I Was Right
Chapter 7: Letters
Life as a Slytherin was becoming steadily more tiring for Snape as it became clear his Housemates were not keen to forgive him. When it became evident they could not match him in the variety and sheer nastiness of hexes, they resorted to more inane devices. Finally, tired of having his bed shortsheeted and his homework stolen, he protected his possessions with a Shriveling Curse.
Baddock, however, was not amused when Avery came to him with wrinkled hands half their normal size. Snape ended up scrubbing Moaning Myrtle's bathroom while the ghost plunged in and out of toilets and sinks, wailing how they wouldn't leave her alone even after death. He hardly cared--she was positively pleasant company after his roommates, anyway.
Thus when a note from Lily arrived one evening, he jumped at the chance to see her. Not only had he missed her like crazy, it would be a welcome relief from the ostracism and unpleasantness he had to put up with. What did it matter if the time and place were a bit odd? The note did say she had something special to show him.
He came to the appointed junction of the deserted hallway at ten. Emerging from the shadows, his heart leapt to see Lily standing ahead, just in sight around a corner. He was about to call out when he froze in his tracks.
James Potter's voice called "Lily, you're late!" seemingly out of nowhere. Lily looked around, looking confused. "James?"
Then James Potter himself materialized out of thin air, pulling off a silvery cloak as he did so. Snape instinctively flattened himself to the wall.
An invisibility cloak! Snape was barely surprised at the discovery, however, having to deal with a far more bewildering tangle of emotions just then. The next exchange to take place, however, made everything clear.
"James, what are you doing here?" Lily asked.
"Lily?" Potter sounded completely confounded. "You-you sent me the note asking me to come here at ten minutes before ten."
Lily was silent.
"And obviously, you were expecting to see Snape here," Potter said, understanding dawning in his voice.
"We've been set up," she said in a small voice. "It must have been Handwriting-altering charms."
"I can't believe I fell for the oldest trick in the book!" Potter exclaimed exaperatedly. "Whatever their intentions were, I'll get back at the Slytherins for this."
Snape agreed silently. A Shriveling Curse was too tame--he'd find something. First he'd get Avery, who was definitely involved, then Rosier and Wilkes. He would also let Lestrange and Jin have it, whether they were involved or not.
Just then all three heard the most unwelcome sound imaginable at the moment--footsteps.
"Oh, no--it must be Pringle on his rounds!" Lily whispered.
"Quick!" Potter, to Severus' ire, grabbed Lily by the arm and led her into a side passage. Severus himself ducked into the nearest passage, knowing he'd get lost if he did not retrace his exact steps back, but driven by the urgency of the situation.
He watched the main passage from where he stood, ready to go deeper into the passage the moment Pringle's footsteps showed signs of turning his way.
"I've been told I would find three students here," muttered the sharp, high-strung voice of Apollyon Pringle. "We'll split up to find them, Azazel, my pretty," he said, addressing his pet lynx.
Snape almost didn't hear the caretaker before he came on him. To escape him, he blindly rushed along the hallway without knowing where he was headed--he was lost. Then nearly laughed with relief when he saw the statue of Baldric the Bald ahead. Every half-baked Slytherin second year knew you only had to take the hallway that the bald wizard's statue faced to take the alternate course to the Slytherin dungeons.
Still grinning at his good luck, he headed toward the statue, then paused. He thought of Potter and Lily together in the depths of the unused parts of the castle..
He shook off the thought. He trusted Lily. Didn't she trust him when there was hardly anything trustworthy about him? The least he could give back was his own unconditional belief in her.
So, what were Avery and his lot up to? He wondered as he turned left at Baldric's statue and headed down the branching corridor. Trying to get points shaved off both Slytherin and Gryffindor in one stroke? Such grand consideration for Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, he thought sarcastically. Well, no matter, they'd regret that dumb trick soon enough...
