Title: Harry Potter and the Search for the
Meaning of Life at Hogwarts, or The Hogwarts School Band
Chapter:
Ten: Voice in the Darkness
Rating: M
for mature content, and adult conversations
Original
Character: Alastor Daker
Reason for Edit:
Noticed that the formatting had been screwed up, so decided to
re-submit with correct editing. Plus I wanted to change a few of the
things, as it was bit odd in places.
Notes:
Please note that this was written waaay before 'Order of the Phoenix'
so, the OWL grades and subjects for NEWTs don't tally with the canon.
Best read this as an alternative 'book 7'. Also, check out my prequel
'The Gospel, according to Gilderoy Lockhart or The Hogwarts
Gazette'.
Ten: Voice in the Darkness
The week passed quickly, and soon it was the weekend again. The seventh year were now snowed down with coursework and assignments - many were beginning to show the pressure as Neville Longbottom proved when he flung his Transfiguration book out of the window. Unfortunately, it hit Professor McGonagall….
"ARGH!" Ron shouted, violently crossing something out for the eighth time that morning. "I don't give a fuck about the Goblin rebellions!" He screamed at his parchment.
"It can't hear you, you know." Hermione muttered without looking up from her own essay.
"I know but… Argh!" He flung down his quill. He turned to Hermione; "I think it might be easier if I wasn't so damned frustrated." Hermione laughed, "you want to hear something sick?"
"You're going to tell whether or not I want to know."
Ron laughed, "in Herbology yesterday I kept imaging what Professor Sprout would look like naked."
"I wondered why you looked flustered and stayed crouched down for half the lesson." Hermione grinned at him. "I wouldn't worry Ron, well, not until you start imaging what Professor McGonagall would look like naked." Ron went slightly pink. "You haven't!" Hermione stared at him aghast.
"I told you I was frustrated!"
"Yeah, but I didn't think you were that frustrated!"
----
Snape lay on his bed, watching the patterns the candlelight formed on the ceiling. He was physically and mentally tired. His body still ached from the wounds he had received during Voldemort's meeting, and Madame Pomfrey was furious with him for refusing to rest. The worst part, having to explain his black eye and the numerous cuts and bruises on his face to the rather concerned Slytherin's. He knew that many of them knew why, but he used his usual excuse of that he tripped on the rug and fell down the stairs. Some people didn't believe him asking how you could get a black eye from falling down the stairs.
A soft tap at the door stirred him, "come in." He called, sitting up. Professor McGonagall entered. "Hi." He said.
"Mind if I sit down?" Snape shrugged and moved up so that McGonagall could sit on the edge of his bed. "I er, figured you might need someone to talk to."
"Thanks, but I don't need anyone."
"Is that how you really feel?" He shook his head, picking at his fingers.
They sat in silence for a long time before either spoke again.
"Do you blame him?" McGonagall asked softly, Snape shook his head. "Do you blame anyone?" He nodded. "Who?"
"Dumbledore."
"Albus? Why?"
Snape shrugged, "I don't know. It's irrational to blame him, I know, but for some reason I do. Maybe it's because I'm his spy and if I wasn't then this would never have happened." He looked up at McGonagall, "please don't blame Alastor."
McGonagall smiled softly and put her arm round him, encouraging him to rest his head on her shoulder. "I don't blame anyone, lad." She said softly, "these things happen."
----
Harry looked down at the notice from Madame Hooch. It stated that the first Quidditch Match of the season would be Gryffindor Vs Hufflepuff. Hooch knew he had not managed to put a team together yet and had offered him to the chance to fortify the game for now. Harry had told her no-way and promised that he would be fielding a team. Well, today was the day, and he did not have a team.
"Hey Ron, how'd you like to be the keeper for the game against Hufflepuff?" Harry asked.
"Me? Sure!"
----
Hagrid sat in Professor Albus Dumbledore's office.
"Yeh see, 'e seems ter really want ter get back inter me class."
Dumbledore looked softly at Hagrid. "I'm sorry, Hagrid. My decision stands. I simply cannot change the rules where Harry Potter is concerned."
