with a wicked smile. "They left me your next dose, and some juice to follow it. You shall heal more quickly now that you have good reason to."
He rolled his eyes and let her help him gag it down. The juice to wash it out was a very good idea, though—quite possibly this was standard protocol in Europe, though perhaps it was just her kindness, since nearly all his potions here had been delivered without that kind of thing.
"There. I shall pronounce you a good patient, which will surely frighten them immensely, and my grandson will hasten to come see you just for the novelty," Malachite said.
"And I will owl you your potions as soon as I return home," he said, and tried to look menacing.
"I shall faint with anticipation," she replied. Then she canceled the Muffliato, and spoke into the largest jewel of her necklace. "He took his dose like a good boy, and now he should eat something light. And yes, I will lie down to rest now, so do not bother nagging me."
Master Lowenstein came in and helped his grandmother up and escorted her out of the room. He returned quickly. "I am happy to see you in better spirits than perhaps I expected," he said. "We read the paper and it does not take long for me, at least, to take note of the unidentified man rescued from the flames in Britain, and in a bad part of it, too. So far Johann has not asked too many questions, and is satisfied with your tale of a potions accident. But as my grandmother has undoubtedly told you, our younger friend talks too much. I shall find a way to send him to the free clinics more often, which is good for him in other ways as well. And yet you were weaker than you should have been for the injuries we saw."
"Polyjuice," Snape said, knowing the other scientist would understand with just that one word.
"You were lucky, then, that time ran out before you did," Lowenstein said. "So, it was the echo that wore you down."
"Yes, but not as lucky as the other man with me. He shouldn't have died!" Snape shouted. Then he apologized. "I am not angry with you, more with myself."
"You had too much to do staying alive yourself, Professor. The life you lead is harder than it should be, and yet I do not see how to keep you from it."
"That's a debate I finished a long time ago, Master," Snape said, though he didn't feel the bitterness that he had in the past when realizing how set his path was. There were still things he could do along the way to make things more bearable.
"And yet, if you see rosebuds along the way, you can stop a moment to enjoy them."
Snape grimaced. He had learned that rosebuds didn't belong in his life. "I prefer a rose well blown," he said, though inwardly he shuddered at the memory of the woman he'd killed. For a moment, the darkness of the Second Mark burned his soul.
But he'd wallowed long enough. "Things to do, people to see…when can I be healed and out of this place?"
"If you will but try to eat well, and let us dose you, in two days, but no less. And that is only if you do all we tell you."
"What day is it, anyway?"
"It is Sunday, when all good people should be resting," Lowenstein said. "And yet you are a hobby of mine, one that I cannot seem to give up."
"I need to go back soon," Snape said.
"A funeral has been postponed until Thursday, so unless there is something else, you may as well lie back and rest without worry. All will be well."
Snape bit back a harsh laugh. He knew better than that. Then he sighed. "Well, for now."
"Ah, I finally hear you admit that! I shall win the pool we have on you…"
"I live to serve."
Lowenstein looked sober now. "Perhaps someday you will be allowed to just live."
Severus shrugged. "Things are better now, even if you had to club me over the head to start this program. For one thing, I can always blame it when I need to rest."
"Yes, if you are still in peril after this is over, we shall find you some other excuse. I will work diligently to find you a diagnosis that will allow this."
Snape appreciated that. He didn't know if he would live that long, but it would be helpful if he could have time to recover whenever he was injured. He didn't really know how he'd managed last year, though the Time-Turner had helped.
He spent the next couple of days forcing himself to eat and drink as much as he could keep down, taking the vile potions, charting their equally vile side-effects, and hoping the set he would take back to Hogwarts weren't going to be as bad, though he knew better. The next time he was likely to expel toxins would be right at Christmas, oh joy, though he rather hoped they would wait till after that day. With any luck, the staff's hangovers would simply make them too concerned with their aching heads to bother him. Perhaps he ought to acquire a hangover of his own, though he just knew that his potions would interact badly with anything he liked to drink. Ah well. At least he was alive and hadn't lost a beloved family member…Molly might forgive him for his failure, but nobody else was likely to. Albus had reassured him on that point, but Snape knew better.