He came to a dead stop. He had stepped into another passage into the shadow of a huge ogre statue on his right-hand side. This new passage met perpendicularly with another passage on his right--and Lily standing with Potter at her side in the passage to the right, on the other side of the statue. He could see them clearly but they couldn't see him, hidden as he was by the ogre.
"Did we lose her?" Panted Lily.
"I think so," Potter replied, himself out of breath.
Snape cursed inwardly. This wasn't the way back to the dungeons. The castle could have shifted around, it was always doing that. Except that the coincidence was a tad too interesting.. The better explaination was that Baldric the Bald had been moved.
Same conclusion either way--he was hopelessly lost, not to mention trapped: Show himself now, and both Lily and Potter, well definitely Potter, anyway, would think he was behind this. Who would believe him if he said he was set up as much as they were? Go back the way he came, though, and he could wander till break of day, and most likely get caught.
His best chance was to hope they knew the way better than he did, and follow them without revealing himself until he came to a familiar part of the castle.
While he came to this conclusion, there was an awkward pause between Lily and Potter.
"Well, we'd better get going, then," Lily said uncertainly, and turned away.
Hers was not the only heart that sank when Potter took a step after her and held her by the wrist, saying "Lily, wait."
"James, Pringle might come this way any moment and-"
"Lily, I miss you so much." The words rang trembling in the dark hallway and hung in the air, the desperate tone almost visible and tangible.
"James-" she protested weakly, but did not move away when Potter drew nearer.
"I need you, Lily," the boy went on, his words coming in an unplanned and sincere rush. "Can't you reconsider? Please forgive me for being such a jerk--I see now that I took you for granted, the most precious-"
There was a long moment while the two looked silently into each other's eyes. Snape knew what Potter saw--her clear green eyes shining in her white, delicate face, her hair pale fire in the darkness. Finally, at a loss for words, James Potter's lips closed over Lily Evans' deeply, passionately.
Snape tore his disbelieving eyes away, feeling like a dirty sneak, but not before he saw her arms clasp Potter's neck almost convulsively after the first moment of numb shock. He knew what made her cling to her ex-boyfriend like that as if she were drowning--it was something he himself could never give her, something beyond reason and beyond control.
Then he heard Lily's voice again. "No!" She said, and he raised his eyes to see she had broken away, Potter looking shocked and distraught. "No, I can't, James. I-I'm sorry." She sounded close to tears. She hastily turned to go, then froze. "Azazel!" She hissed.
Snape turned to his left. Sure enough, the lynx's malicious eyes were gleaming in the passageway. It hadn't seen him, hidden as he was in the shadows, but it certainly had seen the other two.
"Let's go before she fetches Pringle," Lily said, but Potter stood, dejected, as if rooted to the spot. "Come on, James!"
Azazel had already turned around to slink off when Snape pointed his wand her way and whispered a Befuddlement Curse. It yowled confusedly and started going in circles, stumbling over its own legs.
Potter seemed to come around a little at this. "What's making her behave like that?" He said suspiciously.
"Who cares? Come on!" Lily practically dragged him away, and Snape stared moodily at the now practically dancing Azazel as their footsteps died away.
After a while he went in the direction the other two had gone, the only certainties in his mind being that Lily was the best thing that had ever happened in his life, and the most painful. And that he hated Potter for all both of them were worth.
He never mentioned the incident to Lily as October wore into November. Nor did he wreak vengeance on the Avery or anyone else--it seemed as if acknowledging what had happened in any way would break something, a fragile balance. He and Lily still met whenever they could, and they still talked, studied, and shared wonderful moments together.
And slowly, he was starting to hope for something he had never dared hope for before--that maybe, just maybe, this was more than teenage hormones(there certainly weren't a lot of hormones involved anyway) and he might have moments like these all his life... that light and happiness could really be his.
And then, he received a letter over breakfast.
Snape was very surprised (to say the least) to receive owl mail--he hadn't received any mail at all during his years at Hogwarts, since all his friends were at school with him and his family were not the letter-writing type. He had even found out Septimius' return to England through the Daily Prophet.