"'e did wrong yer, but 'e came and told me it were Neville Longbottom's Puffskein."
"I severely doubt that."
"Harry ne'er lies ter me, headmaster."
"Well this time he has Hagrid. The Puffskein in question is not Neville Longbottom's."
"But, sir…"
"Hagrid! I have made my decision, and it stands. Nothing will make me change my mind, is that clear?"
"Yes." Hagrid replied meekly.
"Good, now please, I have a lot of work to get though." He looked down at his desk and picked up his quill - Hagrid took the hint and left.
----
Professor Minerva McGonagall headed back to the staff room. During the last few of Snape's student years at Hogwarts, she had somewhat taken him under her wing. He had regarded her as something of a mother figure, and had often spoke to her about things he had felt uncomfortable discussing with Alastor Daker or his house master.
She could remember feeling extremely disappointed in him when he came to Hogwarts several years later, seeking sanctuary, she had even told him so. He had shown obvious guilt in betraying her, but she had forgiven him over time and slowly they were rebuilding the mother-son relationship they had once held. Although, Dumbledore encouraging them to appear as enemies when the children were around was something they had both reluctantly agreed to do.
"Are they alright?" Professor Sinistra asked sounding concerned the moment she entered the staff room.
"Aye. I think Alastor is more upset than Severus though." McGonagall replied, heading over to the teapot.
"But didn't he-" Flitwick began.
"I get the impression that Alastor felt he had to do it in order to protect Severus." McGonagall interrupted.
Flitwick chuckled slightly and went back to his newspaper. "Gay love seems to be a lot more complicated than straight love! In straight love you get one person feeling free, but guilty and the other feeling sorry for themselves, whereas Severus and Alastor…"
McGonagall sat down somewhat exhausted; "thank god it's Saturday. Neither is in a fit state to teach!"
"Drunk?"
"No, just both extremely upset."
"Severus wouldn't be drunk," Sinistra murmured, "he'd probably rather die than touch the boose again." Nine years ago Severus Snape had, had a rather bitter battle against his alcoholism. It had taken him the best part of a year to give up drinking all together and a further two years to become clean.
"I don't know…" Sprout started, "break with Alastor, and all."
"And Albus has been encouraged him to have a glass of wine with dinner yesterday." Hooch commented.
"I have to agree with Annie," Flitwick said. "Severus would never go back to drinking the way he did. Albus has only been encouraging him this year to have one glass with the rest of us from time to time."
"Personally, I think Albus has made a mistake there." Sinistra commented. "Even one glass of wine can start the process all over again."
Sinistra had a painful secret that she was still not willing to share with the rest of the staff. During her days as a student in a muggle university she had been dumped by someone she loved very much, she, like Snape, had turned to drink. It had taken her five years to kick the habit and now prided herself on being clean and not having touched a drink since.
"I think Severus knows when he should and shouldn't take a drink. He's old enough and wise enough now." McGonagall said with an air of finality.
----
Harry finally got a team together for that afternoon's Quidditch Match against Hufflepuff. He had not had time to hold trials, and had picked his team by asking fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh years about what position they played well in Quidditch and then promptly signing them onto the team. He wanted to win this year.
----
Hermione settled in the library for some research. She had been distracted in the last few weeks from the yearbook project. She regarded Snape and Daker's rejection of her proposal to get the Hogwarts Band back together for one last show, as not a set back, but a development. Their only reason for turning down the proposal, she decided, was that Snape was too scared to get up and sing in front of the school (and possibly risk his image), and Daker was going along with it just to protect his lover.
She looked down at her list and grinned to herself. The Hogwarts Band had, had five members, one of who was dead and the another everyone believed was dead. That left Remus Lupin as the only other person with the authority to persuade Snape and Daker. They may not exactly be friends anymore, but she was sure if anyone could persuade Snape to do something, it would be Lupin.
"Professor Daker!" She said somewhat startled, as the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher sat down opposite her.
"Oh, sorry." He said somewhat distracted, "I'll go find another table." He moved to stand.
