I Was Right
Chapter 10: All for the Best
"Snape, I need a word with you."
Snape, trailing his classmates out of Charms class, looked disinterestedly down his nose at the tall boy with unruly black hair who had just stopped him. He recognized the look in the other boy's eyes as danger, and he just didn't care. If James Potter recognized the deadened, hollow look in the other boy's eyes, he did not show it.
"About Evans?" Snape's voice was a flat monotone. After spending a night loathing and cursing himself and wishing himself dead he did not have much emotion left to spare.
"So you do have something to do with it?" Potter's teeth were clenched, and his eyes flashed.
Turning from him Snape glided down the hall like some ill-boding shadow, threw open the door of an empty classroom, and stepped inside. Potter followed, they stood facing each other for a moment as the early morning sun drifted in through the dusty windows.
"What," Potter said at last, breathing heavily, "have you done to Lily?"
"Why not ask Evans herself?" Snape replied coldly.
At this, a white-hot flare of anger erupted behind Potter's gaze. "She's in no condition to answer!" He grabbed the Slytherin by the front of his robes and slammed him against a wall. "She came in late last night for curfew and collapsed in the common room crying. This morning, she ran a fever so high she had to be taken to the hospital wing!" He was shouting now.
Lily...
"Indeed," Snape said in a bored voice that never hinted at the pang he felt inside. "And am I supposed to know why?"
"She called your name in the hospital wing," Potter growled, looking disgusted at the very remembrance. "And damn it, she's your girlfriend!" He slammed Snape harder against the wall.
Snape laughed in his face, a cold and empty sound. "That? My girlfriend? I found her useful, that was all. You won't believe some of the things she told me about you and your cronies," he lied. He felt light-headed and detached, as it were someone else being collared by an extremely angry Gryffindor, and a Quidditch player to boot. A half-crazy mood seized him, not unlike the suicidal urges he had felt at the interrogation cell a week before. "If it weren't for that, I wouldn't have gone near the filthy little Mudblood with a ten-foot pole."
He smirked at the taken-aback look on his adversary's face. "You can have the Mudblood, for all I care."
Potter's rage was reaching new heights. His grip on Snape's robes tightened, and Snape felt himself choking. His head spun and he gasped for air, but he made no attempt to free himself. Instead he stared insolently at the other boy, as if daring him to go further, to carry his fury to the utmost.
"I swear," Jame's Potter's low, enraged voice seemed to come from a long distance away. "I swear I'll kill you if you ever insult Lily again." Then he released his grip, face pale from anger.
At that moment Severus really did become suicidal, or maybe his sense of guilt had reached psychotic proportions and become a death wish; he smirked, and spat in the other boy's face.
A short, disbelieving pause followed--then Snape felt himself flying to the floor and landing so hard his breath was knocked out of him.
"Get up, Snape," snarled Potter's voice, but he couldn't move. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth, and his head spun crazily. "Get up!" There were vicious kicks in his side, then his jaw; and he was dragged up by the robes again and hurled toward the back of the classroom where he went down in an avalanche of desks and chairs. Potter jumped on top of him and began pounding him in earnest.
It occured to Severus that Potter might manage to get himself expelled by getting him killed--which was something, almost enough to balance the fact that there would be no one to mourn his death. Perfect Potter with his rich, caring family and adoring friends, his grades and Quidditch--and now Lily.
"James!" A panicked cry came from the door as it slammed open with a force that rattled the walls. That would be Sirius Black. There was the sound of a brief scuffle as Potter's weight was jerked off him. "What're you trying--ugh!--to do? Hold still! I thought it was my job to do stupid things around here!"
"Let me go, Sirius!" Potter was fairly screaming with fury. "That-" and he loosed a stream of invectives McGonagall, for one, wouldn't have liked at all.
"Look, James, much as I'd love seeing you beat this piece of scum to pulp, don't bother putting him out of his misery, okay? He's not worth getting expelled for."
How apt, Snape thought as he slowly sat up. Putting me out of my misery. And ruining his perfect life in the process. He wiped his eyes, unable to see for the blood in them. His field of vision was still stained red as he looked up to see Potter and Black looking at him as they would a skinned serpent lying on the ground. With a short, bitter laugh he spit out a broken tooth and a mouthful of blood. "That the best you can do, Potter?" He sneered.
