I Was Right
Chapter 4: Light, Dark, and Light
Three weeks later they had a Hogsmeade visiting weekend. Normally Snape did not like these visits, and would have avoided them altogether if it were not for his friends. This time, though, he found himself actually looking forward to it for the first time.
The morning of the visit, he remembered that girls didn't like unwashed hair. Mei-lin was forever driving him crazy about it, but for the most part he'd ignored her. Now, however, he washed it nervously, not once but twice, and hoped it was enough.
He took leave of the gang at a quarter to two, saying he had supplies to buy, and made his way to the Three Broomsticks.
He was slightly early. And there was no sign of Hogwarts students yet. Feeling slightly out of place, never having come here alone before, he looked around and entered the deepest nook he could find, nearly hidden from view with potted plants. He wondered briefly if Evans would be offended, but decided she would not care to be seen with a Slytherin herself. He sat down and waited.
About ten minutes later the redheaded girl appeared in the doorway, breathing on her fingers to warm them. She looked around uncertainly as he had done. He flicked his wand and let out a small spray of sparks. It caught her eye--she smiled and quickly made her way over.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, sitting down across from him.
"I imagine you had a job shaking your friends off," he said dryly.
She looked at him a moment. "As a matter of fact, I did."
"What story did you feed them?"
"Actually, I said I was meeting Indira. She's buying books in a used-book shop, though." She looked down, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I'm the one who asked to--"
"Don't get started," Snape interrupted. "As you wouldn't let me apologize to you, it would be only fair that I get the pleasure this time."
She looked at him, slightly taken aback, and stood up. "I'll get the drinks," she said, and made her way past the potted plants to the bar.
She returned with two foaming tankards and set them down. "Know what?" She said as she slid into her seat. "I don't think this is Severus Snape I'm talking to. I think you're someone else who drank Polyjuice Potion with his hair in it."
He was pleasantly surprised. Not many students actually remembered the Polyjuice Potion, something that had been mentioned only briefly in class.
"As a matter of fact, I'm not," he replied, playing along. "Snape is tied up and gagged, writhing in the caretaker's broom closet."
"Oh." She smiled playfully. "And why did you do a thing like that, stranger?"
"It's not as if half the boys in school wouldn't kill for a butterbeer with you, Evans," he said lightly. Then, realizing what he had just said, he felt like kicking himself under table. What would she think of him? It was not as if this were a date, and he was a Slytherin to boot! Besides, everyone knew Potter and Evans were an item--which had been another excellent reason for his tormenting her.
Thankfully, though, she seemed to take this at face value, and chuckled. "Boy, I wish James could hear that." Was it his imagination that he saw something like anger or--hurt--cross her face when she spoke Potter's name?
"So if you're not Snape, what do I call you?" She asked after another sip of butterbeer.
"Severus, perhaps," he said flippantly, surprising himself again. He had never asked anyone outside his gang to be called by his first name.
"You know that's really lame, don't you?" She shot, but they laughed anyway. Butterbeer's making me tipsy, Severus told himself.
"And while we're at it, you shall now call me Lily," she grinned, and they both took sips of butterbeer in sudden silence.
"Butterbeer's getting cold," he exclaimed in mock horror, putting his down. "I move that we drain them at once--whoever finishes last will buy the next drinks."
"Wait, no fair! You've got the advantage, since you're a boy!" Lily laughed.
"Well, I did kind of save your life," Severus jabbed.
"Ooh, you Slytherin!" But she was smiling, and they lifted their tankards to drain them.
Lily finished her drink first, however, and after one more butterbeer each they left, separately and with an interval in between.
When Severus returned home over the summer after finishing his third year, he found the isolated and run-down Snape Manor a very busy place indeed. They had houseguests, scores of them sometimes. Piles of goods and gold would pass through the house, and meetings would be held.
Worst of all, Septimius would sometimes clutch at his left arm with his right as if in pain; he would Disapparate with other..houseguests..who happened to be around, who also showed the same peculiar behavior--and the next morning The Daily Prophet would proclaim yet another attack or disappearance.
