C Chapter Six

Severus mused over the bones of his plan and let his mind wander as he walked through the ancient hallways, his footsteps echoing softly over the stones worn smooth by generations of students. He was planning to spend his free time before dinner in the neglected archives of the great library where he was headed now poring over old yearbooks. He enjoyed the solitude where he could get it. Some habits died hard.

His yearmates in Ravenclaw were tolerable he would admit, he had often found them quite entertaining over the last few days with the fantastical questions they would sometimes ask and as they tended to be a quieter type and also ended to include him unobtrusively their presence didn't itch at him too much.

It was just as well because Severus was at heart an introvert and without the privacy of his single room he would have been going mad already surrounded by children.

It was still light outside but the torches had been lit and he enjoyed the familiar flicker of warmth on the grey stone of the castle walls. These walls have eyes. He knew this both from his tenure as Headmaster and from observing Albus over the many years he had served as faculty.

He had already passed several portraits, the occupants of whom would report to the one holding the wards and oaths of the castle if instructed. He could feel their curious gaze in a shiver down his spine. They were benevolent but he had never liked the feeling of being watched, it made him instinctualy wary although he did not allow it to cause him to adjust his gait. He would be relatively safe, he knew instinctively that the castles denizens would shield him from the omniscient eyes of the incumbent Headmaster should he ask.

It wasn't like he was doing anything suspicious anyway - for Salazar's sake he was a Ravenclaw going to the library. But he couldn't quite shirk the feeling that Albus's eye had turned towards him.

He loved the library. Nestled away amongst the towering stacks, immersed in the scent of old books and dust he found area dedicated to the Hogwarts student archives. It was even less organised than the somewhat chaotically organic sprawl of many of the more popularly frequented areas. Out of sight out of mind down a left hand turn towards the back of the maze, this small area held publicly available student information.

There were shelves of yearbooks which looked largely untouched and undisturbed since their placement there. Notifications of awards given, old playbills, concert programmes and quidditch statistics, in recent years copies of the student newsletter and photographs taken for posterity sake. Stacks and bundles of scrolls haphazardly placed on the shelves. A vortex of academic miscellany that collects in the wake of the Hogwarts attendees' march through their student careers.

Having settled at a scarred wooden table and set out supplies to take notes he looked at the shelves in front of him pensively. He eliminated from his search any student attending Hogwarts starting in the years post 1956 when Minerva had become Transfiguration professor and Albus had attained the lauded position of Headmaster. The Dark Lord had occasionally spoken of Albus as an ageing schoolmaster and the degree of animosity between then two was too pronounced to have derived from a distant relationship between a school administrator and one face in an intake of 40 or so. The dislike was too personal. This date provided the upper boundary of his search parameter.

The lower boundary was more difficult to parse as Albus had been teaching at Hogwarts since the early 1900's and the Dark Lord's body had been a magical construct in his latter years and even without that appearance in wixenkind was not an accurate predictor of age. However he was certainly young enough for Albus to have been a fully established adult when they initially met. The Headmaster had a terrible habit of continuing to refer to all those whom he had taught as children. It was condescending and manipulative. A way to belittle others opinions in a form that made it very difficult to object without looking objectionable yourself. Severus could go another lifetime without anyone calling him "My boy"

He was also seen to be closer with the generational cohort that included Corvus Lestrange, Abraxas Malfoy and Nott Sr so Severus did not think he would find answers in the earliest generations of Albus' students. He decided to set the parameter at 1930 just a school generation of seven years before the oldest of those three would enter Hogwarts.

If his search did not prove fruitful he would have to widen the search boundaries and look earlier but he was confident this was where to start. The qualifier was that the Dark Lord was known to be a Slytherin. In the biblical sense of course. While he was almost certain that this would have meant he was also a member of the school house he couldn't entirely disregard the possibility that he had been a member of one of the others as unlikely as he thought to find the man in Hufflepuff. He would take note of those Toms in other houses but investigate the Slytherins first.

Forcing a breath out through his nose he reached for the 1955 yearbook and began his search.

In the back alley bars and shaded corners of upper echelon smoking rooms whispers of discontent were growing stronger.

Tom was sitting in a shadowed booth of the White Wyvern. The atmosphere suited him and he was unlikely to be disturbed here, it had been a favoured haunt of his in the years immediately post Hogwarts when he had resided in Knockturn working at Borgin and Burke's. He sat quietly and listened to the conversations surrounding him. He had kept his fingers on the pulse of politics. Dumbledore's star was beginning to fall in Europe, the ICW's interim shadow governments put into place in the wake of Grindlewald's War ceding one after another in the latest round of European elections to more independent governments.

In his stronghold of Wizarding Britain it was quite another matter. Always contrarian to the tides of opinion on the continent the isles were heading in a much less satisfactory direction.

