DISCLAIMER: As stated before, most of these characters belong to JK Rowling's "Harry Potter" series and Scholastic books. One character though, in an indirect fashion, belongs to CrystalStarGuardian here on FF.net. She requested an insert, so I'm giving it to her. :) Cheers!
CHAPTER TWO
Two days after their arrival students once again filed into the DADA classroom, only to find their teacher noticeably absent. There was a general murmuring as to where the professor was but they still took their seats - Slytherins on the left side, Gryffindors on the right.
The door slammed open just as the bell rang and a very harried Professor Collins walked into the room, arms full of scrolls and other rolls of parchment. She looked surprised to see the students, as if she hadn't expected them to actually be there. "Forgive the delay," she said, dumping the scrolls onto the desk unceremoniously, "I had a run-in with the ghost you all call Peeves." And I call a pain in the arse, she thought privately, still annoyed. "I plan on being a little more timely arriving to class in the future however."
There was whispering coming from the Slytherin side of the classroom, and Haley's eyes traveled to the Slytherin side of the room. A group of students huddled around a section of table, some gasping at whatever was being shown. Crossing her arms and tapping her foot in annoyance, Professor Collins had to clear her voice twice before most of the Slytherins got the hint and returned to their seats. Draco, no longer blocked from the teacher's view, quickly hid whatever it was he'd had on display.
Aware all eyes were on her, Professor Collins walked calmly up to Draco and held out her hand. "Whatever it is, give it here," she stated firmly.
"What are you talking about, I don't have anything," Draco replied, smirking.
"Five points from Slytherin for lying," Haley replied, her voice neutral; on the Slytherin side angry whispers sounded but she kept her eyes on Draco. "Now you will give whatever is in your hand here or you will get detention as well as another twenty points removed from Slytherin, and I will take it anyway. Don't make me ask you again."
Draco scowled, but brought his hand out from behind his chair. "Here you go then, Professor," he stated with a sudden grin, and emptied the contents of his hand into hers.
Several girls, and no few boys for that matter, gave shouts and screams of fear as a huge tarantula made its public debut, but Professor Collins remained unmoved. Draco's grin slipped several notches as Haley brought the spider up close to her face, ignoring the fact it looked ready to jump on her at any moment. "Very nice specimen," she replied, turning her hand to see all sides of the huge tarantula. "A little larger than normal, quite brilliant markings on her legs and abdomen as well." Taking out her wand she deftly pointed it at the large arachnid. "Petrificus totalus."
The tarantula immediately stopped bobbing, frozen solid by the spell. Haley lobbed it into the air once, then smiled at Draco. "Thank you very much for such a wonderful paperweight."
Leaving the blond Slytherin fuming, Professor Collins returned to the front of class, transferred the petrified tarantula to her desk atop the scrolls, and whirled around to face the students. "So," she stated brightly, clapping her hands. "I took the time to learn all the names and faces of students I would be having this term, but I guess I'd better introduce myself. My name's Professor Collins, and I'm to be your newest in a string of Defense teachers. As I'm sure you've heard or guessed, I am an American, originally from the west coast state of California but lately from the New York area. I was an Auror for nine years then worked for the American Ministry as an Unspeakable for four." That news, as she expected, caused a few mururs. "The past couple of years I've lived in the Muggle world, getting reaquainted with the ways of our unwitting allies."
Derisive snorts came from the Slytherin side, and Haley noticed several students whispering amongst each other with sneers written on their faces. Malfoy was whispering to Goyle, and Haley, wishing to make a point, surreptitiously pointed her wand at him. "Sonorus," she whispered.
"... live with all those dirty muggles and mudbloods," the boy finished with a sneer until he realized what he'd just said had been magically amplified, and still echoed faintly in the room.
The words caused an immediate uproar amongst the Gryffindors, some of whom leaped up from their chairs and attempted to get at Draco. One redhead in particular Haley recognized as Ronald Weasley seemed especially adamant about escaping his friends' hold.
Determined to get her class back, Haley stepped between the two sides and barked, "All students are to get back into their seats. NOW."
There was no mistaking the authority in that voice and the class quickly settled down. Glares continued to be sent across the room from both sides, however.
"As for you, Mr. Malfoy," she continued, turning her gaze to the young Slytherin, "ten points will again be taken from Slytherin because of your mouth, which I would advise you to keep firmly shut until the end of class."