Throughout the summer Severus tried to ignore it all. He delved into books with a hunger born of desperation to avoid reality, reading tirelessly about curses that melted bones and curdled blood(literally), potions that would madden, blind, and kill; he tried to imagine power, vengeance, recognition, the deep and dark joy of knowledge. He tried not to hear the mysterious screams from the basements that drifted up to where he slept; turned a blind eye when he found some of the vilest potions of his concoction gone from their shelves.
He stowed himself away into his lab to avoid Mother and Septimius, for whenever he came face to face with one or both of them, few as such occasions were, he would get into bitter arguments over one thing or another.
During the last of them Severus had spat, "What kind of self-respecting wizards call themselves Death Eaters, anyway? Or do you really dig rotting corpses up from graves to eat them? No wonder you stink, Septimius."
Septimius Snape had sent his little brother halfway across the room when he struck him across the face.
"Nevertheless, Severus, you are one of us--Junior Death Eater, if you like," the cold voice had mocked while Severus picked himself up with a baleful glare.
"Why else did you let us use your potions?--And most useful they were, we thank you. And why did you study the Dark Arts so avidly at so early an age, if you did not dream of serving someone like Lord Voldemort one day?"
Why, indeed? Severus stared up at his brother for a long moment, trying to figure it out. Then it struck him. Because, he thought, unable to stop the sudden and sickening realization from dawning upon him, the Dark Arts was all you and Mother cared about. I thought that if I knew enough about it, lived up to your expectations, the two of you would love me. Trembling, he turned and ran from this truth, from Septimius' cold, dark eyes and into his lab.
"Reducto!" He screamed when he reached the door, and it splintered before him. He strode into the cold, half-underground room, stumbling blindly on the fragments of the door.
He stood there for nearly half an hour in icy, unbelieving rage at what he had thrown most of his young life into. Useless, he heard that voice scream in his head again. Didn't you know it was useless to hope? Did you honestly hope for love from a woman leeched of all life and warmth as surely as by a horde of Dementors, from a brother long since driven off the edge by hatred and ambition?
He then brewed a concoction of aconite and nightshade that would kill instantly and without pain. He hardly knew what he wanted to do with it, except that he just wanted an end to everything--Mother, Septimius, Death Eaters, Voldemort, all the vile knowledge and dark fascination that tainted his mind, the hatred, the insecurity and the ache of longing.
After hours of work he looked closely at the vial of poison, hesitating. Then, with the violent anger of those uncertain of themselve he dashed it against the wall and proceeded to destroy his entire lab. He melted the cauldrons; scorched the potion materials to so much black cinder; shattered the jars and vials holding the potions(many of which melted or burned the stone floor); set fire to the rolls of parchment full of painstaking recordings of experiments.
As he sat numbly among the blackened mass of things, his heart nearly stopped when he turned his head to see his mother standing in the doorway where he had knocked down the door. He had no idea how long she had been standing there, watching him.
Standing tall and straight in the doorway that framed her, Juno Snape's black eyes looked very nearly amused as she saw her younger son turn his glazed eyes her way.
"You'll rebuild it all, you know," she commented with the cool air of someone who was entirely sure of what she was saying.
And he did.
When he gladly left home for the start of term and his fourth year began, tensions ran high at Hogwarts as the atmosphere became steadily grimmer outside the school. News of attacks on wizards who refused to turn or on Muggle-borns and Muggles were splashed across the Daily Prophet every day. Sudden, unexplained disappearances were increasing at an alarming rate, only to be explained very horribly later on in the form of dead bodies or gibbering, broken wizards and witches.
The very name "Voldemort" did not pass the lips of many witches and wizards without fear in their voices and furtive glances, as if his red eyes might be watching them from some dark corner. The Ministry's pleas for the wizarding community to remain calm did little good, and slowly a subdued gloom, masking a tangled web of confusion, mistrust, and division, spread over the wizarding world. And Hogwarts was feeling the strain.
Ever since the Avada Kedavra incident things were turning uglier and uglier between Snape and Professor Redwood, their Herbology professor. Now that Lord Voldemort (or You-Know-Who as many preferred to call him by then) was steadily gaining the upper hand in his campaign of terror, Redwood seemed to blame it on the Slytherins, particularly Snape.
