Chapter Eleven
Once again, they don't belong to me. If I had enough talent and dedication to write the Harry Potter series, I would publish my writings somewhere that I would get paid for it.
Severus Snape paced around his room trying again to think of a solution to his problem. He avoided looking at the book on the coffee table. He examined his conclusion and once again found no holes in the logic that led him to it. He paced some more.
Severus thought seriously of saying nothing. No one else was likely to figure it out. The others all lacked one small piece of information. At least, he hoped they did. There was no telling what the headmaster knew, and Pomfrey might have some suspicions. He winced then, recalling the nurses' vivid description of the students' injuries. Severus couldn't blame himself much for what had already happened, but now that he knew the truth he would have blood on his hands if he said nothing.
He sighed and threw himself onto the couch. His thoughts had been running in circles for the last two hours after finally finding the correct book around midnight. Severus knew what he had to do, but he couldn't help trying to find an alternative. There was none. He knew the cause of the spring fever. He could not stop it. Therefore, he would have to tell Dumbledore everything.
Severus glanced at the clock and decided that he really couldn't wake the headmaster up at two-thirty a.m. He would have to wait until the man woke up, or perhaps until after breakfast. Severus fell into a fitful slumber, attacked by dreams of his fathers' voice and Neville.
Snape was still procrastinating in the morning after breakfast, which he had not attended. It was Saturday, so that wasn't unusual for him He was splashing cold water on his face in an effort to calm his nerves when a bell sounded in his quarters summoning him to an emergency meeting in Dumbledore's office. Arriving with the book, he found all the staff there, along with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin who had arrived late the previous evening while he was in the library. Dumbledore, Severus noted with a new surge of panic, was dressed in formal robes, and a traveling cloak was folded on top of a suitcase.
Dumbledore glanced around to make sure everyone was there and then explained. "Minister Fudge died half an hour ago of a stray curse in front of the ministry building. I must go and help Arthur Weasley organize the ministry before Fudges deputies decide to continue his denial of reality." He didn't have to say more on that subject. Fudge had refused to believe Voldemort was alive for the last three years. His excuses for the death eater activities had become more and more improbable, but many in the ministry supported him in the hope that ignoring the problem would make it go away. Fudges death gave Arthur and his supporters the chance to take control of the ministry and organize the aurors, but only if Dumbledore contributed his authority and his knowledge of Voldemorts rise. "I should return in no more then a week."
A week! Severus paled. He could not wait a week to tell the headmaster, and he didn't trust Minerva to know what to do in Dumbledore's absence. And while he was thinking, Dumbledore was picking up his cloak and preparing to leave.
"Wait!"
Everyone in the room looked at Severus. He swallowed and forced himself to speak calmly. "Could I speak with you alone for a moment Headmaster?"
Dumbledore looked at the clock on the wall which was pointing to Time to Go, and then back at Snape. "I'm afraid I don't have the time for a private meeting Severus. We're all on the same side here."
Snape felt like he was living in a nightmare. Next, his father would walk in and. He forced that thought away. "I know what is causing the spring fever."
McGonagall glared at him. "I think that concerns all of us, Professor! What is the cause?"
Severus couldn't face anyone, and stared at Dumbledore's desk instead. "I am."
There was silence, and the headmaster placed his suitcase on the desk.
"Explain."
It was a command.
Once again, they don't belong to me. If I had enough talent and dedication to write the Harry Potter series, I would publish my writings somewhere that I would get paid for it.
Severus Snape paced around his room trying again to think of a solution to his problem. He avoided looking at the book on the coffee table. He examined his conclusion and once again found no holes in the logic that led him to it. He paced some more.
Severus thought seriously of saying nothing. No one else was likely to figure it out. The others all lacked one small piece of information. At least, he hoped they did. There was no telling what the headmaster knew, and Pomfrey might have some suspicions. He winced then, recalling the nurses' vivid description of the students' injuries. Severus couldn't blame himself much for what had already happened, but now that he knew the truth he would have blood on his hands if he said nothing.
He sighed and threw himself onto the couch. His thoughts had been running in circles for the last two hours after finally finding the correct book around midnight. Severus knew what he had to do, but he couldn't help trying to find an alternative. There was none. He knew the cause of the spring fever. He could not stop it. Therefore, he would have to tell Dumbledore everything.
Severus glanced at the clock and decided that he really couldn't wake the headmaster up at two-thirty a.m. He would have to wait until the man woke up, or perhaps until after breakfast. Severus fell into a fitful slumber, attacked by dreams of his fathers' voice and Neville.
Snape was still procrastinating in the morning after breakfast, which he had not attended. It was Saturday, so that wasn't unusual for him He was splashing cold water on his face in an effort to calm his nerves when a bell sounded in his quarters summoning him to an emergency meeting in Dumbledore's office. Arriving with the book, he found all the staff there, along with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin who had arrived late the previous evening while he was in the library. Dumbledore, Severus noted with a new surge of panic, was dressed in formal robes, and a traveling cloak was folded on top of a suitcase.
Dumbledore glanced around to make sure everyone was there and then explained. "Minister Fudge died half an hour ago of a stray curse in front of the ministry building. I must go and help Arthur Weasley organize the ministry before Fudges deputies decide to continue his denial of reality." He didn't have to say more on that subject. Fudge had refused to believe Voldemort was alive for the last three years. His excuses for the death eater activities had become more and more improbable, but many in the ministry supported him in the hope that ignoring the problem would make it go away. Fudges death gave Arthur and his supporters the chance to take control of the ministry and organize the aurors, but only if Dumbledore contributed his authority and his knowledge of Voldemorts rise. "I should return in no more then a week."
A week! Severus paled. He could not wait a week to tell the headmaster, and he didn't trust Minerva to know what to do in Dumbledore's absence. And while he was thinking, Dumbledore was picking up his cloak and preparing to leave.
"Wait!"
Everyone in the room looked at Severus. He swallowed and forced himself to speak calmly. "Could I speak with you alone for a moment Headmaster?"
Dumbledore looked at the clock on the wall which was pointing to Time to Go, and then back at Snape. "I'm afraid I don't have the time for a private meeting Severus. We're all on the same side here."
Snape felt like he was living in a nightmare. Next, his father would walk in and. He forced that thought away. "I know what is causing the spring fever."
McGonagall glared at him. "I think that concerns all of us, Professor! What is the cause?"
Severus couldn't face anyone, and stared at Dumbledore's desk instead. "I am."
There was silence, and the headmaster placed his suitcase on the desk.
"Explain."
It was a command.