Potter lunged again but Black held him in a death grip. "Go to the hospital wing, Snape," Black said through gritted teeth. "Get out of here fast, if you know what's good for you."
With another mocking laugh Snape propped himself up on a fallen desk, then nearly blacked out when an intense stab of pain shot through him. A rib broken, most likely, he thought, as he ignored the pain and somehow stood up without losing consciousness. Breath coming in ragged gasps and heart pounding from the effort, he made his way to the door. Determined not to faint in front of Potter and his sidekick, dimly aware that he was bleeding heavily, he reached the doorway--
--And felt himself black out again, his senses slipping away even as he clutched at them. Inexorably his knees buckled under him, and his last thoughts as he toppled to the floor was that he wished he would never wake again.
James left Sirius behind to clean up and half-dragged, half-carried a limp Snape to the infirmary. By the time he was at his destination he was exhausted both physically and emotionally. What had possessed him to lose it so spectacularly, anyway? He'd do it all over again, though, if Snape dared say such things about Lily again...he set his teeth, trying to get a hold on himself, and called for Madam Pomfrey.
The school nurse seldom asked too many questions; she nodded curtly at his explanation that they'd been in a fight, and with her help he laid Snape on one of the beds. She checked him over, a grim look on her face.
"Will he--be all right?" James asked hesitantly. Snape may be a creep but he really did look awful, unconscious and blood-spattered.
"He'll live," grunted Madam Pomfrey. "It just looks worse than it is." She bustled around for bandages and potions, muttering something about "boys" under her breath.
"And you, James?" She asked, turning to him suddenly. He, Sirius, Remus, and Peter had become a fixture at the hospital wing once almost every month since their fifth year, and by then she called them by their first names.
"I'm--fine," he replied awkwardly. He might have been proud to have gotten off without a scratch, had there been a fight at all; as it was, Snape hadn't done a thing to defend himself or strike a blow in return. He had only taunted him, led him on. He didn't know how to explain Snape's eerie behavior--it was as if he had wanted to be beaten up.
"You do hold your own in a fight, don't you boy," she said almost admiringly; she didn't like Snape any better than most of the other people in the school. James didn't know what to say to that at all.
"Is Lily gone?" He asked, changing the subject, looking around at the beds.
"Yes," said the matron disapprovingly. "Her fever's gone down and she insisted she was fine. Mind you keep an eye on her," she added sharply. "Girls that age are extremely sensitive, and you never know what might shock them enough to make them ill."
At that, James felt a hot knot of anger burning inside him again. He wished Snape were still on his feet so he could--
"NOOOO!" Suddenly an unearthly shriek split the air, and the sound of glass exploding followed. Instinctively James covered his face with an arm and turned away, the sharp reflexes born of his years as a Chaser coming to his aid; and his robes and the sleeve that covered his face were sprayed with glass sharpnel and liquid as a medicine bottle exploded on a table before him.
He looked up as the shouts continued, this time forming coherent words. "No, I don't know where they are--please, no, please!"
It was Severus Snape's voice, screaming.
Madam Pomfrey rushed to Snape's side immediately, while another vial exploded, sending fragments all over the floor.
"Pacify!" She shouted with a wave of her wand. Snape's voice faltered for a few moments, muttering, "I went to the Ministry...don't, no.." Then he suddenly said quite clearly: "I killed a man...an aide, Terence Crockford."
James and Madam Pomfrey's eyes met, both bewildered, but the next moment Snape broke off, and his voice started to rise. "I don't..know..can't..Mothe--" and it escalated to a scream. The Pacifying Spell had worn off incredibly quickly.
Madam Pomfrey snapped out of her shock and cried, "James, get the Headmaster! Now."
He didn't need to be told twice. Glass crunching underfoot he dashed down the corridors, fleet and sure-footed as Prongs ever was.
Albus Dumbledore looked very grave as he looked down at Snape, tossing and turning but no longer screaming.
"He was shrieking that he didn't know where they were. He said things like 'Please don't' and once he called for his mother, I think," James explained in a low voice as they watched Madam Pomfrey caring for his wounds and administering various potions.
"And some jars and vials exploded when he screamed." Wizards did have bursts of uncontrolled magic power when they were upset or angry, but this was rare once proper magical training began. Whatever made Snape go on like that must be bothering him a lot. He hesitated. Should he mention Terence Crockford? It was hard to believe, but Snape had said it so clearly...