The envelope said it was from his brother; and, though he railed at himself for being a fool, his hands nevertheless shook a bit and his stomach did weird flip-flops as he opened it.
His heart sank as he read the brief letter and looked at the slip of parchment enclosed with it. At that moment Lestrange, just finished with his own correspondence, noticed Snape holding one.
"Snape! You've got mail!" He exclaimed mockingly. "I don't believe it! Did someone die? Or are your family going to disown you at last?"
Wilkes looked Snape's way and saw the look on his face. "What's the matter, Snape? Wrong address?" He asked snidely.
Snape scowled as he put the two pieces of parchment face down on the table. "None of your business, Wilkes." He began shoveling down his food.
"Well, then, let's see what Snapey's got!" Avery snatched the letter and the enclosed slip, holding it out of Snape's grasp as he perused the contents.
"So your mother's sick, huh?" Sneered Avery. "Figures--why else would they write you?"
"What, you mean someone wants to see that on her deathbed?" Laughed Rosier.
Seizing his chance while Avery guffawed like an idiot, Snape kicked him under the table--hard. He took the pieces of parchment back as Avery gave a yelp and reached down to grab his shin.
Deciding he'd had enough of breakfast with his fellow Slytherins, he stood up and strode over to the staff table to where Baddock sat.
"I need leave from school for a day," he said, shoving the two pieces of parchment practically under the professor's nose and ignoring the glare he got. He knew he was being horribly rude, but so what? "It says here my mother is ill--my brother is asking me to come see her at St. Mungo's."
Baddock looked first at the letter, then at the enclosed parchment which was a diagnosis from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries stating Mrs. Juno Snape was recovering from a hex-induced coma.
"Is this genuine?" Growled Baddock, sounding remarkably like Redwood, the former Herbology professor, had when addressing Snape.
"I wouldn't tell you if it isn't, would I?" Snape answered coldly. "If you won't sign a permission slip, I'm sure the headmaster will." He knew Baddock wouldn't stand for that, not after the way he'd been at Dumbledore's throat since the little stunt at the welcoming feast two months ago.
Sure enough, Baddock conjured a permission slip, signed it, and flung it across the table. Snape caught it, and stopped by the Slytherin table just long enough to retrieve his bag. Dodging the feet that shot out to trip him, he gave a small, reassuring nod in the direction of the Gryffindor table and walked out the Great Hall.
He was back by evening, and went straight to bed, ignoring his roommates' sarcastic remarks and not bothering to ask about homework, since he would get no response or fake ones. He'd ask the professors themselves. If he looked a little vague and confused, no one took notice.
Several days later, Snape was lounging in the common room after classes, thinking of Lily and trying to work on a History of Magic essay, when Baddock entered.
Everyone stared: The last time Baddock had come to their common room was the time he had boycotted the welcoming feast with the Slytherin sixth and seventh years. The few other times, he had had serious announcements to make.
Snape's heart sank when his Head of House walked toward the table where he was sitting alone. What now? He furiously racked his brain for things he might have done, but came up blank. Or did Baddock know he had been wandering the halls at night? Had Avery and the others told him?
Baddock stood before his table, the whole common room watching. Snape looked up, trying to look as indifferent and disdaining as he could, but the look on the professor's face froze him cold. Baddock did not look angry or menacing--in the firelight, he had a look on his face like someone had died.
"Snape," he said in a low, strained voice, "Professor McGonagall's study. Now."
Snape put both hands on the table and stood up, mechanically, slowly. Dumbledore was in London, and McGonagall was acting Headmistress. This had to be serious.
As he headed out the common room with Baddock, Rosier, who was sitting at the other side of the room, called, "What, are they going to expel you at last, Snape?" They had learned from two months' experience that it was safe to insult Snape in Baddock's presence.
Which was why Snape was as startled as everyone else when Baddock turned on Rosier furiously and snarled, "Detention, Rosier. Report to me tomorrow after class."