Haley turned back to the front of the class ready to begin again when she, and everyone else in the room, heard Malfoy mutter, "Bitch."
A few gasps sounded across the class as all eyes turned to the professor, fearful of what she would do. Even Draco looked stunned at his own mistake, and crouched low into his seat as Haley slowly turned toward him.
"Twenty-five points from Slytherin and a detention for that little remark," she stated coldly, looking down at the blond boy. "Any more words and I will reverse the spell so you won't talk for the next month, do I make myself clear?"
Draco quickly nodded, and with a last piercing look at the boy Professor Collins stalked back to the front of the room. "There will be no secrets in this classroom while I am teaching," Haley announced suddenly, again capturing the class' attention. "Many will think that to be unfair or a breach of privacy for you students; some may try to logically argue that it is unrealistic, as the real world isn't like that. Well, I have lived in the real world, ladies and gentlemen; I've seen the devastation brought about by important yet undisclosed secrets. Here, I will be utterly frank with you, and I expect the same in return. If you wish to say something or ask me anything, as long as it pertains to the subject I will acknowledge and answer it.
"Now, it is my job this year to teach you about how to defend yourself from Dark magic. I see that you have already gone over how to deal with Dark creatures as well as a number of curses you're likely to encounter. I will be adding a bit to that myself, as well as going over the history of Dark magic in our world."
Several groans came from all around the room and she heard Professor Binns' name mentioned more and a few times, but the murmuring was short lived under her quelling stare.
"Now, everyone get your quill and paper out - you're going to need it."
* * *
When the bell rang many of the students looked eager to escape the class. Haley didn't assign any homework, as it was the first day and she remembered she'd hated it when teachers did that, but before everyone could leave she called Draco Malfoy back up to her desk.
Waiting for the entire class to leave Haley took time to study the blond student before her. He had an impatient look on his face and clearly wanted out of the room. He met her eyes boldly, and disrespectful or not she had to give him credit for bravery. Pulling out her wand and turning it on the boy, who looked suddenly apprehensive, she intoned, "Finite incantatum."
Relief flooded Draco's features as he cleared his throat without shaking the rafters, but it was soon replaced by indignation and anger. "When my father hears of this," he started, his lip again curling into a sneer, and any respect Haley might had felt for the boy instantly dried up.
"How convenient it must be," she interrupted sharply," to have so powerful a father." Draco opened his mouth but Haley drowned him out, "And how weak it makes you look when you hide behind his coattails and use him as an excuse to be a spoiled brat."
Draco started at the words and his features contorted in anger, but Haley continued. "In the real world, the one that you will be entering in three years, you will find that few people care who your father is or was. Out there, you are judged on your own merits; you gain respect by your actions, not based on who your daddy is. To hide behind him is childish, even at your age." She gazed at his mutinous expression and sighed, wondering if she was going about this the right way.
"I wanted to apologize for making an example of you during class - I meant nothing personal by singling you out. The detention still stands, however, and will take place two days from now after classes. Do I make myself clear?"
Silence reigned for a moment. "Can I go?" Draco said, his expression still cold and angry.
Haley stared at Draco for a second, searching his eyes for any sign that her words got through but saw nothing but anger. Stifling a resigned sigh, she nodded and watched the boy stalk out of the room, rejoining his friends waiting outside the door. And I used to be so good at this, she mused, disappointed she hadn't been able to get through to the boy.
In the middle of potions, Severus Snape felt the sudden pain of the Dark Lord's summons.
Sweat broke out over Snape's brow, but he clapped his hands once very loudly and had his class' nervous attention. "Class is cancelled for the day. Go."
Stunned looks swept through the room, everyone staring at Snape as if he had just turned into one of Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts. Severus' lip curled in anger and he snapped, "What are you all waiting for?"
As if a bomb had gone off the students scrambled up and out of their seats, pushing past each other to get out before Snape changed his mind. To anyone else it might have been comical but to Professor Snape it was utterly ridiculous, seeing the children flee his class so haphazardly. Given, they were first years and not Slytherins, but to have so little dignity at so young an age... Snape rolled his eyes in disgust.