"Anything else, James?" Asked the headmaster, his voice gentle but his eyes piercing. For the umpteenth time, James thought of how impossible it was to hide things from Dumbledore.
"Yes, he said--he said he killed Terence Crockford. Headmaster, d'you really think...?"
But the conversation was interrupted when Madam Pomfrey turned to Dumbledore. "What do you suppose it can be, Headmaster?" She asked anxiously. "I have never seen anything like it."
"Unfortunately, I have, Poppy," he replied heavily. "I had hoped never to see it again."
"What is it, then?"
"That," said Dumbledore, "is the aftereffect of being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse."
James stared at the headmaster, thunderstruck. What was he saying? It couldn't be...
"It can't be," Madam Pomfrey said, echoing his thoughts. She had grasped the headboard of Snape's bed, looking pale and shaken. "Who would do such a thing?"
"I'm afraid I may know the answer," said Dumbledore, and there was an undertone of cold fury in his voice that had not been there before. James wondered how he knew. Could it be the Death Eaters he was talking about? But why would Death Eaters torture Snape, who probably had family ties like most Slytherins did? There were rumors that his family had been involved in the assassination attempt against Crouch and were on the run...
Madam Pomfrey drew herself up, visibly trying to compose herself. "What should I do?" She asked quite calmly.
"Basically, there isn't much you can do for him. As he seems to have come through with his intellect and senses intact," he said, a bitterness in his tone James had never heard before, "time will have to do the rest. Lack of appetite and sleep deprivation may be a problem--did you give him the Dreamless Sleep potion?" She nodded.
"Good. Administer it when he gets more nightmares. Keep him here for tonight, to make sure of his condition and to ascertain he won't--hurt himself." Again Dumbledore looked angry, though his voice was quiet and restrained. "And I would advise you to put breakable objects in cupboards under protection charms--and put protection spells on windows as well."
"Yes, Headmaster," the matron said, cool and collected now that she knew what to do. "And now, I must ask you to leave." Her eyes, once again sharp and stern, went from Dumbledore to James.
"We will leave you then, Poppy," Dumbledore said. "And James, please come with me."
James followed, his stomach twisting itself into a knot. A Cruciatus Curse--on Snape? Somehow, he had always imagined Snape to be someone who'd be at the giving, not the receiving, end of Unforgivable Curses. It struck strangely close to home when even someone with Death Eater connections wasn't safe.
No one was safe anymore.
The winding staircase carried them up to Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore sat down and bade James to sit down as well.
"I wished to talk to you," said Dumbledore, looking at James over his half-moon glasses very seriously-- James thought it was getting harder and harder to see that old twinkle in the headmaster's eyes-- "because it is important that you know the whole truth, and not a half-truth. Half-glimpsed truths and misunderstandings are perhaps the greatest source of damage, more than any outright falsehood."
James nodded. Inevitably his thoughts were drawn to how good the Slytherins were at distorting real facts-- he'd learned that the hard way in his clashes with them.
"I must talk to Severus to confirm my suspicions," the headmaster continued, "and I will inform you if I am wrong. But I am not. This makes everything clear," he said without triumph. He sounded as though he wished he were wrong.
"I must begin with the night before the Aurors' raid on the Death Eaters, November the sixth, more than a week ago now. I was in London at the time, working with the Ministry to avert an attack that we had wind of, but knew very little about. Without my knowledge, Agent Redwood, with two other Aurors, came to the school to take Severus to Ministry headquarters for questioning. Neither Professor McGonagall or Professor Baddock were willing to let him go, of course, but the Aurors threatened to arrest thirteen other students otherwise. Slytherin students."
James frowned. Aurors? But..
"Severus accompanied them and returned the next morning, at about the time the raid was going on. He insisted that he had known nothing and that the Aurors had been disappointed. He attended all his classes, and no one but Professors McGonagall and Baddock, and later myself, knew of the incident.
"This planned attack, of which we had no information save that it was to take place on the morning of November the seventh--it happened to be the assassination plot against Mr. Crouch that you no doubt have read about in the paper. We learned this, and the presence of an imposter taking Mr. Crockford's place, and the whereabouts of the conspirators, all a few hours before the time Severus was returned to school."