He wasn't far off his mark: It was common knowledge that the vast majority of wizards and witches gone over to the Dark side were former Slytherins, with their children in Slytherin in most cases. The mood in Slytherin couldn't be more different from that of other Houses of Hogwarts. They were jubilant, excited--there was the occasional rage or grief at the death of family or family friends, mostly at the hands of Aurors, but on the whole Slytherin House was a strangely uplifted place in those times of darkness.
And Snape knew his mother and brother were playing no small part in Lord Voldemort's plans. He had to accept reality now--Mother and Septimius were Death Eaters, he himself was on his way to being one.
"I can't wait to graduate," Rosier declared in Herbology class, breaking through Snape's fog of thoughts. "Things are happening out there, and here we are, cooped up under the Old Fool's eyes!"
"Our time will come," Mei-lin smiled. "Patience, Evan."
"Quiet, Redwood's looking this way," Snape hissed.
"Snape," growled Redwood, "daydreaming and then talking in class? Five points off Slytherin."
"Great," Snape muttered under his breath.
"Since you seem so unrepentent, Snape," Redwood said, glowering, "let's see how much you know about the subject at hand. What are some other names for aconite?"
"Monkshood, wolfsbane, Friar's Cap," Snape replied evenly.
"Its magical application?" Redwood seemed a little taken aback--Herbology was not Snape's best subject. Snape had worked with this particular plant far too often not to know it inside out, though.
"Discounting a few old wives' tales," Snape said, "its principle application is as a strong repellant against werewolves, as its other name of wolfsbane implies. They cannot come near a person wearing aconite, and cannot pass doorways hung with the plants. It is also said it could be used to cure werewolves but this is purely fiction, resulting only in the death of certain unfortunate victims." A distinctly unpleasant tone entered his voice, and the Slytherins sniggered. They cared even less for werecreatures than they did for Mudbloods.
"However, potions containing wolfsbane are used to treat the poisoning and swelling of werewolf bites and scratches, whatever good that does when the more significant and permanent result of bites cannot be reversed. The possibility of developing a potion for controlling werewolf behavior during the full moon is being discussed, but it remains a remote possibility as yet."
Redwood glared at him. "And if you know it so well, describe the poisonous properties of aconite, please."
"A deadly poison," Snape said avidly, shooting Redwood a look calculated for discomfort. "As little as two to five milliliters of its extraction may kill an adult, and children may die merely through prolonged touch. Symptoms of poisoning include pricking, tingling, or numbness in the mouth, nausea, vomiting, loss of balance, numbness in the limbs, difficulty in breathing--and death results from failure of the heart and lungs." Oh, how he had pored over every lurid detail, luxuriating in the details and illustrations.
There was a long pause. Everyone watched with anticipation--the look on Redwood's face was not something to be taken lightly. They had expected disappointment, perhaps, or even anger, but not the look of fear and revulsion on his face.
"Remarkable," the professor spoke at last. "Quite remarkable." He moved closer to the table where Snape sat with Rosier, Lestrange, and Jin. "How," he continued in a barely contained voice, "do you know so much about one of the most poisonous plants in Europe?"
"Perhaps because I study, Professor Redwood," Snape said in a silky voice, but he was slightly uneasy. He didn't like the look of things at all.
"Or because you have had experience, young Snape." Redwood's voice was a deep growl now, the revulsion on his face giving way to a palpable rage and hatred.
Snape's heart raced. Young Snape? Could it possibly be that Redwood knew of the activities of Juno and Septimius Snape?
"Yes, Snape, I know who you and your family are-"
"I know who you are," Snape interrupted, desperate not to let Redwood continue. He twisted his face into a mask of derision and put venomous, dripping sarcasm into his voice--if he could channel Redwood's anger his way alone, he might stop him from blabbing about his family. "A poor excuse for a professor, if you need a student to teach your lesson for you."
The results were a bit more flamboyant than he had intended: Unexpectedly, Redwood whipped out his wand, and the next thing Snape knew, he was flying backward across the greenhouse. His head struck something hard, and he blacked out.
"Severus!" A concerned voice called behind him as he walked down a deserted corridor, and he turned around to face Lily Evans.