Now Snape was getting really worried. Though at least it didn't look like he would be expelled...
When he entered McGonagall's prim and severe study on the first floor, the first thing he saw was McGonagall also looking like someone had died. Only, mingled in that distraught look was an expression of the utmost fury, turning the butterflies in his stomach to solid rocks.
The next thing he saw was men in uniform--official-looking navy blue robes.
And then he saw Redwood, his former Herbology professor and one of his least favorite people, standing before McGonagall's desk in the same navy blue. He looked gaunter and tougher than before, and somehow taller, but it was him, all right--the professor-turned Auror.
So these were Aurors, Dark wizard catchers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He forced himself to keep breathing, and not too deeply or too shallowly. What were they doing here?
"There he is," Redwood said, turning to the door as he and Baddock entered. "Severus Snape--Alexander and Juno Snape's son, Septimius Snape's younger brother."
"But sir, he's just a boy," a very junior-looking Auror said dubiously. He did not even wear the Auror badge signifying the rising sun. You're no sage old man yourself, Severus snorted inwardly. He looked rather familiar..
"Of course he is, Longbottom. What did you expect?" Retorted Redwood. "That's why they used him." Now he remembered the man--or boy, rather: Frank Longbottom, a Gryffindor just two or three years his senior. So he had gotten into an Auror apprenticeship. How impressive.
"If they did use him," Longbottom shot back. If he felt nervous about contradicting his superior, he didn't show it.
"What kind of talk is this?" McGonagall interrupted, angrier than Snape had ever seen her. "I tell you, you are not going to take a student out of this school! Ryder, I never thought you'd-"
"Do you know what is at stake here, Minerva?" Redwood faced her, equally furious. As he turned his head, Severus clearly saw a long and livid scar down the side of his face and neck. "If we cannot find a location, or a link, lives may be lost before the day is out! This boy is the only key!"
"No," McGonagall said, though her voice was weaker. "Dumbledore would never allow this."
"Would Dumbledore allow lives to be lost through indecision? Would we have come here to drag a boy out of school if we had any other way?"
"At least let me send an owl-"
"And how long before we get an answer? You know his business there cannot be interrupted."
"Snape will not leave the school grounds," McGonagall said again, with more stubbornness than conviction.
"Minerva," Redwood lowered his voice, "you know Dumbledore left you in charge because he trusted you to make decisions in his absence. The stakes are simply too high for you to hide behind him."
McGonagall was not to be manipulated so easily. "You need information, you may interrogate him. How many times must I tell you that? But it will take place at this school, with a teacher and a legal guardian in attendance."
Redwood flung up his hands. "Legal guardian--you mean his Death Eater mother that we're trying to locate?"
McGonagall flinched, her eyes momentarily flickering in Snape's direction. "Agent Redwood, I advise you to watch your mouth!" She snapped. Don't lose it, Snape entreated silently, as his predicament loomed over him. You're my only hope here..
"No, you watch your mouth!" Everyone in the room started at the force in Redwood's voice. Everyone tensed as he put a hand in his robes, but it was to draw out a sheaf of parchment, which he thrust onto McGonagall's desk. She picked up the pieces of parchment.
"Warrants?" Her voice was shaking.
"For most of the older students of Slytherin House," Redwood said in a low voice. "Alan Lestrange and Evan Rosier are prominent, for we have reason to suspect their actual involvement in Dark Arts activity; Avery, for witholding information; Mulciber, for-"
"Is this a threat?" McGonagall exclaimed, cutting him off.
"Only a statement of facts, Professor McGonagall," Redwood said calmly. "If Snape here can give us the information we need in time, we don't think we'll be needing to use those warrants."
"You're bluffing," Baddock cut in angrily, speaking for the first time. "You know very well you can't arrest a dozen students on flimsy suspicions."
"Does being in school automatically guarantee lily-white innocence?" Redwood's eyes flashed, and glanced briefly in Snape's direction, making him flinch. "I swear, Baddock, Professor McGonagall, I will do what I have to do, whatever you or Albus Dumbledore have to say about it."