This took a moment to sink in. When it did, James slowly shook his head in disbelief. It couldn't be. It had to be something else. It was not only illegal, it was despicable. And Professor Redwood of all people, who fiercely hated the Dark Arts and those who practiced it...
"So you're saying," he said slowly, hoping Dumbledore would contradict him, "that the Aurors tortured Snape for information on the plot on Crouch's life?"
"Yes." James' heart sank at the grave look on Dumbledore's face as he answered. His worst suspicions confirmed, he groped around for explanations.
"But then--why didn't he cry foul? He'd jump at any chance to get Redwood behind bars--oh," he said as another thought struck him. "Is it because...Terence Crockford..."
Dumbledore nodded again.
"But that doesn't make sense," James went on feverishly, trying to piece things together. Dumbledore just watched him quietly, as if trying to see how far he could go on his own. "Because then why wasn't he arrested?" It was strangely troubling to think of Snape as a murderer, nasty though he was. But was he a murderer? "Headmaster, are you thinking--"
Not for the first time, Dumbledore seemed to be reading his mind. "Yes, James. There are more Unforgivable Curses than one. I am nearly certain that is why Mr. Snape was not arrested--and why he is keeping quiet."
Somehow, he felt better and worse at the same time at that. Better, because he knew Snape wasn't guilty; worse, because this explained some of his odd behavior. "If he was acting under the Imperius Curse, though, why did he say 'I killed Terence Crockford,' just like that?" He asked, more to clear things up than to contradict the headmaster.
Dumbledore sighed. "There are some people, James, who never make excuses for themselves--even perfectly legitimate excuses. It is my guess that Severus is one of those people."
Like Sirius. The thought popped into James' mind, unbidden. They're really rather alike in that aspect. He almost smiled, since both Sirius and Snape would kill him if he so much as hinted they were alike in any way.
"So he blames himself for Crockford's death," stated James. He could see Sirius doing the same thing in such a situation, though he had no doubt Sirius would be quite capable of fighting off an Imperius Curse.
"I'm afraid so." Dumbledore's gaze was still serious, and perhaps sorrowful as well. Neither of them spoke for a moment.
"Why would Redwood--or any Auror--do that?" James finally burst out. "They're supposed to be fighting the Dark Arts, not practising it!" He was angry, though he didn't know exactly what he was angry at.
"Yet, had Agent Redwood not acted as he had, they may not have uncovered the plot in time," Dumbledore said quietly.
"I know, but--" James, feeling he was somehow being tested, looked the headmaster straight in the eye. "That still doesn't justify it. Because then we'd be on the same level as Voldemort and his supporters and there would be no point in fighting them at all."
"Even for the sake of innocent lives, James? What if it was to save your life, or your parents' lives?"
James hesitated. Then he answered, "Perhaps I would do it, for the sake of those I love." And he suddenly thought of Lily-- he knew he'd do even worse things for Lily. He had no reason or self-control where she was concerned, as today's events had proved. "But I would understand that I'm compromising a very basic and precious value that's a foundation of our lives, and I'd be prepared to face the consequences. It's simply not justifiable. No one should get away with that. Not in any decent society."
"Ah," Dumbledore nodded, and James was bewildered at the look of deep satisfaction on his face. It soon flickered back to its solemn look, though. "Well and truthfully answered, James. Yet I fear that prolonged darkness and fear has made the magical community a less than 'decent' place."
"What do you mean?" James asked suspiciously.
"This will be publicized tomorrow, but..." The headmaster sighed. "Mr.Crouch has decided to authorize the Aurors' use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects."
"What?" He couldn't believe it. "Is Crouch mad?"
"On the contrary, many think he is doing the right thing," said Dumbledore. "People are tired of losing, of being preyed upon, and they think this is the way to fight back."
James shook his head, looking down. "I think it's the surest way to lose, ultimately." This was madness-- was everyone forgetting what they were fighting for, or against?
He raised his head, startled, when Dumbledore said "I agree with you, James. I quite agree." He looked up to meet the aged Headmaster's eyes, and realized how hard he must have fought against this. And how keenly he must feel his own failure.
After another pause, the Headmaster went on, "This also means that Agent Redwood will not be prosecuted. The more lenient provision is applied in criminal law, even if the provision was not in effect at the time of the act in question."