"Severus, are you all right now?"
It was two days after the incident at Herbology class; Snape had been taken to the hospital wing, where he had come around soon enough. His head was cut and bleeding from striking the greenhouse wall(magically strengthened against breaking), but he was soon healed and was back to normal by the next day. The same couldn't be said of Redwood, though...
"Lily," he smiled at his friend. "I'm fine."
She looked him over as if to see if this was true; then her green eyes broke into a relieved smile. "I'm glad to hear that. I heard you had a rather nasty crash on the head."
"I'll say," he replied as she fell into step beside him. "You know Madam Pomfrey, though."
Of course, this wasn't what he planned to say in front of the school board when they met to discuss Redwood's fate. He had it all worked out with his fellow Slytherins; how he would testify that he had experienced nausea, vomiting, loss of balance, numbness in the limbs, difficulty in breathing. He sniggered inwardly. This would sound rather like the symptoms of aconite poisoning he had rattled off in Herbology class, and he would love to see the look on Redwood's face when he mentioned them.
"So how was summer?" She asked. Severus had specifically asked her not to send him any owls over the summer and did not send any himself, passing off some excuse about bird traps on the premises. He didn't want Mother or Septimius to find out, by the remotest chance, where Lily lived, or even Lily's existence. It would have been too dangerous.
"Fine," he lied. "I mostly kept out of Mother and Septimius' way." It was amazing how he had been able to tell her almost everything; Lily knew that Severus loathed his mother and older brother, though she didn't know what they did...
"As I kept out of Petunia's," Lily grinned.
"So how was your summer?" Severus asked.
"Great, considering. I even got to visit James' family!"
"Great," Severus repeated, "but spare me the details."
Lily rolled her eyes, then laughed. She had come to accept the fact that her boyfriend, James, and her newfound friend, Severus, did not like each other and probably never would.
"We had Herbology today," She said, suddenly sober.
"So did we," Snape said carelessly, then grinned. "Redwood wasn't there."
"When is the hearing?" Lily asked, her voice still subdued.
"Tomorrow." His grin widened even more. "Abusing, attacking, and injuring a student in class. We've got him for sure! He'll be kicked out of school so fast-"
"Severus," she said quietly, "we need to talk."
The smirk faded off his face. "About what?"
"Did you know that Professor Redwood lost his entire family to Grindelwald's minions--through the Avada Kedavra curse?"
Snape just stared at her for a second, mouth hanging open. "So that was Redwood's problem!" He said at last. "He completely freaked because I-"
"Yes."
"I mean, but that's stupid!" Snape burst out angrily. "It's not as if I used it on humans or anything. Treating me like dirt because he can't get over his own problems-"
"He was six years old when it happened," Lily said patiently. "His parents barely had time to hide him in a closet when they came. All his parents and older siblings were killed as he watched, and he'd have been found and killed, too, if Aurors had not closed in at that moment. He didn't speak for two years afterwards."
"Whoa. Touching," Severus sneered.
She looked at him steadily. "Also, Professor Redwood has wanted to resign and become an Auror for some time, ("Figures," Snape muttered) but couldn't until there was a position open, and another Herbology professor could be found. Both happened yesterday, though."
Realization dawned on him. "And he completely blew his chances two days ago. An attack on a fourteen-year-old student will look terrible on his resume." He could have danced for joy, but kept his face impassive for Lily's sake.
"Yes."
He looked at her suspiciously. "Are you trying to tell me something?" He had this queasy feeling..
"I want you to try and get him off. When you speak before the school board and professors tomorrow."
This took a moment to sink in. Once it did, Severus looked at her in utter disbelief. "Are you crazy, Lily? Speak for him? I've been waiting for something like this forever!"
"Severus, Professor Redwood is a wizard of great power-"
"I know. I've had firsthand experience," he interrupted.
"-And I know he'll make a great Auror. He is also extremely dedicated to fighting the Dark Arts-"
"Which I also know," Snape interjected.
"Will you deprive our side of such a powerful opponent to the Dark? And though his behavior to you was inexcusable this past year, will you let your own professor sit out on the street without a job?"