"You're trying to destroy Slytherin House!" Baddock pointed an accusing finger at the former Professor. He was trembling with fury. "The moment you publicly arrest Slytherin students, parents will be withdrawing their children, and the House will lose all credibility!"
There was a short but pregnant silence following his outburst.
"Agent Redwood, I refuse to give in to such threats," McGonagall said more calmly than before. "We here at the school are entrusted with the children's safety and well-being as well as their education; and I cannot allow a student to be pulled from the school without protection on the mere base of suspicion. Now please, accept our conditions for interrogation or leave us."
"Fine," growled Redwood. "But we're not leaving by ourselves. We have the warrants, and we'll take these thirteen students with us." He pointed to her desk.
"Agent-" McGonagall went even whiter, and she gripped the edge of her desk.
"Send the summons now, Professor," barked the Auror. "Have these students brought here, and we will-"
"But sir!" Exclaimed Longbottom, clearly outraged.
"Bastard!" Yelled Baddock.
"Stop it!" Snape heard himself shout over the uproar. "You're acting like idiots!"
Immediately ten eyes shot in his direction, and none of their owners seemed in the mood to be called an idiot by a sixteen-year-old boy. He gulped.
"I'll go with these gentlemen," he went on, trying not to choke on the sudden dryness in his throat. "It's the obvious solution. I don't know anything anyway, and they'll realize their mistake soon enough." Baddock was right--arrests of such a scale really would destroy Slytherin. As much as he loathed his Housemates, where would he belong if all the life was gone from the House?
Redwood turned to McGonagall. "Voluntary accompaniment, Minerva," he said with infuriating calm. "You have only to give your assent."
McGonagall's nostrils were white and flared; her fist was clenched in a white-knuckled grip. Severus had the sudden wild hope that she might break Redwood's Roman nose with a furious swing, but instead she said, "How soon can you return him, Agent Redwood?" with admirable (in Severus' eyes, disappointing) restraint.
"By this time tomorrow, at the very least," Redwood replied. He was composed, confident--he knew he had won.
"Very well," McGonagall nodded. "You have my permission to take him to Ministry headquarters for questioning. But don't," she added, "imagine you can get away with this." She was pale to the lips, but her severe tone never wavered.
"Thank you, Professor," said Redwood. "He will be back unharmed." Somehow Snape didn't like the way he said that at all.
"You're making a big mistake, Redwood." He felt strangely afraid even as he spoke, and he had broken out in cold sweat. "I haven't done anything."
"That remains to be seen, young man," Redwood replied quietly. "Viridian!"
Another Auror, his rank somewhere between Redwood and Longbottom by the looks of him, took a wallet from his pocket and approached Snape. "A Portkey," he explained. "It will take us directly to...our destination," he said.
"We've wasted enough time," Redwood said impatiently. "Good evening, Professor." And he caught hold of the Portkey, as did Longbottom.
Snape bit the inside of his lip. Get a grip, he told himself. Do you want to see Slytherin House in shambles? Besides, you don't know anything. He placed his own hand on the Portkey.
Viridian put his wand to the wallet to activate it, and McGonagall's study disappeared with a lurch.
"And what did the letter say?"
"It said that our mother had been hexed, and was unconscious in the hospital, at St. Mungo's. He asked me to come see her." His mind was in a haze--it had been that way ever since he had been made to swallow some liquid that looked like water, but was not. A Truth Potion, most likely.
"I see. What were you eating at the time?"
Not for the first time, Snape thought Redwood must have gone mad. This was only in the back of his head, however; mostly, his head heard the questions, remembered, and spoke the answers. It was all automatic, and he had no control. "Mussel soup, Cornish bread, eggs," he dimly heard himself say in a flat, toneless voice.
"How did you get to London?"
"I went out to Hosmeade and took the Knight Bus."
"How many passengers were there?"