"No, wait, stay." Daker looked up and reluctantly sat down again. Hermione looked down at the books he had been carrying, quite an advanced Arthimacy book and a fiction book. The fiction book was obviously his, since Hermione was not aware of the school library having muggle fiction books. "Arthimacy?"
"I don't just teach Defence against the Dark Arts, Hermione. I was actually hired to teach Arthimacy as the headmaster needs someone qualified to cover Professor Vector's lessons at some point this year. I'm only teaching Defence against the Dark Arts as well because the headmaster couldn't get anyone else."
"Professor Vector is leaving?"
"No, I daresay she'll let you know why you're going to need a cover teacher soon." He smiled softly. He didn't really feel like smiling, but Professor Vector finally becoming pregnant after being told she could not have children was something that everyone had to smile about. Wouldn't be long before she'd have to tell her pupils, she was already four months gone.
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, sounding concerned.
Slightly taken back, it took Daker a few moments to process the question. "Yes, sure, I'm fine… Why shouldn't I be?"
"No reason, you just seem a little… distracted."
"Just a little tired."
"Er… can I ask you a personal question?"
"You can, but I'm not going to guarantee that I'll answer it."
Hermione took a breath, "how can you read?"
Whatever Daker had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been that. "Pardon?" He managed to gasp.
"Don't think I'm prying, but I was just a bit curious." She shrugged, "you read out of books and off people's work in lessons… and I was wondering how you did that."
Daker smiled, "it's alright, I get asked that a bit. Firstly, I can read Braille, secondly, I'm a wizard and thirdly, I've got quite a good memory."
"I don't follow."
Daker grinned, "there's a spell which turns words into Braille. You ever noticed that I follow the words with my finger when I read to the class?"
"Oh! I always thought that was because you weren't a particularly good reader." Hermione blushed.
"Don't worry about it."
"Wait, you never touch your wand to the parchment or anything… How can you… well…"
"Hermione, not all magic requires a wand…"
"I know that, but you, sorry, but you don't seem to be a particularly powerful…" Hermione interrupted.
"Let me finish, not all magic requires a wand or immense power. Just thought and the words are sometimes required. I just need to concentrate and say the words; it only works that way since it was a spell specially designed for blind witches and wizards - to enable them to read. Other wizards and witches who attempt the spell need the use of their wand, unless they've had a lot of practice and training."
Hermione was intrigued, "is there a lot of magic like that?"
"Erm, not to sure really. For the record, I can do a bit of wand free magic, just simple stuff like closing doors and extinguishing candles… Doesn't really require much, just immense concentration and a little bit of power. Also requires a lot of training, I started my training in my final year at Hogwarts, never finished it though." He shrugged.
"Was it an accident then?"
"What an accident?"
"Your blindness."
"Yeah, it was an accident… Look, I'm sorry I can't talk about it." He stood up with his books.
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to offend you." Hermione said quickly.
"You didn't offend me, I just don't like discussing my personal business with students." He said harshly, "excuse me, I have work to do." He left the library leaving Hermione feeling a little hurt and shocked.
----
Neville hurried along to the library. He had just remembered he was supposed to be with Hermione helping research the yearbook! He cursed his bad memory. He had been getting better lately but for some reason he was starting to forget things again. He was getting so frustrated with his bad memory that he was very tempted to speak to Madame Pomfrey. There must be some potion that she could give him to help him remember things.
In his thoughtful state, he collided with Professor McGonagall. "Sorry miss!" He squeaked.
"Quite alright Neville, do try to watch where you are going." She replied, rubbing her arm. "Oh, Neville, whilst I remember, I'm on my way to speak to Professor Dumbledore about removing you from the Divination course."
"Thanks!" Neville said with a big grin.
"Not at all, you know my feelings about Professor Trelawny, and I see nothing wrong with you wanting to concentrate on my more… useful subjects."
----
McGonagall poked her head around the door to Dumbledore's office. She saw him slumped in a hair behind his desk, looking tired and depressed. Recently, quite a few people had become concerned with Dumbledore's health, but he had shrugged them all off claiming it was just his age and that he was feeling quite fine.