There wasn't a moment to lose. Not in nearly fourteen years had he been summoned at such an inopportune time, but for Voldemort excuses for tardiness was tolerated less than the tardiness itself. Ordering the last child, who had stayed behind to clean up her cauldron (the next Hermione Granger, Snape thought dryly), to leave, he waited for the dungeon door to close before stepping into his office and shutting the door, weaving tight privacy spells. He then triggered the mechanism for the passage behind his files and swept inside, lighting an ancient fireplace at the end of the compartment - the only other fireplace in the school connected to the floo network. Quickly grabbing a small bag just inside his robes, he approached the fireplace and threw the powder into the fire.
"Dunston Manor," he stated, and stepped briskly into the suddenly roaring flames. Immediately he began to spin as he connected to the network and waited impatiently until he slowed, then stepped confidently out of the fireplace and into the manor. Dunston manor was the home of a dubious friend named Preston Dunston III, another man who appreciated the pleasure of working with potions. Unfortunately, he was also as nutty as they came so Snape stayed clear of him as much as possible. According to Snape's sources though the man had been sent by the Ministry to Brazil, so Snape felt safe using his fireplace.
Concentrating on Voldemort and unconsciously rubbing his forearm, Snape disapparated...
...and apparated right in the middle of an old fashioned torture session.
Immediately before him a man was suspended four feet above the ground, his body stretched in ways no human body, wizard or muggle, was ever meant to be stretched. Wide eyes stared at the ground below and the mouth was open in a grotesque parody of a scream even as laughter came from behind him.
"Oh stop it Bulstrode," McNair's voice rose above the laughter, "you're ruining the fun." The death eater waved his wand at the victim's face and screams suddenly filled the room as whatever silence charm that had been cast on the victim was banished.
Nevarre Bulstrode merely shrugged. "His voice was getting on my nerves."
Snape's stomach curdled but he moved forward, stepping around the group into the larger room behind them. He recognized it instantly, having been here numerous times before: Malfoy manor. Or, more specifically, the basement of the Malfoy home. It had been a number of years since Snape had been there, but little seemed to have changed. The room's theme, while the decoration varied slightly, remained the same: torture, and pain. In one corner sat a guillotine; in another a rack. Farther down the hall next to the stairs stood a coffin-shaped box, inside of which Snape could make out thick spikes. That many of these artifacts were Muggle-made didn't, for once, seem to bother Lucius; it was what they represented that he valued.
The intermittent pops of apparating people continued to fill the air, but a dull crack and an answering shriek sounded from the victim behind Snape, and he began babbling in a guttural language punctuated by sobs. Severus cocked his head suddenly, turning to look at the poor man now being spun in the air by his merry torturers.
It was Igor Karkaroff. The man, somehow, had finally been found.
A sudden hush fell over the room and a chill ran through Snape's backbone. He turned back and saw Voldemort decending the stairs, followed closely by Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew. Lucius wore a familiar smirk, clearly enjoying the show, while Peter merely cowered in the shadow of Voldemort.
It had come as a bit of a nasty shock to find Peter Pettigrew, aka 'Wormtail', to indeed be alive. The very idea negated, for Snape, a truth he had once revelled in: that Sirius Black was guiltily rotting in Azkaban for murder. Snape had not known the little man to be loyal to Voldemort; indeed, he would not have believed the Dark Lord would allow anyone as pathetic as Wormtail to take the mark. Sirius Black, certainly, but not the whiny Peter Pettigrew. The truth had redeemed Black for the crimes, something Snape resented above all else.
The apparating pops were becoming less frequent now as the Death Eaters began to move toward Voldemort. They gathered in a semicircle at the base of the steps, McNair and his pack leaving Karkaroff suspended in the air and still spinning lazily. The man had ceased his cries but whether that was due to another spell, unconsciousness, or death Snape couldn't tell.
Voldemort surveyed the group before him, and his colorless lips stretched into a slow smile. "It seems," he began smoothly, his low voice carrying, "that there are more here than at my last summons. I wonder why that is."
If possible the group became even more still, as if any movement might single them out under the Dark lord's gaze. Voldemort's eyes swept over the congregation, none of whom, even Snape, would meet his eyes. "Could it be," he stated, coming down a few more steps on the staircase, "that you were afraid?" The last was hissed, and a shudder went through the group. "Might you have forgotten," Voldemort continued, his voice again soft, "the oath you took to me? Have you, perhaps, forgotten what I promised you?"
"We have not, my lord," a voice rang out, and Snape saw Pellerin, a former Slytherin with a daughter even now in Hogwarts, step forward. The man had always had more balls than brains in Snape's opinion, but still Voldemort graced him with a smile.