"If he deserves it, I will!" He shouted. The 'our side' bit had irked him. His side? Which was that, anyway? All he cared was that he hated Redwood, and would do anything to see him sacked dishonorably.
"No, you won't," Lily said with perfect certainty. "You'll forgive him, and give him a second chance."
"I'm not a forgiving person, Lily," he said, turning his eyes away.
"Come on, Severus," she said softly. "Have I ever asked a favor of you before? This is the first time I ask one of you, as a friend. If only for my sake, tell the school board that Professor Redwood made a mistake, but can and will make up for it."
He looked at her. All those old grudges, the bitterness, the insults, and that moment of panic when he thought his family's role would be revealed--all swirled inside him, then disappeared as he looked into her clear eyes. And she said--as a friend. This was his one true friend, the only one he had ever had.
"Oh, all right," he said heavily at long last. "This had better not get out, though. The Slytherins will think I'm getting soft."
"I'll carry it to my grave," Lily said, her face lighting up. "Thank you, Severus--I might even let you off washing your hair for a week!" She said, pulling at his shiny hair.
He made a playful swipe at her, which she ducked, and they took separate paths for the Great Hall to eat.
So, when he was excused from Transfiguration the next day to testify before the school governors, Severus Snape dropped the stuff he and his Slytherins had planned to make Redwod look bad. Instead, he swore Redwood was an honorable, dedicated professor who was never unfair to him, he didn't hold Redwood at fault for what had happened, and neither should the school.
He insisted, though it galled him, that his own insolent and threatening attitude had given the Professor reasons to lose his head, and that Redwood's career should not suffer for such a blameless, though unfortunate, incident.
All through his testimony Redwood looked like he was going to burst with embarrassment at his least favorite student's lies in his behalf. Looking at him, Snape was reminded of Lily's lecturing him on some Muggle thing about heaping coals of fire upon one's enemy's head (though it sounded like something horrible that Septimius would literally do), and felt some sense of satisfaction.
Well, Lily, he thought as he was finally excused and was going down the stairs back to his common room, if Redwood doesn't get off, at least you can't say it's my fault.
Unfortunately, Redwood did get off. He didn't get fired--he took a pay cut for three months, with no mention of the incident on his records.
A pay cut. To someone who was going to resign anyway. He'd as good as gotten away scot-free. A week later, word came that he'd been accepted to be an Auror with the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Redwood's last dinner at Hogwarts took place in an oddly divided mood, with Slytherins looking angry and confused (Snape no less than the others at his overly well-done job) and the rest of the school exultant over the Slytherins' botched attempt at getting Professor Redwood fired and out of work.
Snape noticed, with some satisfaction, that Redwood could hardly look his way and looked perpetually embarrassed. Dumbledore, on the other hand, met his eyes quite often with a merry twinkle in his own that made Snape feel ill.
He was just leaving the Hall with the other disgruntled Slytherins when he heard his name called.
"Snape!"
He turned around and his lips curled to see Redwood standing there, having broken away for a moment from the mass of students and professors wanting to say good-bye. He approached with one hand outstretched, and Snape took a step back, not bothering to wipe the look of dislike and anger out of his face.
"Snape," Redwood began hesitantly, "I'd like to apologize for the past year--and I hope we can part friends. Also, I'd like to say-"
Snape panicked. If Redwood said "thank you," the Slytherins would know what he had done. He couldn't let that happen.
"A nice life to you, Redwood," he sneered, interrupting. As Redwood had already handed in his resignation he was technically no longer a professor. "I heard the death rate for Aurors is thirty per cent and still climbing. You just may add to it with your wand-happy ways." He sidestepped Redwood's still-outstretched hand as if it were a squashed slug, purposefully turned his back on him, and stalked out the Great Hall.
He heard a brief commotion in the Hall behind him, people murmuring to each other. Some were more outspoken: Black's voice could be heard to say, "Why that slimy--" while Potter said, "Ignore him, Professor. He's just angry he couldn't do you in." Then he turned a corner and the voices were cut off.
But one thing made up for everything else when he found a note in his pocket the next week after Potions:
Thank you. I now free you of hair-washing for seven days.
He grinned and tucked the note away with care, though he didn't use the privilege.
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