"Albus?" McGonagall said softly, closing the door behind her.
"I'm loosing control, Minerva." Dumbledore muttered, sounding worse than he looked.
Slightly taken back McGonagall responded more openly and honest than she had ever done. "Albus, that certainly isn't true."
"It is!" Dumbledore stood up and started to pace up and down behind his desk. "I've got two severely upset members of my staff; a pupil whom I am slowly losing my patience with and an irresponsible godfather who can't see the problem. The Ministry of Magic is putting increasing pressure on the schools budget and to top it all off, Voldemort has increased his power." Dumbledore sat down again, his head in his hands. "I can't cope anymore. I'm too old."
McGonagall felt sorry for the elder man, and went round to his side. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "you are most certainly not." She reassured him. Now, you have been working too hard. What you need to do is relax. Go and watch the Quidditch, and I will sort out some of your paperwork." She gave him a soft smile.
Dumbledore smiled back, "and I always wondered why Severus adopted you as his mother figure."
Then suddenly, they both felt the urge to kiss. Dumbledore lowered his head to meet McGonagall's lips. A slightly shocked McGonagall pulled out of the kiss a few moments later. "I think… I think I'd best get back…" She stood up.
"Minerva," Dumbledore took her hand, "I am truly sorry."
She shook her head, "no, Albus it's alright."
"I love you, you know that."
"I know, but you've got to remember, that I'm a married women. Good morning, Albus."
----
Harry looked at his team. "Right, we're going to go out and win this. I don't care how you get the points, just do it, okay?"
The team cheered and it wasn't long before they flew out onto the Quidditch Pitch. The Creevy brothers were doing the commentary since the almost legendary Lee Jordan had now left Hogwarts.
"Harry Potter, captain of the Gryffindor team has an usual make-up for this years team! Himself and Ron Weasley are the only seventh years appearing on the team, the rest of the team made up unknown fifth and sixth years! The question on everyone's minds this year, is that can the famous Gryffindor's win the Quidditch Cup?"
----
Alastor Daker sat in his locked office, his sleeves rolled up. Tentatively he ran his left hand over the back of right forearm. Anyone watching would be wondering what he was searching for, but the small scars stood out against his white flesh told more than his words. A hypodermic needle sat, snuggled in the purple velvet lining of its box. He had been clean since the accident, almost sixteen years ago, a promise he had made to Severus and his parents. He wasn't never quite sure why he had kept the needle, Severus didn't know he had it. It would be so easy to inject the morphine once again into his blood stream, to induce the feeling of euphoria and surround himself in the protective blanket… Be so easy to prove that he was weak. Soft tears rolled down his face, it had been so easy for people to understand Severus alcohol problem - it had been harder for him to give up the morphine, he had been treated as a common drug addict whenever he sought treatment. He wasn't a common drug addict… At least, that's what he had continually told himself.
His work as an auror had got him addicted to the vile substance. He had heard stories of such things happening, but had always believed he was a stronger person. He was young, and foolish. One too many escapes from death had induced a huge adrenaline rush - a rush he craved. The morphine gave him the same flying feeling, and euphoria he had got with his escapes from death. The accident had changed that. He suddenly became aware of how stupid he was being, not only was he risking his life and his job, he was risking his life with Severus. If anyone had seen him at work as an auror, they would not have recognised the eccentric, bright schoolboy from all those years ago.
"Please forgive me…" He muttered through his tears - seizing the hypodermic needle.
----
"And Harry Potter call's a Time Out." Colin Creevy called. "A reminder that the score is 70-10 to Hufflepuff. Gryffindor have a lot of work to do if they hope to win this game. The pressure is on for them to catch the snitch now."
"What the hell is going on!" Harry spat at his team. "Where were you," he pointed at one of his beaters, "when Michael was going for goal? That beater hit him before he could score!"
"It wasn't my fault!" The beater shouted back.
"Oh yeah?" Harry retorted. "And what the hell were you doing, Ron!"
"Trying to stop a bludger from breaking my nose! How can I save the Quaffle if those blasted things are trying to get me?" Ron replied angrily, wiping the sweat out of his eyes.