"Why won't he be prosecuted? The new law permits the use of the curses against suspects, and Snape wasn't one--he was under the Imperius Curse!"
"Yet at the time of the interrogation he was a suspect, in a sense. Agent Redwood knew he had been at the Ministry when he had no business being there."
"How?" Now that he thought about it, why was it Redwood, of all people, who had come to collect Snape? It seemed a bit like something out of a bad dream, having your least favorite teacher come back to school to arrest you.
"Perhaps this would never have happened if Agent Redwood had not been a professor here. You see, several days prior to learning of the planned Death Eater attack, Agent Redwood had lunch with Professor Sprout. She wanted to ask about some charms put on the school greenhouses, which she was having trouble with."
James nodded. Professor Sprout, a plump, short witch, was a decent enough Herbology teacher--admittedly better than Redwood in many ways, because unlike her predecessor she really had her heart in it.
"They fell to talking about the students, and she mentioned Severus having been in London because his mother was ill. This caught Agent Redwood's attention. This was because just the other day a coworker had complained of a student there a few days before, who seemed to be one of the many students on a learning tour of the Ministry that day. This student had knocked over a large pile of parchment, causing her much extra work. In retrospect, that must have been Severus trying to fight the Imperius Curse and attract attention. Agent Redwood thought the physical description his coworker gave seemed familiar, but thought nothing of it at the time.
"However, after hearing Professor Sprout's words and comparing the dates, he realized Severus might well have been at the Ministry when he was supposed to be seeing his sick mother. He checked with St. Mungo's Hospital as well, and found that Mrs. Snape was certainly not a patient there, even under an alias or disguise. Then, when the Ministry found out about an imminent Death Eater assault and that the Snapes might possibly be involved, he was immediately suspicious and requested to question the boy as a last resort. The result, of course, was simply spectacular."
James let out a long breath. It seemed improbable--yet plausible. The Ministry had been incredibly lucky: If Snape hadn't tried to attract attention, or if it weren't for Redwood's guesswork...
"Looks like Redwood will walk away, then," he said grimly. "It's a terrible injustice, but it's legal."
Dumbledore peered at him over his glasses. "Then let me ask you one other thing: If ever an investigation or hearing comes to pass, will you speak of what you saw and heard today, regardless of House rivalries or prejudice?"
"Yes," James replied. "You have my word on that--though I don't see what good it will do."
"Oh, it could do a world of good, James," said Dumbledore, some of the animation creeping back into his eyes. "I thank you for your decision to speak up should the need arise."
"And finally, James," said the headmaster, "I will have to ask you to keep what you have seen and this conversation entirely to yourself as far as Severus is concerned."
"Will do, sir." Snape had evidently gone incredible lengths to keep his secret, and he wasn't about to spill the beans on him-- particularly, he thought with a guilty squirm, when he had already caused Snape to spill them so spectacularly.
"And Professor Dumbledore?" he said, "I think you should know the circumstances of Snape's injury."
"Certainly, James. I was wondering if I would have to ask myself."
"Actually, Snape and I were... hardly in a fight. I mean--" in a hurried voice he explained the circumstances, leaving Lily out of the picture but quite accurately otherwise. "Could it be something I did--that made him worse, or--"
"No, James," the headmaster said with certainty. "You did not aggravate the symptoms in any particular way. Though you understand, you should not have lost your temper like that. I will take thirty points from Gryffindor and assign a detention."
"Yes, sir," said James, relieved both at his words and the comparatively lenient punishment.
"I understand Severus himself was partly at fault--poor boy, I understand how he felt."
"You understand?" It was strange enough to hear Severus being called 'poor boy'; stranger still that Dumbledore, of all people, would understand him.
"Sometimes, James, people feel a guilt so intense that the need for punishment becomes overwhelming. Often as not, this takes the form of needlessly provoking people around them...but of course, you would not understand. I hope you never will." And he gave a short sigh.
He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts for a moment before he dismissed James, who left feeling as though he'd had a glimpse at something very personal.
"It's true," Severus said numbly when Dumbledore laid out all his suspicions before him. He felt like a criminal cornered by the detective in one of those Muggle mystery novels of Lily's--don't think about her--that he had leafed through. Which was, in fact, the case.
"Could you tell me what happened?"