It was not a nice smile. "Ah, Angus Pellerin. You too have moved up in the ministry during my absence. Tell me, how is your lovely wife these days?"
"She was killed in a tragic accident several years back," Pellerin answered, his face decidedly neutral.
"Truly," Voldemort murmured, eying Angus with a shrewd gleam in his eye. "And your daughter?"
From his position Snape noticed a tiny twitch at the corner of Pellerin's eye, but the man still smiled and stated proudly, "She is eager to enter your service, my lord."
"Is she now?" Voldemort's voice held a mocking quality and Angus' smile fell quickly away, but Voldemort's gaze left the man in subtle dismissal.
"Thirteen years ago," the Dark lord began, "we were a stone's throw from our goal. We had the world at our fingertips, the Ministry on the run, those hunting us being dealt with. The world was ours for the taking. Until, one mistake was made. One mistake," he hissed, his eyes suddenly blazing, "that cost us everything. One small aspect overlooked..."
Many of the Death Eaters quelled at the site of Voldemort's wrath, and Snape couldn't blame them. To acquire Voldemort's ire had never been pretty - the Dark wizard had ingenius ways to inflict pain and humiliation, not all of which involved the Unforgivables - but in this instance it didn't seem focussed on any person in particular. Still, the wind had been knocked out of even Lucius Malfoy's sails: the man no longer seemed so proud of his position next to Voldemort as it made him a more accessible target.
The Dark lord was silent for a moment, and when he began his voice was again calm. "As many might have noticed I have located Igor Karkaroff." A few heads swivelled around to eye the suspended man but most never took their gaze off Voldemort. "He has, in spite of turning his cowardly back on us and fleeing, proved a veritable fount of useful information. For instance, he has seen fit to inform me that there is a spy among us."
Snape couldn't stop the sudden shudder that coursed through his body, but he was not alone in reaction; several other Death Eaters started, a few gasping in shock. Lucius Malfoy, his face now a blank mask, had definitely albeit subtly shifted away from Voldemort.
"Yes, he even named a few names," Voldemort continued. "But then again," he added, another cruel smile crossing his features, "he has always been good at naming names."
There were a few titters from the audience, most of whom weren't sure just how to react. Many had the same thoughts as Snape in that moment: had their names been said, and would Voldemort believe it. Snape, an expert at keeping his emotions from getting away from him, kept his own desperate reaction skillfully hidden but many had their fears written plainly across their faces.
"It was most entertaining extracting the information from the turncoat," Voldemort added nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather; somehow, that tone made him seem even more dangerous than his anger had. "He was quite willing to talk, of course, but we couldn't make it too easy." He raised his hand, and the crowd below him parted quickly as the broken body of Karkaroff floated face-down from across the room.
"Unfortunately," Voldemort said as Karkaroff stopped before him, "I don't believe I will be accepting his plea for forgiveness. After all, he forgot his oath to me, and that is not to be tolerated." He laid his hands out in front of him, palms up like a book, then clapped them shut...and Karkaroff's body bent backwards, his backbone giving a dull crack as it snapped. The man's eyes opened and he gave a small shriek, then began convulsing in midair.
Several in the crowd stepped away from Karkaroff, but mostly in order not to be hit by the man's flailing arms. Many had disgusted looks on their faces although, Snape could see, McNair's expression was rapturous. Considering the man had, at the height of Voldemort's power, been on par in his appetite for torture and murder with the Dark lord himself Snape wasn't the least bit surprised.
"My children," Voldemort murmured, drawing attention back to himself. "All those years ago, I promised you power and glory the likes of which you've never known. And now once again I offer you, my most faithful, that option again." His voice had taken on a hypnotic quality, soothing while at the same time having infinite authority. "There will be no mistakes this time, no loose ends that can unravel us. Your oath binds you to me, and in turn I will give you the power that I promised over the pathetic weaklings that should have been wiped away millenia ago."
Rapt faces stared back at Voldemort, many whose eyes were filled with worshipful adulation, but Snape's gaze stayed on Karkaroff. With a gurgling shudder the former Death Eater expelled his last breath, and Snape couldn't find it in himself to mourn the man's loss.