"Let the damned bludger hit you for all I care! Just do your job and stop them from getting points!"
"I'm am trying!"
"Really? Well I'm seeing little evidence of that!"
"This isn't my fault, Harry."
"Yes it is. I put you in goal because I trusted you, and I thought you might be good. Turns out you are just a bag of shit." He shoved Ron viciously.
"I'm a what!" Ron snapped. "This is coming from the arrogant Harry Potter who thinks he is God's gift, just because he didn't die."
"I'm warning you, Ron."
"About what? You are the bag of shit, Potter. You know, I think Snape's right - you do strut!"
Harry lunged at Ron. They fought bitterly on the ground, swinging punches and biting. Some of the Gryffindor team tried to pull them apart, but could not. Harry was suddenly aware of strong hands pulling him off Ron. Madame Hooch was livid with anger.
"Gryffindor team loose ten points." She shouted.
"WHAT!" Harry yelled, wrenching himself from Madame Hooch's grip.
"You loose the match points for fighting, and I am going to take fifty points of Gryffindor House." Hooch replied. Harry didn't know what got into him, his rage was building and he saw red. He didn't know what made him do it, but he suddenly found himself swinging at Madame Hooch, someone grabbed his wrist though. Harry tried to pull away, but he couldn't.
"I think you'd better come with me, Mr Potter." It was Dumbledore.
----
Hermione wandered the empty corridors. Everyone was out on the Quidditch field watching the first match of the season. For some reason, she liked the halls when it was quiet. Her recent engagement had given her a lot to think about. She still wasn't sure if she was ready to commit. Yes, sure she loved Viktor, but she wasn't sure yet that she wanted to get married now. There was still a lot of the world she wanted to see.
Her unconscious mind drove her towards the dungeons for some reason, and Hermione wandered along through the eerie silence… It was it silence? She was aware of someone singing, someone male… with a beautiful strong baritone voice. She stopped to listen.
Hermione recognised the song; it was 'Save Me' by the Muggle band 'Queen'. Her father was a bit of a 'Queen' fan. The singer was accompanied by acoustic guitar. Hermione began to try to figure out where the singing was coming from. She leaned on the door to the main dungeon that she had Potion's in. The singer was defiantly in there. Quietly she pushed open the door. Professor Severus Snape was sitting one of the desks, his back to her.
He finished the song, and Hermione felt compelled to applaud. Snape jumped off the table and spun round.
"What the hell are you doing here!" He asked. He looked like he had been crying.
"Er… I heard… I heard someone singing and I came to investigate…" Hermione stammered. She didn't want to upset anyone else today.
Snape relaxed slightly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. You frightened me."
"Sorry." Hermione looked at him; "you're good."
"Thanks." Snape said sarcastically.
"No I mean it. You really are good!... Are you all right?"
"Yes! Why shouldn't I be!"
"You look like you've been crying." Snape sat wearily down on a nearby stool, and Hermione clicked. "Have you and Professor Daker… er… fallen out?"
"You could put it that way." He said dejectedly.
"I'm sorry."
He held up a hand, "don't be. It was my own fault."
"Do you still love him?"
"Of course I still fucking love him!" Snape ran a hand through his hair, "sorry. Look, I know you… well, want to comfort me in some way, but there's no need. I… I appreciate the thought, but no."
Hermione nodded, understanding. "Do you want me to speak to him?"
"No! Hermione, it's none of your business. You're a… a student who shouldn't even know this! Please, let me sort it out myself."
----
Daker sat in a low armchair in front of the roaring fire in his private rooms. A glass of scotch clutched in his hand, against his chest. He was crying silently. He had been so close to temptation today - it had taken all his will power to fling the hypodermic across the room. He was determined that he was going to go through that again. He had lost Severus thought his own fear, and he was not going to loose his family this time. Suddenly, he violently three his glass into the fire, his grief and angry overwhelmed him and he swung violently at the mantle place. The objects, mainly framed photographs of his family and Severus fell with a sickening crash and splintering of glass. He fell to the floor sobbing, broken glass cutting into his hands.