So he told the headmaster everything, his side of the story, and his hours in the interrogation chamber, all of which comprised five or six short sentences. He couldn't have told it any other way--otherwise, he would have broken down.
Dumbledore gazed at him a long moment before saying, "Thank you, Severus."
Severus rose. "Thank you, Headmaster, for all you've done," he said bitterly. "I'll go and pack now."
Dumbledore looked up sharply. "Severus, sit down."
"What for?" He asked icily. "Any fool can see I'm done with here. I won't waste your time or mine anymore."
"Severus, I have not called you here to discuss your expulsion. You are staying in this school. Now please, sit down."
He sank down, propped an elbow on the arm of his chair, and covered his eyes with a hand. Otherwise, he might have seen the look of deepest sympathy and understanding cross the aged Headmaster's face.
"What's the use?" He asked roughly, taking his hand away after a few moments and glaring at Dumbledore with cold, hollow eyes. "Other students' parents aren't likely to want me here. People are absolutely paranoid, you know that."
"Yes, I know. But even if this does get out, and even if I am to get indignant letters and Howlers day and night, I am not expelling you."
"I don't understand," Severus whispered. "Why not?"
"Because what happened is not your fault. You are not a murderer, Severus."
"But if only I had fought it off--"
"More experienced wizards than you have been forced to do countless horrible deeds under the influence of the Imperius Curse. You can't blame yourself for what has happened."
And meeting his eyes, Severus knew he meant it. At that moment, he would have done any number of stupid things--burst into tears, gotten down on his knees to thank Dumbledore, poured out his life story--but he kept a grip on himself and slumped back in his chair, suddenly and acutely exhausted. His head was a jumble of thoughts and feelings, and he didn't know whether he felt relieved, grateful, or unconvinced.
"Is that all?" He murmured, All he wanted now was to be alone to sort things out.
"No, there is one thing more. It's about Agent Redwood's--proposal--concerning heightened security against Slytherin students."
"You mean there's something we can do?" He sat bolt upright. Yes, if anyone could think of a way to fend off the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, it was Dumbledore.
"As you no doubt know from this morning's news, Agent Redwood will in all likelihood get away with his actions in court," Dumbledore began.
Snape nodded sourly. The close brush with death must really have gotten to Crouch, who had always been more ruthless than his predecessor. His authorizing the use of the Unforgivable curses was a surprising move, if not a real shock.
"And neither do we need to take him to court. Of course, principle demands that we do, but we may have other uses for our knowledge."
Unfamiliar though it was to hear Dumbledore talk about the 'use' of something over 'principle,' Severus put it aside and turned the wheels furiously in his head. "You're going to blackmail him," he said finally. Now this was a train of thought he could follow. "But will it be enough? I mean, what he did is all legal now, and I wouldn't exactly cut a sympathetic figure with the press..."
"Perhaps not," said Dumbledore with perfect candor, "but you have someone to speak for you. He may be underage but he has charisma, some measure of recognition, and family connections as well."
Now that sounded familiar. "A Potter. James Potter," he said flatly, lips curling in disgust despite himself. "Do you honestly think this will work, Headmaster?"
"It's our only chance, Severus. The Ministry is riding a wave of popular opinion, and I can hold them off from cracking down on Slytherin for only so long." Then Severus noticed the dark shadows under the headmaster's eyes, and his slightly haggard, worn look for the first time. This was really a last resort for him, he realized, and something he didn't feel one bit like doing.
"Once underage students are targeted without solid suspicion--the fight will become a civil war," Dumbledore went on, the look of foreboding in his eyes deepening. "The Ministry will alienate countless wizards and witches, and Hogwarts will take a serious blow. I cannot allow that to happen, no matter what it takes." The look of foreboding turned to one of determination, and Severus was strangely afraid of the power and conviction in the old wizard's face.
"So you threaten to tell everything to the press if the Ministry moves in on Slytherin students," said Severus slowly. "That they took an underage wizard to Ministry headquarters and tortured...wait." Something flashed in the back of his mind. Something... Dumbledore was looking at him curiously. "It wasn't the Ministry headquarters."
"Severus?"
"When I told--told them about Crockford's death, Redwood said something--contact the Ministry immediately. Why would he say that if it was the Ministry headquarters they were in?"
Dumbledore nodded, realization dawning in his eyes. "Yes, that makes sense. I had suspected for some time that they might have a secret location for their more--questionable interrogations."