The Via Lucida party spearheaded by Minister Nobby Leach had presented itself as a progressive party, sporting the first Muggleborn Minister for Magic. Upon coming to majority power in the late sixties the party had promptly seized the opportunity to make change in Wizarding governments legislative body; demonstrating a devastating understanding of the complex vagaries of Wizarding Britains semi feudal society and the accompanying generations of magical vows in 1967 they had by a narrow margin and by dint of Albus Dumbledore's public support managed to abolish a large portion of the Wizengamot's hereditary seats.

The Wizengamot has 50 seats all of which used to be hereditary. Obviously the seats that were purged were not an objective percentile representation of the newly established electoral body as they should have been. The Ars Magicae leaning neutrals were the first to go. Those dark families that survived the purging were those that like the Malfoys, Blacks and Lestranges had enough wealth and social power to be intractable. However a large swathe of the moderate dark found themselves abruptly disenfranchised.

Under the guise of revitalising politics a rule was instated that no candidate could stand for reelection for a period of five years, meaning that until the 1972 elections the newly vacated seats could not be filled by the Heads of House of the aforementioned families who had just lost their hereditary seats. Other members of the families or vassal families were prevented from standing for election by their previously sworn house vows of subservience to the will of their Heads of House which would be incompatible with the necessary vows of government because of the possibility of 'undue influence' on a member of the governing body.

It was considered a massive cock up or a coup de grace depending on your point of view and cemented in the minds of many that Muggleborns were unsuited to magical government. Tom had listened to many a rant from Abraxas, bless him. Wixen as a whole were a species uncomfortable with rapid change, Tom thought this was more to do with the expected lifespan of the average wix which meant that it was a slow process for the handover of power from the old guard.

What it meant in real terms was that the Via Lucida party had a period of five years in which to introduce new legislation largely unopposed by contrary viewpoints as naturally the newly elected to government seats, often holders of ministry departmental positions leaned to supporting the incumbent governments agenda. The old families of Ars Magicae still sitting in the Wizengamot were some of the most conservative and vocally so. While they loudly opposed many of the measures brought in over the next few years it was futile as their protestations against the restriction of magic and upsetting of the balance were easily dismissed by those ignorant of their heritage and greedy for mundane power.

Disparagement of the disastrous taxation system or lack thereof regarding the muggle parents whose children were afforded an expensive magical education entirely gratis - often taken for granted when they then disappeared back into the muggle world post education taking any economic benefit with them while poorer Purebloods and Half bloods like himself did not qualify for financial support was dismissed as bigotry rather than rational concern.

Tighter restrictions on creature rights and the creation of the lycanthrope registry alienated a segment of magical society that might have otherwise been inclined to support a moderate progressive government. It was all too easy for the Light to forget about the people living in the ginnels and tenements, existing on the fringes. After all there must be something wrong with them that they find themselves in that predicament.

Tom wouldn't forget. For all that he found himself welcomed, celebrated in the ballrooms and at the dining tables of the rich now he wasn't one of them. He had grown amongst the rubble and the rats of the East End. He was a weed with roots that struck deep.

By the time of the reelections public opinion was becoming a sea of boiling resentment and reactive conservatism in certain quarters.

This was what had created the necessary conditions which would later ignite spectacularly into civil war.

And Tom would stoke the flames higher.

…..

Albus watched the boy leave the great hall walking with swift strides, posture tall in a way that belied his small stature; as if used to his path being clear. He wasn't very happy with Filius at the moment, he thought picking pensively at a cherry tart - it wasn't his favourite. It would have been better to keep the boy in with his peers, rivalry strengthens character after all. It wouldn't do to begin to isolate the boy, it might give him ideas above his station.

Perhaps he was seeing ghosts where there weren't any but when he looked at the child he found himself inexorably drawn to the past and another dark haired, sharp featured, clever boy who had charmed the staff in a way that echoed through his impression of Mr Snape in the present. His intuition told him there was more to this child with hard eyes whose magic tasted cold to his Sight. He would reserve judgement, the boy was a Ravenclaw after all. But he still found himself unable to entirely avoid comparing the two.

Perhaps he was getting old. Seeing moving shadows where there was only a talented child. His eyes had told him that Tom had returned to England and his instincts told him this time he would stay. He had been preoccupied that was the thing, his thoughts moving in old pathways. Old worries shaping his perspective. He had no need to create an enemy where there was none.

….

Severus finished his meal relatively quickly. He already had seven potential Toms (both in the diminutive form and the proper, he'd even found a Tomlyn.) on his list although none were jumping out at him as a candidate. It would get more difficult as he went earlier and the yearbooks, neatly bound and formatted with the name, face and student accomplishments or lack thereof conveniently in one place, went into obscurity - they were a rather modern phenomena. They were replaced by class lists and newsletters and photographs of entire year groups. These would require more detective work but the act of combing through those old papers had begun to soothe the gnawing anxiety low in his stomach about how little information he actually had.