Still, he couldn't hide out here forever, unfortunately. He was certain the Dark Lord would want to know where he'd been these past few days; perhaps the excuse of the Swiss and their potions would serve yet again, but there was always the possibility of it not working any more. And his absence at the same time that Arthur Weasley died would be remarked upon, either for good or ill. Granted, eliminating a rival to the hand of some woman was nearly a matter of pureblood tradition in some families, but being obviously linked to it was not, except in a public duel.
And…his heart sank because once more, he'd lost someone who would actually listen to him and not just dismiss him for the sin of being a Slytherin. There were few such people in the Order—there were more than there used to be, and he was certainly happy about that, but Arthur had been more than just some insane Gryffindor seeking glory. I wonder if anyone but me outside the publishing business knew about his little sideline with the Mad Muggle comic books?
The time came for him to return to Hogwarts. Instead of being sent to the Headmaster's office through the Floo, though, he returned by way of the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey thumped his chest and waved her wand, then pronounced him sound. "I really shouldn't give you this, Severus, but it's necessary. You may be feeling stretched and odd, but there's a good reason for it. You are nearly to the limits of how long it's safe to use a Time-Turner. If I were you, I would go back for only several hours at a time, instead of four days at once."
Now he understood a great deal. He likely had returned to Hogsmeade and shown himself some more, and then returned to Hogwarts and taught these past two weekdays. The sooner he went back to Friday, the sooner he would begin operating on normal time again, though he would likely feel somewhat odd till Tuesday evening.
He smiled and took the device. "I will be quite careful with it, Poppy. I will have to go to Hogsmeade, though, and move backward in time from there." Oh, yes…quite careful indeed. Snape went out of the Infirmary, content in the knowledge that his other self was likely trying to keep his sixth year class from blowing themselves up—it would have to be a huge emergency indeed to have to leave the class, and so reminded himself to teach something routine but interesting, so that he would not have to leave the classroom for any reason and perhaps run into himself. Crossing the streams, as the Muggles put it, he thought. He moved too quickly for Poppy to make sure he did all his time traveling in the private room, and then have the device taken away.
Once he was outside the gates, he Apparated to the back alley behind Nora's. Snape found a hiding place to watch. If nothing else, he could find out who had killed Arthur Weasley. He was fascinated to observe the arrival of several Death-Eaters in masks and robes. Though he tried to figure out who they were from the way they walked, he wasn't able to. For once they kept their voices down, so that didn't help, either. A pity that Lupin wasn't along with him, for once—the werewolf was good at picking out distinctive smells, though having to hide in garbage would make the task more difficult.
Then he heard the explosion from inside. That was the dragonbane. Snape waited, as did the Death-Eaters. But whom were they waiting for? He was supposed to have collected the Ashwinder Eggs, and then given them to Arthur to give to the Ministry in triumph.
Then Arthur Weasley charged out, covered in soot and panting for breath and fought with Bill the Spike, who erupted out of the shadows. One of the Death-Eaters pulled out his wand and pointed it at the Minister. "Stupefy!" said Nott's harsh voice. Weasley's mouth dropped open and he stood still.
"Mad-Eye must still be in there," said a woman's voice.
What was Lestrange doing here? Snape leaned forward to see a bit better, only to realize that the garbage he was stuck in the middle of was beginning to shift.
"Someone's over there. We don't have time." Nott shouted "Incendio!" at the garbage, but it was so wet that it only smoldered. Snape tried not to cough and sunk deeper into the trash.
"Must be someone too drunk to bother moving," Bellatrix said contemptuously. "But now we have the Muggle-lover, what shall we do with him?"
"Obliviate him and move on," said Nott. "No time for fun. Besides, he didn't get anything, and soon the fire will destroy the evidence."
Snape found himself almost praying the others would listen to Nott.
"Not without a souvenir," said a different man, who leaned over and took something from Weasley's robe. "Let him find the price of another somehow." Then they rendered him unconscious and let him fall. Who was that? He was big enough to be Rowle, though his light hair was hidden.
Then they left. Severus breathed a sigh of relief, though he didn't want to leave till the Aurors got there. Surely Arthur Weasley would be all right now, as long as he didn't breathe in too much smoke. He quickly put out the garbage, took a quick potion to clear the smoke from his own lungs, and gave a bit to Weasley as well. He Apparated to St. Mungo's and left his friend on the front steps, since the Death Eaters had failed to do so, and Bill the Spike might come back.