"And Professor McGonagall gave them permission to take me to Ministry headquarters. That doesn't completely rule out kidnap, does it? This is perfect!" he said, feeling better than he had for many days.
"Quite right, Severus," said the headmaster. A tired kind of triumph settled over him as Severus went on.
"The house of horror and atrocity," he said, almost with relish, "and once nice, upstanding wizards like Potter and his clan start denouncing it, and I tell my 'tale of a survivor'-- it'll make people nervous, finding out that the Ministry kept a secret place for questioning witches and wizards..." then he stopped, and let out a short, hollow laugh. "Too bad we'll never get to see the story, or the hype."
"No. I think the threat will be sufficient to keep the Ministry well away from Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.
Snape looked at the Headmaster with a new respect, a respect of the Slytherin sort. Just when he thought he knew everything about Albus Dumbledore he showed a completely new face, of someone who was capable of plots and back deals to stop a breach in the wizarding world and to protect Hogwarts.
"But Severus--I want you to be sure of this. You might want to charge Redwood with charges of kidnap and blackmail, if nothing else. If we strike this deal with the Ministry, you can't do so."
"It's all right, Headmaster," said Severus. "I don't care about getting Redwood in trouble. Slytherin House is more important."
It was true, he reflected as he made his way down the corridors. He didn't particularly want Redwood in deep water...
No, he wanted to see the arrogant bastard beg for mercy and grovel at his feet. Just as he had pleaded for mercy in moments of excruciating pain, and gotten none.
The death rate for Aurors was forty-four percent and still climbing.
"Come on, Lily, let's go outside," said Indira, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
"Outside?" Lily asked as if this were a new word for her.
They were alone in the common room; they were staying up late because Indira said she needed help with Astronomy. And now she wanted to sneak out...what was up with her? Normally quiet and studious, her best friend seemed strangely restless tonight.
"I promised to meet Ashok for a nighttime stroll, and you're coming with me," Indira said. "Up you get."
Lily sighed and stood up. Ever since things had been patched up with Ashok, Indira was spending increasing amounts of time with him, and talked about nothing else. Does she even remember I'll be seventeen in thirty minutes, she wondered.
They stepped outside the portrait hole, and Lily turned to ask Indira where they were going.
But Indira was gone.
Lily looked around, bewildered. There wasn't enough time for the portrait hole to have opened and closed again, so she couldn't have gone back in. Nor could she have made it to a corner in such a short time. Was this some kind of joke?
Slightly disgruntled, she turned to the portrait to climb back in when she caught a glimpse of something white out of the corner of her eye. She looked down, and saw a trail of something white down the hall. She bent down and picked one up. A delicate fragrance touched her nose, and a velvety feeling caressed her fingers: A white rose petal.
She hesitated a second, but her curiosity got the better of her and she started following the trail of rose petals. There was so little to cheer her up these days; she couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd smiled. The tension and forced friendliness between her and James hadn't exactly improved things, either. And--shaking her head, she concentrated on following the petal-trail.
The whole thing had the quality of a rather strange dream. Maybe she was dreaming. She hesitated again when she reached the castle front door, rubbing the petal she held between thumb and forefinger. Then she pushed the doors open, and stepped out into the chill night air.
She walked on, under the stars and a half moon, still following the scented trail shining faintly in starlight. And when it led into the Forbidden Forest she didn't hesitate, but walked right under the canopy of leaves.
The trees fell away abruptly as she reached a round clearing--and what she saw nearly took her breath away. She paused in her steps, the rose petal fluttering to the ground unnoticed.
In the center of the clearing stood a magnificent stag, at least fourteen or fifteen hands at the shoulders. Its form was strong yet agile, resplendent horns clawing at the starlit sky atop a proudly held head.
She was momentarily afraid as it lowered it head to look at her, and made to step back, but its gaze was friendly and warm. Seeing that it frightened her it did not come forward, staying very still where it was.
Very slowly she took a step forward, and then another. Her eyes were fixed on the stag's as she approached, and they were strangely familiar eyes-- warm, intelligent brown eyes, steady and fearless, yet at the moment strangely shy. The shyness she had seen in--
"James?" She whispered, and ludicrous as that sounded, she knew she was right. She ran the last yard or two and hugged the stag's muscular neck, burying her face in the short, rough fur. And it seemed the most natural thing in the world when strong arms closed around her and she looked up to see James' smiling face.