"Two that I could see. Also the driver and the conductor."
"Where did you get off?"
"London."
"Where in London?"
"At the gates of St. Mungo's Hospital."
"What did the witch at the reception desk look like?"
The small part of Snape's mind that he still controlled felt like strangling the man. The rest of his mind searched his memory quickly, and found nothing. "I don't know," he replied dully, automatically.
There was a pause. Redwood and Viridian looked at each other.
"What was the number of the room your mother was in?"
"I don't know."
"What was the color of the wallpaper in the hallways?"
"I don't know." Strangely enough, he really didn't. He had answered these ridiculous questions about small details quickly enough up to now...
"How did your mother look, when you went in to see her?"
"I don't know."
"Was your brother with her?"
"I don't know." Had he been able to, he would have fabricated details smoothly, but he couldn't stop himself from talking, or change the words.
"Were there any flowers by her bedside?"
"I don't know."
"What time did you leave the room?"
"I don't know." Great wizards, why didn't he know all this? He had been there!
"What time did you board the Knight Bus back to Hosmeade?"
"A quarter to seven in the evening." Finally something had come back.
He answered the rest of the questions, both the relevant and the ridiculous ones, with perfect equanimity. Under the influence of the Truth Potion he remembered details he hadn't even been aware of at the time--so why didn't he recall any details about the hospital visit? Weird, he thought blearily.
The Aurors were conversing among themselves, huddled together and speaking low. As he sat listlessly and wondering when the potion would wear off, their words drifted to his ears.
"Boy modified his own memory, ..."
"Clever.. but young...inexperienced.."
"The hospital visit's the key...possible contact..."
"So how...get through the Memory Charm?"
"Probing mind.. reconstruction of..."
"That could take days--we have no time." One voice suddenly became decisive and loud. It was Redwood.
"Sir, but there's no other way." As the Aurors broke apart and their voices were raised, Snape could hear every word now.
Again, Redwood and Viridian exchanged looks. "Yes, there is, Longbottom," said Viridian.
Longbottom seemed to have caught on. "No," he said, horrified. "No, you can't mean that. You can't--"
"Longbottom." Redwood's voice was firm.
"Sir, I can't let you do such a thing. I'm going straight to Moody, or anyone. You simply cannot do this!"
"What will you have us do?" Redwood said, his voice rising still more. "All we know is that an attack is planned for this morning. We don't know whom it's against, or where they plan to strike, or where they are. All we know is that those two Snapes, who Moody is out searching for even this moment, are involved. We have seven hours at best, and without more information we don't know where to strike or whom to protect--and people will die, Longbottom!" He was shouting now, his face livid, the long white scar twitching angrily.
"We cannot fall to their level!" Longbottom was shouting back into his boss's face now. "The boy here isn't even a suspect! If we start treating people as means to an end, what's the difference between an Auror and a Death Eater?"
At his words, an icy silence descended over the room.
"Agent Viridian," Redwood said with deadly calm after what seemed like an eternity, "have Longbottom removed from this building. I will deal with him later."
"No!" Longbottom glanced at Snape then back to Redwood, real anger and resolution in his voice now. "You can't do this. You can punish me--have my apprenticeship revoked, if you like--but I'll stop you, somehow."
Viridian raised his wand. "Kastasortia Auroro!" He said, and Longbottom's form shimmered briefly and disappeared.
Snape hardly heard the spell--he was drowning in a sea of heartbeats, the pounding of his heart filling his head and ears, making his fingers twitch as he sat helplessly. Every nerve was screaming at him to run, yet his muscles would not respond.
Redwood came sat down across from him, his wand hand resting lightly on the wooden table. The one source of light in the room, a lamp hanging from the ceiling above the table, cast long shadows on his face.
"No hard feelings, Snape," he said. "But people's lives are at stake here. I hope you'll understand someday." Then he leveled his wand squarely at the pale boy and said, "Crucio."
And Severus Snape's world exploded in pain.