Then he Apparated back to the path to Hogsmeade just as the first Auror arrived.
Severus Snape used a cleaning charm on his robes, and was glad the chill breeze dissipated what was left of the smell. He walked into the village and made his purchases, feeling much lighter of heart. Surely all would be well.
He was in Rosmerta's a few hours later sipping some ale when she told everyone to hush as she turned up the wireless. The news had interrupted the musical program she kept on low.
A dreadful tolling sound came from the machine, and the announcer struggled to keep his voice from faltering as he informed the world of Arthur Weasley's death. The man might not have been respected by his peers, but he was clearly loved by others.
Snape bent his head low over his drink to hide his own reaction. It wasn't right! How had this happened? Weasley had been alive, and only unconscious from being Stupefied more zealously than usual. The Death-Eaters hadn't killed him; they'd merely stolen his wand. It didn't make sense!
He still had the Time-Turner. Perhaps he could go back there, a few moments after he'd left, and make sure that Weasley would survive.
"No," Dumbledore said softly, as he seated himself next to Severus at the shadowed booth. "It won't work."
"What do you mean?"
"He will still die," Albus said. "Severus, I should have told you this earlier. During the Grindelwald war, someone I cared for greatly also died. When I found that the Ministry had a Time-Turner tucked away and didn't even know it, I tried over ten different times to save her life. All I did was learn of her death, or worse, see it, all those times. I knew there was a chance for Buckbeak a few years ago because of the way McNair complained about the hippogriff's escape. But once someone has seen the body, they can't be brought back.
"Molly Weasley is holding him right now and taking him home. It was too late the moment he expired in her arms. If you use the Time-Turner too many times, you will end up lost."
"Miss Granger did not in her third year," Snape said stiffly. "And neither did I, last year."
"I should say, too many times in the same period," Dumbledore said. "I nearly became caught in a loop myself the time I tried it. You are even more stubborn than I am, Severus."
Snape looked down into his ale. "I will find out how he died if it's the last thing I do," he said.
"But you'll have to do it without the Time-Turner. Give it to me now."
"I still have to go leap at unsuspecting students and take points from them. I made sure to arrive here at least ten minutes after going back to the school, drinking the Polyjuice, and having Minerva help with the wooden leg." If he took Weasley to St. Mungo's himself and then disappeared, he could still make sure that the man survived.
"And I will make sure you go back to Hogwarts today, whatever day this is. Severus. But you must give it to me now."
"Why?"
"Because I come from a future where you didn't. We lost you, Severus. In that branch you are trapped forever in that alley behind Nora's. We've lost more than I can tell you." Dumbledore did look much older and more tired than Snape remembered him being in the 'future'. "Let's just say that I'm gambling the rest of what we do have to make sure that doesn't happen. I don't know if it'll be better, of course, but it certainly can't be much worse."
Snape sighed, and took the golden artifact out of his robe. "It's still not right for Arthur Weasley to be dead."
"I know. And it's not right for me to tell you to let your heart speak for you, and then complain when you listen to it. But please give it to me."
As Albus grasped the Time-Turner, he shimmered, then faded into nothingness.
Snape finished his drink, then took his time in Hogsmeade. After all, they needed time to rescue him from the building. Once back at Hogwarts, he would go straight to the dungeons and convince his Slytherins, at least, not to rejoice too loudly. Weasley was still a pureblood, however tainted with Muggle ways; and it would be bad politics to show one's hand too early. He'd make sure the Malfoys sent a wreath, at the very least. Hypocrisy? Why, of course.
At least he could take out his temper on those Slytherins stupid enough to smile.
He returned to Hogwarts and had a note sent to the Headmaster's office. He wasn't quite certain it was the right time for him to see Albus yet, because he wasn't quite sure when he had been sent through the Floo to the clinic. The return note, shuttled by Dobby, told him not to arrive before evening.
He took the time to visit Madam Pomfrey—once he had scooted the little darlings back to their common rooms, though they were much too full of sugar and mischief to care much about his threats—and she smiled wanly at him. "I'm sure you want to borrow the Time-Turner again, but I am not giving it to you," she said.
"Well, someone has to give Miss Weasley, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter detention earlier today so they would be here to be sent to the Burrow," Snape pointed out. "And I am the one mostly likely to do it."