"Did you like Prongs?" He said, his voice a murmur in her ear.
"He's prettier than you are," she smiled, the first time in many days, though her eyes were a little too bright.
"Happy birthday, Lily," he whispered.
And in that one moment everything was forgiven, all the fights and misunderstandings forgotten. And their lips met passionately, confidently, with all the surety of two imperfect and struggling people who knew tomorrow might be too late, and that this was right, was meant to be.
They broke away slowly, the kiss burned out by its own intensity. They gazed at each other for a long moment, as if each saw the other for the first time under a new moon and new stars.
Then suddenly, they heard a joyful bark coming from the bushes around them and turned in that direction, startled.
"Oh, no," said James, clapping a hand to his forhead, as a huge black dog with pale eyes bounded toward them, tail wagging madly. It all but bowled Lily over before she put her arms round its neck, stopping its forward rush, just as a boy with brown hair ran out from behind the dog, trying to restrain it. "Whoa, Padfoot!" Cried Remus Lupin playfully. "Behave!" A chubby gray rat scampered off his shoulder to the ground and looked up at her with small, bright eyes.
"Sirius?" Lily said wonderingly, holding the dog at arm's length. Then, "Peter?" Disengaging one arm from the dog's neck she scooped the rat up in her free hand, where it squeaked excitedly.
"Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail--what are you doing here?" James demanded.
The black dog stepped away from Lily, and in moments a tall, laughing boy with shaggy black hair took its place. "We," he said, "are your chaperones for tonight's plans. Didn't think we'd let the two of you go alone, did you? I will brook no improper behavior from Hogwarts students!" He added in an uncanny impersonization of Professor McGonagall.
The rat jumped off Lily's hand and turned into a short, fat boy, who was smiling. "I told them we wouldn't be wanted, but would they listen?" He shrugged. "I decided the one voice of reason had to come along."
"Hey, that's my line, Peter!" Laughed Remus. "Anyway, would we miss a chance to explore the Forbidden Forest after planning this forever?"
"I don't believe it!" Lily laughed. "Though I knew it would have to be--oh, but seeing is believing!"
Four pairs of eyes swiveled in her direction. "You-you knew?" Stammered Peter. "How?"
"Hey, I do have a head on my shoulders. I know my lunar charts, and when Remus disappeared with such regularity..." she shrugged. "But then, since our last school year, you three started disappearing, too. I could tell by the unearthly quiet," she grinned. "And what other way would there be to keep a werewolf company, besides becoming animals? But I have to hand it to you-- I never really believed you'd pull if off like that."
A short, rather stunned silence followed. Boys, Lily thought with good-natured exaperation. Always thinking they're so clever. They were all like that. Well, except for one--she pushed the thought away.
"Well, then," said Remus, "It's time to get on with our plans!"
"Exploring the Forest, did you say?" Lily asked.
"The cleverest witch in Hogwarts deserves no less!" Said Sirius with a comical bow. "In celebration of her birthday, Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs have arranged a grand tour of the Forbidden Forest!"
"Astride her fine steed--" said Remus, trying to restrain his laughter, pointing at a still-bewildered James.
"C'mon, James!" Peter whispered none too discreetly. "Change!"
James glared at them all. "I'll get you back for this," he said.
"You'd deprive the lady of her steed?" Sirius said in mock horror. "Prongs, where is your chivalry?"
With a final disgruntled look, James turned back into Prongs.
"Coming, Lily?" Remus asked.
"Well, for one thing it's dangerous, and we'll probably get caught and get in loads of trouble, and we won't get any sleep--" she counted off on her fingers, then threw up her hands. "But who cares? You're not seventeen every day! Let's go!"
"I knew it!" Sirius once more turned into Padfoot; and Peter, after saying "Give me a leg up, won't you, Moony?" assumed his rat form. Remus picked him up to place him on his shoulder, then waved his wand--and a garland of flowers draped itself over Prongs' horns.
If stags could scowl, the look on James' face would have been it; laughing, since she could tell he had planned quite a different tour from this one, Lily climbed onto the stag's back with Remus' help.
They all moved deeper into the forest, and under the night sky Lily's laughter once again rang clear and true.