Checkmate
2.
Snape had had another restless night, and as he swept into the dungeon the next morning he felt gloomier than usual. It was fifth year Griffindors and Ravenclaws first thing; they watched him nervously as he sat down and began to call the register.
Suddenly there was a sound of running feet and the door swung open as a slight girl wearing blood-red robes hurried in.
"Sorry." She said apologetically, and looked around for somewhere to sit. The rest of the class were looking at her in curiosity.
"Sit down." Said Snape irritably, without looking up from his lesson notes, "You're five minutes late, so that's five points you've lost for…"
"Ravenclaw." Said the Vivian. "I'm sorry, sir, I had to speak to Professor Vector…"
"Sit down and shut up." Reiterated Snape. Vivian didn't move. He finally looked up, and their eyes met.
Vivian was a small for her age; next to the other fifth-year girls she looked like a child, although she was already sixteen. What stuck you first was her paleness: the only physical mark of the curse she lived under was her skin, was the colour of paper. Her hair fell in loose waves to her waist; it was dark, almost black, with peculiar silver streaks in it. But it was her eyes that caught Snape's attention: they were a peculiar colour, half way between green and grey.
Snape was not easily surprised, but for the space of about ten seconds he sat paralysed. Those eyes were Claudia Slane's eyes, closed forever beneath the cold earth. Who the hell was she?
Vivian's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at Snape, taking in his unhealthy pallor and lank black hair. What are you doing here? Said her eyes, as clearly as if she had spoken. She gazed at him with a look of recognition and fear, which Snape found incomprehensible and strangely disturbing.
He finally recollected himself.
"Who are you?" he asked coldly.
"Vivian Leroux. I'm new." Replied Vivian.
"Well perhaps you could explain why you aren't wearing school uniform, before I take another five points from Ravenclaw."
"Professor Dumbledore said it would be alright, until my school clothes arrive."
"Very well." Said Snape irritably, "Sit down and be quiet."
Vivian sat down at an empty desk and got her books out of her bag.
"Don't worry about him," whispered a girl to her right, when Snape's back was turned, "he's like that with everybody."
Vivian grinned ruefully at her, and busied herself with her schoolbooks.
When she looked up again Snape was already explaining the lesson, rather more distractedly than usual. As the students began work on the potion they were supposed to be making, Snape stalked up and down between the rows of desks, making acid comments on their work.
Vivian worked diligently. In truth she hadn't the faintest idea if she was making the potion correctly or not: although she had read about potions at home, she had always been too ill to make them. Something nagged her as she sliced the Sea-Parsley: she knew she had seen Snape before somewhere. She was just trying to work out how to use her new scales, when she looked up to see him standing over her.
Suddenly without warning an image flashed through her mind: a sallow man, his black robes blowing in the breeze, standing on a lofty hilltop with a woman, whose silvery hair blew out behind her like a cloud. Below them a ruined village smouldered.
Vivian could remember her parents a little: her father was tall, with dark hair. He had been clever and sarcastic, and surprisingly kind. She thought of her mother, with her attractive low laugh, and the sense of power that underlay everything she did. And the feeling of evil, which followed her wherever she went.
Her mother and a man dressed in black. Each with a strange mark on their left forearm.
All this flashed through her mind in an instant, and when she looked up at Snape she knew he had been a Death Eater.
"Do you have the faintest idea what you are doing?" asked Snape in a soft, icy voice.
"I think so." Said Vivian. She decided it was better not to say that she had never made a potion in her life. From the corner of her eye she saw the rest of the students look up from their steaming cauldrons to watch them.
Silently Snape examined the mixture.
"This is fine." He said grudgingly. "Especially considering it's the first potion you've ever made."
Now how did he know that?
Before Vivian could say anything else he had swept off to bully a Griffindor who by the sound of it had knocked Snape's lesson plans for the next fortnight into his cauldron full of potion.
At last the lesson finished. The girl who had spoken to Vivian at the beginning of the lesson came over to her desk.
"I'm Lorna." She said, "Are you in Ravenclaw?"
"Yes," said Vivian, "I've only just arrived, I was too ill to come at the beginning of term." She turned to see if Snape was nearby before adding "Though if this lesson was anything to go by I wish I hadn't come at all!"
Lorna smiled.
"Oh that's just Snape-" she began in a quiet voice, but before she could say anything else they were interrupted by Snape, who said coldly:
"Please wait behind, Miss Leroux."
Lorna shot a consolatory look at Vivian, before gathering her books and leaving the dungeon.
Vivian walked nervously to the front of the classroom, where Snape was sitting.
"I have been told you require a Bene Liquidas potion each evening."
Vivian nodded. This was the potion that had made her well enough to come to Hogwarts. It was a recently developed potion, and had to be made up fresh every day.
"If you will come here each evening at six o clock, I will have the potion ready for you. If I'm not here it will be on my desk." Continued Snape.
"Thank you." Said Vivian.
"You can go."
Vivian left the dungeon hurriedly, her thoughts in a whirl. She decided the best thing to do would be to warn Dumbledore as soon as possible, and tell him that he had a Death Eater on his staff.
Back in the dungeon, Snape sat with his head in his hands, remembering all that had passed between him and Claudia Slane.
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