"Already managed," Poppy said. "Minerva went back to this morning and caught them behind on their homework, and that they should stop having Miss Granger do it for them. Since this is a perpetual problem, they barely protested."
That explained the loop, if more than one person was using the device at the same time. He still wished he had been able to save Arthur Weasley, but grudgingly admitted that he wasn't going to.
He sat and had a cup of tea with the mediwitch, since he knew that he returned to his quarters, he would have people wanting to talk to him, essays to grade, and a few stomachs to soothe among his Slytherins.
Then Dobby popped by and said the Headmaster would like to see him now. Snape entered the office with just a wave at the gargoyles.
"I'm glad you made it back," Albus said. "Things were beginning to feel odd, as if you were going to make more than one attempt to save Arthur."
Snape told him about the visitation at the Leaky Cauldron. Dumbledore sadly nodded. "I was nearly caught in such a loop myself. I couldn't give up on her, you see. Fortunately, a friend of mine intercepted me in much the same way that a possible me found you."
"It should have been me!" Severus said.
"It shouldn't have been either one," the headmaster said. "But it wasn't you, and was him. Now we must go on from here, and influence only the future. For instance, the Weasley children will bear watching. Both Harry, who will likely be in mourning as well, and Miss Granger will do what they can for their friends, but we need all the adults here to keep an eye on them, too. That includes you, despite your many other responsibilities."
At first Snape clenched his teeth against the anger that rose in him at having this dumped on him, too. Then he sighed. It was his responsibility. "Let's just pretend that I ranted and raved for half an hour, and then you browbeat me into submission with a shower of lemon drops and some brutal trilling by Fawkes," he said, and sipped more tea.
"That works," said Albus with a smile, though he blinked in what appeared to be surprise. "Truly, Severus, it really wasn't your fault."
"But that won't stop you from using my sense of guilt to get me what you want me to do anyway," Snape said, though with less sarcasm than usual.
"Well, if you insist…"
"Don't worry. But I'll still take points from them. You have to allow me some fun." The Potions Master wasn't too worried about it. McGonagall would undoubtedly hover over them like a chickless hen, no doubt driving both-no, all three-children out of their minds, while Sprout would probably wish they were small enough to sit on her ample lap. Flitwick, though clearly distressed whenever his students had personal problems, tended to assign more homework to keep such children distracted. Snape rather liked that one. But even he had to admit he kept his students busy already. And how to pay the two Weasley children any special attention without distressing his Slytherins? Many of his Snakes saw him as their only bulwark against a hostile school. Many of them had already lost parents, too—some to death, and some to Azkaban. He shouldn't forget Mr. Potter, either. The adoption rite had, no doubt, affected him as well.
Most of his evenings were already taken up with detentions and meetings, and those were just the ones here at Hogwarts. He hadn't paid as much attention to the Weasley boy as he had to the Boy-Who-Annoyed-Him or the know-it-all, while young Miss Weasley seemed to revel in the attention of the young gentlemen who thronged around her. However, Snape could only guess how much effect being possessed by Tom Riddle in her first year had had on her. The support of the Gryffindor Quidditch team would probably help all three.
He finished his cup. He'd think of something. If nothing else, both Ronald and Ginevra were easily provoked into earning detentions. Perhaps he could manage something helpful during those. And once the winter weather closed off Quidditch for the year, he would have the Weasley boy for a 'personal assistant'. If nothing else, Winky would enjoy feeding the boy. In fact, he ought to use food rewards with Mr. Weasley, or simply feed him the moment he arrived. Or perhaps both. No doubt he would be rewarded with sullenness and bad temper, but if Winky could manage his moods, she would likely make headway with the boy. He shouldn't attempt to see the girl too often, though, that would be remarked on. Minerva, and possibly Madam Pomfrey, should take the lead with her.
Then he received a note to all the House Heads that Hogwarts would be on holiday, if you could call it that, on Thursday afternoon, and that Dumbledore would be away from the school till Tuesday evening for personal reasons. That made sense…if the Headmaster had been through a loop before in his life, and successfully inserted himself into one just today, he was likely worn out, though he hadn't seemed so in his office.
The pile of essays and Winky with a tray for supper somehow looked more alluring than going to the Burrow just yet.