He looked around the great hall while he ate

"Professor Slughorn?" He knocked on the wooden door of the man's office.

"Come in, come in! Take a seat."

He was ushered into the chair opposite an ornate mahogany desk. The chair was rather comfortable which Severus rather thought was a strategic error. He had always made certain his public office was rather unwelcoming. He didn't want to encourage the little miscreants to spend more time than necessary in his presence. Besides it had amused him to watch them squirm looking at the preserved biological specimens he kept in jars on the walls while pondering their fate after their latest misdemeanour

"Good lad, good Lad."

There was some shuffling while Slughorn situated himself into the chair opposite Severus. He rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands under his chin.

"Now I have heard some very exciting things about you Mr Snape."

When Severus had really been eleven he would have given almost anything for this, this rapt focus and acknowledgement of his skills. He had partially leaned towards Slytherin at his first sorting because of fond stories his mother had told him of her Head of house the Potions Master. He had wanted to impress this man as a way of lifting himself out of his circumstances. Of course if you try to lift your own bootstraps in a field infested with nepotism all you will accomplish is toppling arse over tit into the muck.

"I'm glad to hear it Sir. Especially from someone as esteemed as yourself."

Let it never be said that Severus Snape had spent twenty years as a Slytherin and not learnt a thing or two about the necessity of flattery. He could see Horace almost preening at the simple turn of phrase, the man could be so obvious.

"It is really quite remarkable that you have achieved so much at your age. Madame Thistlethwait has been very complimentary in our correspondence."

And mustn't that have rankled at the mans pride to be last to the carcass as it were.

"Marjory has been very kind to me Sir. I hope to prove her faith in me warranted."

He couldn't quite resist. Besides, an acknowledgement of a level of familiarity with a senior member of the guild might slow Horace's enthusiasm for attempting to take credit for any of his work. Not that he would stoop to outright plagiarism but Horace did like to bask in the reflected light of his connections.

"Ah yes, indeed." He nodded approvingly, his moustache twitching with the movement.

Time to distract him from the minor slight, though outwardly it didn't seem that it had registered with the man.

"I like your pictures Sir."

The mantle above a roaring fire was crowded with them, they spread outwards from there across the chimneypiece. Throngs of awkwardly smiling adolescents preserved at the cusp of adulthood. A glut of potential. There were students from all houses, although Slytherin was predominant among them. There were more women too in the more recent ones. Horace had always liked to be seen as liberal and progressive. All credit to him he did tend to be ahead of the social curve in his patronage.

Severus sighed internally while keeping up enthusiastic small talk with the man, asking questions about his ex students, who had done what, was he planning to travel for the Yule break or would he be hosting a gathering? Horace was relaxing as he began to wax lyrical on his favourite subjects, warming to Severus who politely nodded along and made encouraging interjections. He didn't have to like the man to appreciate his uses for someone in Severus's position.

"Which brings me to the point of our little meeting here. We at Hogwarts like to encourage talent and you my boy have talent!" Severus had to stop himself from scoffing, the man had never noticed before.

"Now we have a wonderful opportunity for you to stretch your wings per say. Professor Flitwick tells me you have your own business, quite the achievement for someone your age, though not to worry, not to worry he quite refused to divulge the details. Quite prudent of you I must say. Though I'm sure you wouldn't say no to giving your old Professor a hint?"

"Now we are going to organise a lab space for you to continue your studies, this will give us the opportunity to evaluate your brewing personally. Just a formality you understand. We would like offer you the honour and privilege of brewing for Hogwarts. I am not as young as I was and I am a man with many demands upon my time. I could use the assistance and it would be quite the coup for yourself."

Then negotiations began. Severus was intimately aware of the demands and time commitment involved in brewing for the Hogwarts infirmary. He was confident that his brews would pass muster and Horace was inclined to be somewhat indulgent towards the precocious young man.

Payment to be on a sliding scale in reference to the difficulty level of the potions brewed, with additional discount for bulk orders. Payscale subject to annual review. Any new discoveries would remain Severus' intellectual property as an independent Guild member rather than belonging to Hogwarts as an academic institution. He fought hard for that concession as it meant he would have to be hired as a contractor under Horace as resident Potions Master as was well within his rights to do rather than directly employed by Hogwarts.

Eventually a prospective agreement was reached which was tentatively satisfactory for all parties. They had both quite enjoyed the back and forth.

"I appreciate the opportunity Sir. I won't abuse the privilege." He left with a respectful bow, his business concluded for now.