*
Apparating back to the Manor, his stop before going back to Hogwarts, Snape took a moment and sat down before the fire to think about his return strategy. His presence would undoubtedly have been missed, as well as having the students talk amongst themselves about his erratic behavior. The latter he could deal with, he'd been doing it for more than eleven years so far since he began teaching; students were, for the most part, a predictable lot and they already thought him Dark anyway. No, his problems would lie with the teachers not in on his little secret...
"It's been a long time, Severus," a low voice sounded behind him.
Snape's heart nearly leaped from his chest as he bolted to his feet, whirling around to face his visitor. "My lord," he stated, his voice holding a shaky quality he didn't welcome at that moment, "I had not heard you come."
"That, was the intent," Voldemort replied casually, looking around the room. "Such...fitting decorations, Severus," the Dark wizard stated, looking at the many cauldrons, potion books, and ingredients which lined the room's bookshelves and walls, "but this manor cannot be yours. Not on a teacher's salary, and you wouldn't be so very...direct, with your decorating."
"How may I be of service to you, my lord?" Snape asked, fully recovered from the shock and giving a small bow.
Voldemort snorted. "So very formal now Severus, when it once was your candor I so admired." He gave Snape a piercing look, and the younger man had great difficulty not to flinch. "Karkaroff made mention of you," Voldemort stated smoothly. "Several times, in fact."
Only sheer force of will kept Snape from swallowing and allowed his voice to remain steady. "Indeed."
"What he had to say was quite incriminating," Voldemort continued casually, running a finger along the rim of a nearby cauldron. "But of course, I knew that information to be false; you would never be a warlock."
Color suffused Snape's normally pale face as he vehemently replied, "I am not an oathbreaker!"
"Indeed," Voldemort replied, echoing Snape's earlier response. He studied Snape a moment as the man again collected himself. "You have matured, Severus," the Dark wizard said at last, a ghost of a smile flitting across his lips. "A blessing, and a curse."
"As I remember it," Snape dared to say, "you often wished I did not have such a mind of my own."
Voldemort chuckled. "Perhaps you haven't matured as much as I'd thought," he said smoothly and Snape stiffened. Voldemort's face seemed lost in thought, the wizard's eyes flickering to the fire. "But I never wished that, not quite. The lot of them," he said suddenly, a sneer curling his lip, "simply joined me for the carnage, for the pleasure of being ablt to do the 'grunt work.' Few," and again his eyes moved back to Snape, "truly wanted the power, the sense of revenge I offered. Very few intellectuals, who understood truly the why of it, came to my side."
Quite suddenly, Voldemort vanished.
Snape's head snapped around, knowing the Dark wizard was not gone. There had been no disapparating pop, which meant Voldemort had simply gone invisible. Moving around to the back of the chair, Snape felt a terrible cold slither through his body as something touched his face. He leaped backwards only to be blocked by the chair as Voldemort appeared less than a foot away.
"Ah, Severus," the Dark wizard murmured, his hand still stroking Snape's face, "you were my most ardent supporter." Thin red eyes met wide black ones belonging to a stunned Snape. "I see that has changed over the years as well," Voldemort said softly, but there was a look of anticipation in the wizard's eyes as he disapparated, leaving Snape alone again.
The potions professor made his way unsteadily around the chair again, collapsing backwards into it. He ran a shaky hand over his face and clenched his jaw, willing the tremors wracking his body to stop.
Twenty minutes later he exited the dungeons of Hogwarts and started up the staircases to Dumbledore's office. He knew he had to talk to the Headmaster about what had happened, but his mind wouldn't stop going over what Voldemort had said. You are a warlock, Snape's mind kept repeating. It's useless to deny it, when even now you're going up to give a spy's report. Oathbreaker.
Snape snarled silently at the thought as he barged through one of the doors, to find himself face-to-face with the last witch he wanted to run into.
"Severus Snape," Haley said coldly, placing herself deliberately in Snape's way. "At last we meet."
"Charmed," Snape muttered darkly, "now let me..."
"What I'd like to know," Haley continued blithely, ignoring his statement and moving again when Snape tried to go around, "is where you've been for the past two hours. Certainly not in this castle, isn't that right Professor?"
Now, and to the thanks:
iameviltara - Thanks for the warning, I'm trying (desperately) not to fall into that connundrum
Jade - *evil grin* wait until later chapters >)
Demeter - well, I'm not sure if this is going to be Snape/Draco as much as having the two play bigger roles than in the books. But worry not, they WILL both be here! :)
